Wedding Night (47 page)

But it’s the third figure that I’m staring at, my jaw sagging.

“Fliss?”

31
FLISS

I’m frozen. All I can do is stare mutely back. This was
not
how I was planning to let Lottie know that I’d arrived on Ikonos.

“Fliss?”
she says again, and now there’s a sharp edge to her voice which makes me flinch. What do I say? What can I say? Where do I even begin?

“Fliss!” Nico speaks before I can marshal my thoughts, and snatches the microphone from Ben. “And here we have the sister of the happy couple!” He addresses the audience. “May I introduce Felicity Graveney, editor of
Pincher Travel Review
. She is here to give the hotel a special five-star review!” He beams delightedly. “As you can see, she has been sampling the delights of the Aegean Sea.”

The audience gives a polite laugh. I have to hand it to Nico. No marketing opportunity left unexploited.

“Now let us have the whole family onstage!” He’s bustling Lorcan, Noah, and me onto the platform. “A family shot for your special honeymoon album. Stand together!”

“What the
hell
are you doing here?” Lottie’s eyes are dark with anger as she turns to face me.

“I’m sorry,” I say feebly. “I’m so, so sorry. I thought— I wanted—”

My mouth feels dry. Words have deserted me. It’s as though they can sense my guilt and have scampered away to the other side.

“Hello, Aunt Lottie!” Noah is greeting her enthusiastically. “We came to see you on your holiday!”

“You enlisted Noah too, I see,” Lottie spits out. “Nice.”

“Smile, everybody!” calls out the photographer. “Face this way!”

I have to get myself together. I have to apologize. Somehow.

“OK, listen,” I begin rapidly as the flash almost blinds me. “I’m so, so, so, so sorry. Lottie, I didn’t mean to ruin your honeymoon. I only wanted to … I don’t know. Look after you. But I realize I’ve got to stop. You’re an adult and you have your own life and I made a huge, huge mistake, and I just hope you can forgive me. And you make a brilliant couple.” I turn to Ben. “Hello, Ben, nice to meet you. I’m Fliss, your sister-in-law.” I lift a hand awkwardly. “I expect we’ll be meeting at lots of family Christmases or whatever.…”

“This way!” shouts the photographer, and we all obediently swing back.

“So you were behind
everything
? Does that include the lounge at Heathrow?” Lottie turns her head to see my guilty look. “How
could
you? And the peanut oil! I was in agony!”

“I know, I know,” I gulp, almost crying. “I don’t know what got into me. I’m so sorry. I just wanted to protect you.”

“You always try to protect me! You’re not my
mother
!”

“I know I’m not.” There’s a sudden shake to my voice. “I know that.”

I meet eyes with Lottie, and suddenly it’s as though a silent, sisters-only set of memories is transmitting between us. Our mother. Our life. Why we are who we are. Then something shuts down in Lottie’s eyes and it’s over. Her face is closed up and unforgiving again.

“And big smiles, everyone.” The photographer waves his arms. “Look this way!”

“Lotts, will you ever forgive me?” I wait breathlessly for her answer. “Please?”

There’s a long, agonizing silence. I don’t know which way this will swing. Lottie’s eyes are unfocused, and I know better than to rush her.

“Smile! Nice wide smiles, everyone!” the photographer keeps exhorting us. But I can’t smile and neither can she. I’m clenching my fingers, I realize. And my toes.

At long last Lottie turns her head to face me. Her expression is disdainful, but the hatred has lessened a tad. My towel is slipping and I take the opportunity to wrap it around me again. “So,” she says, her eyes flicking over me. “Did you actually go swimming in your
underwear
?”

I give a little inward cheer. I want to hug her. In our code, that’s forgiveness. I know I’m not completely off the hook yet—but at least there’s hope.

“Bikinis are so over.” I match her detached tone. “Didn’t you know that?”

“Nice panties.” She gives a reluctant shrug.

“Thanks.”

“Underpants!” shouts Noah. “Underpants! Hey, Aunt Lottie, I have a question,” he adds chattily. “Have you put the sausage in the cupcake?”

“What?” Lottie says, as though stung. “Does he mean—” She stares at me incredulously.

“Have you put the sausage in the cupcake yet?”

“Noah! That’s … that’s none of your business! Why shouldn’t I have? Anyway, why are you asking me?” She seems so flustered that I look at her, suddenly alert. The way she’s behaving, it’s almost as though
—almost
as though …

“Lotts?” I say, raising my eyebrows.

“Shut up!” she says frantically.

Oh my God. She’s totally giving herself away.

“You
haven’t
?” My mind is working overtime. They haven’t had sex yet? Why not? Whyever not?

“Stop talking about it!” She seems near tears. “Just butt out of my marriage! Butt out of my honeymoon! Butt out of everything!”

“Lottie?” I look at her more closely. Her eyes are wet and her lips are quivering. “Are you OK?”

“Of course I’m OK!” She suddenly flips out. “Why wouldn’t I be OK? I’ve got the happiest marriage in the world! I’m the luckiest girl in the world, and I’m totally utterly, ecstatically—” She breaks off and rubs her eyes as though she can’t believe her own vision.

I squint past her, trying to focus, and suddenly I see what she’s staring at. It’s a figure. A man. Coming over the beach toward us, with an unmistakable, heavy, sure-footed gait. Lottie has turned so pale, I’m worried she’s going to faint—and no wonder. I stare incredulously at the familiar figure, my mind scurrying with possibilities. He vowed he was going to stay away. So what on earth is he doing here?

32
LOTTIE

I think I’m going to have a heart attack. Or a panic attack. Or some other kind of attack. The blood is zooming from my head to my feet and back to my head as though it doesn’t know what to do with itself. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can’t … 
anything
.

It’s Richard. Here.

Not zillions of miles away, leading a completely new life in which he’s forgotten I exist. But here, on Ikonos. Walking toward me over the beach. I blink at him rapidly, my eyelids almost in spasm; I’m unable to speak. It makes no sense. He’s in San Francisco. He’s supposed to be in
San Francisco
.

Now he’s making his way steadily through the audience. I’m shaking all over as he draws near. The last time I saw him was in that restaurant, telling him I didn’t accept his nonexistent proposal. That seems like a million years ago. How did he even know where I was?

I glance sharply at Fliss, but she looks as flabbergasted as I do.

And now he’s in front of the stage and he’s looking up at
me with those dark eyes that I love, and I think I’m going to lose it. I was just about holding it together, but now he goes and turns up—

“Lottie,” he says, and his voice is as deep and comforting as ever. “I know you’re … m—” He seems to have difficulty saying the word. “
Married
. I know you’re married. And I wish you every happiness with that.” He pauses, breathing heavily. Around him, all the chatter has died away. The audience is watching us, riveted. “Congratulations.” His eyes flick to Ben, then away again, as though Ben is some loathsome creature he can’t bear to look at.

“Thanks,” I manage at last.

“So I won’t keep you. But I thought you should know something. You didn’t start the fire.”

“What?” I peer at him, unable to process his words.

“You didn’t start the fire,” he repeats. “It was another girl.”

“But what— How—” I swallow hard. “How did you even—”

“Fliss told me that you thought you’d started the fire. I knew you’d be devastated and I couldn’t believe it was true. So I went to find out the truth.”

“You went to the guest house?” I say disbelievingly.

“I talked to your friend Arthur.” Richard nods. “I made him get out the original police reports. He let me spread them over his table and read through all of them. And it was quite clear. The fire didn’t start in your room. It was above the kitchen.”

For a moment, my thoughts are so jumbled I can’t reply. No one’s even whispering. The only sound is that of the bunting flapping in the sea breeze.

“You went to the guest house?” I repeat at last, falteringly. “You did all that? For
me
?”

“Of course,” says Richard, as though it’s obvious.

“Even though I’m married to someone else?”

“Of course,” says Richard again.

“Why?”

Richard shoots me a disbelieving look as though to say,
Do you really have to ask?

“Because I love you,” he says matter-of-factly. “Sorry,” he adds to Ben.

33
FLISS

Of all the moments I’ve experienced in life, this is the one I will remember forever. I’m holding my breath. The whole place is silent. Lottie’s staring at Richard, transfixed, her eyes huge. Her Happy Couple of the Week sash is glimmering in the lights, and her crown has slipped.

“Well … well …” She doesn’t seem able to get the words out. “Well, I still love you!” She tears off her crown. “I love you!”

Richard visibly jolts with shock. “But—” He gestures at Ben.

“It was a mistake!” She’s almost sobbing now. “It was all a mistake! And I was thinking about you all the time, but you’d gone to San Francisco, but now here you are—” She suddenly turns to me, her face tearstained. “Fliss? Did you bring Richard here?”

“Er … kind of,” I say cautiously.

“Then I love you too.” She flings her arms around me. “Fliss, I love you.”

“Oh, Lotts.” Tears are welling up in my eyes now. “I love you. I just want you to have the happiest, happiest life.”

“I know.” She squeezes me tight, then turns and leaps off the stage, straight into Richard’s arms and the tightest embrace I’ve ever seen. “I thought you were gone forever!” she says into his shoulder. “I thought you were gone forever. I couldn’t bear it! I couldn’t
bear
it.”

“I couldn’t bear it either.” He’s looking warily at Ben. “The only thing is, you’re married—”

“I know,” she says miserably. “I know. But I don’t
want
to be.”

My antennae are on full alert. This is my moment! I leap down off the stage and tap Lottie, hard.

“Lotts! Tell me. This is important.” As she turns, I grip her by both shoulders. “Have you—” I glance at Noah. “Have you put the sausage in the muffin? Have you done it? Tell the truth! This is important!”

34
LOTTIE

What’s the point in lying anymore?

“No!” I say, almost defiantly. “We haven’t done it! We’re complete frauds. We’re not a happy couple; in fact, we’re not even a couple! Here.” I turn to Melissa, who has been watching avidly with all the others. “Have my crown. Have the sash.” I rip it off and grab the trophy from Ben. “Have everything! We were telling lies the whole time.” I press them all onto her, and she gazes back at me, her eyes narrowed.

“So the first date in the mortuary?”

“Lie.” I nod.

“Sex on the district attorney’s desk?”

“Total lie.”

“I knew it!” She turns to her husband triumphantly. “Didn’t I tell you?” She puts the silver crown on her head and holds the trophy aloft. “This belongs to
us
, I think. We’re the Happy Couple of the Week; thank you, everybody—”

“For Christ’s
sake
, Melissa,” snaps Matt. “No, we’re bloody not.”

Richard, meanwhile, is gazing at me tensely. “So you really haven’t …?”

“Not once.”

“Yesss!” Richard’s air punch is the most ecstatic I’ve ever seen. “In your
face
. Re-sult! Yesssss!” He looks more aggressive than I’ve ever seen him. God, I love him.

“You flew halfway across the world for me.” I nestle into his shoulder again.

“Of course.”

“And then you flew to Greece.”

“Of course.”

I don’t know why I ever thought Richard wasn’t romantic. I don’t know why we ever split up. My ear is pressed against his chest, and I can hear the familiar, soothing thump of his heartbeat. This is where I want to be forever. I’ve tuned out the rest of the world, although I’m dimly aware of the others’ voices.

“You can get an annulment,” Fliss keeps saying. “Do you see, Lottie? This is brilliant! You can get an
annulment
.”

“It’s put the sausage in the cupcake,” Lorcan keeps saying.
“Cupcake.”

35
FLISS

Well, she was right about the sunsets. I’ve never seen anything as spectacular as this in my life. The sun is slowly glowing down the sky, and it’s not just sinking, it’s shooting rays of pink and orange with such dramatic force, I’m put in mind of one of Noah’s superheroes. “Sunset” sounds quite passive, quite nothing-y. This is more like
sun-pow! Sun-take-that!

I look down at Noah’s face, all rosy in the light, and I think again,
He’ll be OK
. For the first time in ages, I don’t feel angst or stress or anger. He’ll be OK. He’ll sort himself out. I’ll sort myself out. It’s all good.

We’ve had an odd time. Kind of cathartic and uncomfortable, embarrassing and joyful, awkward and wonderful, all at the same time. Nico rustled us up a table at the beach-side restaurant, and all five of us sat around eating meze to make your taste buds sing with joy and slow-cooked lamb to make your insides whimper with ecstasy.

The food here really
is
good. Must make sure I big it up in my piece.

There were a lot of questions. There were a lot of stories. There was a lot of kissing.

Lottie and I are … OK. I think. There are still sore spots and rough patches between us, but there’s also been a kind of revelation. We’re on the way to a gradual understanding about who we are to each other, which maybe we’ll look at properly later. (Or not bother and just charge on with life, probably more likely.)