“Welcome!” he says. “We are delighted to see you all at our cocktail and presentation event. Just as Aphrodite is the goddess of love, so the Amba is the home of love. And tonight we celebrate a very special couple. They are here on their honeymoon and have won our Happy Couple of the Week award: Ben and Lottie Parr!”
Applause breaks out around us, and Ben gives me a nudge. “Go on.”
“I’m going!” I say bad-temperedly. I make my way over the sand to the platform and step up, squinting a little as a spotlight hits my eyes.
“Congratulations, dear lady!” exclaims Nico, as he hands me a large silver trophy in the shape of a heart. “Let me give you both your crowns.…”
Crowns?
Before I can protest, Nico places silvered plastic crowns on our heads. He deftly fastens a satin sash over my shoulder, then steps back. “The winning couple!”
The audience claps again and I give a rictus smile into the lights. This is hideous. A trophy, a crown, and a sash? I feel like a beauty queen without the beauty.
“And now a few words from our happy couple!” Nico passes the microphone to Ben, who promptly passes it to me.
“Hello, everybody.” My voice booms out, and I wince at the sound. “Thank you so much for this … honor. Well, obviously we’re a very happy couple. We’re so, so happy.”
“Very happy,” adds Ben into the microphone.
“Blissful.”
“It’s been the ideal honeymoon.”
“When Ben first proposed, I had no idea that I would end up so … so happy. So very happy.”
Suddenly, with no warning, a tear snakes down my face. I can’t help it. When I look back to myself in that restaurant, elatedly agreeing to marry Ben, it’s like looking at a different person. A mad, deluded, crazy person. What was I thinking of? Marrying Ben was like drinking four double shots of vodka. For a bit, it masked the pain and I felt fabulous. But this is the hangover, and it’s not pretty.
I smile harder and lean into the microphone. “We’re just so happy,” I repeat for emphasis. “Everything’s gone so smoothly and brilliantly, and there hasn’t been a tense moment between us. Has there, darling?”
Two more tears are rolling down my face. I’m hoping they’ll play as tears of joy.
“What a delightful, heavenly time we’ve had,” I add, wiping my face. “What a wonderful, idyllic time. It’s been perfect in every way, and we couldn’t be happier—” I break off mid-flow as my eye is caught by a trio of silhouetted figures making their way up the beach from the sea. They’re all wrapped in towels, but even so …
Is that …
No. It can’t be.
Beside me, Ben is looking the same way, his mouth falling open in astonishment.
“Lorcan?” He grabs the microphone from me and calls into it loudly. “Lorcan! What the fuck? How long have you been here?”
“Aunt Lottie!” cries the smallest toweled figure, suddenly spotting me. “Aunt Lottie, you’ve got a crown on!”
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 …