What Fresh Hell

by Lucy Vine

  ‘JOELY, OVER HERE, BABE! BRIAN, LOOK THIS WAY! SMILE FOR US! NICE HOLIDAY, GUYS? ARE YOU OFFICIAL NOW? ARE YOU IN LOVE? LOOK THIS WAY, WILL YOU, GUYS? DO ONE TOGETHER, CAN YOU? ARE YOU ENGAGED? JOELY? BRIAN? WAS THIS A BABYMOON, EH? MAKE OR BREAK HOLIDAY? WHAT’S GOING ON WITH YOU TWO? SMILE, WILL YOU?’

  The men are all shoving each other for space as the general public around us crane their necks to see what’s going on. What famous people have they missed? The whole arrivals procession slows to a halt.

  What on earth are the paps doing here? Oh my God, it must’ve been Brian! He obviously called them, I think furiously. He’s such a bastard! I thought he seemed all right. Poor Joely, trying to have an anonymous holiday and really connect with him, and he’s tipped them off just to make a scene! How awful is that!

  I can just about see Joely and Brian in the crowd up ahead trying to move their way forward with their cases. They both have their sunglasses on and are wearing harried, upset looks on their faces. Expressions like they’re used to this but can’t be doing with it. They don’t get too far, though, before Joely suddenly stops.

  She throws her bag dramatically to the floor, in full view of the cameras. She turns to Brian, who looks surprised, as she screams, ‘That’s it! I’m so done with you, Brian. I won’t take any more of your cheating! We were deeply in love and committed but I realise now that you are a scoundrel and I am better than this.’ It’s a bit wooden but the photographers are eating it up, their flashes going off like mad, blinding the onlookers/audience.

  I look back over at Will and he is staring at the commotion too, bewildered.

  ‘What are you talking about, Joe?’ Brian is shouting back. ‘What’s going on here, babe? Did you call them? I thought you wanted to do this for real? I thought you liked me?’

  Joely starts shouting over him. ‘Shut up, you! I knew you couldn’t keep it in your pants for long. I can’t believe this, after you told me you LOVED me and wanted to MARRY me. I was a fool to believe you, Brian. I saw the pictures, Brian! And I know you did it with that girl from Love Island! How could you? We’re over for GOOD, Brian! Never call me again. I’m going to date P DIDDY and he says he HATES you.’ As she shouts, Joely repeatedly glances over at the photographers to check they’re taking note. They most certainly are.

  ‘What girl from Love Island?’ Brian looks genuinely perplexed. ‘What pictures? Are you really dumping me, babe? I promise I haven’t done anything! I thought we were getting serious? And how do you know P Diddy?’

  Joely storms off and away from the group. She whips off her sunnies for one devastated, tear-streaked final look at the cameras – and they go crazy.

  I note that she’s re-done her make-up on the plane.

  We are witnessing the most public, overly planned and set-up dumping possible. Poor unsuspecting Brian.

  Bloody Joely, she’ll never change.

  I turn away from the shouting and back towards Will. For half a second I’d forgotten he was there.

  Why is he here?

  He gestures at me to join him at the barrier and slowly I comply, pulling my case behind me with dread. My wrist throbs and I try not to think of the stupid tattoo sitting there under my sleeve. It’s probably in the process of becoming infected. The hand will no doubt have to come off.

  The creakings of my hangover are burrowing into my brain as I stop short in front of Will and I feel a tug of horror at how terrible I must look.

  I’ve thought about this moment – the moment I’d get to see him again – so many times. Those bits of sleep I’ve managed to catch in the last couple of months have been full of that image. But even during the worst of the anxiety-filled nightmares, I’ve never imagined myself having to face him while coming out the other side of three solid days of drinking. Ugh.

  We stand face to face, staring at each other silently for a moment.

  He looks surprised to see me.

  I clear my throat, waiting for him to speak. He should be the one to speak, shouldn’t he? He’s the one here in the airport. He’s the one who called me over. I open my mouth and then shut it again. I can’t find any words in my brain.

  He laughs suddenly, but it’s humourless. An uncomfortable noise to fill the silent hole between us.

  ‘How are you, Lilah?’ he says, and his voice cracks a little.

  I nod. ‘I’m OK,’ I say, my voice hoarse. ‘Bit hungover. It’s been a long few days. But I’m well enough.’

  We fall silent again.

  ‘And you?’ I say, sounding a bit desperate.

  ‘Good! Good,’ he says, and he trails off there.

  ‘What are you—?’ I start to ask why he’s here but he interrupts, suddenly talking urgently. ‘Actually, Lilah, I’m not good. I’m terrible. I’m a mess. I’m so sorry for showing up here like this, but I still had your itinerary and flight details on my computer. I know it’s creepy to just turn up, but I couldn’t wait any longer to talk to you. I nearly flew out to Marbella to find you guys but I knew that would be ridiculous . . .’ He trails off again and the room starts spinning.

  Is he . . . ? What is happening?

  He swallows hard and keeps going, studying my face intently as he speaks. ‘I’ve spent the last few weeks hiding away, Lilah, trying not to think about you. But it’s all I can do. Daniel had to confiscate my phone weeks ago, just to stop me messaging you. He admitted the other day that he’d even replied to a few of your texts.’

  Maybe that was where the thumbs up emoji came from. From what I remember of Daniel, he’s much more of a thumbs up emoji type than Will.

  He’s still talking. ‘I need . . . I have to . . . Lilah, I miss you so much. I know things weren’t great between us, but I should’ve been more understanding of what you were dealing with. I know it’s only because you care about everyone and wanted to help. I was so selfish. I wanted you all to myself and it was so . . . I’m so sorry, Lilah.’

  He takes another big breath and I feel my mouth drop open. I close it.

  He laughs shakily and goes on. ‘I know it’s a ridiculous cliché to turn up at an airport, but it worked in Love Actually, right? There’s an airport in that, isn’t there? It’s been a while since I saw it . . . Oh, I don’t know what I’m doing, I really don’t. All I know is that, Lilah, I love you. I want us to get back together. Please can we get back together? Take me back?’ He stops, and then, stuttering, he says, ‘More than that, I want us to be together forever. I . . .’

  He glances at the crowds around us. They’re still distracted by the Famous People commotion to notice our intense exchange.

  And then Will gets down on one knee.

  Oh my God. This can’t be happening. This cannot be happening.

  ‘Delilah Mary Fox . . .’ he begins, half smiling, but he is white with fear. He looks more uncomfortable than I’ve ever seen him. This is not Will at all. He doesn’t do public displays. He is a person who can’t even talk to Joely when we’re out, because he’s afraid of ending up in a fan picture. He hides from the TV when I’m watching ITV2 shows because it’s all ‘too much’ for him. He cannot be down on one knee proposing to me in an airport. This is all wrong, wrong, wrong.

  He clears his throat and looks up at me, shaking. ‘Lilah, will you marr—’ he begins and I grab him, pulling him up.

  ‘Get up, Will,’ I whisper. ‘You don’t want to do that. Not like that, I know you don’t.’

  His face turns a shade paler – he’s practically green now – but he looks intensely relieved. I pull him in for a hug and over his shoulder I glance around, breathing out.

  No one noticed. Or if they did, maybe they thought he was tying a shoelace or something.

  ‘You don’t have to do something like that,’ I say into his ear as we stand there hugging. ‘We’re not in Love Actually. This is real life.’

  He makes a noise and sags into my arms, sudd
enly becoming a stone heavier.

  ‘That was the stupidest, worst thing I’ve ever done,’ he whispers into my neck. ‘Worse than actually breaking up with you. I’m sorry. But I thought it would be what you wanted. Daniel said it’s the kind of thing all girls want – a big public proposal. I said it wasn’t really you or me, but he seemed so sure. I just wanted to prove to you how much I want this. I know that was dumb and impulsive, but I do . . . I do want to marry you, Lilah. I want us to be together and live in our house and have a life together forever. You’re all I want. I’ve missed you so much. I feel broken without you, like half of me is gone.’

  A whispered, awkward proposal in my ear feels much more like Will, and I feel his warmth seep through me.

  This would be such a nice life. A nice life with my lovely, nice Will. Spooning him and popping his spots. I could say yes right now and that would be so wonderful.

  But.

  But.

  Oh fuck.

  I don’t know what to think. The yes should be out of my mouth already and yet . . .

  Look, I didn’t want to break up with Will. I tried so hard to make him change his mind. I begged him to stay and talk. I cried every night for weeks. I haven’t slept properly in ages. But now he’s here. And he’s saying all this lovely stuff I thought I wanted to hear. He loves me, he’s missed me like I’ve missed him. He’s offering me everything I should want. I thought I definitely wanted a life together.

  But I’m not sure.

  Because I know now that he was right to dump me. I didn’t make room for him in my life. And not just in the last few months – I never did. Even before the crazy year of weddings began, I was slotting him around my life instead of making him his own place in it. I let him skirt the outsides of my universe, but I never really let him in. I never made that effort. And Franny was right too, when she said we had problems we weren’t dealing with. We weren’t able to argue and be honest with each other – and you should be able to argue with your partner, shouldn’t you? I always thought us never arguing was a good thing, but I think there should be fallouts, at least once in a while. There should be easy, fun bickering. I should be able to tell Will when I’m upset about something without fear of making him sad.

  And why am I so sure I don’t want to marry him?

  I pull away a little from our hug and he lets me.

  I sigh, looking at his sweet face. ‘Will, I need some time to think about this,’ I say slowly. ‘This is all so nice, but I feel very overwhelmed. It’s really good to see you, but . . . I don’t know what I think. I’m sorry.’ I press my hand to my forehead and stare at the high white ceiling above us. ‘It really doesn’t help that I’m both drunk and also hungover right now; it’s hard to think straight. This has come out of the blue, Will. I’ve heard nothing from you, I thought it was over. I do still love you but . . . I . . . look, I’ve had no sleep in three days. I barely know where I am.’

  He looks wounded, but puts his hand on my shoulder.

  ‘I get it,’ he says, nodding slightly. ‘I am so sorry about everything, you have no idea. I want this – us – to work, though, and I’m prepared to be patient. I know we can make it, I’m sure of that now.’ He pauses. ‘Do you have to go? Can I at least give you a lift home?’

  I shake my head. ‘We’ve booked taxis, and they’re here, waiting for us all. I need to pay my share, so I’ll go with the girls.’

  He nods again, silently, miserably, and I give him another quick hug before slowly turning away, pulling my suitcase along behind me. I look back once and he’s staring after me, looking sad. I made him sad. But that’s OK. Life is sometimes about making other people sad so you can be happy.

  Lauren and Joely are waiting for me by the car. They look frantic.

  ‘What the hell happened?’ Lauren shrieks at me excitedly. ‘We saw you with Will – it looked really intense. Are you OK?’

  I wince. The hangover pain is real, and so are the emotions.

  ‘I’ll explain in the car,’ I say, giving her a tired smile.

  ‘Are you all right, though?’ adds Joely nicely.

  I think about it. ‘Yeah, I’m surprisingly all right,’ I say, as I load my suitcase and climb into the back of the cab.

  I turn to her. ‘Are you, though? What was that scene back there? It looked pretty nasty. I thought you were actually starting to like Brian for real?’

  Joely looks horrified. ‘Oh God, no,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘Don’t accuse me of having real feelings, ever, please. No, no, I just thought if I seemed enthusiastic during the trip, one of the other girls might sell a story on us. Y’know, tell the Mirror how happy we seemed right before the end.’

  ‘Did he really cheat on you, though?’ I say, confused.

  ‘Oh, probably!’ she says dismissively. ‘But who cares? It’s over now. I don’t want a real boyfriend – too much hard work. Plus, my agent gave me David Walliams’ number, so we have a date lined up for next week.’

  She gives me a thumbs up and the driver starts the engine.

  24

  We’re meant to be at the hotel right now. We’re meant to be getting ready and pulling those last-minute details together ahead of Lauren and Charlie’s wedding. We’re meant to be getting our bridesmaid dresses on. Then we’re meant to be making our way over to Charlie’s dad’s place to ooh and aah at the giant marquee. And then we’re meant to be watching Lauren get married.

  But an hour ago we got a call.

  The fuckers have eloped.

  So apparently, she and Charlie had a big talk last night. Their first proper conversation in ages, by the sound of it. Lauren admitted how carried away she’s been getting with all this wedding stuff. She finally told him a lot of what she told us in that drunk tank a lifetime ago. How she feels like she’s lost herself a bit and – worse – how she feels like she’s lost Charlie. The actual celebration of their relationship got lost in the planning and Lauren confessed that she didn’t even really want this big elaborate wedding in the first place. She doesn’t know how it happened. Her first instinct, back when he proposed, had been a little wedding with just her closest loved ones. But she’d let everyone else’s opinions and judgements get in the way.

  She told Charlie how she’d ended up dreading the whole thing.

  And Charlie totally got it. In fact, he said he was absolutely delighted to hear it and then immediately booked them a pair of tickets to Vegas. He said he’d only suggested having a quick engagement because he was worried about this very thing happening. He said he’d seen it happen to loads of his friends who got engaged and he didn’t want Lauren to have to deal with all that pressure. He didn’t know how crazy things had become, because she’d been pretending everything was in hand. Pretending everything was great and fun. Like she did with us for ages.

  So they’re in Las Vegas right now, getting ready for a wedding ceremony that will be performed by an Elvis impersonator. They’ll have strangers for witnesses and literally not one friend or family member present. Lauren’s not even wearing one of those nine different wedding dresses she had ready. She says she’s going to wear her favourite £55 green dress from Topshop. The one she wore for her birthday last year.

  I can’t stop laughing. I’m so pleased for them.

  Of course, everyone back here is going mad about it. Lauren is kindly redirecting questions to me – my final duty as maid of honour – and I’ve had so many messages this morning from angry guests. I understand that both sets of parents are especially livid. And I get why they’re angry, but I also think . . . fuck them.

  Just a little bit!

  But yeah, fuck them.

  I know they’ve spent a huge ton of money, but their anger doesn’t even seem to be about that. They’re angry because they saw this wedding as being their big day. They saw it as their moment in the sun.

  And this is one of my pro
blems with weddings – how buried the bride and groom get in all of it. So often, it doesn’t really get to be about them and their relationship, it becomes about everyone else. Everyone has an opinion to offer and pointed suggestions and demands. People feel a weird right to comment on every aspect of a wedding.

  Today was supposed to be a day for Lauren and Charlie. It was supposed to be about celebrating them and their commitment to each other, and by the end, it wasn’t anymore. It was about everyone else and what they wanted. All this anger from the guests – who don’t get to put on a fancy hat, talk about ‘who’s going to be next’ and single-shame Joely – proves that.

  Ultimately, Lauren and Charlie wanted to get married and they’re doing just that. Without any of the craziness. And I’m really, really proud of them.

  Plus, Lauren promised she’d FaceTime us from the ceremony – yay.

  Joely and I are sitting on the floor of my living room now, drinking the champagne we’d planned on taking to the hotel with us. No point wasting it, right? Joely’s just put her dark green bridesmaid dress on, because she said she wants to wear it at least once. It looks great on her – I mean, it should, since she chose them for us.

  She’s on her computer, writing a slightly tipsy blog post about elopement and how everyone should ‘totally do it immediately’. She looks up thoughtfully.

  ‘Maybe I should elope with David? Just for the LOLs?’

  ‘By LOLs, do you mean attention?’ I say, smiling.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I do mean that,’ Joely says, laughing. ‘We could do it drunk, with drawn-on cat whiskers, like Ross and Rachel, and then get an annulment.’

  I hold my glass aloft, struck by inspiration. ‘No, wait, plot twist. Why don’t you elope with Calum Best! Leave David heartbroken. And then you could run off with Brian when you get back!’

  ‘Yesss!’ she says, standing up unsteadily. ‘This is perfect.’ She starts texting.