“Right, let’s go,” says Lorcan. He consults his phone. “Ben isn’t replying to my texts. Do you know where they are?”
“No idea. They were about to have sex when I interrupted.” I wince at my own conduct. Gradually, my haze of lunacy is lifting. I can see quite how badly I’ve been behaving. So what if they have sex? So what if they conceive a honeymoon baby? It’s their life.
“D’you think she’ll ever forgive me?” I say as we get into the taxi. I’m hoping that Lorcan will make some reassuring reply like, Of course she will; the bond of sisterhood is too strong to break with a mere bagatelle like this. Instead, he wrinkles his nose and shrugs deeply.
“Is she the forgiving type?”
“No.”
“Well.” He shrugs again. “Unlikely.”
My heart drops. I’m the most misguided big sister there ever was. Lottie will never speak to me again. And it’s my own fault.
I dial her number and go straight to voicemail.
“Lottie,” I say for the zillionth time. “I’m so, so, so sorry. I have to explain. I have to see you. I’m coming to the hotel. I’ll call you when I’m there, OK?” I put my phone away and drum my fingers impatiently. We’ve joined the main road but we’re going at a modest speed, by Greek standards. I lean forward to the driver. “Can we go faster? I need to see my sister, pronto. Can we go any faster?”
I’d forgotten how far the Amba Hotel is from the airport. It seems like several hours before we’re arriving, climbing out of the taxi, slamming the doors, and running up the marble steps.
“Let’s give our luggage to a bellman,” I say breathlessly. “We can get it later.”
“Fine.” Lorcan summons a bellman with a trolley and swings our cases up onto it. “Let’s go.”
He’s almost more impatient than I am. He gradually became more and more urgent and tetchy in the car, consulting his watch and trying to contact Ben.
“It’s nearly close of play,” he keeps saying. “I need these signatures scanned in and sent over.”
Now, as we arrive in the familiar marble lobby, he turns to me expectantly. “Where will they be?”
“I don’t know!” I riposte. “How should I know? In their suite?”
Through the glass doors at the back of the lobby, I can see the shimmering, inviting blue of the sea, and Noah has spotted it too.
“The sea! The sea!” He wrenches at my hand. “Come on! The sea!”
“I know, darling!” I rein him back. “In a minute.”
“Can we have a smoothie?” he adds, spotting a waiter carrying a tray of several pink smoothie-type drinks.
“Later,” I promise. “We’ll have smoothies and we’ll go to the buffet and you can swim in the sea. But first we need to find Aunt Lottie. Keep your eyes open.”
“Ben,” Lorcan is saying curtly into his phone. “I’m here. Where are you?” He rings off and turns to me. “Where’s their suite?”
“Upstairs. I think I remember …” I’m leading him swiftly across the expanse of marble, dodging a group of tanned men in pale suits, when a voice assails my ears.
“Fliss? Felicity?”
I wheel round to see a familiar plump figure hurrying through the lobby on patent shoes. Shit.
“Nico!” I say, trying to keep my chin up. “Hi, there. And thanks for everything.”
“ ‘Thanks for everything’?” He seems almost apoplectic. “Do you realize the damage I have done in trying to carry out your wishes? Never have I known such farce. Never have I known such shenanigans.”
“Right.” I gulp. “Er … sorry. I appreciate it.”
“Your sister, she is beside herself with rage.”
“I know.” I wince. “Nico, I’m so sorry. But I’ll be expressing my gratitude with a very big feature about you in the magazine. Very big. Very flattering. A double-page spread.” I’ll write it myself, I vow. Not one critical word. “There’s just one more tiny thing you could help us with—”
“Help you?” His voice rises indignantly. “Help you? I have the gala ceremony to prepare for! I am late already. Fliss, I have to go. Please do not create any more chaos in my hotel.”
Bristling all over, he marches away, and Lorcan raises his eyebrows at me.
“You’ve made a friend there.”
“He’ll be all right. I’ll sweeten him up with a glowing review.” I’m looking frantically around the lobby, trying to remember it. “OK, I think the Oyster Suite is on the top floor. And the lifts are this way. Come on!”
As we’re traveling up in the lift, Lorcan tries Ben’s phone yet again.
“He knew I was coming,” he mutters ominously. “He should have been ready to sign. This is so unhelpful.”
“We’ll be there in a minute!” I retort irritably. “Stop stressing.”
As we arrive at the top floor, I hare out of the lift, dragging Noah by the hand and not stopping to check any signs. I head to the door at the end of the corridor and bang on it as hard as I can.
“Lottie! It’s me!” I notice a tiny doorbell and ring that too, for good measure. “Come out! Please! I want to apologize! I’m so sorry! I’M SO SORRY!” I thump on the door again, and Noah, delighted, joins in.
“Come out!” he yells, banging on the door. “Come out! Come out!”
Suddenly the door is flung open and a strange man wrapped in a towel stares at me.
“Yes?” he says bad-temperedly.
I stare back, disconcerted. This doesn’t look like the photo I saw of Ben. Nothing like.
“Er … Ben?” I try anyway.
“No,” he says flatly.
My mind is racing. She’s in an open marriage. Does that mean— Oh my God. Are they having a threesome?
“Are you with … Ben and Lottie?” I say cautiously.
“No, I’m with my wife.” He glowers at me. “Who are you?”
“This is the Oyster Suite?”
“No, the Pearl Suite.” He points to a discreet sign by the door, which I totally missed.
“Ah. Right. Sorry.” I back away.
“I thought you knew this place,” says Lorcan.
“I did. I do. I was sure—” I break off as something catches my eye through a nearby window. It’s a narrow window with a view of the sea, and I can just glimpse a jetty decorated with flowers. Standing in the middle of the jetty is a couple that looks very familiar—
“Oh my God, it’s them! They’re renewing their vows! Quick!”
I grab Noah again and all three of us hurry back along the corridor. The lift is unbearably slow but, even so, we’re soon outside, running over lawns and down paths, toward the sea. The jetty is ahead, decorated with flowers and balloons, and in the center, there they are, the happy couple, holding hands.
“Swimming!” shouts Noah joyously.
“Not yet,” I pant. “We need to—” I break off, peering again at the couple on the jetty. They’re facing away from us, but I’m sure it’s Lottie. I think it’s Lottie. Except …
Hang on. I rub my eyes, trying to focus more clearly. I need my lenses checked.
“Is it them?” demands Lorcan.
“I don’t know,” I confess. “If they’d just turn round …”
“That’s not Aunt Lottie!” says Noah scornfully. “That’s a different lady.”
“Doesn’t really look like Ben,” confirms Lorcan, squinting at the guy. “Too tall.”
At that moment, the girl turns her head and I realize she looks nothing like Lottie.
“Oh God.” I sink down onto a nearby sun bed. “It’s not them. I can’t run around anymore. Can’t we have a drink?” I turn to Lorcan. “You must have missed your deadline by now. Get it done in the morning. Have a drink. Lorcan? What’s wrong?”