Page 7

Chapter Seven

Gemma

Oh, God, this is just what I need. First the cabin crew actually did misplace my bridesmaid’s dress – which, for all I joked, was a fucking nightmare – and now , after waiting for them to track down where they’d put it, there’s a massive queue to sort out where I go from here.

‘Here’, apparently, being France. Honestly, who goes through Orly for anything? What happened to good old Charles de Gaulle?

A gym-bro guy with glitter in his hair and no luggage except a rucksack runs past me, panting, ‘Shit, shit, shit,’ under his breath. He looks like a kid who got lost on a stag do and is late going home to Mummy and Daddy.

He probably is .

He joins the huge queue I’m heading for, tearing at his hair as he counts up how many people are in front of him.

Yeah, you and me both, buddy .

I’m on the phone to Kayleigh as I cross the terminal, though I only get her voicemail. There’s a big, fake smile pasted on my face as I talk. Like it’ll help me pretend I’m totally genuine – or maybe it’s just force of habit for whenever I’m dealing with Kayleigh.

‘Babe, you will never believe what’s happened.

It’s an absolute mare of a sitch. The flight got diverted to France because of a bit of rain, can you even?

Absolute mare . Anyway, sure they’ll fix me up on a new flight tout suite , so it’s no big.

Do not even stress. Not sure if I’ll make it in time for a cheeky beveragino tonight but I promise, I’ll make up for it in the morning with the champers, lol! ’

I will make up for it with vodka, neat.

Can the maid of honour get away with being completely rat-arsed during the ceremony? I wish.

‘So, like, I’ll deffo let you know as soon as I know when my next flight is, but please , do not stress. It’ll all be totally fine. Promise. Love ya! Say hi to Marcus for me!’

I hang up, knowing full well she will be stressing out.

What a waste of a massage that will be. Boo-hoo.

I wonder if there’s somewhere here I can get a massage? I deserve one.

I also wonder if this is either karmic retribution or the universe trying to throw me a line.

First with the dress, and then the weather…

I mean, I have practically made this happen .

I am a witch from Macbeth . I am the Grim in the tea leaves of Harry Potter’s cup.

I am Nesta from A Court of Thorns and Roses with her pointy death finger.

I’ve brought this on myself. Spoken it into existence. Manifested not being able to make it to the wedding.

But God, if I don’t show up there – at the very least, by tomorrow morning – she will never let me live it down. Oh, we’ll laugh about it, and she’ll say it’s all good and it’s not my fault, but she will hang it over my head like a guillotine for the next ten – twenty – years, easy.

It’ll be the thing she brings up jokingly whenever I’m a bit late to meet up. ‘Ooh, didn’t get diverted through France again, did you? Thought this was going to be a repeat of my wedding, haha!’

It’ll be the thing she throws back in my face whenever she gets a little bit upset with me for something. ‘And this is just like my wedding, when you weren’t there for me …’

It’ll be the thing she brings out as leverage to overrule me – ‘Well, if you’d listened to me and flown out earlier like I’d said, you wouldn’t have missed the wedding …

’ – and the thing she uses to excuse her own failures as a friend – ‘I think I’m owed a missed birthday party or two when you missed my entire wedding , Gem, the most important day of my life! ’

I think about the video on my camera roll, and the resolve that she deserves this hardens a little more.

I will be at that goddamn wedding if it kills me.

Joy of joys, finally, a stroke of luck!

Just as I’m about to join the back of the humungous – genuinely, humungous – queue, I hear a familiar voice up ahead, and my heart leaps. I know that head of scruffy curls! I know that stocky build!

Leon is at the counter arguing with a flight rep, and there’s a petite brunette next to him, the patient and friendly smile on her face just a bit too strained to be believable.

I breeze past the entire queue towards them, wheelie case rattling lightly behind me.

‘Leon, hon! Fancy seeing you here! Bonjour, bonjour! ’ I call over, interrupting the conversation. I throw an arm around him in a quick hug he doesn’t return, and when I pull away he’s still blinking, startled to see me.

‘Gemma. You’re here.’

‘Of course I’m here, silly! Looks like we were on the same flight.’

‘I thought you would’ve already been out there. Making the most of the place.’

Yes, well, if it didn’t cost an arm and a leg to get a room for a night, and if I hadn’t been screwed over getting time off work …

‘Oh, you know how it is! I thought you were going out this morning with your parents?’

‘Flight was fully booked.’ He shakes his head, trying to clear it. Poor guy can’t handle stress at all . ‘This, uh …’

He makes some vague, half-hearted gesture to the brunette, who meets me with a ready smile, this one equally frayed around the edges as the one she was using with the staff.

‘I’m Francesca,’ she says, ‘Marcus’s—’

‘Oh, you’re Marcus’s friend! The work wife! Darling, lovely to meet you!’ I give her a hug, too, if only to hide the wide-eyed shock that steals over my face in that moment.

The fucking work wife .

I swear to God. I can’t. I can’t deal.

But I’m not about to lay into her here in the middle of the departures hall, not when we’ll have to see each other and play nice at the wedding all day tomorrow, too. I may be a bit of a bitch sometimes, but I’m not a monster.

I still can’t believe Marcus invited her. I can’t believe Kayleigh let him . I can’t believe she actually came. This girl throws herself at him at any opportunity, has this pathetic crush on him, makes all these sad excuses to spend time with him …

I bet they’ve fucked.

Although, actually, this doe-eyed girl does not seem like Marcus’s type at all.

But still. Everything I’ve heard about her from Marcus and Kayleigh …

I bet she has slept with him. I mean, hello, did somebody say ‘office siren’?

And in that ugly man’s jacket, she’s giving real Manic Pixie Dream Girl vibes.

Leon makes a disgruntled noise that sounds like an actual grunt , and we both glance over.

His jaw is clenched, and he looks about as thrilled by the term ‘work wife’ as Kayleigh is.

Francesca, for her part, has a faint blush on her cheeks.

She’s annoyingly good-looking. Adorable , all big eyes and pouty mouth, and I bet she doesn’t even have fillers to achieve that look.

Anyway. Bigger fish to fry, and all that.

I turn to the man at the counter, resting my elbow on it and giving him a smile, too. Bright and dazzling and ruthless.

‘ Bonjour, monsieur. Nous sommes— ’

‘I speak English, madam,’ he informs me with a Brummie accent.

‘Right. Well, hi,’ I say. ‘I’m with them. We’re all trying to get to the same wedding. What’s the update? Have we got a new flight yet? We really do need to be there tonight, you see. Terribly important. Lots to do! I’m the maid of honour,’ I add, really laying the self-importance on thick.

He looks exhausted already, poor fella, and gives me a terse look.

‘As I was just explaining to your friends’ – even he says it like he knows we’re hardly more than peripheral acquaintances – ‘most flights are currently grounded due to the storm. It’s expected to clear up in a couple of hours, but—’

‘So put us on a flight in a couple of hours.’

I swear, I literally see him questioning all his life choices and losing the will to live. He manages to turn his eye-roll into a series of blinks.

‘We’re very busy. You understand it’s the bank holiday weekend. Most flights are already fully booked. With the delays—’

‘What about … well, I don’t know, a bus, or something? There’s always a bus when the train is cancelled,’ Francesca says, and we all look at her so unimpressed that she flushes beetroot.

‘As if rail replacement buses are ever a good option,’ Leon mutters.

‘Would you like us to put you on a bus to Spain?’ the desk attendant asks, and I don’t blame him for the thick sarcasm.

Francesca looks like she wants the ground to swallow her up whole.

‘I didn’t think so. Your options are: we can find you tickets on the next available flight, which would have been scheduled to leave tonight, but we can’t guarantee how long that delay will be while this weather continues—’

‘You have got to be kidding me,’ I say. ‘We aren’t waiting around all night to maybe get on a flight!’

‘ Or , if you prefer, we can put you up in a hotel overnight. I should be able to seat you on the ten a.m. flight—’

‘No!’ all three of us cry out, and all three of us lurch towards the counter, making the guy reel back in alarm. He almost falls over, and I’d laugh if the situation wasn’t so absolutely bloody dire.

‘That’s no good,’ Leon says, fighting to keep his composure. ‘The ceremony is at ten thirty.’

‘Then I suggest you wait here for the next available flight.’

Leon huffs and steps back, and work wife Francesca is dithering, fidgeting, which is all super unhelpful. I brace both hands on the counter, and try not to give our new Brummie pal a death-stare when I smile at him.

‘I don’t think you’re understanding our predicament here. We have a wedding . My best friend is getting married, and I need to be there. He needs to be there. She ’ – I jab a finger at Francesca – ‘needs to be there. What do we need to do to make that happen?’

‘Take it up with Zeus,’ he deadpans.

Leon snorts, so I look at him. ‘Is that the manager?’

‘It’s the Greek god of thunder. You know. Like in Hercules ? King of the gods? You and Kayleigh are as bad as each other, I swear.’

Right, well, thank you for that assessment, dickwad.

The man at the desk prints us each a boarding pass. He hands them over, and I take all three.

‘Please proceed through security to the terminal and monitor the board for more information. Your flight details are on the boarding passes, and there are some food vouchers for use within the airport by way of apology from the airline for the inconvenience.’

‘But—’ I protest.

‘Wait a minute,’ Leon says.

Francesca cries out, ‘Hang on, we haven’t—’

And the man bellows, ‘NEXT!’ and I guess … we’re done.

I debate planting my feet and telling him absolutely categorically no , we are not done here, but I …

kind of don’t think it’s worth it. Is it the worst thing in the world if I miss the drinks tonight?

I’ll have already missed dinner, even if I got on a flight leaving right now.

And so what if I don’t have to put up with Kayleigh’s self-satisfied smile and perfect, perfect life for a couple more hours? Besides, I’ve got Leon to vouch for me.

And frankly, I need to reserve my energy for getting through tomorrow, not haranguing this man into bumping someone else off an earlier flight for us. Because it’s an us , now, we’re a team , all three of us doing our damnedest to get there to celebrate Kayleigh and Marcus.

If we’re stuck together, somehow, that will soften the blow … won’t it?

Hell, knowing Kayleigh, nothing can make this better. It’s an unmitigated disaster. I can’t wait to not live it down for the rest of my life.

But I put on a brave face, another winning smile, and turn to Leon and Francesca. ‘Come on then, you two. To security we go. Tout suite! ’