Thirteen Weddings (29 page)

Maria directs Bridget and me into the room next door, which has a smaller balcony facing east. Because we’re excited and curious to see the rest of the house, Bridget and I follow the
others up the second set of stairs leading towards the front of the house. There are three more double bedrooms at the top. Alex and Lachie are in the only twin.

‘At least you won’t kick me this time,’ Alex muses drily as he drops his bag onto the bed nearer the window.

‘Yeah, but I’ll still have to put up with your snoring,’ Lachie replies, propping his guitar case against the wall.

I think he’s joking. To my knowledge, Alex doesn’t snore.

Lisa, Tim and their partners are in the other two rooms. Rachel is staying in the more private apartments with a couple of Maria’s friends who she knows well.

We go to explore. A side door from the villa takes us down some steps to a barbeque area with a round, stone table surrounded by enormous hydrangea bushes with large pink, purple and blue
flowers. More steps lead down to the expanse of grass where the marquee has been erected, and to the right is the pool. The sky may be a little overcast, but the air is decidedly warm. Tiny
sparrows flit from branch to branch and large, brilliantly striped dragonflies hover over the pool.

I hope Maria and Russ have some swimming time booked into their plans for the day.

‘Swim?’ Russ suggests as he rubs his hands together with glee.

‘You read my mind,’ Bridget speaks before I can.

We return to the house to get changed and on a whim I grab my camera and fit my staple 35 mm to the body. I got this lens when I bought my camera a couple of years ago, but I also recently
invested in a couple of new whizz-bang lenses of my own: a 200 mm and an incredible but astronomically expensive 85 mm F1.2. It cost almost two thousand pounds. My promotion comes with a pay
rise.

Nicky’s last day is today. I feel bad for not being around to suggest we go out for farewell drinks – but not that bad. She’s never shown any interest in joining us on Friday
nights and I doubt she’ll start now. Shadowing her was nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be. In fact, she’s been more relaxed in these last few weeks than I’ve ever seen
her. She’s taking a break to go and spend some time with her parents in Wales, but she says she’ll come back to London soon and try to find work on a monthly magazine. She claimed to be
a bit ‘over’ weeklies.

I gave her a good luck card yesterday before I left and some chocolates, but I haven’t forgotten how unpleasant she’s made work for me at times. I can’t say I’m not glad
to see the back of her.

‘Come on, Bridget!’ I urge as she tries to decide which of her three bikinis to go for. I’m wearing the only one I own and it’s red. I slip a sheer, white kaftan over my
head to cover myself up. I have a pretty good figure, but I’m not about to run around practically naked.

‘The green one,’ I tell her and she makes a snap decision, bolting into the bathroom.

‘Wait for me!’ she shouts. I roll my eyes and go to stand on the landing outside our room. Lachie jogs down the stairs wearing hot pink surfer-style board shorts and nothing else.
His tanned chest is perfectly cut and an involuntary rush of breath escapes my lips. I’m tempted to take a photo of him right then and there. He nods at the camera hanging from a strap around
my neck. ‘You working already?’

‘May as well.’

Alex follows a moment later. He’s wearing navy swimming trunks and I’m struck by a memory of the last time I saw his lovely, lean body. It’s been two years, but he still feels
scarily familiar to me. He’s not as broad or muscular as Lachie, but he’s toned and fit and gorgeous and I can’t believe those thoughts are going through my mind. I shout at
Bridget to hurry up.

Lachie peers past me towards our bedroom, where Bridget is knotting a black sarong around her waist. ‘I cannot believe you chicks are sharing a bed together,’ he murmurs, his eyes
shifting back to mine as he gives me a suggestive look.

‘Here we go,’ Alex says jokingly, sounding as if he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.

‘Like you don’t find that thought hot?’ Lachie teases him with a grin, leaning against the wall and folding his arms. The posture makes his biceps bulge. I glance over my
shoulder in time to see Alex roll his eyes. I smirk back at Lachie as Bridget joins us.

‘What’s hot?’ she asks innocently.

‘You and Bronnie,’ Lachie replies, pushing off from the wall.

Bridget looks amused, but confused.

‘Us in bed together,’ I explain.

‘Ooh. You want to join us?’ she jokes seductively.

‘Stop encouraging him,’ I snap as she laughs loudly.

I turn around to see Alex open the door and hold it back with a wry smile on his face. Lachie, chuckling, follows me outside.

Down by the pool I have second thoughts about bringing my camera outside. What if it gets wet? What if it gets broken? I decide to take some photos now – I’ll put it back in my room
when I’m done. I catch Alex in mid-air doing a perfect dive into the deep end. He emerges and flicks his dark hair out of his eyes. I click off some shots of Lachie picking up a protesting
Bridget and dumping her into the pool before jumping in after her. I capture Russ bringing a cool box full of ice and beer bottles down the steps, flanked by his brother and best man, an old friend
of his from home. And I snap Maria standing arm in arm with her grandfather as they laugh from the sidelines.

Russ opens bottles of beer and hands them out and a dripping-wet Lachie climbs out of the pool to take one. ‘You should really put that down,’ he says to me with a cheeky grin,
taking a swig of his beer as rivulets of water stream down the length of his hard body.

‘You stay away from me,’ I warn, impulsively clicking off a shot of him.

‘You like this, do you?’ he asks me provocatively, dragging his hand across his abs.

‘You’re an idiot.’ I try to keep a straight face.

‘What did you call me?’ He looks mock-horrified as he slowly and purposefully places his beer bottle onto the mosaic-tiled table top.

I lower the viewfinder from my eye and back away from him. ‘Don’t you dare.’

He steadily walks towards me.

‘Don’t. You. Dare.’ I say again. Still he comes. ‘Lachie, don’t.’ I feel a little panicked now. He wouldn’t, would he? ‘You’ll break my
camera!’ I cry with alarm.

He stops suddenly. ‘As if I’d throw your camera into the pool,’ he berates me and I can’t tell if he’s genuinely hurt or if he’s still winding me up. He turns
his back on me and I stare at him, unsure. Then he returns to the table and picks up his beer bottle. I feel a bit thrown. I decide to go and put my camera inside anyway.

Rachel and a few more of Russ and Maria’s friends have joined the pool posse by the time I get back, and there’s a real party atmosphere. Maria has agreed to be the designated
mini-van driver tonight. We’re all going out clubbing in nearby San Sebastian, and she’s not drinking, obviously.

‘I can’t believe you’re having a joint hen and stag night,’ Lachie complains.

‘Well, I can categorically say now that we won’t be out too late. I’ve got a wedding tomorrow,’ she replies.

‘Aw, but you’re such an excellent make-up artist,’ Bridget says, passing me a beer. ‘You’ll easily cover up your dark circles.’

Lachie is standing nearby and I gently chink my bottle against his. ‘I know you wouldn’t really throw my camera and me into the pool,’ I say quietly.

The glint in his eyes instantly returns. ‘I didn’t say I wouldn’t throw
you
into the pool.’

‘Oh, shit.’ How dumb am I?

I dump my bottle on the table and run. He catches me quickly, scooping me up in his arms from behind. I squeal as he carries me to the pool and throws me in, kaftan and all. I come up gasping
and spluttering.

‘Me Tarzan, you Jane!’ he yells, flexing his muscles. I can’t help but laugh. Bridget sneaks up to him from behind and I try to keep my eyes trained on Lachie so as not to give
her away. It works: she shoves him and he goes flying. Moments later, everyone else joins in.

That night, Bridget and I get ready together. I know how long she takes in the shower so I go first, then choose a thigh-length black and white shift dress with high heels. I
leave my hair loose and borrow some of Maria’s make-up. She always has the best stuff. She takes next to no time to get ready too, so I join her, Russ and the boys on their balcony for a
drink while we wait for the others. Lachie and Alex have made a big bowlful of sangria, using red wine, lemonade, Cointreau, lots of freshly squeezed orange juice and lemon and orange segments.
Lachie ladles some into a glass for me. He’s wearing black trousers and a black shirt that hugs his broad frame. His sandy blond hair is still damp from the shower. He’s made a bit of
an effort for a change. Alex gets up and gives me his chair – there are only four around the table, but there’s a bench seat near the wall. He’s wearing a more casual cream linen
shirt with a silver pinstripe and grey trousers. His sleeves, as usual, are rolled up.

‘Thanks,’ I tell him with a smile as I take the seat he’s offered. ‘I’ll save my feet for dancing later.’ I kick my heels up and he grins, staring down at
me.

‘Dancing, hey? Planning on getting wasted, are you?’

I shrug and take a sip of my drink. ‘Whoa! I don’t think I have much choice,’ I exclaim, holding the drink away from me.

Lachie and Alex laugh. ‘Is it strong?’ Maria asks.

‘Just a bit,’ I reply.

‘Oh, I wish I could drink,’ she moans. Russ rubs her shoulder in a consolatory gesture.

‘Sorry,’ he murmurs.

‘Yeah, you
are
to blame,’ she bats back.

‘Hang on, it wasn’t my idea to swap tents!’ he exclaims, holding his palms up.

‘Actually, I blame Bronte,’ Maria says with a smirk. ‘If you hadn’t decided to turn thirty—’

‘Oi!’ I interrupt. ‘If anyone’s to blame, it’s Bridget. She organised that trip.’

‘What are you blaming me for now?’ she cries, coming out onto the balcony, looking sexy as hell in a tight, red, backless dress.

I point at her. ‘
You
are responsible for
their
baby,’ I say.

She grins. ‘In that case, I’m responsible for this goddamn amazing holiday that you’re all on, and for that, I demand free drinks all night. Starting now.’

Lachie gets her a drink before sitting back down again and patting his knee. She gladly perches.

‘Nice dress, Bridgie,’ Lachie murmurs appreciatively, drawing a line across her bare back.

‘Why, thank you, sir,’ she drawls over her shoulder. ‘You can come again.’

‘I might just do that.’ He chuckles and she giggles.

I inadvertently sigh and glance at Alex, who has moved to sit on the bench against the wall. Rachel and one of Maria’s friends appear. I get up to join him, making space at the table.

‘Have you seen Polly recently?’ he asks me quietly as the others chat and laugh amongst themselves. Rachel is now sitting on Lachie’s other knee.

‘No. We’ve texted each other. No mention of that night. I doubt she remembers.’ I should speak to Grant about an intervention, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to
call him. I’m not proud, but there’s so much history between Polly and me that it’s almost going to make confrontation harder. I don’t know what she’ll throw back at
me if I tell her
she
has a problem. The truth is, I’m scared.

I mirror Alex’s body language and lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees.

‘It’s so beautiful here,’ I say.

In the distance the mountains fall away to the ocean. The clouds are glowing orange in the pale blue evening sky and the sunset is lighting up the trees as though they’re on fire.

‘Apparently you can walk to a waterfall over there.’ He points at the mountains to our left.

‘I’d be up for doing that.’

‘Maybe Sunday? Before we fly home?’

‘Sounds like a plan, Stan. Have you brought your camera with you?’

‘I have,’ he says with a nod.

‘Aha! Finally I get to see some of your shots.’

He laughs. ‘They’re nothing to write home about.’

‘You’re so creative.’ I elbow him in his ribs. ‘I bet they’re brilliant.’ He leans back in his seat and shrugs casually, playing it down. ‘What sort of
thing do you like photographing?’ I ask.

‘Mainly landscapes. I don’t really do people.’

‘Not likely to ever become a wedding photographer, then,’ I joke.

‘I think we can safely say you’ve got that covered.’

‘Mmm.’ I lean back in my seat, suddenly feeling preoccupied. ‘I’m a bit nervous about tomorrow,’ I admit.

‘You’re not, are you?’ He looks taken aback. ‘Why? Because they’re friends?’

‘Yeah. It feels like more pressure.’

‘Don’t stress. You’ll be fine. More than fine. Amazing.’

‘Aw.’ I blush and glance at him, meeting his beautiful blues straight on. Oh, why do I have to fancy him still?

It hurts.

He looks away and clears his throat. We fall into a slightly awkward silence. I’m the one who breaks it.

‘How’s it all going with Zara after, you know...’ The pregnancy scare.

‘Okay. She’s been really busy at work lately.’

‘Is she very career-driven?’

‘Extremely,’ he replies.

I hesitate, but curiosity gets the better of me. ‘Whatever happened with that colleague of hers?’ I’m talking about the man she was allegedly interested in when she and Alex
were on a break.

‘She says nothing ever did.’

‘Did you ever tell—?’ I clamp my mouth shut. I can’t believe I was just about to ask him if he told her about me.

‘Right!’ Russ, luckily, distracts everyone with a clap of his hands. ‘Let’s get this show on the road.’

It’s still light when Maria drives us – a little erratically, it has to be said – into San Sebastian. She takes us on a brief tour of the city before parking
the van, and then we wander en masse through the pretty streets, which are an interesting mix of old Spanish and innovative new-build architecture. Eventually we arrive at the large, sweeping Bay
of La Concha, which is surrounded by three colossal mountains. Santa Clara islet protrudes straight out of the middle of the bay in front of us, and a huge statue of Jesus Christ stares down at us
from the top of Mount Ulia to our right. Maria says he’s supposed to protect the city. She’s quite religious, unlike me.