by Matt Dunn
‘Sorry. Rachel told me you were staying at the “something” Catalonia. Do you know how many hotels in Barcelona have the word “Catalonia” in their name? I tried four different places before I realised that “something” was actually just “hotel”.’ He grinned. ‘I was beginning to worry she’d done the hotel-name equivalent of giving me a one-digit-wrong phone number.’
‘Persistent.’ Livia raised an eyebrow in Rachel’s direction. ‘Well, you’re here now.’
‘I am.’
The three of them stood there awkwardly for a moment, then Livia grinned. ‘Well, I need to go and find my, you know, “husband”.’ She’d made air quotes around the word, as if still getting used to it. ‘You two have fun. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’
Jay let out a short laugh. ‘By the sounds of things, that gives us quite a lot of leeway!’
‘So . . .’ said Rachel, brusquely, once Livia was out of earshot. ‘What is it you’re returning?’
‘Um . . .’ Jay was patting his pockets, which made a squelching sound, then he grinned guiltily. ‘I made that bit up. I was desperate to see you again, and I didn’t want Livia to think I was crashing her wedding.’
‘What?’
‘I said I didn’t want Livia to think . . .’
‘No . . .’ Rachel couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Jay had come to see her after all. She shook her head to clear any swimming pool water out of her ears, just in case. ‘So . . . you’re not actually returning anything?’ she said, trying to keep the excitement from her voice.
‘No. Sorry.’
‘Don’t be. It’s great to see you.’
‘Likewise. Though I wasn’t sure I was going to. Especially by the time I’d tried the third hotel.’
‘Sorry about that. I just . . . I was a bit confused after what happened this afternoon . . .’ Jay was looking startled, and Rachel suddenly realised why. ‘In a good way.’
‘Right.’
They stood there for a moment, listening to Liam skip through the music on his phone in an attempt to get everyone dancing again.
‘So,’ said Rachel, again.
‘So . . .’
‘Did you want some wedding cake? That’s if Livia’s left any.’
‘No, I’m fine.’ Jay took a mouthful of beer, closely followed by another. ‘Listen, I—’
Rachel raised a hand, and rested a finger on his lips. ‘Don’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because,’ said Rachel, hoping that one word would sum up, well, everything. ‘What happened this afternoon . . . It’s not the kind of thing that happens to me all the time.’
‘I should hope not,’ said Jay. ‘Otherwise it’d cost you a fortune in replacement phones.’
‘Not getting robbed!’ Rachel slapped him playfully on the chest. ‘The sex,’ she said, a little too loudly, seeing as Liam had chosen that exact moment to swap songs and left an unprofessional couple of seconds of silence between them.
‘Me neither. And that’s the real reason I came tonight. Because I thought we had a real connection.’
‘Me too. Otherwise I wouldn’t have . . . you know . . .’
‘I get it,’ said Jay, giving her another one of those smiles.
Liam had changed the music to something slower, so Jay put his beer down on the nearest table, took Rachel by the hand and led her to the dance floor. ‘So, at the risk of asking a question I’m probably not going to like the answer to, what time’s your flight tomorrow?’
‘Six,’ said Rachel, careful to enunciate the word properly.
‘Right.’ Jay held her a little tighter. ‘Maybe we could . . . do something? Before you go?’
‘I’d love to! What did you have in mind?’ said Rachel, then she realised she’d sounded a little more suggestive than perhaps she’d meant to, and the thought of what Jay might have in mind made her shiver in anticipation.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Are you cold? Maybe you need to get out of these wet things. I don’t want you catching a chill. Especially if we do only have one more day together.’
‘I’m fine.’ Rachel reached up and looped her arms around his neck. The heat between her and Jay meant a chill was the last thing she was going to catch. ‘Although . . .’
‘Although?’
‘What are you doing for the next few days?’ she said, impulsively.
‘Nothing. School’s closed until . . . Why?’
‘It’s just that . . .’ She shivered again, though for effect this time. ‘I think I do feel a chill coming on. So I might have to change my flight. Call in sick at work on Monday.’
‘Excellent!’ Jay was looking at her like . . . almost like Livia had looked at Jed when he’d been down on one knee earlier, and for the second time that day, Rachel couldn’t keep the smile from her face. ‘Though you’ll have to make sure you don’t go back to work with a tan.’
‘Good point,’ Rachel said. Though there wouldn’t be much danger of that. Especially since she wasn’t planning on the two of them leaving her hotel room, except perhaps to change venue to Jay’s apartment. ‘But . . .’
‘But?’
‘No promises. No making commitments that we can’t keep.’ She took him by both hands, and – leaving a soggy trail behind them – steered him towards the elevator. ‘No asking where this is going.’
‘Um . . . where are we going?’ he said, as she stabbed at the up button.
‘Like you suggested earlier. To get out of these wet things.’
‘But I don’t have a change of clothes.’
The doors opened with a ping, and Rachel followed Jay into the lift, then stood up on tiptoe and kissed him on the lips. ‘You won’t need one,’ she said, with a smile.
Livia’s feet were killing her. Her back was killing her too, but she didn’t care. A few short hours ago, she’d been worried that Jed was going to be thinking of killing her for dropping this whole surprise wedding thing on him, and yet, somehow, it had worked out even better than she’d dreamed. Jed had turned out to be amazing – or rather, reminded her how amazing he was. And going forward, she needed that – needed him – more than ever.
She had Liam to thank too. And Patrick – though she’d always known she could rely on him. The thing was, now she was sure she could rely on Jed, because of what she’d put him through. Because she understood him a little better. And hopefully, because he understood her better too. They’d need to talk more, of course, once they got back home – about his past, and how it might affect their future. But there was no rush. Because now, Livia was sure, they had the rest of their lives for that.
She leant heavily back in her chair, and glanced across to where Rachel and Jay were making for the lift, a look on Jay’s face that . . . well, Livia had never seen Rich look at Rachel like that. And maybe this one would work out for her. Livia had a feeling that today was all about new beginnings, new chapters. Patrick and Izzy seemed to have . . . ‘reached an understanding’ was what she was going to go with. And even Liam seemed to be revelling in his best man/DJ role, as opposed to his TV role. You had to see that as progress.
She rested a hand on her stomach as the baby kicked – at least, she assumed that was what it was, rather than another adverse reaction to something she’d eaten. She’d be glad when it was out. She could only hope Jed would be too, though given that he’d have had almost nine months to get used to the idea, as opposed to the one day she’d allowed him for the wedding, she was pretty confident about that. And while she wasn’t sure that being married would change their lives that much, she was sure that being parents would. In a good way. She hoped.
‘Hey, sis!’
Liam’s exclamation startled her, but she smiled up at him. He’d done her proud today, what with finding a doctor so quickly earlier, and stepping in for the DJ, and his speech . . . Though, to be honest, that hadn’t been his finest hour – or even five minutes. But they’d laugh about it in years to come, she was sure.
‘Bro!’ she
said, mimicking the way Liam always greeted Jed, then fist-bumping him for good measure.
‘Looking muy guapa!’ he said, looking her up and down, his eyes lingering on her chest. ‘That’s how they say “very beautiful” here.’
‘Speaking Spanish now, Liam? I’m impressed.’
Liam shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I’m like a sponge.’
‘That’s what Jed’s been saying for years.’ She winked at him. ‘Having a good time?’
‘Yeah, actually.’ He cast an eye proudly over the dance floor, where most of the hotel guests seemed to have ended up, then returned his gaze to her. ‘Normally I’d be off my tits about now . . .’
‘Instead of staring at mine?’
‘Sorry. It’s just . . . with the baby and everything . . . they’re huge! Anyway,’ he said, sinking into the chair next to her. ‘I just wanted to say congratulations, you know? This has all been . . .’ He waved a hand in the air, as if dismissing a bad waiter. ‘Inspirational.’
‘Jed’s baby brother’s growing up at last,’ said Livia, reaching over to ruffle his hair, then immediately regretting it, given the amount of product that came off on her hand. ‘Dance with me?’ she said, surreptitiously wiping her fingers on her napkin.
‘I’m not sure you should, in your condition.’
‘Don’t worry. It’s perfectly safe for pregnant women to—’
‘Married, I meant!’
Livia reached over and poked him sharply in the ribs. ‘Come on. It’s traditional for the bride to take a turn with the best man. Not like that, Liam,’ she added, at the look on his face.
‘Go on, then.’ Liam leapt up and offered her his hands, then hoisted her out of her chair (Livia was grateful she wasn’t that wedged in, so it didn’t come up with her), and the two of them took to the dance floor.
‘It’ll have to be a slow one, on account of my . . .’
‘Condition?’
‘Exactly,’ said Livia. ‘Oh, and don’t squeeze me too tightly.’
Liam nodded. ‘Sure,’ he said, holding her at arm’s length. ‘Don’t want another false alarm. And just let me know if I need to go and find a gas mask . . .’
‘Scratch earlier Liam-growing-up comment,’ said Livia, grinning. ‘Now c’mere!’
She grabbed him round the waist and pulled him close, only for him to recoil in horror. ‘Jesus Christ!’
Liam had almost jumped a foot backwards, and Livia’s first thought was that she must have stood on his foot – and at her current weight, and in these shoes, that wouldn’t be pleasant.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Something . . . it . . . moved!’
‘What?’
‘In there.’ Liam was staring in horror at her belly, and Livia laughed.
‘If by “it” you mean your soon-to-make-an-appearance niece or nephew . . .’
‘Yeah. Unless you’re planning to asphyxiate us all again?’
Livia gave him a look. ‘That’s what they do, Liam. There’s nothing to be scared of. Here. Have a feel.’
She grabbed his hand, but Liam resisted. ‘I’ll pass, thanks.’
‘Liam . . .’
Reluctantly, he reached his hand out towards her, and Livia shook her head as he tentatively rested it on the front of her bump, then suddenly pulled it away, as if he’d just had an electric shock. ‘It did it again!’
‘Well, “it” obviously likes you!’
‘Jesus! It’s . . . alive.’
‘It is.’
Liam carefully put his hand back onto the same spot, and as Livia felt the baby move obligingly, he looked down at her, a mixture of wonder and fear on his face. ‘That’s amazing!’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘I mean, I’m still thinking it’s a bit like that scene in Alien, but even so . . .’
Livia peered down at her stomach. ‘Hey, little one,’ she said, addressing her bump. ‘This idiot is your uncle.’
‘Christ, Liv.’
‘What now?’
‘Me and it are related.’
‘Sadly, yes.’
‘But that means . . . if you and Jed have an accident . . .’
‘Well, that’s a happy thought for my wedding day.’
‘I didn’t mean . . . you’re not . . .’
‘What’s up?’ A not-that-sober-looking Jed had sidled over to join them, so Livia smiled.
‘Your brother’s just discovered the miracle of life.’
‘Finally.’
‘You did have the birds-and-bees conversation with him, I take it?’
Jed grinned. ‘There was no need. Since he turned fourteen, Liam’s been using his personality as birth control . . .’
As Livia laughed at her husband’s joke, Liam removed his hand from her stomach. ‘Bro, I . . . and Liv – sorry . . . sis – I just want to say that . . . I’ll, you know, be there. Just in case. I mean, obviously, I’ll try my hardest to be the cool uncle. You know, play football with them in the park, teach them how to smoke, buy them their first pint, get them a hooker for their eighteenth birthday . . .’
‘And if it’s a boy?’
‘That’s what I . . . right. Good one, Liv. But seriously. I’ll do my best.’
‘To what?’
‘Set a good example. I’m going to change my ways. Give up on Tinder. Think about settling down.’
‘Blimey, Liam. What’s brought this on?’
‘I dunno. I just . . .’ Liam shrugged. ‘I’d wanted to be famous for ages, you know? But something was obviously stopping me . . .’
‘That would be your lack of a thing called talent,’ suggested Jed, though Livia quickly shushed him.
‘And then finally I got on Big Brother.’
Livia shook her head. ‘I never got why you did that.’
‘It seemed like a good idea at the time.’
‘So was getting on board the Titanic.’ Jed laughed. ‘Which is actually a pretty good metaphor, given what happened to your career afterwards.’
‘Don’t you see?’ said Liam, desperately. ‘That’s my point. I thought it was the best thing that had ever happened to me. But it turned out to be just after everyone stopped watching it.’
‘Right.’ Livia nodded sagely, though she hadn’t got his point. ‘And?’
‘Like your Titanic comment. Really I missed the boat. And not in a good way. So I kind of don’t want that to be the case with everything else.’
‘Are you drunk?’ said Jed, though funnily enough, Livia thought Liam had never looked more sober.
‘I must be,’ said Liam, then he slipped an arm around his brother’s shoulders, and Jed clapped him heartily on the back.
‘Thanks, bro. Good speech, by the way.’
Liam narrowed his eyes at his brother. ‘You mean the one at the table earlier, and not just now?’
‘I do.’
‘You think?’ said Liam.
‘We both do,’ said Livia.
‘What was your favourite bit?’
Jed was looking at her, desperately trying to find an answer, so Livia smiled. ‘The end,’ she said, and burst out laughing.
Then she grabbed Liam’s face with both hands, pulled him down to her level and kissed him full on the lips. And the look he gave her as he headed back to the safety of the speakers made her laugh even harder still.
‘Come and dance with me.’
It had sounded more like an order than a request, but even so, Patrick shook his head. Since their little chat, Izzy had been sulking, not to mention drinking . . . if not excessively, ‘steadily’ would probably sum it up – and she was enough of a handful sober.
‘You go ahead,’ he said, settling back into his chair.
As she stuck her tongue out at him, then flounced off towards the dance floor, he sighed. On their third date, he’d made the mistake of agreeing to Izzy’s suggestion they go to a club, even though dancing wasn’t something he enjoyed any more – he wasn’t sure he ever had, to be honest. And when he’d foolishly
tried to dance with Izzy . . . well, what he’d experienced wasn’t like any dancing he knew how to do, it was more like trying to wrestle a snake. And one that seemed to be trying to have sex with you while fully clothed. Though where Izzy was concerned, ‘fully’ perhaps wasn’t quite the right description.
He sipped his drink as he watched her stride confidently to the space in front of the speakers, then raise her arms above her head and start to move to the music. In truth, Izzy didn’t appear to need a partner. She’d shut her eyes, lose herself to the beat, happy to put on a solo performance for song after song before returning, sweaty, to his table, where she’d look at him in the same way his daughter used to, aged five or six, checking he’d seen her, desperate for approval.
But not tonight. She shot a defiant glance in Patrick’s direction, making sure he was watching her, and – keeping her eyes fixed on his – seductively ran her hands up from her waist, over her breasts and through what remained of her blonde tresses. Then, her hands on the sides of her head, elbows pointing outwards, she started to gyrate with such energy Patrick feared someone nearby might lose an eye.
Most of the other hotel guests on the dance floor had noticed her, some of the men even surreptitiously swivelling their wives and girlfriends round so they could get a better look. Though it was hard not to blame them – generally, the only way you’d get to see a show like this was by stuffing some twenty-pound notes down (what remained of) some stripper’s underwear, but here, given her braless state, low-cut dress and the enthusiasm of her movements, Izzy was giving everyone almost as much of an eyeful. And for free.
He watched, part horrified, part hypnotised, as she shimmied over to where Liam was standing behind the speakers, his back to her, probably updating the evening’s playlist with yet another song Patrick hadn’t heard before, then – as if thanks to some sixth sense – Liam whirled round to see her. And before he knew what was happening, Izzy had grabbed his arm and pulled him to the centre of the dance floor.
Liam nervously flicked his eyes over to where Patrick was sitting, but seeing him simply shrug, he flashed him an awkward grin and began dancing, and Patrick nearly laughed out loud. It was like watching a Sunday footballer having a kick-around with Lionel Messi, and while Liam did his best – and wasn’t a bad dancer – there was no way he could match Izzy’s moves.