Wedding Night: A Novel

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?