I give a little inward cheer. I want to hug her. In our code, that’s forgiveness. I know I’m not completely off the hook yet—but at least there’s hope.
“Bikinis are so over.” I match her detached tone. “Didn’t you know that?”
“Nice panties.” She gives a reluctant shrug.
“Thanks.”
“Underpants!” shouts Noah. “Underpants! Hey, Aunt Lottie, I have a question,” he adds chattily. “Have you put the sausage in the cupcake?”
“What?” Lottie says, as though stung. “Does he mean—” She stares at me incredulously.
“Have you put the sausage in the cupcake yet?”
“Noah! That’s … that’s none of your business! Why shouldn’t I have? Anyway, why are you asking me?” She seems so flustered that I look at her, suddenly alert. The way she’s behaving, it’s almost as though—almost as though …
“Lotts?” I say, raising my eyebrows.
“Shut up!” she says frantically.
Oh my God. She’s totally giving herself away.
“You haven’t?” My mind is working overtime. They haven’t had sex yet? Why not? Whyever not?
“Stop talking about it!” She seems near tears. “Just butt out of my marriage! Butt out of my honeymoon! Butt out of everything!”
“Lottie?” I look at her more closely. Her eyes are wet and her lips are quivering. “Are you OK?”
“Of course I’m OK!” She suddenly flips out. “Why wouldn’t I be OK? I’ve got the happiest marriage in the world! I’m the luckiest girl in the world, and I’m totally utterly, ecstatically—” She breaks off and rubs her eyes as though she can’t believe her own vision.
I squint past her, trying to focus, and suddenly I see what she’s staring at. It’s a figure. A man. Coming over the beach toward us, with an unmistakable, heavy, sure-footed gait. Lottie has turned so pale, I’m worried she’s going to faint—and no wonder. I stare incredulously at the familiar figure, my mind scurrying with possibilities. He vowed he was going to stay away. So what on earth is he doing here?
32
LOTTIE
I think I’m going to have a heart attack. Or a panic attack. Or some other kind of attack. The blood is zooming from my head to my feet and back to my head as though it doesn’t know what to do with itself. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can’t … anything.
It’s Richard. Here.
Not zillions of miles away, leading a completely new life in which he’s forgotten I exist. But here, on Ikonos. Walking toward me over the beach. I blink at him rapidly, my eyelids almost in spasm; I’m unable to speak. It makes no sense. He’s in San Francisco. He’s supposed to be in San Francisco.
Now he’s making his way steadily through the audience. I’m shaking all over as he draws near. The last time I saw him was in that restaurant, telling him I didn’t accept his nonexistent proposal. That seems like a million years ago. How did he even know where I was?
I glance sharply at Fliss, but she looks as flabbergasted as I do.
And now he’s in front of the stage and he’s looking up at me with those dark eyes that I love, and I think I’m going to lose it. I was just about holding it together, but now he goes and turns up—
“Lottie,” he says, and his voice is as deep and comforting as ever. “I know you’re … m—” He seems to have difficulty saying the word. “Married. I know you’re married. And I wish you every happiness with that.” He pauses, breathing heavily. Around him, all the chatter has died away. The audience is watching us, riveted. “Congratulations.” His eyes flick to Ben, then away again, as though Ben is some loathsome creature he can’t bear to look at.
“Thanks,” I manage at last.
“So I won’t keep you. But I thought you should know something. You didn’t start the fire.”
“What?” I peer at him, unable to process his words.
“You didn’t start the fire,” he repeats. “It was another girl.”
“But what— How—” I swallow hard. “How did you even—”
“Fliss told me that you thought you’d started the fire. I knew you’d be devastated and I couldn’t believe it was true. So I went to find out the truth.”
“You went to the guest house?” I say disbelievingly.
“I talked to your friend Arthur.” Richard nods. “I made him get out the original police reports. He let me spread them over his table and read through all of them. And it was quite clear. The fire didn’t start in your room. It was above the kitchen.”
For a moment, my thoughts are so jumbled I can’t reply. No one’s even whispering. The only sound is that of the bunting flapping in the sea breeze.
“You went to the guest house?” I repeat at last, falteringly. “You did all that? For me?”
“Of course,” says Richard, as though it’s obvious.
“Even though I’m married to someone else?”
“Of course,” says Richard again.
“Why?”
Richard shoots me a disbelieving look as though to say, Do you really have to ask?
“Because I love you,” he says matter-of-factly. “Sorry,” he adds to Ben.
33
FLISS
Of all the moments I’ve experienced in life, this is the one I will remember forever. I’m holding my breath. The whole place is silent. Lottie’s staring at Richard, transfixed, her eyes huge. Her Happy Couple of the Week sash is glimmering in the lights, and her crown has slipped.
“Well … well …” She doesn’t seem able to get the words out. “Well, I still love you!” She tears off her crown. “I love you!”
Richard visibly jolts with shock. “But—” He gestures at Ben.
“It was a mistake!” She’s almost sobbing now. “It was all a mistake! And I was thinking about you all the time, but you’d gone to San Francisco, but now here you are—” She suddenly turns to me, her face tearstained. “Fliss? Did you bring Richard here?”
“Er … kind of,” I say cautiously.
“Then I love you too.” She flings her arms around me. “Fliss, I love you.”
“Oh, Lotts.” Tears are welling up in my eyes now. “I love you. I just want you to have the happiest, happiest life.”
“I know.” She squeezes me tight, then turns and leaps off the stage, straight into Richard’s arms and the tightest embrace I’ve ever seen. “I thought you were gone forever!” she says into his shoulder. “I thought you were gone forever. I couldn’t bear it! I couldn’t bear it.”
“I couldn’t bear it either.” He’s looking warily at Ben. “The only thing is, you’re married—”
“I know,” she says miserably. “I know. But I don’t want to be.”
My antennae are on full alert. This is my moment! I leap down off the stage and tap Lottie, hard.
“Lotts! Tell me. This is important.” As she turns, I grip her by both shoulders. “Have you—” I glance at Noah. “Have you put the sausage in the muffin? Have you done it? Tell the truth! This is important!”
34
LOTTIE
What’s the point in lying anymore?
“No!” I say, almost defiantly. “We haven’t done it! We’re complete frauds. We’re not a happy couple; in fact, we’re not even a couple! Here.” I turn to Melissa, who has been watching avidly with all the others. “Have my crown. Have the sash.” I rip it off and grab the trophy from Ben. “Have everything! We were telling lies the whole time.” I press them all onto her, and she gazes back at me, her eyes narrowed.
“So the first date in the mortuary?”
“Lie.” I nod.
“Sex on the district attorney’s desk?”
“Total lie.”
“I knew it!” She turns to her husband triumphantly. “Didn’t I tell you?” She puts the silver crown on her head and holds the trophy aloft. “This belongs to us, I think. We’re the Happy Couple of the Week; thank you, everybody—”
“For Christ’s sake, Melissa,” snaps Matt. “No, we’
re bloody not.”
Richard, meanwhile, is gazing at me tensely. “So you really haven’t …?”
“Not once.”
“Yesss!” Richard’s air punch is the most ecstatic I’ve ever seen. “In your face. Re-sult! Yesssss!” He looks more aggressive than I’ve ever seen him. God, I love him.
“You flew halfway across the world for me.” I nestle into his shoulder again.
“Of course.”
“And then you flew to Greece.”
“Of course.”
I don’t know why I ever thought Richard wasn’t romantic. I don’t know why we ever split up. My ear is pressed against his chest, and I can hear the familiar, soothing thump of his heartbeat. This is where I want to be forever. I’ve tuned out the rest of the world, although I’m dimly aware of the others’ voices.
“You can get an annulment,” Fliss keeps saying. “Do you see, Lottie? This is brilliant! You can get an annulment.”
“It’s put the sausage in the cupcake,” Lorcan keeps saying. “Cupcake.”
35
FLISS
Well, she was right about the sunsets. I’ve never seen anything as spectacular as this in my life. The sun is slowly glowing down the sky, and it’s not just sinking, it’s shooting rays of pink and orange with such dramatic force, I’m put in mind of one of Noah’s superheroes. “Sunset” sounds quite passive, quite nothing-y. This is more like sun-pow! Sun-take-that!
I look down at Noah’s face, all rosy in the light, and I think again, He’ll be OK. For the first time in ages, I don’t feel angst or stress or anger. He’ll be OK. He’ll sort himself out. I’ll sort myself out. It’s all good.
We’ve had an odd time. Kind of cathartic and uncomfortable, embarrassing and joyful, awkward and wonderful, all at the same time. Nico rustled us up a table at the beach-side restaurant, and all five of us sat around eating meze to make your taste buds sing with joy and slow-cooked lamb to make your insides whimper with ecstasy.
The food here really is good. Must make sure I big it up in my piece.
There were a lot of questions. There were a lot of stories. There was a lot of kissing.
Lottie and I are … OK. I think. There are still sore spots and rough patches between us, but there’s also been a kind of revelation. We’re on the way to a gradual understanding about who we are to each other, which maybe we’ll look at properly later. (Or not bother and just charge on with life, probably more likely.)
Lorcan was the quiet star. He steered the conversation whenever it was threatening to become awkward, and he ordered fantastic wine, and he kept a kind of humorous knee-nudging thing going on with me, which I liked. I like him. I don’t just fancy him, I like him.
As for Ben, he’s disappeared. Which is understandable. Once it became plain that he’d been publicly rejected for another man by his brand-new wife, he skedaddled. Can’t blame him. I expect he’s found solace at a bar somewhere.
Richard and Lottie have gone for a walk down the beach, and Noah is skimming stones at the water’s edge, so it’s just Lorcan and me, sitting on a low wall with our bare feet in the sand. The smell of cooking from the restaurant is mingled with the salty sea air and the faint aroma of his aftershave, which is bringing back all sorts of memories.
I don’t just like him, I fancy him. Really quite a lot.
“Oh, wait. I got you something,” he says suddenly.
“You got me something?” I stare at him.
“It’s not much. I put it aside … Hold on.” He heads toward the restaurant and I watch him, intrigued. A few moments later he comes back, holding a plant in a pot. A little olive tree in a pot, to be precise.
“For your patio,” he says, and I stare at him in disbelief.
“You bought that for me?” I’m so touched, tears spring to my eyes. I can’t remember the last time someone bought something for me.
“You need something,” he says gravely. “You need … a start.”
He couldn’t have put it better. I need a start. As I look up again, his eyes are so warm I feel something stumble inside me.
“I don’t have anything for you.”
“You already gave me something. Clarity.” He pauses. “I thought I’d give you peace.” He fingers the olive leaves. “What’s done is done.”
What’s done is done. The words resonate in my brain, round and round. And then I get to my feet. There’s something I have to do, right now. I detach my memory stick from the chain around my neck and look at it. All my pain and anger toward Daniel seems to be contained in this one tiny piece of metal. It feels toxic. It’s contaminating me. It has to go.
I head briskly to the shallows and put a hand on Noah’s shoulder. As he looks up, I smile.
“Hi, darling. I’ve got something for you to skim.” I hand him the memory stick.
“Mummy!” He looks up at me, his eyes wide with shock. “This is a computer thing!”
“I know.” I nod. “But it’s a computer thing I don’t need anymore. Just throw it in the sea, Noah. As far as you can.”
I watch as he takes aim and skims it. Three bounces and it’s gone, into the Aegean Sea. Gone, gone, gone, really gone.
I walk slowly back up the beach to Lorcan, relishing the feel of my bare feet on the sand.
“So.” He reaches out and entwines his fingers in mine.
“So.” I’m about to suggest a walk along the beach, when Ben’s voice hits the back of my head.
“Lorcan. There you are. At bloody last.”
I don’t even need to look to know that he’s drunk, and I feel a squirm of sympathy. It can’t be easy for him.
“Hi, Ben,” says Lorcan, getting to his feet. “You OK?”
“I met with Zhernakov today. On his yacht.” Ben eyes both of us expectantly, as though waiting for a reaction. “I met him on his yacht,” he repeats. “Drank some Krug, shot the breeze, you know.…”
“Great.” Lorcan nods politely. “So you’re selling after all.”
“Maybe. Yes.” Ben sounds aggressive. “Why not?”
“Shame you couldn’t have let me know that before I spent weeks on those refinancing and restructuring agreements. They’re all a bit irrelevant now, aren’t they?”
“No. I mean … yes.” Ben seems confused. “Thing is …” His swagger dips a little. “Yuri and I made an agreement. A gentleman’s agreement. But now …” He wipes his face. “He’s already sent me an email I don’t understand.…” He holds out his BlackBerry to Lorcan, who ignores it and gazes at Ben, his expression unreadable.
“You really want to sell,” he says quietly. “The company that your father built up over years and years. You’re just letting it go.”
“It’s not like that.” Ben glares at him. “Yuri says nothing will change for the company.”
“Nothing will change?” Lorcan bursts into laughter. “And you bought that?”
“He’s interested in developing new projects!” says Ben hotly. “He thinks it’s a great little company!”
“You think Yuri Zhernakov is interested in creating a new aspirational paper range for the middle-class consumer?” Lorcan shakes his head. “If you believe that you’re even more naïve than I thought. He wants the house, Ben. Nothing else. I hope you got a good price out of him.”
“Well, I’m not sure exactly … I’m not sure what we …” Ben wipes his face again, clearly beleaguered. “You need to look at it.” He holds out his BlackBerry again, but Lorcan lifts his hands.
“I don’t need to do anything at this moment,” he says calmly. “My office day is done.”
“But I don’t know what I’ve agreed to.” All hint of bravado disappears from Ben’s demeanor. “Have a look, OK, Lorcan? Sort it out.”
There’s a long silence, and just for a moment I wonder whether Lorcan is going to capitulate. But at last he shakes his head.
“Ben, I’ve sorted out enough for you.” He sounds weary and a little sad. “I have to stop.”
“What?”
“I’m resigning.”
“What?” Ben looks absolutely staggered. “But … you can’t do that!”
“Consider this my notice. I’ve been with you far too long already. Your father’s gone and … well, it’s time for me to go too.”
“But … but you can’t! You’re really into the company!” Ben’s eyes are wide with panic. “You’re into it more than me! You love it!”
“Yes. And that’s the problem.” There’s a wryness to Lorcan’s voice, and I reach out to squeeze his hand. “I’ll help you till my notice period is served out, then I’m going. And it’ll be for the best.”
“But what will I do?” Ben sounds genuinely freaked.
“You’ll take charge of the situation.” Lorcan takes a step toward him. “Ben, you’ve got a choice. You can sell the company to Yuri if you want to. Pocket the cash and have fun. But you know what else you could do? Take the reins. Take control. It’s your company. It’s your heritage. Make a go of it.”
Ben seems poleaxed.
“You can do it,” adds Lorcan. “But it’ll be a pretty big challenge. You’ll need to want to do it.”
“I made a gentleman’s agreement with Yuri.” Ben’s eyes dart wildly about. “Oh Jesus. I don’t know. What do I do?”
“Yuri Zhernakov is no gentleman,” says Lorcan sardonically. “So I think you’re safe there.” He sighs, ruffles his fingers through his hair, his face unreadable. “Look, Ben. I have the restructuring agreements in my briefcase, and I’ll take you through them tomorrow. I’ll explain what all your options are, as I see it.” He pauses. “But I’m not telling you what to do. Sell, not sell, it’s your choice. Yours.”
Ben’s eyes are fixed on Lorcan. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, apparently unable to speak. Then at last he turns on his heel and walks away, pocketing his BlackBerry as he goes.
“Well done.” I squeeze Lorcan’s hand again as we sit back down on the wall. “That was courageous.” Lorcan says nothing, just tilts his head.