Emergency at Bayside (17 page)

‘Done what?’

Kathy gestured to the television, but the film might just as well have been in Chinese for all the attention Meg was paying. ‘Elope. Are you even trying to watch it, Meg?’

‘No.’ Meg admitted. ‘I’m having a major panic
attack about Saturday. Even the rehearsal tomorrow is sending me into a spin.’

‘I feel awful,’ Kathy groaned. ‘I’ve honestly tried with Mum.’

Meg knew that to be true. Kathy had done her best with Mary—tried to persuade her to relax the rules, bend the occasion to fit in with the uncomfortable circumstances. But Mary O’Sullivan had waited a long time to see one of her daughters walk down the aisle, and there was no leeway in her newly purchased book of etiquette for the sisters to argue the point. Jake and Kathy would walk through the reception hall to the cheers and toasts of the crowd, followed by the best man and the bridesmaid, and bringing up the rear would be the bridal party’s parents. That was what the book said and that was what was going to happen.

And that was only the start.

Meg hesitated, unsure whether or not to ask the question that was bothering her. ‘Has Flynn ever said anything to Jake? About me and him, I mean.’

Kathy didn’t answer.

‘Come on, Kathy, I’m not going to let on to him. Surely you can tell me what he’s been saying. I need to know.’

Meg was ready for anything—had braced herself to hear the worst, prepared herself for just about any eventuality, even if it involved a nineteen-year-old called Carla. The only thing she had never anticipated was the stab of pain she would feel when she heard Kathy’s hesitant answer.

‘He hasn’t mentioned it.’

Meg sat there for a moment, digesting the news,
her mind searching for comfort. But there was none. ‘Nothing?’

Kathy sat there uneasily as Meg pushed harder. ‘You mean he hasn’t said a single thing about me?’

‘I’m so sorry, Meg.’

She crumpled then, right there in front of Kathy. She just seemed to disintegrate. Kathy let her cry a while peeling off tissues and topping up her glass, before she gave up being the brave one and joined in too. The sight of Kathy’s tears was enough to stop Meg. ‘I’m sorry too. You’ve got the rehearsal tomorrow and the wedding on Saturday. You don’t need this right now.’

‘Don’t worry about me,’ Kathy said, giving Meg a big hug. ‘You know how much I love a drama. If I can cry at films why not real life? Anyway, just because he hasn’t spoken to Jake it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. It’s what he did with Lucy—just carried on like nothing had happened.’

‘But something did happen, Kathy. Something big and beautiful. We fell in love and he’s just walked away without a second glance.’

‘That’s Flynn for you.’ Picking up her glass, Kathy turned back to the film. ‘That’s Flynn.’

The rest of the film they spent munching chocolate, with one sister or the other occasionally coming up with a scheme that might just save the day.

‘You could always sprain an ankle,’ Kathy suggested as the final credits rolled. ‘At least then you wouldn’t have to dance with him.’

Meg snorted. ‘Mum would just make him shuffle
me around in a wheelchair. I can’t get out of it, Kathy. You know what Mum’s like.’

‘You don’t think she’s got ulterior motives?’ Kathy said suddenly. ‘She’s not trying to play matchmaker, is she?’

Meg gave a scornful laugh. ‘Who? Mum? She hasn’t got a romantic bone in her body.’

‘Speaking of romance, Meg, can I ring Mum and pretend I’m crashing here tonight? Please,’ Kathy begged when Meg rolled her eyes. ‘She’s guarding me with her life.’

‘She’ll kill you if she finds out.’

Kathy laughed as she picked up the phone and dialled. ‘No, she won’t, Meg. She’ll kill
you
for encouraging me.’

‘That would be right,’ Meg muttered taking the phone from a grinning Kathy. ‘Yes, Mum, she is really here.’ Taking an affectionate swipe at Kathy, she held the phone from her ear as Mary read the riot act.

‘What did she say?’ Kathy asked as Meg replaced the receiver.

‘Plenty. ‘‘You do realise you’re not his bride until Saturday?’’’ She was mimicking her mother’s voice. ‘‘‘That you’re wearing white for a reason and Jake might think less of you?’’’

‘Bit late for that.’ Kathy laughed, grabbing her bag and planting a quick kiss on her sister’s cheek. ‘Thanks so much, Meg.’

It was nice how they’d become close again, Meg reflected once Kathy had gone. Now that Meg had accepted Jake—accepted Kathy too, for that matter, as a woman not a little sister—their relationship had
flourished. And, despite all the emotion over Flynn, and the pain she had been through, Meg really was looking forward to the wedding, to seeing her little sister say ‘I do’.

Turning off the lights, Meg went to bed. Tonight she wasn’t going to cry. Tonight she would think about Kathy, think about her dress and her shoes and all the pomp that came with a good old-fashioned wedding instead of dwelling on what might have been.

Her intentions were good, of course, but it was a red-eyed Meg who awoke the next morning. Yes, Meg decided, flicking on the kettle and shivering in her flimsy nightie, she might well be happy for Kathy, and, yes, she would enjoy the wedding. But other people’s joy didn’t soothe your own pain, only exacerbated your loss.

At least she didn’t have to go to work today and smile politely at him. She was off now until after the wedding, and then all she had to do was serve her notice. So she filled her day buying all the things she would usually have organised ages ago—like stockings and a new eyeliner pen. Well, that was what she’d meant to buy, but, staggering back into the flat laden down with carrier bags, Meg decided that shopping really was the best cure for a broken heart— albeit a temporary one. But she’d take whatever she could get at the moment.

It was only when the clock edged to ten to six that Meg started to worry. Kathy had definitely said that she’d pick her up; Meg was sure of it. She had been ready for ages, changing her outfit umpteen times
before putting back what she’d had on in the first place: a simple rust silk wraparound skirt with a small black top and some very new, very gorgeous Indian-looking sandals.

As was seemingly always the case, Kathy’s mobile was turned off. In a spur-of-the-moment choice Meg decided she’d take Kathy’s wrath any day of the week rather than her mother’s if she was late, so scribbled an apologetic note telling Kathy she’d meet her at the church, pinned it to the door and clattered her way down the stairs in her new sandals—which were already starting to rub.

‘Where have you been, Megan?’ Mary demanded. One look at her sister’s guilt-ridden face and Meg realised that Kathy had only now remembered that she was supposed to be picking her up

‘Sorry, the traffic was terrible.’

‘Which is why you should have left earlier. Now, come on, we’ve only got the church for half an hour.’

They might have only had the church for half an hour, but that didn’t stop them from being put through their paces.

‘You’re supposed to be smiling as you walk up the aisle.’

‘I will be, Mum, on Saturday.’ Meg’s sandals were really hurting now, and following a giggling Kathy for the tenth time really wasn’t helping matters. Neither did the fact that Flynn, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and looking absolutely delicious, was smothering a smile as Mary told her off.

‘Okay, just one more time. Not you, Meg,’ she barked. ‘Just Kathy and Dad. I want to see them from
the church doors and check how they look from behind. Flynn, you stand next to Jake like the book says.’

‘She’s not going to hum the ‘‘Bridal March’’ again, is she?’ Flynn asked as the trio disappeared, and even Meg giggled.

But the smile soon vanished when Kathy came running through the church doors, an anguished look on her face. ‘Meg, you’d better come,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Mum’s having palpitations.’

‘I’ll get my bag from the car,’ Flynn said, moving like lightning down the aisle. But Kathy put up her hand to stop him. ‘Not those sort, Flynn.’ Her eyes turned to Meg. ‘Vince just turned up.’

‘Vince!’ Meg’s shocked voice seemed amplified in the hallowed silence of the church. ‘But how did he even know that I was here?’

‘That was Mum’s question, actually.’ Kathy was trying desperately to keep the mood light, but she gave up when she realised no one else was even attempting a smile. ‘He went to the flat and found your note for me on the door. He wants to see you.’

‘Well, I don’t want to see him,’ Meg said firmly. ‘You can tell him that from me.’

Kathy shook her head. ‘There’s something else. Apparently he’s left his wife. Meg, I really think you need to talk to him.’

‘There’s nothing left to say. Just get rid of him, please, Kathy,’ she urged.

‘Your sister’s got enough to contend with, without doing your dirty work.’ Mary marched towards them, her face contorted with rage.
‘Bloody Vince.’

If it hadn’t been such an awful moment Meg would have registered that it was the first time she had actually heard her mother swear. Mary clapped her hands over her mouth as soon as the mild expletive escaped her lips. ‘Now look what you’ve made me do—and in God’s house too. I mean it, Megan, go and sort things out once and for all.’

For a second she looked over to Flynn—hoping for what, she didn’t know—but he looked as relaxed and carefree as ever, and Meg realised there and then that she was on her own. Vince was her problem and it was up to her deal with it.

‘Meg,’ Vince started as she marched angrily out of the church towards him, ‘I’m sorry if I upset your mum.’

‘No, you’re not,’ Meg retorted angrily. ‘Just what on earth made you think you could come here?’

‘I needed to see you…’

‘Now?’ Her voice was rising. ‘You decide you need to see me and that’s it? Doesn’t it matter to you that I might be in the middle of something?’ She gave a cynical snort before continuing. ‘But then what does a wedding mean to you? Not much, obviously.’

‘Meg, I’ve left Rhonda. My marriage is over.’

‘So?’ Meg shouted. ‘Tell someone who cares.’

‘Please, Meg.’ He was pleading with her, and, looking up, she saw how tired and utterly awful he looked. ‘Please. I just want five minutes. If you still don’t want me then I’ll walk away.’

‘I don’t want you, Vince.’ Her voice was definite. ‘Nothing you can say will change that.’

‘Five minutes. Please,’ he added desperately.

She didn’t owe him anything, not a single thing, but maybe Meg was curious as to what he had to say, or hopeful that hearing him out might bring her some finality. They simply couldn’t go on like this. With a small shrug she nodded.

‘Can we go to your flat?’

‘No. There’s a café down the road; you can speak to me there.’

Meg declined his offer of something to eat, in fact she chose iced coffee in the hope that she could drink it quickly and get out of there.

‘I’m sorry for lying to you,’ Vince began. ‘And if it’s any consolation I really did love you. I just didn’t want to hurt Rhonda.’

‘You hurt us both.’ The waitress brought over their drinks and Meg fiddled with the teaspoon, dunking it in and out of her drink—anything other than look at him.

‘I know that,’ Vince said sadly. ‘When we broke up, I really tried hard to make my marriage work, but all I could think about was you. I’ve left her for you, Meg.’

‘No, you haven’t,’ Meg said slowly. ‘You’ve left Rhonda because your marriage wasn’t working—it hasn’t been since the day you asked me out, and probably not for a while before that.’

‘But it’s over now. Can’t we try again? Wipe the slate clean? I know you don’t trust me, but, given a chance, in time I could show you how I’ve changed— earn back your trust.’

Meg gave him an incredulous look. ‘You shouldn’t have to earn back my trust, Vince. You had it, every
last piece of it, and you ripped it up and threw it away. It’s gone. I don’t know how to say it any clearer: I’m never going to trust you and I’m never going to love you.’

He sat there, staring into the disintegrating froth on his cappuccino, and with a start Meg realised his eyes were brimming with tears.

‘So it’s over?’

Hallelujah, Meg almost said, but stopped herself. His pain, his desolation, gave her no surge of triumph, no sense of vengeance. It was all just a sorry mess.

‘It’s over,’ she said softly. Reaching across the table, she patted his arm. ‘But you’ll survive, and so will Rhonda. I’m living proof. Look, Vince, I really have to go. I’m in the middle of a wedding rehearsal.’

It was an utterly innocent gesture, a compassionate final touch before she got up and walked away, and had she glanced out of the window Meg would probably have thought twice about it. But she didn’t look up. She didn’t see Flynn standing on the pavement rummaging in his jeans for his car keys, or the pain in his eyes as he drove away.

‘Can I call you?’ Vince asked. ‘Not yet—in a few weeks, maybe. We could try and be friends.’

Meg shook her head. ‘No, Vince, we can never be friends. I mean that. I don’t want you calling me, not ever.’

Placing some money on the table, she didn’t even say goodbye, and she walked out of the café with her head held high, knowing in her heart that she’d done nothing wrong and wondering just why, then, did she feel so guilty?

M
EG
actually awoke not with a smile on her face, but for the first time in weeks with a sense of peace.

She was going to be all right.

Better than all right, she was going to be fine. Who needed a man? Okay, maybe years down the track it might possibly happen, but she wasn’t going to die waiting. There was simply too much to do—the world was her oyster, so to speak. The surgical day ward would just have to wait. She had enough in the bank to take a dream cruise and banish all the horrible memories once and for all. And, Meg decided, lying staring at the ceiling, if she was going to be a spinster why not go the whole hog and get a cat?

But who would look after the cat when she went on her cruise?

There were a million and one things to be done today—from important things, like picking up various relatives from the airport or train station, right down to necessary basics, like washing her hair today so it wasn’t too slippery when the hairdresser put it up, and tweezing her eyebrows to match the photo of Audrey Hepburn that Meg had faithfully cut out of a glossy magazine and stuck on the mantelpiece.