Page 10

Chapter Ten

Gemma

By some miracle, we’ve whiled away a whopping thirty-eight minutes with our drinks, and it really is a miracle, because Francesca is dull as ditchwater, barely even listening never mind saying anything, and Leon is doing his best impression of a Neanderthal, doing little more than grunting when spoken to.

I know it’s his sister’s wedding and he’s missing out on a family reunion tonight, but he really needs to chill out.

I’m the one who’ll get it in the neck from Kayleigh when she finds something that isn’t going perfectly and wants me to come in and argue with somebody to fix it.

I’m the one who’s supposed to be doing a last-minute check of the seating chart and making sure all the guests have arrived okay and that the flowers are correct and the caterers have everything in hand, and …

Speak of the devil.

My phone starts buzzing across the tabletop. ‘BITCH’, it says, with a sparkle emoji.

‘Ohmigod, it’s her. I’ll be back!’ I leap up with my phone in hand, hurrying away from the food court to try to find somewhere quieter. The concourse is packed now, and there’s a huge queue at the little coffee shop at the top of the escalators, so I head downstairs as I answer the call.

‘Hang on, it’s crazy loud here! One sec, babe.’

As I do a quick scan of the area – it’s a circular space lined by shops, the only exception passport control and the gates, but I find an empty hallway behind me, and dart down it. I think it leads to the loos.

Kayleigh is already talking anyway, somehow managing to hit that weird combination of hissing and shrill she’s always been so good at.

‘I cannot believe this, Gem! Delayed? All night? Are you kidding me? What am I going to do? You were supposed to be here! This is exactly why I thought you should’ve come out the other day, or at least got the morning flight out –’

Easy for her to say, when half the reason I couldn’t get the time off is because I’ve been picking up her work while she’s out of the office, and I can’t even complain about that because it turns out she’s the one who got the fucking promotion.

It’s now officially my job to pick up the slack for her.

She’s still going, so I wait for her to pause for breath, only half listening as she panics about all the potential things that could go wrong between now and tomorrow morning, repeating how I should’ve taken the morning flight, then throwing in a few crocodile tears while saying she’s so upset I’m not going to make it to the ‘rehearsal dinner’.

I don’t even know where she’s gotten that from.

There’s no rehearsal of anything. It’s just that everybody who’s flying in would have been there anyway.

A few people who’ve booked hotels in Barcelona city are taxiing in for the evening to see friends and family, make the most of it.

All Kayleigh did was arrange cocktail hour for anybody who wanted to join.

I say Kayleigh; I mean, she told me to organise it with the hotel.

Maybe if I hadn’t been lumped with so much of her wedding planning, I might not have looked so burnt out at work, and they would’ve given me the promotion. There’s a joke in there somewhere, I’m sure. I’m the punchline.

Then she says, ‘Honestly, I shouldn’t have even bothered with that massage this afternoon. What a waste of time.’

Boo-fucking-hoo.

But I make a sympathetic noise. ‘I know, right? I’m legit so sorry, babe. If I could’ve been out of work sooner for the early flight, you know I would’ve …’

I don’t even bother trying to defend myself on that front. She knows . She doesn’t care about the truth; she just wants to play the victim.

Not wanting to get thrown under the bus totally alone, I add, ‘Leon’s stuck here, too, you know. We both feel awful. I wish there was more we could do …’

‘Can’t you get a train? Or rent a car? How long can it take to drive here, anyway?’

In all honesty, maybe we could’ve gotten a train – I think we were too thrown by Francesca suggesting a bus to really consider it. Besides, Kayleigh’s whole rant has been so emotionally draining I think I’d actually rather wait it out here at this tiny airport terminal.

I can’t blame any of her attitude on the stress of planning a wedding. This is just – Kayleigh.

She’s my best friend; aren’t I supposed to forgive her stuff like this? Love her in spite of it?

‘Oh, hon, you know we would, but we’ve already gone through security and everything.

I don’t think we could leave even if we wanted to,’ I say, which is sort of true.

It’s just that I don’t plan to ask and find out.

‘Listen, Joss and Andi and Laura know all about the dress and bouquets and everything, so if anything goes wrong, they can help sort it. And your mum’s there!

She’ll have a handle on things till I get there. ’

‘Yeah, I guess.’

Joss is going to just love stepping up so she can undermine me. She’s been Kayleigh’s friend the longest, and I don’t think she’s ever forgiven me for the fact Kayleigh picked me as her bestie.

‘Just enjoy the night, yeah? And then when you wake up tomorrow, I’ll be there waiting with a mimosa in hand ready to help get you ready for your big day. Promise!’

Kayleigh sighs, but it’s not her argumentative one this time. Phew. At least that’s one storm that’s blown over – for now. She says, ‘Have fun stuck in an airport all night. Sounds miserable as hell.’

‘It is.’

‘Lucky you, having to hang out with Leon all that time. Is he there now?’

‘Nah, I left him upstairs. Oh, and you know who else is here? Fran .’ My mouth is moving before I can think about it; my tone is catty enough to match Kayleigh’s. I feel like a puppet given a script, but I can’t stop it.

‘Fran?’ she says. ‘Who the hell is—’

‘You know, Francesca . Marcus’s Francesca. The work wife .’

Kayleigh’s gasp is loud and so melodramatic it does a full one-eighty back to deadly serious. ‘No! Oh my God. What do you think of her? Isn’t she such an annoying little cow?’

I snort. ‘She’s too boring to be annoying.’

‘Please. She’s such a prim and prissy piece of work; it’s so embarrassing the way she’s always throwing herself at Marcus. You know he only invited her because he feels sorry for her?’

‘Oh, totally.’

Secretly, I’ve got other theories. I think he loves the attention. I think Marcus enjoys the whole ‘cute girl fawning all over him’ thing a lot more than he makes out. I think Kayleigh knows that, too, but because we’re besties, we both pretend like we’re not thinking it.

And … I don’t think Fran’s actually that bad . Boring, yeah, but … I don’t know, Kayleigh always made her sound so self-righteous and insufferable. Prim and prissy, like she said. I haven’t seen that yet. She’s just …

Nice. Boring, but … nice.

I actually feel kind of bad, bitching about her with Kayleigh now, but …

old habits die hard, I guess. And the nagging feeling of guilt, that itch of discomfort, the lingering little voice I shut down a long time ago saying that I’m being needlessly malicious – that’s an old familiar feeling, whenever I’m talking to Kayleigh. I’ve long since learned to accept that.

So I ignore the nauseating twist in my stomach and laugh at the high-pitched, breathy impression she does of Fran, even though it sounds nothing like her, and I say, ‘Oh my God, accurate .’

‘Let me know what she says. A running commentary any time she talks about Marcus, okay?’

‘Oh, you’ve got it. Absolutely.’

And I know I mean it, too. I know I’ll text her everything Fran says, exaggerate a little, throw in a bunch of mean-spirited emojis, and laugh to myself about it, and pretend it’s totally harmless fun.

There it is again, though. That little twist. Another knot forming in my stomach.

Then Kayleigh says, ‘By the way, you heard, right? About the job?’

Shit. I’d really been hoping to avoid talking about this. Bury it, until next week. Pretend for a couple of days that it wasn’t true.

She just has to drive the knife in, though, doesn’t she?

‘I did.’ I swallow, and force myself to exclaim, ‘Congratulations! I’m so excited for you!’

Lie, lie, lie . Can’t she hear it?

‘Ohmigosh, I’m so relieved, you have no idea how hard it was to not tell you! But it wasn’t my place, you know? They wanted to make sure everything was all done properly, tell you themselves. Follow due process and all.’

Lie, lie, lie . I can hear it.

‘Totally.’ The word scratches out; my throat is bone-dry.

‘It’s so exciting, though! Guess the best gal won in the end, huh?’ She laughs to take the sting off, an old trick, but I only feel a total sense of numbness.

My voice doesn’t even sound like mine when I say, ‘For sure. Hey, you owe me one for setting the whole thing up in the first place for you, huh?’

Kayleigh’s laugh this time is curt. Patronising. She doesn’t say anything else.

‘Well, anyway, I’d better get back – my coffee’ll be getting cold, and you would not believe the line to get a fresh one. Total hell. Get the girls to send me some pics from tonight, yeah?’ I say. ‘Can’t wait to see! Can’t believe I’m missing it.’

‘Me either. Miss you, babe.’

‘Miss you too!’ I chirp, but when I finally hang up, my breath comes out in a long rush, and I sink down the wall I’m leaning against until I’m crouched on the balls of my feet, and I press the heels of my wrists to my forehead.

I wasn’t very pretty or book-smart or sporty at school, but I could be popular.

Kayleigh took me under her wing, and the rest was history.

I knew how to work people, and I used that to my advantage.

Then at work, it was so cut-throat that being nice and kind and compassionate would’ve only held me back.

I know who I am; and worse, Kayleigh knows who I am. Who she expects me to be.

Sometimes, when I have a little distance from her, like right now, it wears on me.

It makes me think … that I don’t always, necessarily, like who I am.

That’s the sort of thinking that gets you down if you give into it, though, the kind of thing that sends you spiralling into an existential crisis.

So you can’t think about it too much. Just like how you can’t let yourself think too long and hard about your dad walking out, or your mum never caring, or your girlfriend breaking up with you when you thought she was going to propose …

Or your best friend beating you out for a promotion, getting the guy, buying the home, and stealing your dream wedding.

It’ll bury you, if you’re not careful.

It’d ruin a better person. So, sometimes, I’m glad I’m not like that.

I can’t afford to let it fester. It’s the sort of thing you harness, channel, let drive you to something bigger and better, use it to get what you want instead of wallowing. It’s the only way to cope.

Which is why I know that in all likelihood I’ll gossip ruthlessly via text with Kayleigh about anything Fran says and does, and why I have that video on my phone. There, ready, waiting.