Page 21

Chapter Twenty

Leon

The flight gets pushed back another twenty minutes. Not a single flight has left in the time we’ve been here, which makes me feel …

The exact opposite of hopeful.

Maybe even a bit grateful?

I’m beginning to toss around the idea of abandoning the flight altogether.

Finding an information desk and requesting to change my ticket to one back to the UK.

Getting the bloody Eurostar to London, even, at this rate.

I can pretend there was a problem with my ticket for the connecting flight, that I got sick, anything but making it to the wedding.

I was already stressed out about the idea of sitting Kay down for a serious conversation about Marcus’s behaviour and his effect on her, but at least that had felt like I’d be doing the right thing, ultimately.

But after everything Gemma said …

What if she’s right?

What if it’s not worth it?

Will it break Mum and Dad’s hearts even more if the wedding doesn’t go ahead and Kay’s true colours start showing? Will she become even worse?

There’s a voice in my head saying, You know your own sister; it’s not her it’s Marcus, it’s London, it’s the job, it’s Gemma … But at what point do we have to accept that those are all just excuses?

For all I can say that Gemma’s just jealous and bitter and Francesca’s clearly biased, it’s frighteningly easy to recall a dozen tiny interactions with Kay over the last few years, even before Marcus was around, that hit wrong.

Expressions she pulled, things she said, so minuscule and forgettable, but together, now, they all add up to say, She’s not the person you all think she is.

I don’t know how to fix this. I’m the oldest, I’m supposed to look out for the family, and – I’ve failed, so badly.

Is this how Nana felt when she tried to talk to Kay, just for her granddaughter to throw it in her face and never see her again?

She never told us they’d had a full-on argument .

She saw what Kay was really like, and took that to her grave rather than upset us all any more about it.

Can I do that, too?

Is it worth it, if it spares the rest of the family some heartache?

Come on, Nana. Give me a sign, tell me what to do .

Is this storm and this layover a message to go home, to forget about the wedding and the chat with Kay and everything else? Go home, apologise for the mix-up, and keep my mouth shut.

Or is this the universe’s way of telling me that I needed to realise I was on a fool’s errand, forcing me to spend time with Francesca and Gemma in this airport to learn the truth, and do something about it?

Tell the family she’s a lost cause – or confront Kay and tell her she has to change, or else be done with us to save everyone worrying about her, causing all that pain?

I wish I knew. I wish there was a right answer.

At the next table over, there’s a redheaded couple.

The guy jostles against my chair as he returns with some drinks, and his girlfriend mutters a thank you before sighing at him, ‘I told you we should’ve pulled the honeymoon card.

They always give preferential treatment when they know you’re on your honeymoon. ’

‘Well, it’s too late for that now,’ he huffs, and both of them busy themselves with their phones. I swallow a laugh; they’re hardly the picture of newlywed bliss. The ‘honeymoon card’ would be a hard sell coming from them.

I jolt out of my thoughts when my own phone starts ringing: Myleene is FaceTiming. I dig out my earphones quickly and connect them before I answer.

I barely manage to say ‘Hello’ before my little sister is pulling a face and informing me, ‘You look like absolute shit. Have you been drinking?’

I catch sight of myself on the screen: pale and drawn and hollowed-out behind the eyes.

A stark contrast to the glow of candlelit lanterns on Myleene’s cheeks and highlighting her hair in gold.

She’s wearing sparkly eyeshadow, and is outside somewhere.

There’s a whitewashed wall behind her taking up half the screen, and the other half is given over to an expanse of clear, ink-blue sky speckled with stars and silhouettes of palm trees.

‘No, I’ve not been drinking,’ I tell her, but I could really do with one right about now . ‘Just … worried about this layover.’

‘Fair enough. Kay’s well stressed. Especially because Gem’s not here.

What kind of maid of honour leaves it till the last minute to fly out for the wedding?

If she’d gotten the morning flight like Kay said, she’d be here by now.

You know Joss has had to step up and sort out things Gemma was meant to be doing?

And Andi and Laura are having to make back-up plans for tomorrow in case she doesn’t make it.

Plus there’s a whole drama between the three of them about who would get to sit at the top table in Gemma’s spot as maid of honour, so it doesn’t look weird in all the photos and stuff.

Just because, what, she wouldn’t take an extra couple of hours off work? Kay’s fuming. I don’t blame her.’

‘Mm,’ I say, but remembering that throwaway comment Gemma made about having to pick up some of Kayleigh’s work for her makes it hard to be sympathetic.

Myleene, of course, is totally swept up in the drama of it all – just like Mum got swept up in the wedding planning.

She’s just a kid, though, nineteen, and as the baby of the family, she absolutely idolises Kayleigh: her big sister with the glamorous, perfect life she can only aspire to emulate one day.

Can I destroy that? Can I be honest with them, and sow that regret and distrust in someone like Myleene, too? I don’t know if she’d even believe me. I certainly don’t think she’d ever get over it.

‘Is Gemma stressing out?’ she asks me.

‘Uh … a normal amount, I’d say. But there’s not much we can do, is there?’

Myleene raises her eyebrows at me. ‘You could rent a car and drive here. That’s what Dad said. And Mum said you’d never cope driving on the wrong side of the road and you’d get too wound up and end up lost, especially in the dark. But I said that’s what a satnav is for.’

‘Well … Hopefully it won’t come to that.’

‘Lucky you’re not one of the groomsmen, or Kay would be really angry with you being late,’ Myleene says, laughing. ‘Have you got your speech, by the way? Can you send it to me? Just in case I have to do it, if you don’t make it. Kay’s said to tell you that you have to send me it.’

‘I’ll make it.’ And I suppose I’d better write something , as a contingency. Even if it’s only to send Myleene for her peace of mind. I ask, ‘Are we the only ones who got delayed?’

‘A few cousins did too, and Marcus’s stepbrother is stuck at Bristol.’ She waves a dismissive hand. ‘And that skanky girl from Marcus’s work, the harpy—’

‘Francesca.’ I swallow a lump in my throat, and the urge to defend Francesca against the insult along with it. ‘Yeah, she’s with us.’

Myleene’s eyes light up, and she scrunches her nose in excitement. ‘OMG, say more. Is she pretty? Is she really annoying and up herself like Kay says? Has she been talking about Marcus? Is she really sad and pathetic, like he says?’

‘She’s …’

If Myleene had asked me an hour ago, I’d not have hesitated to say yes, she’s every bit as awful as we were led to believe. Try-hard and fake and pulling that na?ve act that set my teeth on edge all while being selfish and vindictive and not caring if she was hurting anybody else’s feelings.

Except now, I think about how sad she sounded when I explained why I wanted to talk to Kay before the wedding, how hurt she looked when we talked about what a condescending arse Marcus is and she tried and failed to defend him.

That strikes me as someone who cares very much about what other people feel.

It’s also easy to see why someone like that wouldn’t even realise if Marcus was taking advantage of her friendship and her crush on him.

I think about Francesca’s expressive eyes and heart-shaped face, how soft her hair looks and the mismatched, colourful pins on her jacket she kept fidgeting with, and that blaze of fire in her eyes when she tried to put me in my place for being rude.

I probably owe her an apology for that; we did get off on the wrong foot.

‘She’s very pretty,’ I tell Myleene, ‘and she seems like a … nice person, for the most part.’

Aside from planning to break up a wedding, of course.

‘Oh. That’s a bit disappointing,’ Myleene says. ‘The way Kay’s talked about her, and all that stuff Marcus says, I assumed she’d be …’

‘Yeah. Me, too.’

‘Well,’ Myleene jokes, laughing, ‘just watch you don’t fall prey to her man-eating ways!’

‘Ha. Right. No danger of that.’

I think about the way her head ticked to the side when she smiled. Definitely cute, I decide.

Feeling a bit more like myself, I tell Myleene to show me the view – she’s out on a terrace while the partying carries on inside.

Even though we can’t quite see them in the dark, she points out the lush gardens and the pavilion in the middle where the wedding will take place.

All the while, she’s chattering a mile a minute about how Mum and Dad went to a salsa dancing class with some other relatives earlier and how cringe it is because they’re all giving it a go again now dinner’s over and they can ‘tear up the dance floor’, and how she’ll be sure to video so I can see, too.

She mentions that Marcus is busy getting drunk with his mates and pulls a very unimpressed face about it, and how he and Kay had a ‘little spat’ earlier because she thought he was flirting with the waitress, but then Kay told everyone how fit her masseur was, and it’s a lot of pent-up wedding nerves and drama.

‘Sounds like I’m really missing out.’

Myleene laughs. ‘Please, you’d hate it. Consider yourself lucky you’re stuck there, missing all this! Why do you think half the grown-ups took themselves off to this dance class earlier? They’re not about it, either.’

‘Probably for the best.’

‘Yeah … Anyway, I should go. Promised I’d help Joss check on the flowers and stuff for the ceremony.’

‘Isn’t it past your bedtime?’ I joke, but not really – it’s getting late; does she need to be running errands like that right now?

‘Bride’s orders. Gotta pick up the slack for Gemma and help Kayleigh de-stress so she can get her beauty rest ahead of the big day!

’ Myleene salutes, stern-faced enough to make me laugh in spite of it.

She might be a bit melodramatic at times, but she’s nothing if not committed.

She’ll always step up to the plate and help out.

Not like Kay .

We say our goodbyes, and she disappears from the screen.

My own reflection stares back at me.

He looks like he needs a stiff drink, and I decide I am more than happy to oblige.