What a Girl Wants (38 page)

‘Artie, we’re not having this conversation right now.’ Al hopped down off the stage and took his son by the arm. He lowered his voice, in an attempt to keep the conversation from the ears of the by now gagging-for-the-dirt crowd. ‘What you tried to do was underhanded and ungentlemanly and a disgrace to the Bennett name.’

‘I wish I
wasn’t
a Bennett,’ Artie replied, shaking off his father like an angry teenager. ‘I wish I was anyone else.’

‘If he says “I wish I’d never been born”, I’m going to die,’ Amy whispered into my ear. ‘And then I’m going to come back to life and kill him.’

Al took hold of his son’s arm once more. ‘Son, let’s go outside.’

But Artie didn’t want to go outside. Artie wanted to stay and play and he did not want to share his toys. And so he bleated out a very interesting, very loud impression of a dying sea lion and shoved his father as hard as he could.

‘Oh no he didn’t.’

I heard Kekipi before I saw him but Al’s white knight was fast on his feet and grabbed hold of his oldest friend before he could even stumble. The assembled crowd took a group step backwards and their murmuring rose to a muttering, punctuated by an ensemble gasp.

In his defence, Artie had the decency to look horrified by his own actions, his hands pressed against his face, but there wasn’t much he could do before Kekipi gave a battle cry Lady Gaga would have been proud of and launched himself at the moustache. Before I could blink, arms and hands were flying everywhere, Kekipi slapping at Artie and Artie trying to push the other man away.

‘I changed your diapers!’ Keipi shouted. ‘I helped you with your homework!’

‘No you didn’t! You’re only five years older than me,’ Artie yelped back. ‘And your answers were always wrong!’

Blinded by the absurdity of what was happening, I froze as Artie’s arm struck out sideways, slapping me right across the face. Stunned, I fell to my knees, more from shock than genuine injury, but it was enough to spur Nick and Amy into joining the fray. Amy first, obviously. When I looked up from my pool of tulle, all I cold see were arms and legs and very red faces. A hand reached down to pull me to my feet and drag me away from the melee. I took it happily, closing my eyes and letting whoever it was pull me to safety.

‘Are you OK?’ Al asked. ‘I’m so dreadfully sorry.’

‘Don’t be, I’m fine,’ I said, my voice wavering with slightly rubbish girl tears. Someone hit me. All right, it was an accident but still. ‘I’m so sorry this happened tonight.’

‘You know what they say,’ he replied, the corners of his mouth turning up into a bitter smile. ‘The only thing worse than people talking about you is people not talking about you. This just means we’re going to have to come out with a bloody good debut collection.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ I said, turning back to see the scrap fizzle out. Domenico and the two grey-haired men Amy and I had followed into the ballroom pulled the various parties off each other.

‘Are you OK?’ Nick untangled himself from the snarl of arms and legs and appeared at my side, cupping my face in his hands and inspecting the damage. ‘I think you’re going to have a black eye.’

‘Then I’ll look badass,’ I replied, gazing up at him through the squinty eye that was beginning to close up of its own accord. ‘I’m fine.’

He planted a very careful kiss on my forehead as Domenico restrained Kekipi and one of the Italian men attempted to hold Amy back without touching her anywhere inappropriate. Given her dress, it wasn’t an easy job; he was a real gentleman.

Artie stood alone in the centre of the circle that had widened around him, one side of his moustache drooping sadly. Panting heavily, he pressed his hands up to his face, trying to repair the damage before looking around at his audience and seeing nothing but an ocean of Not Impressed. With one last wail, he dived into the crowd which parted like Moses’ waves, and stormed out of the ballroom.

Everyone watched him go before turning all eyes onto the Greek tragedy at the front of the stage. Domenico holding Kekipi, Al and Amy and their Italian friend leaning against the stage, and then there was me, swollen and weepy, swooning in Nick’s arms.

Every single pair of eyes in the ballroom was on us. I looked back out at them, hoping Al was right. Was all publicity good publicity? I wasn’t so sure. It definitely didn’t do Ikea any favours when the papers wouldn’t stop going on about their horse meatballs. And phone hacking? Still not that popular. I didn’t like being the centre of attention at the best of times and I liked it even less when the people eyeballing me were taller than me, thinner than me, richer than me and able to gossip about me in a language I didn’t understand.

Still, there was one thing worse than being judged by people you didn’t know. Staring out at all those tall, thin, rich, foreign strangers and seeing one person staring back who you knew very well indeed.

And in this case, that person was Charlie.

Seemingly having lost the power of speech as well as the use of my legs, I stayed exactly where I was, waving my arms, opening and closing my mouth and staring at Charlie with all the grace of a dying goldfish.

‘Christ on a bike!’

As usual, Amy nailed the situation fairly succinctly.

Once the smell of blood was out of the water, Al’s guests made a silent, collective decision to raise their volume back up to ‘excitable chatter’. From nowhere, the orchestra began to play again and the waiters were suddenly everywhere, a bottle of champagne in each hand. Clever waiters.

But Charlie was still stood in the doorway and while he didn’t look angry as such, given that the girl he had just declared his love to was securely in the arms of another man, he certainly looked confused.

‘Tess?’ Amy nudged me with her hip. ‘Have you had a stroke or something?’

‘What would that feel like,’ I asked, eyes still fixed firmly on the doorway. ‘Because I might be having one right now.’

‘Shit, is it getting worse?’ Nick moved in front of me, his nose touching my nose. ‘Can you see? Can you taste pennies?’

‘No, I’m fine.’ I pushed him away as gently as possible, needing to put at least a couple of feet between us. I couldn’t taste pennies but I was definitely about to taste vom. What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he moving? ‘I have to go and—’

‘What?’ Nick remained completely oblivious while Amy kept guard, practically bouncing up and down on the spot. ‘I think you’ve got a concussion, I’m taking you to bed.’

I looked at Nick’s face, making an effort to memorize everything about it, every last detail. Not just his eyes that looked so blue in this light or his full lips and firm jaw but everything. I logged his dark blond eyebrows with a couple of unruly grey strays that I knew he would pluck later and pretend that he hadn’t. The way he had more lines around his left eye than his right because he slept on that side. The very faint tan line on his cheeks where he’d caught the sun while wearing his sunglasses and the tiny, almost invisible spot of stubble that he had missed when he was shaving before the party.

When people talked about a horrible feeling, they usually described it in the pit of their stomach. This one was everywhere. My toes ached with it and my fingertips tingled as though anything I touched would explode. Worst of all, my insides felt completely empty. Whatever was going to happen, it was as though someone had hollowed me out in preparation. Whether it was to protect me or make room for what was coming, I didn’t know. With Nick’s face completely committed to memory, I moved away from him, turning towards Charlie.

‘I was going to say surprise, but bugger me!’ Charlie smiled brightly at Amy and me as he walked over but I could see there were questions on his face. ‘You don’t half know how to upstage a romantic gesture.’

‘It’s you!’ Amy prised herself out of her new Italian friend’s arms and launched herself on Charlie, smothering his face in kisses. ‘You’re here! I’m so happy. Tess hurt her head and has to go to her room right away but why don’t we have a drink and wow, you look amazing and tell me all about your flight, I can’t believe you came, you’re the best!’

‘Get off, you mental.’ He batted her away like an overenthusiastic puppy. ‘What do you mean, Tess hurt her head. Are you all right? What happened? Really, what happened? I walked in and I thought you were sacrificing a goat or something.’

‘A lot of drama over nothing,’ I said, fussing his hands away from my face. This was so awful I was starting to understand how people found the strength to fall on their own swords. ‘Why don’t you get a drink with Amy? I have to sort some stuff out here …’ I waved my camera at him for effect. ‘I’ll be over in two minutes.’

‘Aren’t you going to introduce me?’ Nick asked, placing a hand on my bare shoulder.

‘No?’ I only meant to think it but somehow, the word snuck out my mouth.

‘Then I’ll do the honours.’ He took Charlie’s hand in his and shook it to within an inch of its life. ‘Nick Miller, good to meet you.’

‘Charlie Wilder,’ Charlie replied, looking at me as he spoke.

Even though Charlie was a good half a foot taller than Nick, he was at such a clear disadvantage he might as well have crawled in on his hands and knees.

‘Charlie, is it?’

If Nick knew who he was, he wasn’t giving anything away. He kept on pumping Charlie’s hand as though it might come off if he shook it hard enough.

‘Sorry I’m a bit underdressed.’ Charlie’s voice bounced as he spoke, his hand still stuck in Nick’s handshake vice. ‘I didn’t know I was crashing the royal wedding. Tess, what happened to your eye?’

‘Accidental slapping,’ I said, as Nick finally let go of Charlie’s hand although his grip on my shoulder remained very firm. ‘Do you want to go and get changed? Amy could take you to get changed.’

‘I don’t think there’s a lot of point.’ He looked down at his jeans, shoes and shirt. ‘I haven’t got a penguin suit in my bag anyway.’

‘Well, this party is black tie only,’ Amy announced, stretching up to make the most of all of her five feet and nothing inches to grab his shoulders and try to drive him out of the room. ‘So you’ll have to wait outside until we’re done.’

‘How do you know Tess and Amy?’ Nick asked loudly, stopping Amy in her wonderful tracks.

‘How did you know we’d be here?’ Amy interrupted Charlie’s answer. ‘Not that we aren’t both very happy to see you.’ She glued herself to his arm again and smiled brightly at Nick. ‘I’m so happy to see him. I so love this lunk.’

‘Since when do you love me? Are you on drugs?’ Charlie peered down at Amy, a foot and a half below him. ‘Don’t you remember what happened at that party with the meow-meow?’

‘I thought it was a joke,’ Amy retaliated, kicking him in the shin. ‘What sort of name for drugs is meow-meow? And it’s not funny, I could have died.’

‘So you’re Charlie?’ Nick said. ‘Charlie Charlie?’

‘You haven’t told us how you found us,’ Amy wailed, jumping in front of Nick. ‘How did you know where we were?’

‘Your friend Paige said you were staying here when she dropped off the pitch stuff,’ Charlie explained, still trying to free himself of a limpet-like Amy. ‘It all looks amazing, by the way. I thought I’d surprise you.’

‘But you hate flying,’ I said quietly, wondering whether or not Artie might like to pop back and knock me completely unconscious. Nick’s hold on my shoulder was getting tighter by the second and I was a bit scared he was actually trying to do the Vulcan death grip. ‘How did you get here?’

‘Flew in from Portugal, took a train and then a taxi, all with the help of my friend Jack Daniels and a big dose of man-the-fuck-up,’ Charlie gave me the same self-deprecating lopsided grin he’d been throwing my way for ten long years. ‘And I don’t even get a hug?’

‘This is your friend, Charlie?’ Nick said to me, everything falling into place for him, the floor falling away from under my feet. ‘The one who shagged your flatmate? And then you?’

‘I might have had one too many whiskies on the plane, but that’s a bit out of order,’ Charlie said awkwardly as my eyes widened so far I worried they might fall out. ‘I’m not being funny, mate, but should I know you? Are you the gay fella that runs the show?’

‘Nick Miller,’ Nick replied. ‘I’m a journalist. I met Tess in Hawaii.’

‘Oh man, I’m so jealous.’ Charlie ran a hand through his shaggy, copper hair, just like he always did when he was uncomfortable. ‘Tess said it was amazing.’

‘Did she?’ Nick asked, looking at me. ‘And what else did she tell you about Hawaii?’

I could feel each individual fingertip pressing into my collarbone and it was really, really starting to hurt. But what could I say? How could I get them apart? I’d done a good thing today – why was the universe paying me back by being such a complete and utter fuck-knuckle?

‘Not much, to be honest.’ Charlie’s smile began to falter. ‘We didn’t get that much time to talk before she left for Milan. Tess, is everything all right?’

He might not be the most perceptive man in the world but he knew when something wasn’t right and between my deer-in-headlights saucer eyes, Amy’s refusal to let go of his right arm and Nick’s impressive passive-aggressive questioning, Charlie would have had to be hit over the head with seventeen saucepans on his way here not to realize something was going on.

‘Yeah, Tess.’ Nick’s voice was sour. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘Shots!’ Amy shouted. ‘We all need a shot! Charlie, why don’t you come with me to the bar.’

‘Tess …’ Charlie’s eyes flickered over to Nick and his jaw set into something far away from the smile he had shown up with. ‘Who is this?’

‘It’s Nick,’ I said weakly, waving at him like he was a prize on a bad game show.

‘Is something going on?’ he asked. ‘With you two?’

‘Is something going on with you two?’ Nick asked Charlie.

‘Oh God,’ I whispered at my shoes, desperately trying to come up with a way out of this situation. Did that ‘no place like home’ thing really work? Even if it did, I didn’t actually have a home, so there was no point trying that one.

‘What’s going on?’ Charlie ripped his arm away from Amy but stopped a couple of feet short of me. Nick didn’t budge an inch. ‘Is this why you were weird when you got back to London?’