Chapter 17
Eddie freezes. ‘I haven’t got a gun, you twerp. What do you take me for?’
From his crouched position, Dom pops his head above the table. ‘An American?’
Eddie mulls this point over for a second. ‘Sure. Fair enough. I’m reaching for my phone. I don’t want to break it. Sweetheart,’ he says, motioning to Liberty. ‘Can you hold it for me while I kick this punk’s ass?’
Liberty immediately locks eyes with Nacho, the shock registering clearly on her face. ‘Eddie, no!’ she yelps. ‘He’s done nothing wrong.’ She leaps up and races towards Eddie, flinging her arms around his neck. ‘Forget him… you’re finally here. I’ve missed you so much!’
He immediately softens in her embrace.
She plants a kiss on his lips, taking him by surprise. He looks deep into her eyes before he relaxes into it and kisses her back. We watch, mesmerised, as the kiss becomes deeper.
And deeper.
Disturbing flashes of their tongues darting into each other’s mouths cause most of us to look politely away. ‘Ah. So sweet,’ Tash says, clasping her hands to her heart. ‘French kissing in France. So romantic.’
Nacho flicks his eyes to the ceiling for a few beats before he throws down his napkin and barges past them from the room without the happy couple even breaking stride.
‘So, you thought you’d use your firstborn as a human shield, did you?’ Cherry hisses to Dom as he gets back up off the floor and sheepishly takes his seat to enjoy the show.
By the time Eddie and Liberty eventually come up for air, we have made valiant attempts at resuming conversation, eating the delicious meal before it gets too cold to consume and, generally, pretending they are not vigorously making out a few feet away.
‘I sure have missed you, sugar.’ Eddie has both of his hands splayed across her bum cheeks as though he’s squeezing two neck pillows to check the firmness level.
‘Let’s talk privately,’ Liberty says, taking charge of the situation. ‘Follow me.’ She bats her lashes slowly at him, and we watch Eddie, almost dazed, forget all about beating up Nacho to obey her command.
Fair play to her. There’s never a dull moment.
By the time we are down to eight adults and two children and dessert has been served, I am shattered.
‘I’m afraid we really need to dash,’ says Liam. ‘We need to give Louis his night feed and get him ready for bed. We’ll take our dessert with us. Sorry, everyone.’
Ged and Liam scoot from the room.
‘The girls need a bath before tomorrow,’ says Cherry, lifting one of Peaches’ curls.
It has cake mashed into it and her eyes are drooping closed as though she’s sliding into a sugar coma.
Dom scrapes back his chair and walks over to lift her floppy body from the high chair.
‘And we still have that awful rug stain to remove.’
‘Anyone for a nightcap?’ asks Tash, taking a long drag on her vape before passing it to Sister Kevin to do the same. ‘I’m doing a jug of Fanny Smasher, remember?’
I feel Matteo tense next to me. He’s repeatedly asked them not to vape in the house. But instead of confronting them he rises slowly, dark shadows under his eyes, and says goodnight to everyone. ‘I’ll go check on my brother. See you back at the room?’
I smile wistfully and watch him go.
‘Someone’s in a mood,’ says Tash.
I bite my lip. Matteo seems very annoyed with us. I hope we haven’t broken him.
The following morning, I awake to sunshine peeking through the blinds and an empty bed.
My soul droops. I was flat-out asleep when Matteo came to bed last night.
As well as not being impressed with how easily I lied to Birdie about the vase, Nacho will have told him about our conversation in the taxi.
There’s so much to cover, I could do with drawing up a pie chart.
I try to see things from Matteo’s point of view.
It can’t be easy. With everything that is happening, I make the decision to at least hear what he has to say about the wedding in Spain.
If it means that much to Matteo and if it wins his family over, then surely I owe him that.
I just can’t understand why he’s been carrying the weight of it all on his shoulders and not shared it with me.
How are we meant to carry on as a married couple if he can’t trust me with something this huge?
I’m aware there’s a touch of the pot calling the kettle black here but still…
what if the hesitation is because he now feels our marriage was a mistake?
We rushed into it without knowing a thing about each other.
All I’ve shown him so far on this trip is that I’m prepared to lie, eavesdrop on people’s conversations and wipe incriminating evidence from laptops. For all he knows, he’s married a spy.
I flop back onto the pillow and check my phone.
It’s Christmas Eve Eve. Ged and Liam get married tomorrow.
Their friends and families will be arriving at various times today and checking into their hotels nearby.
We need to make sure they all have taxis booked for tomorrow morning.
We need to work with the chateau staff to put all the seating out in the chapel and liaise with the florist we booked at the last minute to come and decorate it.
Likewise with the dining room. The staff need our help bringing up tables and chairs from the basement.
We need to put on the tablecloths so that the florist can put the centrepieces around the candelabras.
Hundreds of floating candles need to be hung from the ceiling.
We’ve brought the seating cards, party favours and glitter sprinkles with us.
All the Dollz should know who is doing which job because it’s on the WhatsApp group.
My phone pings. It’s a private message from Big Mand. An urgent request to meet her in her room and she’s asking me to be discreet about it. I frown. I hope she’s okay. She doesn’t seem the type to faint all over the place.
I check for any messages from Matteo.
Nothing. I’m so disappointed. Things seem to be escalating, at least in my head they are. I need to speak to him, clear the air and get us back on track as soon as possible. I ping him a text.
Need to talk xxx
I’ll go and find him once I’ve been to see Big Mand. I leap out of bed and throw on some warm, casual clothes, slip my feet into my slippers, tie my hair up and head off in the direction of her room.
I tap gently on the door. It takes Big Mand a short while to answer and, when she does, I understand why.
Her eyes are brimming with tears, and make-up streaks tell me she has been crying for a while.
She has a turban-style towel wrapped around her head and the complimentary dressing gown wrapped tightly around her fragile frame.
She looks tiny and frail and far from the glorious, robust, loud-mouthed queen that I know her to be.
I slip inside the room and immediately bring her to me in a hug. She erupts into tears as I stand holding her.
After a short while, when the tears subside, I hold her at arm’s length. ‘Hey,’ I say softly. ‘Whatever it is, I’ll help you. We’ll get through it together.’
She gulps, swallowing down a fresh batch of tears. I wait until she’s ready. She lifts her hand to the towel and pulls it away from her head. I try not to gasp as clumps of dark curls come away with it.
Her shoulders begin shaking as more tears fall. She wipes her cheeks. ‘I wish I’d never bothered.’
I wait for her to elaborate.
‘I just wanted to look good for Sue when we went to Italy for our special weekend away.’ She steps away from me and opens her robe.
I keep my reaction neutral as I quickly take in her thin frame, rolls of skin sagging from her upper arms and small, round telltale bruises dotting her belly and thighs.
Even her underwear is far too large and unflattering.
She wraps the robe back around her. ‘I feel worse now than when I was bigger. And look, I’m losing my hair.
I think my body’s gone into shock at the sudden weight loss.
’ She sniffs up her tears. ‘What am I going to do? I can’t even bear for Sue to see me without my clothes on.
She told me I didn’t need to go on the jabs, but I wouldn’t listen.
And now look.’ She points to the towel at our feet.
‘Are you still taking them?’
She shakes her head.
‘It’ll be alright,’ I say. ‘Most shocks to the system are temporary.’
‘But what about the wedding? My costume? My hair!’ She leans over to reveal a thinning patch on her scalp.
I chew my lip, thinking. She needs a dress with sleeves. Something to cover her hair. And a big fat Greggs.
‘I have an idea. I have two dresses. My best woman dress and my Bridgerton dress which has long sleeves. So, you take that one. And the wig. I’ll ask Cherry to see if she can take anything from your dress and add it to my best woman dress in time for the ball.’
Big Mand looks hopeful. ‘Really? Oh, Connie, that would be amazing.’ She sniffs up the last of her tears.
‘I’ll go find Cherry. Try not to worry. Everything will be just fine, okay?’
‘Yes. Tell her to come meet me here. Bring the dresses, the wig and the sewing kit. And some sausage rolls.’
By the time I’ve seen Cherry and we’ve gathered everything we need from her room, we’ve missed breakfast.
‘I hope Dom makes it down in time,’ I say, feeling guilty for interrupting them.
‘It’s not your fault he’s overreacting and overparenting. It’s the same every morning. The girls have zero respect for his authority because he’s never bloody around.’ Cherry talks rapidly as we scuttle to Big Mand’s room, our arms laden with sewing kits and my dresses and the wig.
I stop in my tracks.
Cherry slows, a sad shadow crossing her face.
‘Are you two okay?’
Her eyes pool with tears as she takes a deep inhale. ‘I really don’t have time for this. You can all do without me in marriage crisis. Let’s just get through this wedding.’
‘We do have time for this, Cherry. If you need to talk, let’s talk.’