Chapter 3
3
The next few hours pass quickly, James and I go easy on the drinks and say goodnight, leaving the rest of the group in full swing. We’re halfway up the stairs to our room when I realise I’ve forgotten my bag.
‘I’ll get it.’ James goes to turn.
‘No it’s OK – you go up.’ I lift myself onto my tiptoes and kiss him before heading back down the stairs.
I return to the restaurant and grab my bag undetected. Ava and Simon are locked face to face in a heated debate, his new girlfriend nowhere to be seen. I look around for Libby and Paige, but they must have gone up too. I shoulder my bag and detour to the loo. I have the bladder capacity of a three-year-old.
I step into the ladies’; the room is empty and I take a cubicle.
‘God I’m pissed.’ Libby’s voice. I turn my head; there must be a window open. I can smell the tang of cigarette smoke. I’d hazard a guess that Paige is having a sneaky smoke around the back of the building.
‘I can’t believe Aunty Lynn and Uncle Alan aren’t here. I thought that they would have at least made an effort for his wedding day, you know?’ Libby is very drunk, her words running into each other. I hold the breath in my lungs.
‘They still won’t speak to them?’ Paige replies in a stage whisper.
‘Nope. Said it was a betrayal to Kit’s memory or something like that. Fuck ’em.’
Actually what Lynn said was that James was no longer their son, that he should be ashamed of himself, and that I was rotten. To your core . His mum had pointed her finger into my breastbone as she said it.
‘But they don’t know if Kit’s actually dead though. They never found a body, did they?’ Paige brings the conversation back.
‘Oh, come on, you think he could be alive?’ I can imagine Libby shaking her head, shivering and taking a long pull on one of Paige’s cigarettes. ‘No way. They found his car and that couple saw him heading towards the cliff. No money withdrawn after he disappeared. No word or sightings… they just haven’t found the body.’ I swallow hard. An image of Kit falling, of his beautiful smile, his body that I knew as well as my own being pounded by rocks. A thin coating of sweat forms on my skin, an aftershock of the nightmares that used to plague me every night.
‘It makes you wonder though, doesn’t it?’ Libby reflects, her voice tight on the intake of smoke.
I tilt my head to the right, my pulse quickening, my blood racing through my veins.
‘What?’
Libby exhales. ‘Well… if Kit hadn’t have died… would she still be marrying him?’ I close my eyes and try to ignore the words. ‘James must be thinking the same thing, don’t you think? How could he not? He’s nothing like Kit. He’s always been the quiet and broody one, even when we were kids. ’
I want to cover my ears, but I don’t; I let the conversation continue around me.
‘So what are you saying, that he’s a rebound?’
‘No, of course not. They’ve been together ages.’
Three years. Three years and four months before we kissed, but I already knew I was in love with James, before that.
It was a Sunday. Raining outside.
I’d reached for a glass of water from my bedside when I glanced at the clock, wondering if I would see James that day. It was the first time I hadn’t woken feeling like my skin was covered with the mosquito bites of Kit’s loss, where my first thought hadn’t been if today would be the day: the day Kit came home. I had dropped the glass, the water sinking into my childhood bedroom carpet.
I’d rung Ava, sobbing, asking her to come over. She had thought it was news about Kit, that a body had been found. I’d finally got the words out, words fighting against guilt and self-hate: I think I’m in love with James. She had held my face in her hands, wiped the tears away with her thumbs and kissed my forehead. ‘Oh, my wonderful friend. Of course you are.’
The guilt has never left me. I don’t think it ever will.
‘But…’ Libby’s voice continues to pour into the room. ‘I’d bet my bottom dollar that if Kit hadn’t gone poof, they wouldn’t have got together. She’s completely different with James to how she was with Kit.’
‘People change though, babe; we’re older now. I spent my twenties bumming around Europe, stoned, and dropping out of uni. Now look at me – as bloody corporate as they come,’ Paige states, an edge of pride to her voice. Paige is a divorce lawyer.
‘Oh shush. You know as well as I do that she changed once she was with James. And I reckon she’d be teaching in, oh I don’t know, Borneo or somewhere. If Kit were here, they’d have got married during a skydive, or on a beach in Bali, not twenty minutes down the road from her secondary school.’
‘Babe, they’ve been together for years and it’s not like they haven’t taken their time. And, for what it’s worth, I think she really loves him. You can see it.’ I smile at that, even though tears are forming behind my eyelids. ‘But…’ Libby continues. ‘Well, I suppose, if we’re really getting into it…’ She pauses, hesitance that is being softened by alcohol. ‘James did always…’
‘What?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ I hear the twist of gravel, Libby crushing her cigarette butt. ‘I’ve had too much to drink.’
‘Oh, go on, what?’
I can hear a handbag zip closing. I pull up my legs and hug my knees.
‘Well, it’s just that James always fixed Kit’s mess, didn’t he? Always picked up the pieces. Remember that New Year’s Eve party when Kit got mouthy with that guy and James ended up paying the cheque for the whole table?’
I frown. I don’t remember that.
‘So, you think he’s, what? With her out of… duty?’ Paige asks.
Duty?
‘Maybe. You wouldn’t put them together, would you. If circumstances were different. What if he’s just doing what he always did? Sorting out Kit’s mess. You know how it was when Kit disappeared. She was a mess and James… well James was always there . You know she wouldn’t even leave the house without him for a while?’ They’re quiet for a moment and I hold my breath. ‘And…’
‘And?’
‘Look, I love James – he’s the brother I never had – but let’s be honest, James did always live in Kit’s shadow… He always wanted what Kit had.’
‘You think he was jealous of Kit?’
I can practically hear Libby shrug. ‘Everyone was jealous of Kit.’
Libby’s words are swirling around my thoughts. Is he marrying me for the wrong reason? I shake my head. No.
‘Oh Christ. I shouldn’t have had sambuca. Ignore me; I’m talking bollocks.’
‘You OK? You’ve gone a bit green. Let’s get you back inside.’
Their voices are quietening, the crunch of gravel extinguishing their words.
I return to our room, Libby’s words echoing through my mind.
James is in the shower.
I unbutton my shirt, letting it fall to the floor, step out of my trousers, discard my underwear as I walk towards the bathroom and step into the shower.
I wrap my hand around his waist, and kiss his back, my other hand sliding along the black tattoo that runs from his back to his ribcage: a phoenix rising from the flames.
He turns, combs his dark hair back with his fingers. I look up at him. Steam surrounding us.
‘Tell me you love me,’ I say. He stares into my eyes, dark eyebrows above dark eyelashes, water falling from them, his gaze intense, unwavering, passionate .
‘I love you.’ He doesn’t break eye contact as he lifts my body. My legs wrap around his waist; his body solid, firm, safe.
He kisses me. My teeth pull at his bottom lip.
‘Tell me again.’
His eyes search mine. ‘I love you. ’
He adjusts my body, until he’s inside me. I pull the back of his hair, my legs tightening around him. ‘Again.’
‘I love you.’
And as I begin to lose myself in his touch, in the strength of him. I let the water wash away the words: rebound, guilt, jealousy, duty .