Chapter 8
Ged finally puts me back on my own two feet, but I find that they’re not quite as steady as I might have liked. I’m still staring at Josh, my eyes wide, beads of sweat trickling down my forehead. There’s a pause in the festivities while people around us try to figure out what’s happening, why Josh seems to know me, and, entirely possibly, why he’s calling me Amelia when everyone else here knows my name is Lucy.
“Uh-oh,” I hear Katie murmur behind me, turning to see my three friends all looking at me in what I can only describe as horror. When I told them about Amelia earlier in the cave, I hadn’t actually expected to become her again quite so soon. It was a joke, a bit of silliness, nothing that could ever come back and bite me in the backside… except now it seems that it has.
I have literally no idea what to do, how to respond, or even how to form words. Every time I try they never make it past my lips. All I can do is gape at him, making weird strangling noises.
Ella comes to the rescue, climbing out from her seat and walking towards me. I feel her hand on my arm, the gentle squeeze of her fingertips telling me that everything is okay. That she is here. That I am not alone.
It’s not much, but it’s enough to unfreeze me. I see Rose off to one side, frowning as she watches me, just as confused as everyone else. Maybe she’s wondering if her mum has a secret identity, or I’m a sleeper agent. The reality is that I’m just a sad woman who was looking for a bit of excitement, and made up a big fat lie to help it along.
God, what a mess, I think, as I pass Ged his knickers. This is the kind of thing that could only happen to me. I indulge in a bit of harmless flirting in an airport bar, have a bit of fun with a fake name, and boom! – here I am. Caught in a pub in Dorset when I should be doing top-level consultations at the Chrysler Foundation.
Maybe I could pretend to not know him? Maybe I could claim it’s all a mistake, and he must be thinking of someone else? Maybe I could actually just make a run for it, out of the pub, out of Starshine Cove, and all the way back to Ireland? Possibly Costa Rica, just to be on the safe side.
Jake is looking at Ella with a big fat question mark on his face, and Josh… well, Josh looks exactly like you’d imagine. Confused, uncertain, and also a little bit pissed off. He’s not an idiot – it probably took him about ten seconds to figure out that I’d lied to him. That the glamorous woman he met in Dublin is standing right in front of him, covered in spilled booze and stripper sweat.
I want to explain. I want to apologise. I want to disappear into a big black hole – but all I seem able to do is give him a little finger wave and half a smile.
Connie, bless her, decides that it’s time for a bit of line-dancing, and puts Achy Breaky Heart on the jukebox. She starts to chivvy everyone onto the dancefloor, picks up Daniel Craig, and starts doing a grapevine with him. Before long, everyone is joining in, including Jolly Ged and the Funky Farmhands.
Priya and Katie and Ella stay with me, and Katie whispers in my ear: “Come on, pull it together, girl. Ask yourself: what would Amelia do?”
Amelia, of course, would never find herself in a situation like this – and even if she did, she’d handle it perfectly.
Ella bridges the gap between the two parties, and says: “This is Josh, Jake’s brother. This is Katie, Priya, and… ummm… I think you already seem to know Lucy?”
Josh shifts his gaze to mine, and I feel the full force of those dark, gold-flecked eyes that I’d been so drawn to when I met him. I see his nostrils flare slightly and know that he is angry. I can’t say that I blame him, but I’m not good with conflict, and have only two responses – fight or flight. Neither seems appropriate here. This is Ella’s night, and I can’t make a mess of it for her.
I take a few steps towards him, and say: “Hi again, Josh. I’m… well, yeah, I’m Lucy. Can I, err, get you a drink? I think I owe you one… and I know I have a bit of explaining to do.”
His face remains impassive, and he stays silent. I am more aware than ever of how terrible I look – but this, of course, is the real me. He’d never have asked for my number in a million years.
“Okay,” he says quietly, nodding. The muscles in his jaw are twitching, and I get the feeling that he is thinking exactly the same as me – that this is Jake and Ella’s celebration, and he needs to rein in his own feelings. “I’ll come with you to the bar.”
Our bodies brush against each other as we make our way through the crowds, the sounds of Billy Ray echoing in the background. I risk a quick glance up, see that handsome face, the thick dark hair. The expression that suggests he is feeling anything other than sociable. I gulp back my anxiety, and ask him what he would like.
“A double whisky,” he tells Matt the bartender. “The most expensive one you’ve got.”
I take another gulp, this time for other reasons – but, well, that’s fair enough. He’s earned his revenge, and if this is as bad as it gets, I’ll count myself lucky.
Matt pours the drink from a top shelf bottle, I tap my poor battered credit card on the machine, and Josh waits until we’re alone before he sips. I am twitching slightly by this stage, my fingers beating out a nervous dance on my thighs. He looks at me, and I feel a hugely inappropriate rush of heat. This is not a romantic situation at all, but gosh – as I’d said to the girls earlier, he really is divine. Especially in his camo gear.
“I’m sorry,” I say eventually, unable to take the silent treatment any longer. “It was just a stupid game I was playing. I never thought I’d see you again, and it’d just be a fun memory for both of us.”
He nods, and sips, and eventually says: “Right. And am I talking to Amelia right now, or Lucy?”
I glance down at my spattered top, touch the messy hair tumbling around my face in damp strands, feel the tension running through my body.
“Definitely Lucy,” I say simply. “Amelia would never be out in public looking like this.”
I’m hoping he’ll smile, or joke, or make some comment about the strippers. But he does none of that. He just gazes off into the distance, drinking his expensive whisky.
“Look, Lucy,” he says when he turns his eyes back to me, “this is an awkward situation, and it’s undoubtedly not that big a deal – but you should know that I hate liars. I can’t stand being around them, and I’m certainly not interested in being friends with one. I’m here for Jake and Ella, and you are too, so I suggest we just get through it with as little fuss as possible. Hopefully we can avoid each other for the next few days, and that’ll be that. I’ll go back to London, and you go back to wherever it is you actually live, and we’ll never think about each other again. Does that sound like a deal?”
His tone is quiet and even, but there is real force to his words. When he says he hates liars, he really means it – and I feel like that means he hates me too. Not that he dislikes me, or is annoyed by me – but that he actually hates me.
Like I said, I’m not good with conflict – and I’m suddenly aware that this room feels too small. Too small, too hot, too loud. Filled with too many men. Half of them are almost naked, and the rest are dressed for combat. I know that none of these men will actually cause me any harm – apart from the huge snub Josh has just dealt me. I know that the worst that will happen is that I have an embarrassing couple of days around someone I barely know.
My hind brain, though, has other ideas. My hind brain, where that little lizard of self-protection lives, is suddenly screaming at me. It’s telling me that all these men are big, and that I am weak, and that I need to get away, right now. I can feel my heart beating faster, and my breath coming in gusts, and my own fingernails are digging into the flesh of my palms. This, I know from experience, never ends up anywhere good.
“Right,” I say quickly, nodding. “Yes. Fine. That’s excellent.”
He looks slightly confused – because really, none of this is excellent at all – and then a little concerned. I back away from him, and bump straight into Archie, the gardener. He is huge, a great big bear of a man, and I yelp as I jump away from him. He holds up his hands in a placating gesture, but the damage is done.
I look around desperately, and spot Rose on the dance floor. She’s in a line with Sophie and her brother, Dan, whose entire face is splattered with paint. I can’t get to her without wading through an ocean of farmhands, and there’s no point shouting – it’s too loud, and she’s having too much fun.
She’s having fun, I tell myself. She’s with friends, and Priya and Ella are here, and this is a safe place. Our cottage is approximately two minutes’ walk away, and no harm is going to come to her. I can leave, and text her to say I’m at home.
I know I should say goodbye to my friends, or at least to Ella – but by now I am in full-on meltdown mode, and I need to be alone when it happens.
I put my head down so nobody can see a face that I know is now deathly pale, and I run for the door. I escape into cool night air, and gasp it down, feeling a rush of relief to have escaped.
This is not what Amelia would do, of course. But then again, I’m not Amelia.