Wedding Night

Wedding Night Page 54

I couldn’t bring myself to call Lottie back, and anyway I didn’t have time. Instead, I texted her, suggesting drinks at seven P.M.

Now I’m back at the office, speed-reading a review of a new luxury safari lodge in Kenya, which has just come in, about two thousand words over the limit. Clearly this journalist thinks he’s writing the next Out of Africa. He hasn’t mentioned the pool or the room service or the spa, only the hazy gathering light over the savannah, and the noble bearing of the zebras drinking at dawn, and the shimmering grasslands whose ancient stories beat on in the sound of the Masai drum.

I scribble Room Service??? in the margin and make a note to email him. Then I look at my phone. It’s surprising that Lottie hasn’t confirmed. I would have thought she’d be dying to tell me how many bridal magazines she’s consumed today.

I glance at my watch. I’ve got some time now. I can make a little sisterly call. I lean back in my chair and speed-dial her, making a “Cup of coffee?” request to Elise through my office window. Elise and I have a pretty good sign-language system going on. I can communicate, “Cup of coffee?” “Tell them I’m out!!” and “Go home, it’s late!” She can communicate, “Cup of coffee?” “I think this one’s important,” and “I’m off for a sandwich.”

“Fliss?”

“Hi, Lottie.” I kick off my shoes and take a swig from my Evian bottle. “So, are you on for drinks later? Do I get to meet Ben?”

There’s silence at the other end. Why is there silence? Lottie doesn’t do silence.

“Lottie? Are you there?”

“Guess what!” Her voice throbs importantly. “Guess what!”

She sounds so pleased with herself, I can tell she’s pulled off something special.

“You’re getting married in the school chapel and the choir is singing ‘I Vow to Thee, My Country’ while bells peal throughout the land?”

“No!” She laughs.

“You’ve found a wedding cake made of profiteroles and cupcakes, all covered in sparkly icing?”

“No, silly! We’re married!”

“What?” I stare at the phone blankly.

“Yes! We’ve done it! Ben and I are married! Just now! Chelsea Register Office!”

I clench the Evian bottle so hard, a stream of water soars into the air and lands in splotches all over my desk.

“Aren’t you going to say ‘congratulations’?” she adds, a bit petulantly.

I can’t say “congratulations,” because I can’t say anything. My mouth has seized up. I’m hot. No, I’m cold. I’m panicking. How did this happen?

“Wow,” I manage at last, trying to keep calm. “That’s … How come? You were going to delay. I thought you were going to delay. That’s what we agreed. That you would delay.”

You were meant to DELAY.

As Elise comes in with a cup of coffee, she looks at me in alarm and makes the “Is everything OK?” sign. But I don’t have a sign for “My bloody sister has gone and wrecked her life,” so I just nod with a rictus smile and take the cup of coffee.

“We couldn’t wait,” Lottie’s saying happily. “Ben couldn’t wait.”

“But I thought you persuaded him?” I close my eyes and massage my brow, trying to get my head round this. “What happened to Brides? What happened to a little country church?”

What happened to Bridezilla? I want to moan faintly, Bring back Bridezilla.

“Ben was totally on for the church and everything,” says Lottie. “He’s actually got this sweet, traditional side to him—”

“So what happened?” I try to control my impatience. “Why did he change his mind?”

“It was Lorcan.”

“What?” My eyes open sharply. “What do you mean, it was Lorcan?”

“Lorcan came to see him first thing this morning. He told Ben he mustn’t marry me and it was all a huge mistake. Well, Ben went nuts! He came storming round to my office and said he wanted to be married to me now and everyone else could fuck off, including Lorcan.” Lottie sighs blissfully. “It was really romantic. Everyone in the office was staring. And then he picked me up and carried me out, just like An Officer and a Gentleman, and everyone cheered. It was amazing, Fliss.”

I’m breathing hard, trying to keep control of myself. That idiot. That stupid, arrogant, fucking … idiot. I’d solved the problem. It was all sorted. I’d played the diplomatic card to perfection. And now what’s Lorcan done? Blundered in. Stirred up this Ben into the most ludicrous, overblown gesture. No wonder Lottie fell for it.