Mia didn’t say anything until the doors had closed, then she burst into tears and Ruby wrapped her in a hug. ‘It’s OK,’ she kept saying. ‘It’s OK, it’ll be OK.’
We made it along the corridor and back into our room where Ruby pointed at a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. I nodded and filled up a glass.
‘Here we go. Drink this,’ said Ruby, pulling back and handing it to Mia.
‘I want to go home,’ she said. Her mascara had started to run and I watched a tear roll down her cheeks towards the dress.
‘OK, we can go home. Drink this and I’ll pack up,’ said Ruby, just as the door buzzed.
I opened it to see Dad and Patricia. She pushed straight past me and stood facing Mia, manicured hands on her hips. ‘Darling, this is all very silly. There’s no point in ruining today over a little tiff.’
Mia shook her head in silence, her eyes narrowed with anger. ‘It’s not a tiff. He’s a lying, cheating, and actually incredibly boring bastard.’ She raised the champagne flute to her mouth.
‘A little high-jinks on a stag do never killed anyone,’ said Patricia, waving a hand in the air. ‘Henry, back me up.’
Dad remained silent.
‘Everybody’s here, darling,’ Patricia persisted. ‘Everybody’s watching. And your father’s spent so much money. I’m not sure the champagne can go back.’
Mia drained the glass and lowered it. ‘I’m sorry, Dad,’ she said calmly, ‘but I can’t marry him.’
‘That’s quite all right, darl—’
‘Henry!’ screeched Patricia. ‘It’s not all right! Such a scene!’
‘A SCENE?’ shouted Mia. ‘That’s all you care about, isn’t it? Not making a scene. Not being embarrassing. Doing the right thing. Well, sorry, Mum, but not today. Fuck the champagne.’ She spun and stalked into her bedroom.
‘Henry!’ wailed Patricia as Ruby and I started quickly snatching up our belongings.
‘Dad, why don’t Flo and I take her home?’ Ruby suggested, as she slid a couple of unopened bottles of champagne into her bag.
‘You go,’ he said. ‘Quite right. Don’t worry. Your mother and I will sort everything out here.’ Then he sighed. ‘I never liked him much, actually. Never trust a man who wears that much hair gel.’
We left the hotel via a side exit, avoiding all guests, and jumped straight into a black cab. None of us had changed so we sat, in our dresses, passing the champagne bottle between us.
‘I thought you were being weirdly quiet but I put it down to nerves,’ said Ruby. ‘Did you know you were going to do that this morning?’
Mia wiped her lips with the back of her hand. She’d already taken off her engagement ring. ‘Not straight away. I lay in the bath like Dr Evil, plotting the most humiliating revenge I could think of.’ She frowned at me. ‘You said anything to Rory?’
I nodded. ‘Mmm, I just took the more traditional route of calling him and ending it down the phone.’
Mia sniggered, then I laughed, then Ruby started too until we were all shaking on the back seat of the cab. As we slid through Mayfair, the driver cast anxious glances in his rear-view mirror.
‘I’m sorry,’ Mia said between breaths. ‘I’m sorry, Flo, I’m not laughing at you. It’s the whole thing. I’ve been planning this fucking wedding for months, and now look at me. At us!’
If you’d been strolling along the pavement and peered into our cab, it would have made a confusing sight. A runaway bride with running eye make-up and smeared lipstick flanked by two women in silky nighties, all cackling with laughter.
‘But are you all right?’ I asked.
She sighed and laid her head back against the seat. ‘I don’t know. No. Yes. Maybe.’ She sighed again. ‘I’ll be fine.’
‘There’s an upside to all this, you know,’ said Ruby, looking from Mia to me.
‘What?’ we chorused.
‘You no longer have to listen to him grunting “Who’s a hungry girl then?” in your ear.’
‘True.’
‘And the rest of us don’t have to listen to Rory shouting “Cowabunga!”,’ she said, turning to me.
My hands flew to my cheeks. ‘You could hear?’
‘Sometimes,’ she said with a shrug. ‘I just used to put my earplugs in.’
This set us all off again.
Ruby, perhaps for the first time ever, offered to pay for the cab when we got back so Mia could hurry into the house. I layered the various bag straps over my shoulder and trudged up the path like a packhorse.
As Mia opened the door and bent over to pick up the post, I felt sorry for her. Coming home in your wedding dress, accompanied by your sisters and having to scrape up that day’s pizza leaflets and flyers offering gutter cleaning is no bride’s dream. Right about now, I figured, looking at my watch, we should have been nailing the prawn tempura and lobster tacos.
‘Flo, delivery,’ said Mia, holding out a thick brown envelope.
I dropped the bags in the doorway and took it. There was no address, just my name, so it must have been delivered by hand. I slid my finger under the flap and tipped the envelope up into my other hand. A memory stick and several black and white photos fell out, plus a card which fluttered to my feet.
I ignored the card and concentrated on the photos. They were all of me: me standing behind the shop counter with a pile of hardbacks, me laughing as I served a customer, me standing in front of the window display and gazing out at the street, me standing on tiptoes as I reached to slide a cookery book into its shelf, me sitting on stage next to Fumi. Finally, a close-up of me at last week’s Christmas party, grinning in my pudding costume.
I bent over to pick up the card. I DIDN’T WANT TO LEAVE IT AS WE DID ON THURSDAY EVENING. I HOPE THESE AREN’T CREEPY BUT IF YOU’RE GOING TO BE A BESTSELLING AUTHOR YOU’LL NEED A FEW PUBLICITY SHOTS, SO HERE ARE A FEW I TOOK WHEN YOU WEREN’T LOOKING. SEE YOU IN A FEW MONTHS. ZX
‘Oh my God,’ I murmured. People often say it’s like being hit by lightning but that’s not true. Standing there, holding Zach’s photographs, the realization of how strongly I felt about him felt more like a memory, familiar and safe. The feeling made sense. I liked Zach. I liked him so much I wanted to burst out laughing at how slow I’d been. Zach, the kindest, most thoughtful, emotionally astute and supportive person had been by my side for months while I’d been obsessing about Rory and that stupid, stupid list. I felt like one of those people who turned their house over to find their keys, only to realize they were in their pocket the whole time. This was just a slightly more romantic version.
‘What are those?’ said Ruby, standing on the doorstep behind me.
‘Photos,’ I said, handing them to her.
She leafed through them. ‘Flo, these are insanely beautiful. Look at you! Look at your expression in this one.’ She held out the picture of me staring through the shop window. ‘And this one in the hat!’
I laughed. ‘Rubes, I look deranged.’
She shook her head. ‘He’s got you completely. Goofy and self-conscious at the same time.’
‘Oh, thanks very much.’
‘They’re from Zach, right?’
‘Yeah,’ I said, staring back down at the card.
‘What’s he say?’
I read the card aloud and she raised her eyebrows.
‘What?’
‘I don’t know what you’re still doing standing here in that negligee, that’s what. If Zach had sent me these before flying to the moon, I’d rent a rocket and go after him.’
‘Rubes, be serious. I can’t go after him. I’ve got a job. And Harry. It’s not practical.’
‘PRACTICAL! Flo, our sister just walked out of a very expensive wedding which may or may not cause our mother to have some sort of stroke, and you’re banging on about the relatively minor practicalities of booking a flight to Panama.’
‘Patagonia.’
‘Whatever. The point is the guy’s in love with you.’
‘Do you think?’ Suddenly
, having realized how I felt, the answer to this felt crucial.
‘Oh please! He spent that whole evening he took my headshots talking about you and how much you did for the shop. I can’t tell you how unerotic it is to try and seduce a man while all he does is talk about your sister. Florence Fairfax, seriously, for once in your life can you do something spontaneous?’
‘What’s going on?’ said Mia, reappearing at the top of the stairs.
‘There’s been a lot of shouting today, even for this family.’
‘Zach is in love with Florence, that’s what, and she’s refusing to go after him.’
‘Zach from the shop?’
‘Yes, exactly, Zach from the shop. He’s delivered these photos and he’s obviously mad about her, but she won’t do anything about it.’
‘Why not?’ Mia said, frowning down at me. ‘Please, Flo, we might as well have one happy ending today.’
‘Except there’s not much I can do. He’s on his flight to South America. I’ll just have to text him.’ It seemed a feeble response but I had no other option.
‘Oh, a text. Be still my beating heart,’ said Ruby, sarcastically. ‘Well, your loss. He’ll probably pick up an absolute babe in South America.’
‘There’s nothing I can do,’ I repeated over my shoulder, trudging upstairs with the bags. ‘Here, this is yours.’ I handed Mia hers and continued upstairs to my room.
Lying on my bed, I texted Eugene first to say there’d been a change of plan and I could go round to pick up Harry that afternoon. Then I spent about half an hour trying to strike the right tone in a message to Zach so he’d have something from me when he landed.
Welcome down! Thanks for my photos, you pervert. And thank you for, well, everything really. Email me? I’ll send you pictures of Harry. Big wedding drama here but I’ll tell you another time. Safe travels xxx
I clicked send and flopped back on my bed. Then I heard Dad and Patricia arrive from the hotel and her shrieks penetrate the floor. I wasn’t sure how long I could hide up here.
My phone vibrated on my stomach. It would be Eugene. At least I had collecting Harry as an excuse to escape.
But it wasn’t Eugene. It was Zach.
I fly tonight! Just on my way to Heathrow. And you’re welcome. Drama? Hope everyone OK. X
I thought you flew at 7am? I typed.
7pm!
Ruby’s cry echoed in my head: ‘Do something spontaneous.’
I ran back downstairs where everyone was sitting in the TV room glaring at one another.
‘Ah, Florence, there you are,’ said Patricia. ‘I gather you’ve ended your relationship with Rory too? I don’t know what’s got into you girls today, going around the place and breaking up with perfectly good boyfriends willy-nilly.’
I ignored her and turned to Dad. ‘How long would it take to drive to Heathrow?’
‘Now?’
I nodded.
He looked at his watch and puffed out his cheeks. ‘An hour, depending on the traffic.’
‘OK, will you take me?’
‘What, now?’ he said again.
‘Yes. You’re the only sober one.’
‘Florence darling, have you gone mad?’ said Patricia.
‘We haven’t got time to discuss it,’ I shouted, heading for the hall where my work shoes were under the table. I was still wearing my bridesmaid dress so it wasn’t an ideal look but too bad. ‘I’ll explain in the car.’ I grabbed an old fleece from the coat stand and poked my head back into the TV room to gesture at Dad.
‘Is this Zach?’ said Ruby.
I nodded.
‘Whoooooop!’ She punched the air. ‘In that case I’m coming too.’
‘And me,’ said Mia, getting up from the sofa. ‘I could do with a distraction.’
‘Well I don’t know what’s going on but I’m not being left behind,’ said Patricia, putting down her glass and standing up.
‘Come on!’ I urged, waving my arms towards the front door in an attempt to inject urgency into the situation. This was mad. Totally mad. Madder than Gwendolyn and all her spells put together. But I had to get to the airport in time.
It took several minutes but eventually my family were bundled into the car: Dad in the driving seat, Patricia next to him, Ruby, Mia and me strung along the back like small children.
‘Heathrow, please, driver,’ I said. ‘Top speed.’
‘Can somebody please explain what’s happening?’ demanded Patricia as Dad reversed into the road.
‘I’ll do it,’ Ruby said, before leaning into the gap between the front seats. ‘OK, parents, listen up. Florence was going out with Rory, right?’
‘The one who works for the Foreign Office?’ said Dad.
‘Yes.’
‘I do like him.’
‘No, we don’t like him any more.’
‘Oh. Why not?’
‘Because he was with Hugo on the stag and he also, er, became very good friends with that poor stripper.’
‘Ruby, please,’ said Patricia, puckering her mouth in disgust.
‘Well he did,’ went on Ruby, ‘so Rory’s out of the picture. But do you remember me talking about Zach, who worked with Florence in the bookshop?’
‘Wasn’t he the one you took a fancy to?’ asked Patricia. ‘The communist?’
‘Give me strength,’ muttered Ruby. ‘Yes, I briefly had a teeny-tiny crush on him but it turns out he was actually in love with Florence. And now he’s flying off to Patagonia and she needs to tell him she loves him too.’
‘Hang on,’ I said, ‘I’m not sure that I actually lo—’
‘Flo, quiet!’ said Ruby, holding her palm in the air at me. ‘You’ll only confuse them.’
‘I remember now!’ said Dad, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘He’s not a communist, he’s the photographer. I met him that day when you were doing your petition?’
I nodded at him in the rear-view mirror.
‘But we hardly know anything about this Zach,’ sniffed Patricia. ‘Where did he go to school?’
‘PAT, FOR GOD’S SAKE GET A GRIP!’ shouted Ruby. ‘It doesn’t matter. This whole drama was created by you in the first place. If you hadn’t sent Florence to see that mad love coach—’
‘She wasn’t mad. She was in Posh! magazine.’
‘Whatever. If you hadn’t sent Florence to see her, and if she hadn’t made Florence write that crazy list, then none of this would have happened in the first place.’
‘But without Rory she might not have realized she loves Zach,’ added Mia.
‘True,’ said Ruby, then she turned to me. ‘What time’s his flight?’
‘Seven,’ I said, looking at my phone. ‘He said he was on his way there twenty minutes ago. But what if we miss him and he goes through security?’
She shook her head. ‘Not going to happen, don’t you worry.’ Then she leant forward again. ‘Dad, can you pull some strings? Get him held back or something?’
‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea, darling.’
‘Oh, come on, Dad. This is your daughter’s entire happiness we’re talking about. Surely you can do something?’
Dad met my eye again in the mirror. ‘Which airline is he flying with, sweetheart, do you know?’
‘British Airways to Buenos Aires.’
‘Right. Patricia, can you take this,’ said Dad, reaching inside his suit jacket for his phone, ‘and look up Garry Stevens.’
‘Who’s he?’ she snapped.
‘VIP liaison at British Airways,’ said Dad, winking at me before glancing across at Patricia. ‘Found him?’
She nodded and hit the green button.
After a few rings a man’s voice rang out across the car’s speaker system. ‘Hello?’
‘Garry? Hello. It’s Henry Fairfax here.’
‘Henry! Good to hear from you. How are things?’
‘They’re fine but I wonder if you might do me a favour?’
‘Anything. Ask away.’
‘I believe you have a passenger called Zach, er…’
‘Taylor,’ I shouted.
‘A passenger called Zach Taylor travelling on the 7 p.m. flight out to BA tonight. But I need to give him something before he goes. Official business, you understand. So I’m on my way but do you mind calling him to the information desk in the departures hall?’
‘Not at all. I’ll get one of my team to do it now.’
‘Much obliged.’
‘Consider it done.’
Dad thanked him and Patricia hung up. Ruby whooped again. ‘Dad, that’s so badass.’
‘Is that a good thing?’
She nodded. ‘It’s a very good thing.’
As we pulled on to the motorway and the traffic slowed, I heard a siren start up behind us.
I didn’t look. I was trying to work out what kind of siren it was. If it was a police car, I told myself, then I’d get to Heathrow in time. But if it was an ambulance, this would be a disaster and I was about to experience the greatest humiliation since I’d gone onstage with Percy the pug.
Ruby glanced back and tutted. ‘An ambulance, that’s all we need.’
I took a deep breath.
‘Rubes?’ I said, as we slowed to a crawl.
‘Mmm.’
‘What do South American women look like?’
‘Smoking,’ she said. ‘Think Salma Hayek.’
‘She’s actually Mexican,’ said Mia, from her other side.
‘Oh all right. Shakira, then.’
I stared glumly at the red lights stretched in front of us, thinking about Shakira’s bottom and checking the time on my watch every other minute, wondering what I was going to say when I got there. If we got there.
‘EXCUSE ME,’ I shouted at a man with a clipboard standing just inside the doors of Terminal 5. Dad had pulled up outside and Ruby had quite literally pushed me out of the car.
‘Yes, madam, how can I help?’ he said, casting a surprised glance at my dress. And my fleece. And my shoes. My hair was presumably pretty wild by this point too.
‘Where’s the information desk? The British Airways information desk?’
‘Can I help you at all, madam?’
‘NO!’ I shouted, before lowering my voice. ‘Sorry, no, it’s just that I’m meeting someone at the desk, quite urgently.’
The Wish List: Escape with the most hilarious and feel-good read of 2020! Page 33