Chapter 18
The morning sun was already fierce despite the early hour, and sweat gathered on the back of my neck.
I’d worried all the way here that we wouldn’t be on the list, because communication with Roka’s people hadn’t been stellar.
However, there were no hiccups, we got our VIP lanyards, and our luggage was being stored at Roka’s base until our glamping tent was ready.
Now, as we strolled through the rapidly filling grounds of the festival, I tried to act normal, as if New York hadn’t happened.
We hadn’t spoken about it since, had spent hardly any time outside work with each other since, but being with Eliza again brought it all back into full focus.
Every time our arms came into contact, an electric volt shot through me.
“So,” I said, trying for casual. “Did you give your dad a full debrief on the New York trip?”
Eliza adjusted her tortoiseshell sunglasses, and her tongue snaked along her top lip.
I was really glad she didn’t know what that did to me. I tensed my jaw and let the reverberations rattle through me.
“Only what he needed to know. Business stuff. Same with Margot?”
I didn’t think she was going to tell him we snogged.
“Same.” I kicked at a discarded paper cup, sending it skittering across the dusty ground. “Margot’s still treating it as if we’re playing at business. Has she been around much lately? At yours, I mean?”
The way Eliza’s shoulders tensed told me everything I needed to know. “She has.” Her tone was clipped. “She makes very good fried eggs in the morning.”
My spine went stiff. Margot had never made me fried eggs at any time of day.
Why was she mothering Eliza? She had a mother.
If anybody needed mothering, it was me and Katy.
Plus, since when was Margot a domestic goddess?
I had so many questions, but they weren’t for now. Instead, I changed the subject.
“How’s the renovation going? Still a building site?”
“Totally. Honestly, I can’t see progress, even though my builder keeps telling me it’s being made.
” She glanced my way. “It’s why I’ve not been in as much this week.
I kept having to go round to make decisions on radiators and plumbing.
” She paused. “But it’s preferable to hearing Dad and Margot going at it.
I walked past their room the other night, and I’m not sure I’ll forget the sounds coming from it in a hurry. ”
I nearly choked on my bottled water. “Christ, Eliza.”
“I know! It’s traumatic. I was grumpy with my builder this week, but I just want to get it done and be able to get back to my life. Living with my dad is complicated. Especially when he keeps trying to advise on this project.”
My ears pricked up. “He does? In what way?”
Eliza blushed, then shook her head. “Nothing. He always thinks he knows best; you know how it is. He’s the experienced head, even though he trusts me.”
Our chat stopped when we stumbled into the fairground part of the festival, with a dodgems track right in front of us.
Eliza put a hand to her mouth. “Remember we used to go on these every summer in London at that terrible funfair? You were so little, you nearly got strangled by the seat belts?”
I grinned. “You don’t forget something like that.” The painted cars here were just as battered as the ones from our youth, the same tinny music playing, the same smell of hot rubber and electrical sparks filled the air.
“You think we should ride again?”
Eliza nodded. “Obviously.” Within moments, she bought tickets from a booth to her left, and then we jumped onto the circuit, a bloke with a straggly ginger beard pointing us to a vacant car.
“Last one if you’re happy to ride together. Otherwise, you have to wait for the next trip.”
I glanced at Eliza, who shrugged. “So long as I can drive.”
The moment the electricity kicked in and we lurched forward, I was transported back to being 10 years old, screaming with laughter as we careened around the small track.
Every collision sent us slamming into each other, my shoulder against hers, her thigh pressed against mine as we braced for impact.
A guy in a red car seemed determined to target us specifically, and each hit sent us into fresh fits of giggles and closer together in the confined space of our tiny vehicle.
“What’s his fucking problem?” Eliza shrieked as the red car slammed into us again, sending me almost into her lap.
“Get him back!” I yelled, and she spun the wheel hard, sending us careening across the track in pursuit.
When we slammed into the side of his car, he grinned at us as he spun, and we both threw our heads back laughing.
Ever since Eliza and I had come back into each other’s lives, I’d been holding my breath.
Being in this car in this moment, my guard dropped. I was glad it had.
When the ride ended and we climbed out, breathless and dishevelled, there was a moment where we looked at each other, still riding the adrenaline high.
The dodgems had given an excuse for contact we couldn’t justify elsewhere: my whole body pressed to her as we span round a corner, her thigh crushing mine, the way I’d grabbed her knee when that bloke slammed us from behind. All perfectly innocent. All completely necessary for the ride.
But now, standing on solid ground with the flashing lights painting her face in alternating shades of pink and gold, the air between us was charged, like the static electricity from the ride had somehow transferred to us.
Something dangerously close to that moment just before we’d kissed in the New York bar passed between us. Only this time, there was no reason to kiss. Nothing to hide behind.
The only reason to do it was because we wanted to.
We walked towards a cinnamon doughnut stand that was doing a roaring trade, the smell of sugar and spice immediately transporting me back to countless festivals and fairs from my childhood.
“We should get some.” I pointed with my finger.
Eliza stopped dead in her tracks.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s just… they’re Michelle’s favourite. I haven’t had one since we split.”
I rolled my eyes. “Cinnamon doughnuts are everybody’s thing. You can’t walk through life avoiding everything Michelle liked. Take control, take back some agency. Especially when it comes to cinnamon doughnuts.”
For a moment, I thought she might argue, but then her shoulders squared in that way they did when she’d made a decision. “You’re right. Fuck it. Let’s get doughnuts."
We ordered two each, and when she took the first bite, Eliza’s face lit up as she chewed, sugar dusting her lips.
Her very perfect, inviting lips.
Not now, Poppy.
“Damn, these are perfect,” she grinned. “You’re a good influence on me, you know that?”
I nearly choked on my doughnut. “I’ll remind you of that later.”
She stared at me for a beat too long, and I swear her eyes sparkled. But that could be the sugar rush that was almost instant, making everything that bit brighter.
We found a patch of grass near a large tent that was pumping out old-school 90s tunes, and settled down with a couple of ciders that tasted like crisp summer sunshine. The alcohol loosened my tongue, and before I realised what I was doing, I was telling her about Sage.
“She did a tarot reading. Said Gran was in the room with us, which was either comforting or mental, depending on your perspective.” I was comforted, on reflection.
“Mum sees her, too,” Eliza said quietly. “Your gran, I mean. Says she pops around for tea sometimes.”
My brain exploded inside my skull. Did everyone have chats with my dead Gran apart from me? “Next you’ll be telling me she brings scones.”
Eliza smiled. “My mum loved your gran. She was the mother she never knew. She enjoys her visits from beyond the grave.”
I blinked hard. This was difficult to take in.
“She talks to her?”
But Eliza shook her head. “No, she just says she feels her.” Eliza took a long sip of her cider. “I made the mistake of telling Margot one morning after seeing Mum, thinking she might be pleased. She dismissed it as hippy-dippy mumbo-jumbo.”
“I can just imagine her tone, too.”
I’d always connected to Margot the most, but we’d drifted since my mum died, which was mainly my fault.
We were similar. Perhaps too much at times.
She’d always been the fun aunt who let me stay up late and watch inappropriate movies.
But that relationship felt tainted now, scorched around the edges by everything that was happening.
“I can’t quite decide what I believe. Sage seems genuine, and she won’t take my money. She’s got no skin in the game.” I turned to Eliza. “Do you think it’s possible we get visited from beyond the grave?”
Eliza licked her lips. “It’s not that I don’t believe. I just trust myself more, I suppose. I’d rather look forward than back, you know? Though I can see why it brings people comfort. Sage is providing a service. But it’s not for Margot.”
“She was always my favourite,” I said. “It’s why I don’t want this business to ruin that.”
“It doesn’t have to.” Eliza’s voice was gentle. “When she’s not having sex too loudly with my dad, I like her. She’s good for him. But I’ve watched Dad go through women since he and Mum split. I don’t want him to do the same thing to Margot.”
“Margot can look after herself.”
“A bit like her niece?”
The way she said it, the way she looked at me made something hot flare inside me. “Something like that.”
We stared at each other for what seemed like many long moments, before I checked my watch, and jolted. Sitting in the sun and staring at Eliza was not going to get any deal done, was it?
When we arrived at the VIP courtyard, Roka was smoking what looked like a joint with another woman who had a buzzcut and striking green eyes. Roka’s hair was freshly shaved at the sides, and sculpted upwards on top.
When she saw us, she waved, then walked over with a sure swagger, embracing us with both arms. The end of her joint snagged on my arm, but I didn’t flinch. If Roka wanted to brand me with her joint, she could. Anything to get this deal over the line.
“You made it! I was just going to send out a search party. How are my two favourite totally-not-together humans?”
I stuttered, and Eliza cleared her throat.
But before either of us could reply, Roka jumped in. “I gave you one of the best glamping tents with a nice big king-size bed. If you’re together, it works. If you’re not, you can easily avoid touching each other.”
She winked, and I wanted to die on the spot. Heat flooded my cheeks and my stomach dropped to somewhere around my ankles. I didn’t dare risk a look over at Eliza, terrified of what I might see in her face.
Horror, embarrassment, or worse, nothing at all.
One of Roka’s staff, a girl with intricate braids called Amber, led us through a break in the trees to a gorgeous space with around ten glamping tents, each with their own wooden deck, easy chairs, fairy lights, and hot tub.
“Wow,” was all I could say, though my voice came out slightly strangled.
“Exactly my thoughts,” Eliza replied.
“You’re in tent six,” Amber told us, a hand planted firmly in her jean pocket. “I’ll leave you to get acquainted, but come back and join us in the courtyard when you’re ready. We’ll have some drinks and I’ll give you your backstage passes. Roka wants you to have a night to remember.”
The words ‘get acquainted’ seemed to echo in the space between us as we followed the wooden pathway through the trees. I was suddenly very thirsty, and also hyper-aware of each step Eliza took, the way her arm occasionally brushed mine as we walked.
When we got into the tent, our luggage was there already, along with a bottle of champagne on ice, a tube of Pringles, and some expensive-looking chocolates.
The space was beautiful: rich fabrics draped everywhere, soft lighting, the kind of romantic setup that would have been perfect if we’d actually been the couple everyone seemed to think we were.
Also looking back at us was our king-size bed, its crisp white sheets housing far too many implications.
“I forgot she thinks we’re together.” A blatant lie, but I had tried to forget.
“I had, too.”
We stood there for a moment, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between us like a physical presence. The air felt thick, charged with something that made my skin prickle.
“But we can cope for one weekend, right?” Eliza’s question was rhetorical, but there was something underneath it, a tremor that made me look at her properly. She normally looked assured. Here, she looked anything but.
“We don’t want to rock the boat until she’s signed the contract.”
“I think you already did that in New York,” Eliza replied, one eyebrow raised.
“That we did.” I was pretty sure my cheeks were bright red. “But if she likes us together, we should be together when we’re around her.” But my throat constricted as I spoke.
“Agreed. We can be adults about this.” But now Eliza’s voice had gone husky. When she spoke the word ‘adults’, her gaze flicked to the bed, before snapping back to my face.
I nodded. “Absolutely. Sensible. Mature.”
But when I turned my head, I could see the same fire behind Eliza’s eyes that I felt in my very soul.
One weekend.
One bed.
One increasingly flimsy excuse to maintain the careful distance we’d been keeping since New York.