Chapter 8
I’m aware of Amy prattling on, but I’ve tuned her out.
All I can think about is what the hell I can have done to deserve karma as bad as this.
This is, by some margin, the most expensive holiday I’ve ever been on, we haven’t even boarded the plane yet, and it’s already turning out to be the worst. I’m wracking my brains trying to think if there’s any way of getting out of this.
Maybe I could make myself violently ill, so they won’t let me on the plane, and then I could claim the money back on the insurance.
There’s an oyster bar over there. Everyone’s got a bad oyster story, haven’t they?
No. Food poisoning won’t kick in quickly enough.
I glance over at the chemist. I wonder if there’s anything in there that could make me violently ill in the next hour?
‘Tori?’ Amy’s voice pushes itself back into my consciousness and I force myself to look at her.
‘Sorry?’
‘I was asking whether you were OK. You look a little peaky, all of a sudden.’
‘I’m fine,’ I bluster. ‘It was an early start. I, umm, probably just need to sit down.’
‘Good idea,’ Amy agrees. ‘Come on, everyone, let’s find some seats.’
She sets off without so much as a backward glance. Lily and Dan follow immediately, obviously used to being bossed around by Amy. Robert watches them depart for a moment before growling, ‘Fuck that. I’m going to the pub,’ and heading off in the opposite direction, leaving Stuart and me alone.
‘Just be cool, OK?’ he murmurs quietly. ‘What Amy doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Pretend we’ve never met.’
‘Are you mad?’ I ask, equally quietly. ‘That’s got about as much chance of working as I have of becoming Pope. How long have you two been together?’
‘A couple of years,’ he admits.
‘You lowlife, cheating bastard,’ I hiss. ‘I can’t believe I let myself be fooled by you again.’
‘I don’t remember you complaining at the time,’ he says with a smile. ‘There was some moaning, but—’
‘Shut up,’ I interrupt, aware that I’m already blushing furiously at the memory. ‘Where was Amy on New Year’s Eve? Bloody hell, was that her bed? I think I’m going to throw up.’
He looks genuinely alarmed now. Good. The more he squirms the better. God knows, I feel bad enough about being complicit in his infidelity.
‘Chill the hell out, will you?’ he whispers. ‘You’re bound to give the game away with a face like that. Amy didn’t fancy coming to London for New Year’s, so I rented an Airbnb for the night so I could stay out late and party.’
‘Why not stay with your brother? Is it because he’s a decent human being who didn’t want a scumbag like you in the house?’
‘They did invite me, actually. I love Lily and Dan, but they’re not exactly night owls, know what I mean?’
‘Mm. And the fact that it also gave you a convenient bachelor pad for whatever unsuspecting victim you managed to lure back never crossed your filthy mind, I bet. Why shouldn’t I tell Amy what you did?’
He pretends to consider for a moment. ‘Umm, let’s see.
One, it would break her heart for no good reason.
Two, I’d just say you were lying, that I’d told you I had a girlfriend, but you just kept coming on to me.
And now, you’re just making shit up to get back at me for giving you the brush-off.
It’s your word against mine, and she doesn’t know you like she knows me.
Trust me, I could make sure you come out of it looking like a sex-crazed stalker if I put my mind to it.
Look. I get that this is an awkward situation, but nothing good will come from telling Amy anything. What goes on tour stays on tour, OK?’
‘So, what? I’m just supposed to pretend we never met?’
‘Bit late for that,’ he observes as we approach a quizzical-looking Amy. ‘Just let me handle it.’
‘You two seem to be hitting it off,’ Amy observes when we reach her, and I detect a faint note of suspicion in her voice.
‘You’ll never believe this, babe,’ Stuart says, adopting a bright tone that just makes him sound incredibly guilty. ‘Tori and I have met before. It was years ago, at university.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Amy doesn’t look impressed.
‘Nothing to worry about, babe. We were just mates for a short time, weren’t we, Tori?’
‘Absolutely,’ I agree, hating myself for participating in his duplicity.
‘I see,’ Amy says coolly. ‘Was it just a “mates” thing with my boyfriend, or was it something more?’
‘What difference does it make?’ Stuart asks. ‘I hadn’t met you then. Think of it this way, babe. Tori was just one of the stepping stones that led me to you.’
She’s not going to buy that for a minute, I think to myself. Just as I’m bracing for the inevitable onslaught, however, Amy surprises me.
‘Aww, babe, that’s so sweet,’ she says to Stuart.
‘There’s more,’ he says, reaching into his cabin bag and pulling out a box. ‘I got this for you.’
Amy’s face lights up as she takes in the Christian Dior logo. ‘Oh, Stewie,’ she breathes. ‘This must have cost a fortune. You shouldn’t have.’
‘Nothing’s too good for my Amy,’ he simpers back at her.
God, he’s being nearly as nauseating as she is.
As they continue their stomach-churning exchange (I swear I actually hear her call him ‘love-bunny’ at one point), I try to reconcile this Stuart with the one who seems to have no qualms about cheating on his girlfriend just over a month ago.
The more I watch him acting the part of the loyal boyfriend to vomit-inducing perfection, the more disgusted I feel.
The question is whether I need to do anything about it?
Maybe it’s none of my business. And anyway, I’ve got another, much more urgent, problem to deal with. What the hell am I going to do about Robert?
Robert is sitting next to me on the plane.
Of course he is, because God patently hates me.
Actually, on reflection, it’s not God’s fault.
Robert and Fliss would have booked seats together originally, so I’m just the unhappy victim of their fallout.
He obviously made good use of his time in the pub, if the smell of his breath is anything to go by.
He seems lost in his own world while the rest of the passengers board, but it’s not a comfortable silence at all.
If I had to pick a word to describe him, it would be ‘brooding’, but I’m very aware that I’m stuck with him for the next eight or so hours at least, so maybe I should use that time to try to draw him out of himself a bit.
If nothing else, it would be a distraction from thinking about Stuart.
As the cabin crew pack up after the safety announcements, foolish inspiration strikes.
‘Have you ever wondered,’ I ask him, ‘why they do all that stuff about lifejackets and life rafts in case of a landing on water, when every single aeroplane I can think of that has come into contact with the sea has immediately broken up into tiny pieces, instantly killing everyone on board?’
He turns slowly and stares at me for so long that my skin begins to prickle.
‘Are you always this fucking cheerful?’ he growls. ‘Hey, maybe we’ll get shot down, or the plane will just explode in mid-air.’ He laughs grimly. ‘Have you ever thought about getting a job helping people with a fear of flying? You’d be a real hit with an attitude like that.’
‘Sorry, I was just trying to make conversation.’
‘Yeah, well. If that’s your best shot, please don’t.’
Brilliant, Tori, I think as he retreats back into his shell.
Maybe the aircraft falling into the sea would be the best outcome, given the way this holiday is going so far.
As soon as we’ve taken off, I pull out my Kindle and make a start on the first of the books I downloaded.
I need a distraction, and my first thought is that a romcom would be perfect to cheer me up.
However, my own situation is so far away from being either romantic or comic that I decide a gritty murder mystery would be a much better fit.
By the time the cabin crew come round with lunch, the bodies are already stacking up, and I’m completely engrossed in the story.
It therefore takes me a moment to register that Robert is speaking to me.
‘So, Tori,’ he says. ‘What sort of name is that? Have you got sisters called LibDem and Labour?’
I stare at him for a moment, trying to work out if he’s deliberately trying to be offensive, but his face is a mask.
‘It’s short for Victoria,’ I tell him. ‘And my sister is called Georgina.’
‘Why Tori rather than Vicky then?’
I sigh. ‘If you must know, there were two Victorias in my class at primary school. To tell us apart, she became Vicky, I got Tori and it stuck.’
‘Poor you.’
‘I like the name, actually.’
‘Hm. No accounting for taste, I suppose,’ he says dismissively.
Who the hell does this guy think he is? What I choose to call myself is absolutely nothing to do with him. I can feel the anger bubbling up inside me and, before I know it, I’m opening my mouth to give him a dose of his own medicine.
‘Can I ask you a question now?’ I say, using the butter-wouldn’t-melt tone that anyone who knows me would recognise as indicating I’m on the warpath.
‘If you like.’
‘Are you always this miserable and rude, or is it something specific about me?’
I’m expecting to shock him into an apology, but instead he sighs exaggeratedly, his exasperation plain by the way he runs his hand over his face before replying.
‘Look, Tori, Victoria, or whatever your name is. I’m sure you’re a very nice person and everything but, if I’m honest, you’re a complication I don’t need right now. ’
‘A complication you don’t need?’ I repeat incredulously.
‘How do you think I feel? You’re the one who’s fucked everything up, not me.
If you’d just done as you were asked, we wouldn’t be in this situation.
But no, you had to play your stupid power game.
Well done, Robert. You win. You’ve made sure Fliss doesn’t get to have a nice holiday in Jamaica.
I hope you feel really good about that because you’ve basically screwed my holiday as well. ’
‘I told you,’ he says, his tone now mutinous. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to be a woman.’
‘No, you were expecting to see her new boyfriend. How did you think that was going to play out, hmm? Fisticuffs in Duty Free perhaps? A duel on the beach?’
‘I was just going to warn him off.’
‘That was your master plan? “Hey, mate, stay away from my ex or else”? What were you planning on doing for the other nine days, twenty-three hours and fifty-nine minutes?’
‘I hadn’t really thought about it.’
‘Of course you hadn’t. Because you were too busy being a massively entitled fucking dickhead. In fact,’ I tell him as furious inspiration strikes, ‘I’ve decided the name Robert doesn’t suit you either, so I’m going to call you Throbbert.’
‘Throbbert?’
‘Yes. Like a penis, you’re all machismo and no brains. And, in case you haven’t already worked it out, you’re a problem I definitely don’t need either.’
‘Don’t hold back, will you?’ he says grimly.
‘Maybe think about what you’re saying before you open your mouth next time, Throbbert,’ I reply archly, before opening my Kindle again to make it very clear this conversation is over.
I know I haven’t exactly covered myself in glory but, in my defence, today has been exceptionally trying so far.
I seriously hope the hotel has a room going spare.
If I have to share with him, one of us is bound to have murdered the other before this holiday is up.