by Shari Low
‘Have you seen Yvie? She’s not answering her phone.’
‘Hi, Marina, lovely to hear from you, how are you this fine evening?’ she chirped, sarcasm oozing.
‘Urgh, sometimes I really wish I had brothers.’
‘Hang on, isn’t your room opposite mine and yet you’re phoning me instead of knocking on my door?’ The hotel was still in the ‘soft opening’ phase and not yet operating to even half capacity, so Roger had given them all separate rooms, with Verity and Yvie’s adjoining, and Marina’s directly across the corridor.
‘I’m multitasking,’ Marina explained. ‘I’m talking to you while having text conversations with Graham, Annabelle and Oscar. Honestly, I go away for one bloody day and Oscar has forgotten to go to his Mandarin tutor, Annabelle has had a meltdown about her solo in this week’s dance competition and Graham, a man with a master’s degree, is having trouble microwaving soup. I bloody despair, I really do. Anyway, have you seen Yvie or do I need to notify emergency services?’
‘No, but hang on…’
Verity placed the phone handset on the bed, got up, went to the solid walnut door on the wall next to her, opened it and entered Yvie’s room. Her grin was automatic, as she immediately sussed the issue. Twangs of country music were belting out from the bathroom door, overlaid with Yvie’s voice singing in a manner that she was fairly sure Dolly Parton had never envisaged when she wrote the song.
‘Jolene, Jolene, Jolene…’
Verity opened the bathroom door.
‘Jol— Bloody hell you scared the crap out of me there!’
Verity struggled to keep a straight face. There was Yvie, wearing a shower cap, in a bath so full of bubbles, it looked like a foam party.
‘Don’t say it,’ Yvie warned. ‘I may have slightly overdone the bubble bath.’
‘Really? I didn’t notice. Anyway, Boss Sister is on the phone and she wanted me to check that you’re still alive.’
‘Please report back that I am indeed. I’ll be ready in ten minutes. God, you look hideous, has anyone told you that before?’
Verity actually laughed, knowing full well that Yvie was joking. Another shift that had escalated over the last few months, was that – inspired by the bold red dress at Zoe’s birthday party the previous year, and the way it made her feel – she’d decided to fully overhaul her style. Gone were the sensible clothes and the conservative outfits. Tonight, she was wearing a silver, chain-mail minidress with spaghetti straps and heels so high she was close to six feet tall in them. She’d seen the look in a magazine and ordered each individual item from the stores’ websites. The first time she tried it on to show her sisters, she thought she’d never have the nerve to wear it again, but Zoe had demanded that she brought it here and wore it. Maybe that was the sister thing that she never quite got before. The acceptance of support and encouragement. Her walls weren’t down, but she’d definitely taken out a couple of bricks.
Back in bubble central, Yvie was pinging her shower cap and having a dilemma. ‘I can’t decide whether to wear a glittery floor length kaftan or a glittery floor length kaftan.’
Verity pretended to think about it. ‘I think you should go for a glittery floor length kaftan.’
‘Great idea!’ Yvie concurred, grinning.
Sometimes Verity wondered if Yvie would ever come to terms with how she felt about her body. It seemed to be an ever-swinging pendulum between embracing her curves and a desperation to lose them. If only Yvie would accept the reality that she was beautiful either way.
‘Right, we’re leaving as soon as you’re ready, so hurry up.’
‘Yes, mam,’ Yvie replied, before rejoining Dolly. ‘Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolee-ee-een.’
Back in her own room, Verity picked the landline up again. ‘She’s in the bath and she’ll be ready in ten minutes. We’ll bang on your door when we’re ready.’
Marina sighed. ‘Okay, but hurry up – we’ve got a schedule to keep to.’
Of course they did. Marina had run through their plans for almost every one of their sixty or so hours here on the plane. And yes, they all knew it was a ridiculously long way to come for such a short time, but they didn’t care. They were going to catch a show, have a lesson at the poker tables, lunch at the Venetian, a visit to the Palazzo, cocktails overlooking the Bellagio fountains, an open-top bus tour and a quick spin around the mall. And anything else they could find time for. But right now? Dinner and drinks, perhaps even a club later. If only Zoe was with them tonight, it would be perfect, but of course she had other plans for the evening – the launch and then a romantic dinner with Ned.
Verity checked her watch. Ten minutes and counting. Enough time for a drink from the minibar. She padded over, poured a large glass of Chardonnay from a half-bottle and lay back on the bed.
The thought of Zoe’s romantic dinner with Ned made her ponder on her own feelings. If she could have Ned Merton lying here next to her right now, would she want him?
She took her time with it, had to be sure. It was a relief when the answer finally came. No. She wouldn’t. She really wouldn’t.
But another thought barged its way in too. She didn’t want Zoe lying next to him either. Not because she was jealous, because she really didn’t believe she was any more, but because Zoe didn’t deserve a duplicitous, unscrupulous, potentially unfaithful boyfriend like him. If he’d contacted Veronica, how many others had he messaged? How many hook-ups had he had? How many times had he lied to her sister? Verity didn’t know the answer, but she was pretty sure that it wasn’t zero.
Another thought, a new one, a blast of reality that made her squirm. Zoe didn’t deserve a sister like Verity either. They’d never been close – their childhood had probably seen to that – but over the last year, with the trip to Ibiza and then especially since the Christmas blow out, Zoe had really made an effort to bring them together. More than that, Zoe had trusted her, thanked her even, for hanging out with Ned and all that time Verity had actually, she could see now, been behaving like a first-class bitch. The only defence that she had was that she’d isolated herself for years – and it didn’t take a psychologist to work out why – and somehow gone to a place in her head where other people didn’t matter. Now she was beginning to understand that they did. And no-one mattered more than her sisters.
She had to tell Zoe the truth about Ned – she just had to work out where and when to do it. Zoe had the launch of the wedding venue at the hotel tonight, but they were all spending the day together tomorrow. Maybe she could get Zoe on her own for a drink and tell her everything, show her the app, the message, reveal all that she knew and – the most important bit – ask Zoe to forgive her for her behaviour.
The door from the adjoining room flew open and Yvie burst in, resplendent in her glittery floor length kaftan. ‘Right, you gorgeous woman,’ she hollered, ‘Take me out on the town and show me a good time and remember, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. So when Kay asks you if I bought shares in Dunkin’ Donuts, you deny everything.’
They mattered, she thought again. Yvie mattered, Marina mattered, Zoe mattered. She had to know for sure that they’d have a chance to have that conversation tomorrow.
‘Agreed. Listen, I just need to use the loo first. I’ll meet you over in Marina’s room in two minutes.’
‘Oh God. You’re going to leave me over there with her when we’re…’ she checked her watch. ‘Four minutes behind schedule. My nerves will be shredded in two. Right,’ she took a deep breath, ‘I’m going in. Wish me well and if I don’t make it, you can have this kaftan. You might want to use it as a tent one day.’
Off she went, shuffling on her silver wedges to Marina’s room. As soon as the door was closed, Verity picked up her phone, took a deep breath and called Zoe’s number to arrange to meet before breakfast in the morning. Just the two of them and a large dose of honesty.
It was time she started being the sister that Zoe deserved…
And that meant telling her everything.
>
34
Yvie – Las Vegas, One Month Ago
‘I think she’s flirting,’ Yvie whispered. At least that’s what she thought she was saying. She’d had a few cocktails, and then a few more, and she wasn’t sure that her tongue was still adhering to instructions.
‘Who’s flirting?’ Verity asked haughtily. She didn’t get drunk very often, but when she did, she always went super-posh. Yvie wondered if her sister realised that she’d started the night as middle-class Glaswegian and ended it sounding like she was seventh in line to the throne.
‘Marina!’ Yvie exclaimed. ‘Look, she’s flirting. She’s been flirting all night. That’s the third dance she’s had with that bloke.’
Eyes switching to the dance floor, Yvie was gratified when Verity saw what she was talking about and nodded in agreement. ‘Definitely flirting,’ she confirmed solemnly.
‘I knew it!’ Yvie insisted triumphantly. She might have indulged in a few alcoholic beverages, but sober or drunk, she was fairly sure that when Marina’s arse was grinding up and down on some guy’s pelvic area, that could safely be construed as flirting. The thought set her off on a fit of the giggles.
‘What? What are you laughing at now?’ Verity demanded, before taking a generous suck on the straw that was inserted into her Cosmopolitan.
‘I’m imagining Marina doing that with Graham, and his mother trying to separate them with one of her bloody cookbooks. Block that penis with 101 Ways To Cook Chicken.’
That set them both off this time and Yvie could actually feel the tears of laughter running down her face. She was going to pay for this in the morning, but right now she didn’t care. This was the first time in a long, long while that she’d actually felt like anything approaching normal. The stresses and strains of her world were under control. She couldn’t go in if the ward called her. She’d spoken to Kay a little while ago and everything was fine. Her mother was now so busy doing whatever she did with Nigel – that thought made her shudder – that she didn’t call her with a long rant of woes every night. As for her sisters, Verity actually seemed to be relaxing and enjoying herself for once, and Marina was doing something that may require a surgical procedure to reverse, but at least she looked happy.
If only Zoe were here, it would be perfect, but Yvie understood that her sister had to work tonight. At least she’d see her tomorrow and they could hang out all day. It didn’t detract from the fact that right now, nothing was wrong. She wasn’t worried about anything. She’d even drunk enough cocktails to make her feel less hideous in this horrendous glittery kaftan. It had been necessary to put Dolly on full blast when she was in the bath because she was trying to take her mind off her dread that she was, once again, going out with her gorgeous, slim, stunning, sexily dressed sisters, while she was looking like something that could house a family of four for a week in the Lake District. With glitter.
Sod it. Diet tomorrow. Right now, she wasn’t going to let it spoil her night, or her weekend for that matter. They were here, in an incredible nightclub, in one of the most fabulous new hotels in the world, and she was loving everything, from the cocktails that floated on a tray of dried ice, to the glitz and glamour of the surroundings, to the party atmosphere.
She was bending over her straw, when she heard the sexiest American voice, one that sounded like it came from the Deep South and knew how to lasso a moving object. ‘Excuse me, mam, would you like to dance?’
‘Oh, I’d love…’ she raised her head, and that’s when she realised that the voice had been directed at Verity. The shame burned her cheeks, but the only saving grace was that it seemed the music had been too loud for Woody The Cowboy to hear her mistakenly accept his invitation. The only other saving grace was that the seventh in line to the throne didn’t want to dance, so she brushed him off with a royal rejection. Off he trotted, dejected.
All at once, Yvie felt her spirits drop like a stone as tears sprang to her bottom lids. Blinking them back furiously, she tried to talk herself back on to an even keel. Come on. Who cares? He was just some random bloke. And who wouldn’t want to dance with Verity – she was bloody gorgeous.
‘I’ve been a complete cow, you know,’ Verity blurted.
What was her royal highness on about now?
Yvie took a deep breath, told herself again to pull it together and leant towards her sister. ‘You’ve always been a complete cow,’ she joked, trying to lift this party back to the happy place it had been just minutes before, when the only problem was whether or not Marina may accidently impale herself on a stranger’s crotch.
‘No, Yvie, I mean it. I’ve… Okay, I’m going to tell you because I need to tell someone and you’ve always been the best listener of us all.’
Even in her intoxicated state, Yvie recognised this as an official medical condition called Drunken Confessional Syndrome. Actually, it was only official according to her and Kay, but countless times over the years in their professional and personal lives, they’d encountered perfectly rational people, who drank their body weight in alcohol and had a sudden and unassailable urge to confess every dark act they’d ever committed.
‘Okay, shoot. I won’t judge you. At least, I say I won’t, but I definitely will – I’ll just hide it well,’ Yvie chirped, still trying not to take this seriously.
Verity swayed a little on her stool, then blurted, ‘I tried to take Ned from Zoe. I loved him, Yvie. I really did. Or at least, I thought I did.’
Yvie felt her stomach begin to twist with dread. The one subject she really couldn’t talk about was Ned Merton. It was bad enough that he’d tagged along on this trip. She’d made a conscious plan to do everything she could to avoid him for the next two days. And, well, forever. However, she couldn’t ignore what her distraught sister was saying about him right now.
‘You loved him?’ This was news. Sure, she knew that Verity had a thing for him way back as far as that careers fair at their school – that was why Yvie had never confessed what actually happened that night. She also been pretty sure that attraction was still there when he started seeing Zoe, but Yvie hadn’t realised that it was so much more than that, especially since Verity insisted that she was over it. Or maybe, it had just suited Yvie to believe that. She had absolutely no idea though, that Verity was actually in love with him. ‘Oh, V, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.’
‘Don’t feel sorry for me, I don’t deserve it!’ Princess Verity commanded forcefully. ‘I tried everything, Yvie. I told him lies about Zoe, I hung out with him all the time, hoping that he’d realise he wanted me instead. I even took up rock climbing so it would look like we had loads in common. I flirted shamelessly, practically threw myself at him, and I was desperate for him to take me up on it, no matter what the consequences would have been. I was shit to Zoe, shit to everyone actually. I’m so sorry. I was probably shit to you too. I’m horrible, I really am.’
The knot in Yvie’s stomach tightened just a little bit more as she floundered over what to say. Hadn’t they all made mistakes? Hadn’t they all done something stupid? Hadn’t she made her own mistakes where Ned Merton was concerned?
She put her hand over her drunk sister’s arm and squeezed it. Verity would have forgotten this whole conversation in the morning, so there was no point getting too deep and meaningful, and besides, for her own sake, she really had to get off the subject of Ned Merton.
‘Look, none of that matters now, Ver. The only important thing is that you and Zoe are okay. And whatever you did, it obviously didn’t have any effect on Zoe’s happiness, so you’re in the clear. Forget about it. Move on.’
With stunning insight, especially given her blood alcohol level, she realised that she had basically just told Verity everything she wanted someone to say to her. It didn’t have any effect. You’re in the clear. Forget about it. Move on.
‘I can’t move on,’ Verity wailed. ‘Because I know something about him that will devastate Zoe.’
One sentence. Just one sentence that immediately set
off explosions inside her. Was it about her? Had Verity found out about that night? Adrenaline started to pump once again, heart began to race, hands began to shake…
‘What is it, Verity? What do you know?’
‘I can’t tell you,’ Verity countered. ‘Oh shit, look. Marina’s coming back. Promise me you won’t say anything. Promise!’
It was all Yvie could do to get the words out. ‘I promise,’ she murmured.
Marina was beside them now, her face flushed, her sleek bob pushed back and uncharacteristically messy after all the exertion. ‘Ladies, I think I’m going to call it a night, I’m exhausted.’
‘No wonder, after all that activity. I reckon that was at least 800 calories burnt off an hour up there,’ Verity retorted and Yvie wondered if she was forcing herself to act normal or if she’d already forgotten the conversation that they’d just had.
I know something about him that will devastate Zoe.
Yvie had to know what it was, had to find out if it was the same thing that had been eating away at her for as long as Ned Merton had been in their lives. But she knew she wasn’t going to find out here.
‘Me too. I think jet lag is getting the better of me,’ she said, deliberately acting breezy. Marina could spot a drama with her eyes shut, so they had to act innocent and get out of here before she sussed something was afoot and deployed her killer interrogation skills.
Verity reluctantly climbed off her bar stool. ‘Can I bring my drink? It’s not even half done and it’s delicious.’
‘Why does she sound like she’s off Downton Abbey?’ Marina asked, puzzled.
‘Don’t ask. Just walk on the other side of her in case she makes a bid for another cocktail.’
It took them fifteen excruciating minutes to get to their rooms on the thirty-fifth floor, mainly because Verity pushed every button and then giggled the whole way up. This was a whole different Verity that Yvie wasn’t sure she’d ever seen before. She was a bit of a train wreck, but she liked her a lot.