I’m just about to drag Roma off the dance floor, and starting to panic because I can’t see Fizz, when a large warm hand snakes around my waist and I find myself clasped against a rippling torso and gazing into Wacky’s dilated pupils.
‘Hey,’ he slurs. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you. How about we get out of here and go somewhere more intimate? I’ve got a penthouse and a massive bed. What d’you say?’
‘Let go!’ I cry, pulling away so hard that Wacky loses his balance and staggers for a moment. ‘I’m here with my …err… my fiancé!’
But does Wacky give a toss about my (imaginary) fiancé?
‘Forget him, baby. I’ll show you a much better time.’ He thrusts his groin in my direction.
‘You’re making a prat of yourself.’
‘God, you’re even hotter when you’re pissed off,’ says Wacky. ‘Come on, don’t be like that. We’re made for each other.’
‘We are not,’ I snap. ‘Anyway, I’ve already told you, I’m engaged! And I happen to be totally devoted to my fiancé.’
‘I’m talking about a shag, not a lifetime commitment. He’ll never know. I promise you a night you’ll never forget.’
‘You’ve already done that,’ I tell him. ‘The thought of you will give me nightmares for years.’
‘Man, I love a chick with balls!’ Wacky takes a swig of his beer, and then drops down to his knees. One sweaty paw clutches my hand. ‘I’m begging, baby! Please sleep with me.’
‘Stop it!’ I snatch my hand away. ‘My fiancé’s really jealous and he’ll kill you if you touch me!’ I crane my neck hoping to attract Raza’s attention but, flipping typical, he’s vanished. The only person I recognise is Wish, whose eyebrows practically shoot into orbit when he sees Wacky sprawled at my feet.
‘Look! There he is now!’ I cry, waving frantically at Wish. ‘Darling! Over here!’
‘Him?’ says Wacky. ‘The photographer?’
‘Yes! He’s got a really violent temper! He hates me talking to other guys!’
‘Well, that explains it.’ Wacky hauls himself to his feet, brushes off his designer jeans and gives me a sheepish smile. ‘No wonder he was so miserable during the interview. He probably thought I was going to jump your bones.’
I really can’t be bothered to explain.
‘That’s right!’ I say. ‘He wanted to kill you.’
‘Christ,’ Wacky pales, as Wish elbows his way towards us, every inch the angry fiancé. ‘Sorry mate,’ he says quickly, looking up at Wish who is a good head taller and, I can’t help but notice, twice as well muscled because Wacky must only bother with his six-pack. ‘I didn’t realise she was your girl.’
‘Hello darling!’ I say brightly. ‘I was just telling Wacky we’re engaged.’
‘I didn’t realise!’ insists Wacky.
Wish doesn’t miss a beat. ‘It’s a very recent engagement, isn’t it darling?’
‘Yes, very recent!’
‘We keep it quiet,’ Wish continues, giving me a frosty look, ‘because Mills doesn’t like to mix business with pleasure.’
Ouch.
‘You make a great couple,’ Wacky gushes. ‘Oh look,’ he points vaguely towards the VIP area, ‘David and Elton! I must say hello!’
Off he staggers, leaving Wish and me alone.
‘I can explain,’ I say hastily.
‘Don’t bother.’
‘I should have listened to you. Sorry.’
Wish shrugs. ‘Don’t beat yourself up about it. You needed to experience the so-called glamour of celeb life for yourself. We don’t all have Minty to guide us through.’
‘Do you think we could leave? This really isn’t the place for the girls.’ I beckon to Roma, but of Fizz and Raza there’s no sign. Raza can look after himself but I’m not so sure that the same is true of Fizz. Oh crap, what if Wacky makes an indecent proposal to her? She’ll be off to his penthouse before you can say izzat!
‘Where’s Fizz?’ I demand when Roma joins us.
Roma shrugs. ‘She was dancing a while back.’
I look so quickly round the room that my head could give the kid in The Exorcist a run for her money.
‘Maybe she’s with Raza?’ says Roma.
‘Where’s he?’
‘I saw him heading for the loo.’
Wish puts a fleeting hand on my shoulder. ‘You guys go and get your bags and wait for me by the door. I’ll find them. Don’t worry, she can’t be far away.’
‘Thanks Wish,’ I say.
I put my arm round Roma’s shoulders.
‘Wish is really nice, isn’t he?’ she says.
‘Yes,’ I tell her. ‘He is.’
After waiting for ten minutes I’m really starting to worry. Any remaining stumps of nails I may have had left are well and truly gnawed away and I’m making inroads into the skin at the sides.
I imagine so many awful things happening to Fizz that when she eventually appears, subdued and red-eyed, I’m so relieved I’m hardly able to take it in. Raza and Wish are just behind her and, judging from their raised voices, are having a serious disagreement.
‘Here she is,’ says Wish, his face dark with anger. ‘She’s in one piece. Thanks to your fiancé, apparently. Or maybe that should be your other fiancé?’ and to my dismay he storms off without so much as a wishing me goodnight.
I stare after him, totally bemused.
‘Miserable sod,’ says Raza.
‘What happened?’ I demand.
Raza and Fizz look at each other.
‘What’s going on?’
Raza glowers at me. ‘I don’t like my girl getting up close and personal with other men, especially when she won’t even hold my sodding hand!’
‘Nothing happened! He cornered me.’
‘It didn’t look like that from where we were standing. You know how much Fizz idolises Wacky.’ Raza’s every inch the injured party. ‘She was devastated to see him holding hands with you. As was I.’
‘We didn’t hold hands! He grabbed me. Sheesh! He was off his face!’
‘Really?’ says Raza.
I put my arm around the unusually silent Fizz. ‘If you won’t believe me then I’m going to make Wacky tell you exactly what happened. There’s no way I’d do that to you, Fizz. Or to you,’ I add to Raza. ‘Where is he?’
‘Let it go,’ says Raza. ‘I believe you. He’ll be even more sloshed now and, besides, there’s always paparazzi lurking around PoppadRUm. It’s not worth risking your name or Fizz's over a drunken idiot. Imagine being splashed all over the Sunday tabloids! He isn’t worth it.’
‘Maybe not,’ I say reluctantly, ‘but if he thinks I’m going to be generous in the interview then he’s in for a nasty shock.’ I put my other arm round Roma. ‘Let’s go home.’
Fizz shrugs me off and stalks ahead. It breaks my heart to see her robbed of all her usual fire. Why didn’t she tell me how upset she was? Why did she speak to Raza instead? We’ve always been so close, so what’s changed?
It doesn’t make sense.
Raza walks us outside. The cold midnight air is like silk against my hot cheeks and my hearing is muffled and weird without the constant thump of the music. The only sounds are the distant bass from the party and the odd sniff from Fizz. I’m really worried. Fizz never cries. She must have a way bigger crush on Wacky than I’d imagined.
‘The limo’s on the way.’ Raza snaps his mobile shut. ‘Five minutes. I’ll get a cab, otherwise you’ll have to go miles out of your way.’
‘Raza,’ I say slowly, ‘why did you fall out with Wish? Was it anything to do with Fizz? And did you tell him we’re engaged?’
‘Don’t be silly!’ Raza laughs. ‘Of course not. I was just waiting for Fizz to wash her face when Wish turned up like bloody RoboCop, demanding to know where she was. Is it my fault that he may have misinterpreted things?’
I stare at him.
‘It’s nothing for you to panic about.’ Shadows play on the sharp angles of his face.
‘I’ll talk to Wish tomorrow and we’ll sort it.’
Then the limo arrives and Raza literally pushes me in, bids me a quick farewell and then slams the door shut.
I’ve never claimed to be much good at maths but as the limo threads its way through the empty streets and Fizz sobs into a tissue I know something doesn’t add up.
And I don’t like it at all.
Chapter 27
‘Mills, baj! Wake up!’
I’m in the middle of a hideous dream, something to do with being chased by a cobra that has Raza’s head. I don’t need to be Freud to work that dream out. I must be more worried about moving our relationship on than I realised.
‘Roma,’ I croak because after all the shouting above the music at the PoppadRUm party it feels like my tonsils have been attacked with a cheese grater. ‘Do you know what time it is?’
Roma rips the curtains open. ‘It’s nearly lunchtime.’
I dive under my covers as bright arrows of unseasonal sunshine shoot into the room. I don’t think that I’ve ever felt so weary. My eyes seem to have weights in the lids and my limbs ache from all the dancing. I’d like nothing more than to turn over and go back to sleep.
Without the phallic dreams, of course.
‘Don’t go back to sleep!’ Roma whips my duvet off. ‘Fizz has gone!’
‘What do you mean, she’s gone?’
‘Exactly that. I just woke up and she wasn’t there. She left this.’ Roma hands me a tatty piece of paper. ‘Mills, she’s gone.’
Cursing myself for letting the twins sleep on the sofa bed in the sitting room rather than in with me, I scan the note.
Popped out for a last few hours of freedom! See you at the station. F x
I screw the note up and fling it across the room. ‘I’m going to kill her!’
‘Where do you think she is?’
‘Allah-ji only knows.’ I’m wide awake now. ‘She could be anywhere.’ I jump out of bed and tug on my jeans. ‘Topshop? PoppadRUm’s hotel?’ Hopping on one foot then the other I pull on my Uggs and search for my bra. ‘Have you called her?’
‘Her phone’s switched off.’
I take a deep breath. The thought of Fizz loose in London in her hipster jeans and corset top makes me feel ill. Bradford may be a big place but it’s a whole world away from the capital.
‘Don’t worry,’ I say with a certainty I don’t feel. ‘We’ll find her.’
Locating my bra beneath yesterday’s clothes I snap it on, shrug myself into a fleece and pull my hair into a ponytail. There’s no time for make-up. I’ll just have to hope I don’t scare any small children when I venture outside.
‘Go and find Nish,’ I tell Roma. ‘She might have seen her.’
Roma starts to cry. ‘I’ve tried that. Nish didn’t see her.’
‘I’ll give Raza a call. He can drive us around to see if we can find her.’
I speed-dial Raza, only to be put through to the Orange answerphone service. I try again. And again. And again.
This is ridiculous. At this rate I’ll be on the Orange Answerphone Woman’s Christmas card list. I leave Raza a quick message explaining the situation and flip the phone shut in annoyance. What’s the point of having an almost fiancé if he isn’t around when you need him?
I glance at my alarm clock. It’s almost midday and the twins’ train’s due to leave at two o’clock. What if Fizz gets mugged and can’t reach the station? Or what if she loses her Oyster Card and hasn’t got enough money to get to King’s Cross? Or what if–
Stop it, saheli!
‘Is everything OK?’ asks Nish, popping her head around the door.
‘Not really,’ I tell her. ‘Bloody Fizz has gone exploring. I bet she’s gone to PoppadRUm’s hotel to look for that idiot Wacky.’
‘Bollocks,’ says Nish.
‘Exactly. I need to look for her but I can’t get hold of Raza. Is Eve up yet? I thought she could drive me over to the hotel.’
‘Eve went into work this morning.’ Nish plops herself onto my bed, drawing her knees up under her chin and crinkling her forehead thoughtfully. ‘For the fifth Sunday in a row.’
‘Really?’ I’m shocked out of my Fizz-induced panic. Eve and work have always been polar opposites. If she put as much effort into her job as she normally does evading it, she’d be MD by now. ‘That Damien Oxley’s a real slave driver.’
‘Yeah,’ says Nish. ‘Or something like that. But she took her car.’
I scroll through my mobile’s phone book. Looks like I’m stuck.
‘What about Wish?’ Roma suggests.
‘I don’t think so. I’m not one of his favourite people at the moment.’
Nish snorts.
‘I’m not! He’s been really weird lately, Nish. He had a massive row with Raza last night too.’
‘Sod Raza. Where’s he when you need him? Call Wish.’
‘Please, baj,’ pleads Roma. ‘We’ve got to find her.’
I’m about to argue the toss but I’m so worried I put my issues with Wish aside and call him. Just as I expected he’s less than delighted to hear from me – my ear almost gets frostbite his voice is so cold – but when I explain what’s happened and that Raza’s phone’s off he thaws instantly and promises he’ll be over as quickly as he can.
‘He’ll be ten minutes,’ I say, ending the call and putting the phone on my dressing table. I pick up my make-up bag and pull out my favourite Benefit lip gloss. ‘He says Raza’s out so he’ll whiz me over to PoppadRUm’s hotel and if she’s not there we’ll head back to Oxford Street. Nish, would you be able to take Roma to King’s Cross? We’ll meet you there.’
‘Sure,’ says Nish. ‘But can I ask you something?’
Our eyes meet in the mirror. Nish’s are twinkling.
‘Why are you suddenly putting on make-up?’
Wish stands on the doorstep holding a motorcycle helmet. ‘Are you ready?’
Outside the sun is bright but the air is tart with chill. Although I’m wrapped up in my woollies I can’t help but shiver and wish that, like him, I was clad from head to toes in leathers.
‘Where’s the car?’ I peer across the square but there’s no sign of the Fiesta that Wish sometimes uses. Instead his motorbike is parked beneath one of the plane trees.
‘I came on the bike; it’s much quicker, especially if we’re going to beat the traffic.’
‘Oh,’ I’ve never been on a motorbike in my life.
‘So you’d better put this on.’ Wish hands me the helmet, which weighs a tonne. ‘Then we can get going.’
‘I’m not sure this is a good idea.’
‘Is that because of yesterday?’ Wish runs a hand through his hair. ‘Look, Mills, I should explain. Raza–’
‘Never mind that!’ I really can’t be bothered to start discussing the ins and outs of what is going on between them, not when my sister’s missing. ‘I’m not sure I can ride a motorbike.’
‘You don’t have to, silly!’ Wish smiles, the dimple playing hide-and-seek in his chin. ‘You’ll just sit pillion and hold onto me.’
Exactly. My parents would flip if they knew their eldest daughter was even thinking about getting on a motorbike, never mind wrapping her arms round the young man driving it.
‘I don’t know,’ I say nervously. ‘It isn’t appropriate.’
‘Mills,’ says Wish, ‘I don’t think they make halal motorbikes! We’re in broad daylight in the middle of London. There’s nothing improper about it, I promise. We need to find Fizz as quickly as we can.’
He’s right. What’s the worst of the two evils? Riding on a motorbike with Wish or abandoning my sister to the mean streets of London? And anyway, we’ll be going far too fast for Auntie Bee’s spies to catch us.
‘OK.’
‘Excellent!’ Wish’s mouth curls into a grin. ‘You’ll love it. There’s nothing better than the freedom of a bike.’
‘I’ll take your word for it,’ I say, ramming the helmet onto my head.
/> Wish puts on his own helmet and straddles the bike. ‘Hop on behind me and hold on to my waist.’
I clamber on and gingerly pluck at his leather jacket with my fingertips. Surely this won’t count?
‘Mills,’ says Wish from under his helmet, ‘I’m not trying to seduce you, I promise, but if you don’t hold on properly you’ll fall off. Put your arms around my waist, hold on tight and when we go round a corner make sure that you stay close to my body and lean over with me.’
‘Why?’ I’ve secretly decided I’ll keep a discreet gap between our bodies once we start to move. How hard can it be?
‘Because,’ says Wish patiently, ‘we’ll tip over otherwise.’
Oh. Maybe not then.
Wish turns a key and the bike roars beneath me like some angry beast that’s come to life. I cry out, flinging my arms around him as though my life depends upon it, all thoughts of izzat and auntie-jis forgotten. Wish opens up the throttle and the bike tears around the square before turning left onto the main road.
Oh. My. God. It feels like flying! I can’t believe how close I am to the road or how dangerously, exhilaratingly out of control I feel as Wish steers the bike through the lunchtime traffic, weaving in and out of the cars and then accelerating forwards. Once I get over the stomach-lurching sensation of leaning into corners and the sharp air slicing against my body I start to enjoy myself. I wrap my arms right around Wish’s waist and rest my head against his back. When we pull up outside the impressive hotel containing the penthouse suite Wacky was so keen to show me, I’m almost sorry to stop.
Wish kills the engine. ‘The Reynard Hotel. This is where all the movers and shakers like to stay.’
I stare at the imposing façade, the gleaming glass doors and the flags that ripple in the breeze, and feel anxious. Even the doorman looks intimidating.
‘It’s a bit quiet,’ Wish says. ‘I’d have expected scores of teenage fans outside waiting to see the band.’
My heart sinks. I don’t know what I was hoping for; Fizz outside waving at me, I guess, but it wasn’t this empty scenario complete with a grim-faced doorman heading straight for us.
‘Hey!’ says the doorman. ‘You can’t stop here. This is a designated area for hotel guests only.’
The Wedding Countdown Page 24