Wedding Night (29 page)

“Richard, stop it!” I exclaim in exasperation. If he’s going to go on like this the whole journey, I’ll go mad.

“Is this our special guest?” A sugary voice interrupts us, and we look up to see an air hostess with a French plait, bearing down on us with a wide smile. She’s holding a teddy bear, an airline wallet, some lollipops, and a huge box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates. “Cheryl told us
all
about you,” she addresses Noah brightly. “I’ve got some special gifts for you here.”

“Cool! Thank you!” Noah grabs the presents before I can stop him and gasps, “Mummy, look! A
big
box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates! You
can
get them!”

“Thanks,” I say awkwardly. “That’s really unnecessary.”

“It’s the least we can do!” the air hostess assures me. “And is this the famous uncle?” She bats her eyelashes at Richard, who stares back with a blank frown.

“My uncle can speak three languages,” says Noah proudly. “Uncle Richard, talk Japanese!”

“A surgeon
and
a linguist?” The air hostess opens her eyes wide, and I dig my fingers into Richard’s hand before he can protest. I don’t want Noah mortified in public.

“That’s right!” I say quickly. “He’s a very talented man. Thanks so much.” I smile at the air hostess fixedly till she leaves, after a final pat on the head for Noah.

“Fliss, what the hell’s going on?” expostulates Richard in an undertone as soon as she’s walked away.

“Can I have a credit card to put in my wallet?” asks Noah, examining it. “Can I have an AmEx? Can I have points?”

Oh God. He knows about AmEx points at the age of seven? This is mortifying. Almost as bad as when we checked in to a hotel in Rome and, by the time I’d found change for a tip, Noah had already asked to see a different room.

I get out my iPod and hand it to Noah, who whoops with
delight and slots the earphones into his ears. Then I lean toward Richard and lower my voice.

“Noah told some made-up story to the ground staff.” I bite my lip, feeling a sudden relief at sharing my worries. “Richard, he’s turned into a complete fantasist. He does it at school. He told one teacher he’d had a heart transplant and another he had a surrogate baby sister.”

“What?”
Richard’s face drops.

“I know.”

“Where did he get those kind of ideas, anyway? A surrogate baby sister, for God’s sake?”

“Off a DVD they were playing in the special-needs department,” I say wryly.

“Right.” Richard digests this. “So what story did he tell this lot?” He gestures at the air hostess.

“No idea. Apart from the fact that you play a starring role as a surgeon.” I meet his eye and we suddenly both snort with laughter.

“It’s not funny.” Richard shakes his head, biting his lip.

“It’s awful.”

“Poor little guy.” Richard ruffles Noah’s head, and he looks up briefly from his iPod trance, a beatific smile on his face. “Do they think he’s doing it because of the divorce?”

My residual laughter melts away. “Probably,” I say lightly. “Or, you know, the evil career mother.”

Richard winces. “Sorry.” He pauses. “How’s that all going, anyway? Have you signed the settlement yet?”

I open my mouth to answer honestly—then stop myself. I’ve bored Richard many times over dinner about Daniel. I can see he’s bracing himself for the rant. Why did I never notice people bracing themselves before?

“Oh, fine.” I give him my new saccharine smile. “All good! Let’s not talk about it.”

“Right.” Richard looks taken aback. “Great! So … any new men on the horizon?” His voice suddenly seems to have doubled in volume, and I flinch. Before I can stop myself, I glance at Lorcan, who is sitting by the opposite window, engrossed in his laptop, and thankfully didn’t seem to hear.

“No,” I say. “Nothing. No one.”

I’m telling myself furiously not to look at Lorcan, not to even think about Lorcan. But it’s like telling yourself not to think about a rabbit. Before I can stop them, my eyes have darted to him again. This time, Richard follows my gaze.

“What?” He peers at me in astonishment. “Him?”

“Shhh.”

“Him?”

“No! I mean … yes.” I feel flustered. “Once.”

“Him?”
Richard sounds mortally offended. “But he’s on the other side!”

“There aren’t
sides
.”

Richard is surveying Lorcan with narrowed, suspicious eyes. After a moment, Lorcan looks up. He seems startled to see us both gazing at him. My whole body floods with heat and I abruptly turn away.

“Stop it!” I hiss. “Don’t look at him!”

“You were looking at him too,” points out Richard.

“Only because you were!”

“Fliss, you seem hassled.”

“I’m not
hassled
,” I say with dignity. “I’m simply trying to be an adult in an adult situation— You’re looking at him again!” I jab at his arm. “Stop!”

“Who is he, exactly?”

“Ben’s oldest friend. A lawyer. Works at his company.” I shrug.

“So … is it a thing?”

“No. It’s not a
thing
. We just hooked up and then …”

“You unhooked.”

“Exactly.”

“He looks like a bundle of laughs,” says Richard, still surveying Lorcan critically. “I’m being sarcastic,” he adds after a pause.

“Yup.” I nod. “Got that.”

Lorcan looks up again and raises his eyebrows. The next minute he’s unbuckling his seat belt and coming over to where we’re sitting.

“Great,” I murmur. “Thanks, Richard. Hello.” I smile sweetly up at Lorcan. “Enjoying the flight?”

“It’s tremendous. I need to talk to you.” His dark eyes are opaque as they meet mine, and my heart jumps in trepidation.

“Right. OK. But maybe this isn’t the place—”

“Both of you,” he cuts across me, taking in Richard with his glance too. “I’m flying out to Ikonos for good reason. I have some important business to discuss with Ben. He needs to be focused. So if you’re planning to yell at him or beat him up or steal his wife from him, or whatever you’re going to do, I have a request. Please leave it till our meeting is over. Then he’s all yours.”

I feel an instant surge of resentment.

“That’s all you have to say?” I jut out my chin.

“Yes.”

“You’re only interested in your business. Not in the fact that
you
caused this marriage?”

“I did
not
cause it,” he retaliates. “And of course the business is my priority.”

“ ‘Of course’?” I echo sarcastically. “Business is more important than marriage? Interesting viewpoint.”

“Right now, yes. And it needs to be Ben’s priority too.”

“Well, don’t worry.” I roll my eyes. “We’re not going to beat him up.”

“I might beat him up.” Richard pounds his palm with his fist. “I might just do that.”

The elderly lady sitting next to me looks appalled. “Excuse me,” she says hurriedly to Lorcan. “Would you like to exchange seats so you can talk to your friends?”

“No, thank you,” I begin, as Lorcan says, “Thank you so much.”

Great. A minute later, Lorcan is buckling up his seat belt next to me while I stare studiously ahead. Just the sense of him so close to me is making my skin prickle. I can smell his aftershave. It’s giving me Proustian flashbacks to that night, which are
really
not helpful.

“So,” I say shortly. It’s only one syllable, but I think it successfully conveys the message:
You’re wrong on everything, from who’s to blame for this marriage, to what exactly I meant that morning, to your priorities generally
.

“So,” he replies with a curt nod. I have a feeling he means much the same thing.

“So.” I open my newspaper. I’m hereby going to ignore him for the whole flight.

The only trouble is, I can’t help glancing over at his laptop every so often and seeing phrases that interest me. Richard and Noah are listening to the iPod together while Noah makes inroads into his lollipops. There’s no one else to talk to, even if he is an arrogant bighead on the other team.

“So, what’s going on?” I say at last, with a shrug to indicate I’m really not interested.

“We’re rationalizing the company,” says Lorcan after a pause. “Expanding one part of our business, refinancing another, jettisoning another. It all needs to be done. The paper industry these days—”

“Nightmare,” I agree before I can stop myself. “The price of paper affects us too.”

“Of course. The magazine.” He nods. “Well, then, you’ll know.”

The two of us are making a connection again. I don’t know if this is a mistake or not, but somehow I can’t help it. It’s such a relief to have someone to talk to who isn’t my boss or my staff or my child or my ex-husband or my loopy little sister. He doesn’t
need
anything from me. That’s the difference. He’s just sitting there, composed, as though he doesn’t give a fuck.

“I read online you developed Papermaker,” I say. “That was you?”

“My brainchild.” He shrugs. “Others more talented than me design the stuff.”

“I like Papermaker,” I allow. “Nice cards. Expensive.”

“But you still buy them.” He gives me a tiny grin.

“For now,” I retaliate. “Till I find another brand.”

“Touché.” He winces and I give him a sidelong look. Maybe that was a bit harsh.

“Are you actually in trouble?” Even as I ask, I know it’s an inane question. Everyone’s in trouble right now. “I mean,
real
trouble?”

“We’re at a junction.” He exhales. “It’s a tricky time. Ben’s dad died with no warning, and we’ve been treading water ever since. We need to make a few brave decisions.” He hesitates. “The right brave decisions.”

“Ah.” I consider this. “Do you mean Ben has to make the right brave decisions?”

“You catch on quickly.”

“And is he likely to? You can tell me. I won’t let on.” I pause, wondering whether to be tactful or not. “Are you about to go bust?”

“No.” He reacts so hotly, I know I’ve hit a nerve. “We are
not
about to go bust. We’re profitable. We can be more profitable. We have the brand names, the resources, a very loyal workforce.…” He sounds as though he’s trying to convince some imaginary audience. “But it’s hard. We held off a bid for the company last year.”

“Wouldn’t that be a solution?”

“Ben’s father would turn in his grave,” says Lorcan shortly. “It was from Yuri Zhernakov.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Wow.” Yuri Zhernakov is one of those guys who appear in the paper every other day with words like “billionaire” and “oligarch” attached to their names.

“He saw the house on TV and his wife fell in love with it,” Lorcan says drily. “They wanted to live there for a few weeks every year.”

“Well, that could be good, couldn’t it?” I say. “Sell up while there’s some cash on offer?”

There’s silence. Lorcan is glowering at the screen saver on his laptop, which I notice is a Papermaker design that I’ve bought myself.

“Maybe Ben will sell,” he says at last. “But to
anyone
but Zhernakov.”

“What’s wrong with Zhernakov?” I challenge him, laughing. “Are you a snob?”

“No, I’m not a snob!” retorts Lorcan forcefully. “But I
care about the company. A guy like Zhernakov isn’t interested in some two-bit paper company spoiling his view. He’d close down half the company, relocate the rest, ruin the community. If Ben ever spent any time up there, he’d realize—” He stops himself and exhales. “Besides which, the offer’s wrong.”

“What does Ben think?”

“Ben …” Lorcan takes a gulp of his mineral water. “Unfortunately, Ben’s pretty naïve. He doesn’t have the business instinct of his father but he thinks he does. Which is dangerous.”

I glance at his briefcase. “So you want to get out there and persuade Ben to sign all the restructuring contracts before he can change his mind.”

Lorcan is silent for a while, drumming his fingers lightly together.

“I want him to start taking responsibility for his inheritance,” he says at last. “He doesn’t realize how lucky he is.”

I take a few sips of champagne. Some of this makes sense to me and some of it really doesn’t.

“Why does it matter so much to you?” I say at last. “It’s not
your
company.”

Lorcan blinks, and I sense I’ve touched a nerve again, although he’s careful to hide it.

“Ben’s dad was an amazing guy,” he says at length. “I just want to make things work out the way he would have wanted. And they can,” he adds with sudden vigor. “Ben’s creative. He’s smart. He could be a great leader, but he needs to stop dicking around and offending people.”

I’m tempted to ask exactly how Ben has offended people, but I can’t quite bring myself to be that nosy.

“You were a lawyer in London, weren’t you?” My thoughts head off in a new direction.

“Freshfields are still wondering where I am.” Lorcan’s face flashes with humor. “I was on gardening leave between law firms when I went up to stay with Ben’s dad. That was four years ago. I still get calls from recruitment companies, but I’m happy.”

“Do you do annulments?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“Annulments?” Lorcan raises his eyebrows very high. “I see.” As he meets my eyes, his expression is so quizzical, I nearly laugh. “You have a Machiavellian mind, Ms. Graveney.”

“I have a practical mind,” I correct him.

“So they really haven’t—” Lorcan interrupts himself. “Hey. What’s going on there?”

I follow his glance and see that the old woman who was sitting next to me is clutching her chest and fighting for breath. A teenage boy is looking around helplessly, and he calls out, “Is there a doctor? Is anyone here a doctor?”

“I’m a GP.” A gray-haired man in a linen jacket hurries to the seat. “Is this your grandmother?”

“No! I’ve never seen her before!” The teenager sounds panicky, and I don’t blame him. The old lady doesn’t look very well. We’re all watching the doctor talk to the old woman in a low voice and feel for her pulse, when suddenly the air hostess with the French plait appears.

“Sir,” she says breathlessly to us. “Please could we ask for your help?”

Help? What on earth—

I realize the truth just as Richard does. They think he’s a doctor. Oh shit. He glances at me wildly and I pull an agonized face back.