Chapter 1
1
KARA MCINTYRE
‘If I promise I’ll give you all my worldly goods, including my signed Lenny Kravitz poster and a kidney, will you let me out of this? Let me stay in bed for the next two weeks. Please don’t make me go to your wedding,’ Kara pleaded, but her words were muffled because her head was under one of the pillows on her sister’s double bed.
Luckily, her older sibling, Drea’s very nice fiancé, Seb, had flown ahead to Hawaii on New Year’s Day with his two brothers, to have a mini-stag celebration before they tied the knot, otherwise Kara would have been on the couch for the last two and a half nights. The last two and a half awful, terrible nights, since Kara had quit her job, left her home, and called off her half of what was supposed to be the sisters’ beach-front double wedding of their dreams in Honolulu. In their picture of that day, the two sisters would stand side-by-side, both glowing as they promised their futures to the men they’d chosen to spend their lives with. That vision had been shattered in the early hours of the first day of the year, when Kara had made the decision to renege on the forever stuff. Although, in the moment, she hadn’t quite thought through the reality that she would still have to attend her sister’s nuptials, rubbing salt in the wounds of her newly shattered heart. Today, she and Josh should be flying off to their own ‘happily ever after’. Instead, she was under a duvet and would give her Vera Wang white silk gown, her Jimmy Choo bridal shoes, and her diamanté hairband to anyone who would let her stay there.
Kara lifted her head up and squinted open one eye to check that her sister was paying attention. Over at the entrance to her custom walk-in-wardrobe, Drea was carefully slipping a beautiful cream satin dress into a garment protector as she shook her head. ‘No. Unlike someone else in this room, I won’t call my wedding off, and I can’t marry Seb without you there. Even if… you know… You’re not doing it too.’ She padded across the room in her white furry slippers and sat down on the edge of the bed, taking Kara’s hand. ‘I promise, you’ll thank me later. Babe, I love you. I’m gutted about everything that’s happened to you this week and you know I’m here for you…’
The pause made Kara eye her sister suspiciously. She had no doubt that Drea meant those words, but saying them out loud and making touchy-feely demonstrations of affection were definitely not in Drea’s playbook, unless they were a warm-up for some frank outpouring of harsh realities. Kara braced herself for the incoming storm.
‘But in the meantime,’ Drea whipped up the aforementioned storm, ‘I don’t want to be a total cow, but you need to get your big woman pants on and try not to do anything that’ll screw up my wedding even more. So I’m asking you, please, go along with this even though I know it must hurt. And when we come home, I’ll dedicate my whole life to making you feel better about what happened. Oh, and Josh is an arse who was never right for you anyway. The man who caused you to quit your job is also an arse. And it’s not fair that your whole life has gone so spectacularly tits up, but I’m proud of you. In case I haven’t mentioned that in the last hour.’
Kara didn’t have the strength to argue, and besides, Drea did make several valid points, the most pertinent of which was that right now Drea’s wedding took precedence over Kara’s non-wedding. Especially as Drea had been the one to organise every single detail and turn their dream marital aspirations into a reality. The combination of teenage Drea’s Saturday job on the reception of a travel agency and a fondness for Baywatch had inspired their mutual, lifelong desire to have a joint beach wedding somewhere exotic. They’d got lucky with the timing, with Drea getting engaged to Seb two years ago, then Kara and Josh following suit not long after. Now Drea ran her own, very successful travel concierge service and she’d immediately kicked into gear, researching, planning, booking, and the result was to be a spectacular joint wedding at sunset on a breathtaking beach in Hawaii.
It had all been perfect. A dream that was coming true, right up until… Kara tried to block the thought. The fact was that three days ago, she was gainfully employed at the Clydeside TV studio, home of The Clydeside , Scotland’s longest-running, twice weekly soap, managing their costume department, doing a job she adored. Now she was not. And a few minutes past midnight on the first of January, while the rest of the world was celebrating the dawn of the New Year, she’d decided that she could no longer marry Josh Jackson. She’d called off their dream wedding. Called off their future. Moved out of the flat they’d shared, breaking her own heart in the process. The only things that had been keeping her together ever since were the conviction that she’d done the right thing and the contents of Drea’s very flash, state-of-the-art wine fridge.
‘Now get up and start packing. The taxi will be here to take us to the airport at four o’clock, and it’ll take that long to get rid of the bags under your eyes, so let’s get cracking.’ And there was the sister she knew and adored – all soppy stuff gone, and back to her pragmatic, but brutally honest self.
Kara groaned and rolled over, aware that resistance was futile. Pushing herself up on her elbows, she squinted both eyes open this time. Drea’s bedroom was like something out of an Instagram blogger’s dreams. The plush white carpet that your toes sank into when you walked – or at least, they would if you were allowed to step on it without spotlessly clean indoor slippers. The cream panelled walls. The arched entrance to the dressing area and the walk-in wardrobe. True, she’d done most of it herself using YouTube videos of IKEA hacks, but still, that took planning, dedication and action, as well as a focus on organisation and aesthetics that Kara just didn’t possess. Everything she’d grabbed from home before she left was currently residing in a black bin bag and a battered suitcase that she’d bought for a trip to Ibiza when she graduated from college eight years ago.
‘Oh shit, shit, shit. You have got to be joking me.’
Kara sat up properly, immediately latching on to the panic in Drea’s voice. ‘What’s up?’
Drea dragged her gaze from her phone, then marched over to the window and threw her snow-white chenille curtains wide open. Kara had no idea what was happening that would incite the horror on Drea’s face. A riot in the streets? A tornado? Aliens landing?
Drea peered up at the sky. ‘I just got an alert from the airline – apparently there’s reports of adverse weather headed our way. It’s saying to make our way to the airport at the normal time, but that there may be delays.’
Kara’s mind fleetingly drifted back to a long-buried memory. Six years ago. A storm. A delay at the airport. It hadn’t turned out to be a terrible thing back then. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad now. It would at least give her a bit longer to come to terms with the crap show of her life before she was stuck in a metal tube with hundreds of other people.
Drea wasn’t handling the news in the same accepting fashion. ‘Buggering bugger. Why can’t the world just let me fly to the other side of the globe to marry the man I’m madly in love with?’
Fully awake now, Kara picked up her phone from the bedside table. It had been on silent for two days now and the screen was just a long list of missed calls and texts that had come in over the last forty-eight hours – most of them from Josh, a few from her mother, a couple from her best mate, Ollie. Probably time to think about rejoining the outside world.
She flicked on to her emails for the first time since she’d left the studio on the 31 st of December, expecting there to be nothing much more than notifications of January sales from every company she’d bought something from over the last decade. ‘Oh bugger. Buggering bugger,’ she repeated Drea’s words, but for an entirely different reason.
‘What?’ Drea asked. She’d now resumed packing and was organising her skincare routine into a white beauty box with built-in light that cost more than Kara spent on moisturiser in a year.
‘An email came in yesterday from work and I didn’t see it until now. I mean, former work.’ She checked the name of the sender at the bottom of the communication.
John Stoker
Head of Legal Services
‘It’s from the legal department at the studio.’
She began reading it aloud.
‘Dear Miss McIntyre,
‘We have been informed that you resigned your position at the Clydeside Studio, effective 31.12.24. As per company policy, we would request that you attend an exit interview so that we may clarify the circumstances surrounding your decision to resign. We would be grateful if you would meet with myself and Abigail Dunlop, Director of Human Resources, on 3 January at 10.30 a.m. at The Clydeside Studio. Please respond to this email in order to confirm attendance. During this meeting…’
Drea cut her off, defiant. ‘Tell them to shove it. You’re no longer employed by them, and even if you were, you’re on holiday. This time off has been booked for a year.’
‘Yes, but… Sod it – I want to hear what they have to say.’ In a flurry of flying fingers, Kara shot off a succinct reply.
I will be there.
Regards,
Kara McIntyre.
Not exactly War and Peace , but it made the point.
Galvanised by something between fear and blind fury, she pushed back the duvet and climbed out of bed.
‘The thing is, I know it’s too late because I’ve already burnt that bridge and told them to shove their job, but I want it all done officially and in black and white. They’ll only have heard his side of the story. I want everyone who wasn’t there, including Abigail Scary Knickers Dunlop, to hear mine.’
The ‘his’ in question was Corbin Jacobs, the lead actor on The Clydeside and the man who, at The Clydeside New Year’s Eve party, had put her in a position that gave her no option but to quit. If anyone listened to the crap he espoused daily, they’d believe he was the next Anthony Hopkins. The reality was he’d been brought in as eye candy replacement for Rex Marino, the previous hot, thirty-something star of the show, who’d fled to the USA after being ridiculed in a tabloid scandal on this side of the pond. Kara never thought she’d ever say it aloud, but she’d take two of that slimeball, Rex Marino, over Corbin Jacobs. At least Rex could keep his hands to himself.
‘Scary Knickers?’ Drea asked, amused.
‘It’s what we call the HR boss. Anyway, that’s not what we’re concentrating on right now. We’re focusing on me making it official that Corbin Jacobs is a vile tosser.’
‘Babe, you know I’m with you all the way on this, but meeting them won’t make a difference. He’s the star. We both know how it works. His word against yours. It’s pointless.’
Kara began peeling off the old Westlife T-shirt that acted as her comfort sleepwear, noticing for the first time that there were stains down the front from last night’s midnight consolation snack of Doritos and salsa. Another moment of class and dignity.
‘You’re right. I know this. But I need to stop by the flat anyway, to pick up a few things I left behind – stuff I’ll need for this trip to be the sad spare part at your wedding – and the studio is on the way, so screw it, I’m going.’ When she’d left in a hurry in the middle of the night, she’d remembered the basics, but forgot to bring anything from her holiday drawer – including swimwear, sarongs, summer dresses and, most crucially of all, the small matter of her passport. Not that she was going to tell Drea that, because it would cause her sister’s anxiety to escalate to a gale force that could rival any incoming storm.
‘Wait a minute. You never mentioned going back home. What if Josh is there? He’s been blowing up our phones for the last two days, so he clearly wants to speak to you. Just leave your stuff, Kara. We can buy replacements for anything you’ve left behind.’
The sweatpants Kara slept in now joined the T-shirt on the top of her growing washing pile at the end of the bed. Drea was so allergic to untidiness, no doubt she’d have it washed, dried and folded before Kara was out the door.
‘No. I don’t want replacements; I want my own stuff. I’m unemployed now, remember? No splashing out on needless purchases. And if Josh is there, then… well, I’ll just have to face him. I’m not going to change my mind.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ Drea didn’t even try to hide the cynicism in every freshly tinted hair of her raised eyebrows.
‘Yes!’ Kara replied assertively, before buckling with a weaker, ‘I mean, almost definitely.’ Then a reinforced, ‘I mean, yes!’
‘Oh dear God, you’re a nightmare. This is like a really bad play. Kara and the Coat of Many Indecisions. I can’t keep up with the drama.’
Kara was now raking in the bin bag for clean underwear to go with the black jeans and semi-crushed sweater she’d just pulled out of her suitcase.
‘How can I stay with him after what he did, Drea? How could I marry a guy who didn’t defend me when I needed him? The truth is, Josh hasn’t put me first in a really long time. It just took what happened the other night for me to see that.’
Kara felt her throat begin to tighten again and had to push down yet another urge to go back under the duvet. She had loved Josh Jackson for nearly eight years now. It had taken him almost six to propose, but she had been happy to go with the flow, to just live each day as it came. No demands. No ultimatums. No pressure. None of those things were in her nature. Now, she could see that was the problem. For the last few years, since he’d launched his PR company, work had been his number-one priority and she’d been relegated to second place. Maybe third, after his workout schedule. The worst thing was, it hadn’t even occurred to her to mind.
The last forty-eight hours in bed had given her time to think. Time to reflect. Time to decide that there was no going back. Even if that thought chipped a huge piece right off her heart.
‘You know, he didn’t even want to take the time off to get married. That’s why we were only coming for a week and not staying for a fortnight like you guys. He wasn’t even giving me fourteen days. Why didn’t I see that was a problem? Why did I put up with that? Why has it taken the huge bomb to go off in our lives before I noticed all the other things that were wrong?’
‘Because you loved him,’ Drea answered simply. ‘And because you’re way too nice and a bit of a pushover, but I don’t want to kick you when you’re down, so we’ll just brush right over that.’
‘I wasn’t a pushover the other night,’ Kara retorted, stating the obvious. She had replayed what had happened at the Hogmanay party in her mind so many times, she couldn’t even bear to think of it now. The bottom line was that she’d had an altercation with Corbin Jacobs and she’d expected Josh to take her side, but he didn’t. She’d hoped her bosses would take her side, but they didn’t either. So she had – in not too polite terms – said goodbye to them all. ‘And look where that’s got me.’
Drea was now picking up her washing pile. ‘You did the right thing, Kara.’
‘I know I did and I’m not backing down. I need to draw a line under everything, instead of avoiding it or running away from it all. So today I’m going to go make my resignation official and tell my side of the story…’
‘I can see why telling your boss to shove his job in the middle of a posh nightclub might not be considered official,’ Drea agreed.
Kara nodded, then barrelled on, ‘And if I see Josh at home, that’s probably a good thing because we have stuff to discuss. I was going to leave it until we came back, but if he’s there, then I’m just going to bite the bullet. I need to arrange to get all my stuff out of the flat. We need to disentangle our lives. Fight over custody of our book collection. Get my life sorted out.’
Her sister clearly realised that resistance was futile. ‘I have no idea where this new assertive you came from, but I like her. But just promise you’ll be back here in loads of time for the car to the airport. Leaving here at 4p.m. Repeat after me: 4p.m.’
‘Fourp.m. I’ll be here.’
The front door slammed and Kara and Drea automatically locked eyes, both of them dreading what was about to come.
Dressed in a full length, pink fake fur coat, Jacinta McIntyre swept into the room with more impact than the average tornado. ‘Dear God, it’s colder than a serial killer’s freezer out there.’ She paused, her gaze sweeping from Kara’s bare feet to her bed-head coiffure. ‘You know, darling, I love you dearly, but heartbreak doesn’t look great on you. Could you try to be a bit more Julia Roberts about it? I always think she’s a fabulous crier. And you’ve already got the hair. Although a good brush wouldn’t go amiss.’
As Jacinta kissed her on the cheek, Kara’s hand automatically went to her wild red curls in a futile bid to tame them. Jacinta wasn’t one of those mums who gave sympathy and comfort in times of distress. An actress to her very core, she viewed every drama, disaster or upset as a plot twist, necessary to get to the bit where the heroine triumphed, and all was happy ever after. Once upon a time, she’d worked fairly consistently in small but interesting roles in Scottish television and theatre, supplementing her income by teaching drama one or two days a week for local authorities. Nowadays, she told everyone she was semi-retired, which was her way of dealing with the reality that she hadn’t been offered a single role since she’d turned sixty the year before.
‘It’s only a flying visit – I’m getting my hair done across the road in five minutes. Drea, darling, are you organised for the trip?’ She immediately answered her own question. ‘Of course you are. Sometimes I don’t know where I got you from. Neither me nor your father had a logical bone in our bodies.’
Kara watched as Drea rolled her eyes, refusing to bite. Kara was usually viewed as chronically uninteresting by her mother, but apparently her current situation was worthy of Jacinta’s rapt attention, as she focused back on her.
‘Right then, darling, what have I missed?’ she asked. ‘Do you need me to help to hide evidence or bury a body?’
Much as Jacinta’s breezy delivery irked her, Kara appreciated the sentiment. Sometimes she wondered if their mother’s over the top, flighty, dramatic flair was the reason that she and Drea had developed very different personalities. Drea’s core traits were that she was driven, logical, practical and cynical, while Kara preferred to be low key, non-confrontational and to go with the flow.
‘Not today, Mum. But I do need to dash.’
‘Just tell me you’re not going to take that man back. Urgh, I never liked him. You deserve so much better.’
Even if that were a possibility, she wouldn’t admit it because it would set her mum off on a rant that would cause her to miss her shampoo and blow dry. Jacinta had never approved of Josh, because she’d always said he wanted everything to be on his terms. In hindsight, she wasn’t wrong.
‘I won’t take him back, Mum. I’m rushing because I’ve got a meeting at the studio. They want to speak to me about what happened.’
Jacinta gasped. ‘What? Don’t dare back down with that buffoon, Corbin Jacobs. All smarm and no talent, that man. If the universe hadn’t blessed him with that face, he’d be doing adverts for stairlifts.’
Again, Kara didn’t disagree, but she wasn’t going to get into that right now, because she had to be at The Clydeside in half an hour and the clock was ticking.
‘I won’t back down, Mum. But right now, I’ll let Drea give you a run-down on everything…’
Over behind their mother, Drea’s eyes widened in outrage as she mimicked stabbing Kara.
‘…because I need to run. And you’re going to be proud of me. I might not be Julia Roberts, but today I’m going to speak to the bosses at the studio and maybe Josh too, and I’m going to stand my ground with them all.’
She was pretty sure none of them, including her, was completely confident about that statement. But there was only one way to find out.