23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cillian knocked on the door for the third time and shuffled from foot to foot, checking his watch. They had agreed on a nine a.m. meeting. Either May had forgotten and gone out, or was still asleep. He knocked again, launching his frustration at the painted wood of the front door.
‘Alright, alright.’ The door flung open, and there stood May, her hair sticking up in all directions, mascara smudged down her cheeks, wearing a unicorn pyjama set. ‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘Um, we agreed to meet at nine, didn’t we?’
‘Sorry? Who are you? Are you here to check the plumbing?’ She squinted into a ray of bright morning light escaping through building clouds.
‘Alice said someone was coming around, but I didn’t expect anyone to show up on the weekend.
’ She ran a hand through her hair, sending it into even more disarray.
Cillian had to fight the urge to smooth it down for her.
‘Why are you being weird?’
‘Why am I being weird?’ May took a step back. ‘I’m too tired to deal with this. Call my sister about the plumbing. I’m going back to bed.’
As May went to slam the door, Cillian stuck his foot in the gap. ‘May, it’s me, Cillian. We said we’d leave for the wedding fair at nine.’
May shaded her eyes and peered at him. ‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry. Is that really you? I’ve not put my contacts in yet.’
‘Yes, it’s definitely me.’ Cillian peeled away the edge of his stick-on ginger beard.
May stood on tiptoes and wiggled the blond wig on his head. She laughed and shook her head. ‘You really had me fooled. I reckon even with my contacts, that would be a good disguise.’
‘Thanks.’ He might be safe. ‘The wedding fair? It starts at ten, which means we should be leaving about now.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ May put her hand to her mouth. ‘I completely forgot. Do you mind coming in to wait while I get ready?’
‘Not at all,’ said Cillian, as if he had any choice in the matter. The sky was darkening, the first spots of rain hitting his jacket, and waiting on the doorstep seemed a risky option.
‘Pour yourself a coffee,’ shouted May as she ran through to her bedroom. ‘There’s one in the pot Alice made before she went to Luke’s. It’s probably cold by now, but you can shove it in the microwave.’
‘Thanks.’ Cillian shook his head. Although May’s hospitality was a far cry from the pampering whim-gratifying treatment he’d grown used to over the past few years, there was something liberating about pouring himself coffee into a chipped mug and heating it in a microwave that had seen better days.
‘How long are you going to be?’ he shouted.
‘How long is a piece of string?’
Cillian sighed and walked through to the living room to admire the far-reaching sea views.
May’s home was shabbier than Kitty’s, with none of the expensive fixtures and fittings Solly had installed in the cottage.
The light pouring in through the wall of windows, even on a grey day, made up for any rustic interiors.
‘How’s it going having my mum staying with you and Kitty?’ called May.
Cillian wondered how truthful to be. Having Maz as a houseguest was a nightmare.
She drank all the milk without replacing it, used up all the hot water each morning, and worst of all, she wouldn’t shut up about her stupid yoga retreat and how amazing it would be if Cillian could give her a bit of free publicity by staying there with the paparazzi in tow.
‘That good, huh?’ May called, correctly interpreting Cillian’s silence.
He turned to answer just as she walked through her bedroom door, pulling a T-shirt on over her bra. His cheeks grew hot, and he looked away.
‘Don’t be such a prude,’ said May. ‘It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.’
Cillian’s cheeks grew hotter, and May grinned.
‘Right,’ she said. ‘I think I’m ready. Just need to brush my teeth. Do you want to wait in the car, and I’ll be out in a minute?’
‘Sure.’ Cillian downed his remaining coffee and wiped droplets from his fake beard.
Ten minutes passed before May emerged from her cottage. Cillian tapped his fingers against the steering wheel in time to the rain now drumming against the windscreen.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ said May, climbing into the car. ‘I thought I’d better put a bit of makeup on as Tremear Manor is so posh.’
Cillian tried not to smile. By makeup, she meant heavy eyeliner and dark plum lipstick. She looked more like she was going to a heavy metal gig than a posh wedding fair. He tactfully kept his thoughts to himself, saying only, ‘Let’s go.’
The car made it to the end of the street before Cillian stalled it for the first time. Had May noticed? When he stalled for a third time on a steep hill out of the village, she turned in her seat and shook her head. ‘What is it with you and driving?’
‘I’m out of practice, that’s all.’ He tried not to sound defensive. ‘Besides, this is Kitty’s car, and I’m not used to the clutch.’
May puffed out a breath. ‘When was the last time you drove anywhere?’
Cillian tried to remember and drew a blank. The past few years had consisted of planes, tour buses, and chauffeurs. ‘Um, maybe a couple of years?’
‘Right. Stop the car.’
Cillian stalled again, and May sighed heavily. She opened the passenger door. ‘Get out. I’m driving us.’
‘You’re not insured!’
‘I’m fully comp, so I can drive another car third-party. And I promise not to crash.’
Cillian weighed up wanting to say no, being unwilling to embarrass himself behind the wheel again, and the small matter of reaching the venue on time. ‘Fine,’ he grumbled, climbing out of the car.
Five minutes later, gripping the door with white knuckles, Cillian cursed how easily he had acquiesced.
He was no longer worried about being late.
He worried about making it to the wedding fair alive.
The way May sped around corners made him want to throw up, and as she stormed up another hill in second gear, he wondered what damage she was doing to the engine of Kitty’s car, not to mention whether the quarter of a tank of petrol would last the entire journey.
The driving rain didn’t help, with the windscreen wipers working overtime.
‘Are you OK?’ asked May, turning her head to frown at him.
‘I’d be better if you kept your eyes on the road.’ Cillian stared straight ahead to show May how it could be done.
‘You look a bit green,’ said May, taking her eyes off the road again. ‘Do you get travel sick?’
‘Not usually.’
‘Maybe it’s your disguise,’ said May, veering perilously around another corner. ‘It must get hot under that wig.’
‘Yes, I’m sure that’s the cause,’ said Cillian with a heavy dose of sarcasm May seemed not to pick up on. ‘How long until we get there?’ He heard the plea in his voice.
‘Ten minutes. You think you can last that long, or do you need to stop for a breather?’
‘I should be fiiiiine,’ squealed Cillian, slamming his foot onto an imaginary brake as May narrowly missed driving into the back of a tractor.
‘That was a close call.’ She grinned at him. ‘I love these country roads, don’t you? They’re so much fun to drive.’
‘Perhaps I should have a go on the way back? It might be good for me to get some practice in?’
‘Hmm,’ said May. ‘That depends. Will there be free champagne at this thing?’
‘I have no idea. I’ve never been to a wedding fair before.’
‘Me neither. OK, well if there’s free booze, you can drive us home,’ May said cheerily. ‘If not, I’m happy to take the wheel again.’
‘Great,’ said Cillian through clenched teeth. The woman beside him was a maniac, and he’d ply her with all the booze he could lay his hands on if it meant not having to suffer her driving again.