Выбрать главу

I stare at him in disbelief. All he’s concerned with is some business deal. What about the fact that his best friend has married my sister in a totally stupid knee-jerk gesture caused by him?

“I’m in touch with Lottie. Not Ben.”

“Huh.” He frowns and turns back to the paper. How can he read the paper? I feel deeply, mortally offended that he can concentrate on the sports pages when he’s created such a mess.

“Are you OK?” He peers up at me. “You seem a little … fixated.”

I’m simmering all over with rage. I can feel my head prickling; I can feel my fists clenching. “Funnily enough, no,” I manage. “I’m not OK.”

“Oh.” He glances at the paper yet again, and something inside me snaps.

“Stop looking at that!” I leap up and grab it from his hands before I’m fully aware of what I’m doing. “Stop it!” I crumple the paper furiously and throw it on the floor. I’m panting and my cheeks are blazing.

Lorcan stares at the paper, apparently bemused.

“Mummy!” says Noah, in delighted shock. “Litterbug!”

All the other airline passengers have turned to stare at me. Great. And now Lorcan is gazing up at me too, dark brows drawn together, as though I’m some inscrutable mystery.

“What’s the problem?” he says at last. “Are you pissed off?”

Is he joking?

“Yes!” I erupt. “I am a little pissed off that, after I had sorted out the whole situation with Ben and my sister, you had to go barging in and wreck it!”

I can see the truth slowly dawning on his face. “You’re blaming me?”

“Of course I’m blaming you! If you’d said nothing, they wouldn’t be married!”

“Uh-uh.” He shakes his head adamantly. “Incorrect. Ben’s mind was made up.”

“Lottie said it was because of you.”

“Lottie was wrong.”

He’s not going to back down, is he? Bastard.

“All I know is, I’d sorted the situation,” I say stonily. “I’d managed it. And then this happened.”

“You thought you’d sorted it,” he corrects me. “You thought you’d managed it. When you know Ben as well as I do, you’ll realize that his mind flips direction like a fish. Previous agreements count for nothing. Agreements to sign crucial, time-sensitive documents, for example.” There’s a sudden irritation in his voice. “You can pin him down all you like. He still slips away.”

“That’s why you’re here?” I glance at his briefcase. “Just for these documents?”

“If Muhammad won’t come to the mountain, the mountain has to cancel all his plans and get on a plane.” His phone bleeps with a text and he reads it, then starts typing a reply. “It would really help me if I could talk to Ben,” he adds as he types. “Do you know what they’re doing?”

“Couples’ Quiz,” I reply.

Lorcan looks baffled, then types some more. Slowly, I sit down. Noah has descended onto the floor and is making a hat out of Lorcan’s newspaper.

“Noah,” I say, without conviction. “Don’t do that. My son,” I add to Lorcan.

“Hello,” says Lorcan to Noah. “Nice hat. So, you never told me. What are you doing here, exactly? Joining the happy couple, I assume. Do they know?”

The question takes me off guard. I sip the water, my mind working hard.

“Lottie asked me to go out there,” I lie at last. “But I’m not sure if Ben knows yet, so don’t mention that you’ve seen me, OK?”

“Sure.” He shrugs. “A little odd, asking your sister to join you on honeymoon. Isn’t she having a good time?”

“Actually, they’re thinking of renewing their vows,” I say in sudden inspiration. “Lottie wanted me there as a witness.”

“Oh, please.” Lorcan scowls. “What kind of shit idea is that?”

His tone is so dismissive, I find myself getting irritated.

“I think it’s rather a nice idea,” I contradict him. “Lottie’s always wanted a ceremony by the sea. She’s quite a romantic.”

“I’m sure.” Lorcan nods as though digesting this, then looks up, deadpan. “What about the ponies? Is she having those?”

Ponies? I peer at him blankly. What on earth—

Matching ponies. Great. So he did hear me yesterday morning. My face fills with blood, and just for an instant I feel myself losing my cool.

The way to deal with this, I swiftly decide, is to be direct. We’re grown-ups. We can acknowledge an embarrassing situation and move on. Exactly.

“So. Um.” I clear my throat. “Yesterday morning.”

“Yes?” He leans forward, with mock interest. He’s not going to make this easy for me, is he?

“I don’t know exactly what you …” I try again. “Obviously I was talking on the phone to my sister when you came into the room. And what you heard was totally out of context. I mean, you’ve probably forgotten what I said. But just in case you haven’t, I wouldn’t want you to … misinterpret anything.…”

He’s not paying me any attention. He’s taken out a notepad and is writing on it. So rude. Still, at least that means I’m off the hook. I offer the water bottle to Noah, who sips absentmindedly, his attention fixed on his newspaper hat. Then I look up as Lorcan taps me on the shoulder. He hands me his notepad, on which are lines of writing.

“I believe I have a good memory for words,” he says politely. “But please correct me if any of it is wrong.”

As I read the lines, my jaw drops in dismay.

Small. Seriously, tiny. The whole night was such an ordeal. I had to pretend I was having a good time, and all along … No. Terrible. And afterward wasn’t much better. I feel ill at the very thought. In fact, I might throw up. And then Lorcan will never love me, and we’ll never get married in a double wedding on matching ponies.

“Look,” I manage at last, my face puce. “I didn’t mean … that.”

“Which bit?” He raises his eyebrows.

Bastard. Does he think this is funny?

“You know as well as I do,” I begin icily, “that those words were taken out of context. They didn’t refer to …” I trail off as a growing hubbub attracts my attention. It’s coming from the desk. Two air hostesses are remonstrating with a man in a linen shirt and chinos, who’s trying to squash a suitcase into the hand-baggage measuring stand. As he raises his voice angrily to answer, I realize it’s familiar.

He turns, and I quell a gasp of shock. I thought so: it’s Richard!

“Sir, I’m afraid the case is clearly too big for the cabin.” A woman from the airline is addressing him. “And it’s too late to check it in now. Might I suggest that you wait and catch a later flight?”

“A later flight?” Richard’s voice erupts from him like the sound of a tormented animal. “There aren’t any other flights to this godforsaken place! One a day! What kind of service is that?”

“Sir—”

“I need to get on this flight.”

“But, sir—”

To my astonishment, Richard vaults up so that he’s resting on the high desk, his eyes level with the airline woman’s.

“The girl I love has tethered herself to another man,” he says intensely. “I was too slow off the mark, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. But if I can do nothing else, I can tell her how I really feel. Because I never showed her. Not properly. I’m not even sure I knew myself.”

I gape at him, absolutely astonished. Is this Richard? Making declarations of love in public? If only Lottie could see this! She’d be bowled over! The airline woman, on the other hand, looks supremely unmoved. She has black dyed hair pulled into a harsh bun and a doughy face with mean little eyes.

“Be that as it may, sir,” she says, “your case is too big for the cabin. Could you step aside from the desk?”