Chapter 1
Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.
GEORGE SANTAYANA
Confusion fills my head. What’s going on? I should be in Crete – shouldn’t I? On my way back to my rented room in Andreas’s house. Not in England, on a fine summer evening, watching a much younger version of myself just days away from making the biggest mistake of my life.
I remember thinking back then, right then, how much I bloody loved my life.
I loved Gareth, too – not to mention my parents, for paying for our spectacular wedding that was coming up.
The church wedding my dad wouldn’t have considered any alternative to; the marquee reception in the picturesque grounds of a country house hotel.
Lizzie, for planning the hen night I was dressing up for.
I watch myself study my reflection, my hand going to my face, smoothing skin that was faintly wrinkled last time I looked. I pinch myself. This has to be a dream. How else can I possibly be here in Lizzie’s flat again, the week before my wedding, watching myself get ready for my hen party?
More to the point, why? I can remember how I felt that day, the emotions that washed over me as I stood there. One that overrode the excitement and sense of anticipation I should have been feeling. One that with my wedding looming, shouldn’t have been there. Doubt.
As I watch myself standing in front of the mirror, Lizzie came bursting in. Emotion overwhelms me for the sister I’ve since lost, who I miss desperately.
‘Come on, Tilly! You’re going to be late!
’ Wearing a cropped psychedelic top and orange shorts that showed off her tan, her fair hair subtly streaked, she was the essence of summer.
She thrust a cheap version of a veil at me.
‘Put it on. Actually, on second thoughts, I’ll do it.
’ She snatched it back and fastened it into my hair, then rummaged in my make-up bag and produced a pink lipstick. ‘You need this,’ she ordered.
I looked vaguely ridiculous, but where Lizzie was concerned, there was no point protesting.
My sister satisfied, we stepped out into the June sunshine, my veil attracting more than a few whistles as we headed into town towards the bar where we’d arranged to meet my best friend Jasmine and some other friends.
Jasmine. We used to be such good friends. But life took us in different directions; last I heard she was living in Dubai.
That day, as we made our entrance, my friends were already making inroads into their second bottle of champagne and as they saw us, a loud cheer went up that had everyone else’s heads turning.
‘You’ll get us thrown out,’ I admonished them, taking the glass of champagne that was pushed into one of my hands.
It was an afternoon of unbridled high spirits and hilarity, one during which after my initial tiddliness, for some reason I remained oddly sober.
‘Drink this.’ Lizzie thrust another glass at me. ‘It’s you who’s supposed to be drunk – not the rest of us.’
‘Thanks.’ I took it, aware that for reasons I couldn’t identify I just wasn’t feeling it.
Later, Mum had joined us. ‘Just for a while. Then I’ll leave you young people to it.’ She’d winked at me. ‘I wouldn’t want to cramp your style.’
But as afternoon became evening, my restlessness was growing.
If it had been up to me, I would have settled for a Chinese takeaway and an early night, but I knew the others wouldn’t have heard of it.
And I got it. In the past, it would have sounded boring to me, too.
I mean, whoever heard of a tame hen party?
It’s strange, but I can remember exactly how I felt as I sat there.
It was like I was detached in some way, observing everyone else.
Lizzie, pink-cheeked, almost falling off the high heels she could carry off because she was so tiny.
My lovely mum, in one of her printed cotton summer dresses.
Jasmine, newly fake-tanned, in a golden dress that looked as though it had been sprayed on – Jasmine always had to outdo the rest of us.
I looked around at everyone – my family; the little group of friends I’d known since school.
Then in a gesture that was out of character for me, I stood up.
‘Thank you, so much, all of you, for being here today.’ I gazed at each of them in turn, feeling my heart warm; knowing how much they were looking forward to our wedding day.
‘Sound like a flipping vicar, don’t I? But seriously, it means the world to me.
Your glasses are looking very empty,’ I joked, even though it wasn’t true. ‘How about I order us some cocktails?’
After much passing around and deliberation of the menu, I went to the bar to order the cocktails, and there he was. Adam Cameron – except, in that moment, I didn’t know that was his name. Nor did I know that he was the man who, in the space of a short meeting, was going to turn my life upside down.
‘Looks like quite a party you’re having,’ he said amiably. ‘Your hen party?’ His eyes flickered over the veil I was wearing.
My hands went to it, straightening it, as suddenly I felt ridiculous. ‘Bit of a giveaway, isn’t it?’ I gazed into his warm brown eyes that looked oddly familiar. ‘Sorry about the racket. They’re my family and my best friends.’ I nodded towards our table.
‘No need to apologise. We were… er, enjoying it!’
‘Oh.’ I frowned, wondering who the we meant. ‘Who are you here with?’
‘A mate.’ He nodded towards a table where a man was sitting.
Relief filled me that he wasn’t here with a girl – relief that made no sense when he meant nothing to me. ‘I’m Tilly.’ Impulsively, I held out my hand.
‘Adam.’
As I took the hand he held out, the touch of it sent an electric shock through me.
Adam smiled. Then still holding my hand, he frowned slightly. ‘Do I know you from somewhere?’
‘I don’t think so.’ I gently let go of his hand. I knew we hadn’t met before. There was no way on this earth I wouldn’t have remembered him.
‘It’s nice to meet you, Tilly.’
I couldn’t speak. It was the oddest feeling as he looked at me, like a powerful sense of déjà vu.
The deepest sense of belonging, as though we’d known each other forever.
As I stood there, a million thoughts had flashed through my brain.
That I wanted to know more about this man, that I’d never felt like this about Gareth; that meetings like this were somehow fated.
But a week away from the wedding I’d always dreamed of, that my mum had been planning down to the most carefully thought-out detail, it seemed the cruellest twist of fate that this was happening now.
My discomfort was growing by the second, and I did the only thing I could to break the moment. ‘I should get back to everyone,’ I said brightly. I nodded towards my family and friends.
‘Oh. Of course.’ He looked taken aback. Then he seemed to rally. ‘He’s a lucky guy,’ he said softly.
‘Thanks.’ But any excitement I’d felt before had been all but snuffed out. I knew, in a way I couldn’t explain, that sounded bonkers, even to me, that if I hadn’t been getting married, Adam and I could have been something.
Carrying the tray of cocktails, I went back to the table, pinning on a smile as I sat down. Listening to everyone chattering and laughing, I felt strangely out of it, as beside me Lizzie nudged my elbow.
‘You OK?’ Her eyes searched mine.
‘I’m fine.’ I smiled brightly, wondering if she knew it was false. ‘How could I not be?’
At that moment, the barman came over with a bottle of champagne and a tray of glasses. ‘With the compliments of the gentleman over there.’
I watched him nod towards Adam, still standing at the bar, my heart missing a beat as across the room he met my eyes again.
‘How lovely! Please say thank you to him.’ After placing the tray in front of her, my mum started pouring the champagne, then passed me a glass. ‘Don’t you love how weddings bring out the best in people?’
* * *
I’d always been sensible. A black-and-white kind of girl.
The girl who got her homework in on time, who was back from nights out at a most sensible hour – well, mostly.
Perhaps it was unsurprising that my hen night wound up early, my pissed friends heading off to a bar, leaving Lizzie and me alone in the street together.
‘You sure you’re OK?’ She’d definitely picked up on something.
‘Of course I am. You should go with the others,’ I said.
‘And leave you on your own? I don’t think so,’ she said indignantly.
‘Honestly.’ I smiled at her. ‘I think I’m going to head back to the flat.’
Lizzie stared at me for a moment. ‘This is weird.’ Then she hugged me. ‘But OK. If that’s what you want.’
As she tottered off after the others, I pulled off my veil and made my way back to the flat. Letting myself in, for once I had the place to myself. I went over to the windows, pushed them open and stood there.
Adam was somewhere out there. I sighed. What was going on with me?
Restless, I put some music on. But I couldn’t help thinking that the Universe had been sending me a sign.
It made no difference that I didn’t believe in signs – this wasn’t like anything I’d experienced before.
From the moment my eyes locked with Adam’s, there was no going back.
Pulling myself together, I told myself what any person would have – that I was being ridiculous.
I was in love with Gareth. Sure, he wasn’t perfect, but who is?
And we were getting married in six days.
I felt a flicker of panic, then put it down to last minute jitters. I mean, everyone got them, didn’t they?
* * *
By the time Gareth got home the next day, Adam had faded into the background of my mind – at least, that was what I told myself.
As Gareth kissed me, his breath was beery.
But he’d been on his stag weekend, I reminded myself, trying to respond, ignoring the fact that like my heart, my body just wasn’t feeling it.