24. Chapter 24
The woman touched Jack’s arm as she spoke. Lucy watched as Jack leaned forward and said something in her ear, and the woman threw her head back and laughed as Jack grinned and looked on. They beckoned the barman, and both ordered more drinks. Lucy felt a prickle of heat rise up her neck.
She watched as the barman placed two glasses of champagne in front of them, and Jack solicitously passed the woman a napkin to place the glass on. He didn’t take his eyes off her. He brought out his phone and started showing the woman something. She leaned into him, her head practically on his shoulder, her dark hair falling across his arm as they pressed together to look at the small screen. The woman pointed and said something. Jack laughed and jostled into her side. They giggled together and sipped their drinks.
The bored waitress returned with Lucy’s GT and plonked it unceremoniously on the table, slightly out of reach. Lucy glared at her departing back and lunged across the table for the glass, taking a long drink. She swung back to face the bar, but Jack and the dark-haired woman had disappeared. Leaning sideways, she tried to see around the dancers grooving their hardest to The Grease Megamix, but she couldn’t see them. She stood up and strained to see across the room. Her mother was remonstrating with her father in a corner, while a now rather sozzled Nanna sat beside them and refused to leave the party. Aunt Paula and Aunty Jacques were tucking into more slices of wedding cake.
Abandoning her drink, Lucy nervously made her way onto the dance floor to try to get a better view around the marquee. Greg, doing his best John Travolta, backed into her and gave a slurred apology, ‘sorry, sozzzy.’
Lucy kept going. There was no sign of them across the other side of the marquee. Lucy felt sick, wanting to know where Jack was with the woman, but worried about the answer. She shook herself and stopped at the marquee entrance. Out there were the dark gardens. Hundreds of romantic spots for a couple looking for some privacy to slink away to. Her stomach felt like jelly and her feet like lead as she held onto the drapes around the doorway.
‘Luceeeee!’
Ollie bounced through the doors and enveloped her in a bear hug, her arms pinned to her sides. Sophie was two steps behind him.
‘Put her down, Ollie!’ she batted at his arms. ‘Sorry,’ she mouthed and grimaced. ‘He’s very drunk.’
Ollie put Lucy down and wrapped his arms around his wife. His eyes welled up.
‘Lucy, can you believe this is my wife?’ he said, looking at Sophie and then back at Lucy. ‘Can you believe it?’
Sophie laughed and tried, not very hard, to wriggle free.
‘You’re drunk! Come on, you need to eat something.’
‘I am drunk!’ Ollie roared and threw his arms in the air. ‘Drunk and happy and married to you!’
He tried to plant a wet kiss on Sophie’s mouth, but missed.
Lucy tried not to laugh.
‘Ugh, Ollie,’ Sophie wiped her face. ‘Come on.’ Sophie put his arm across her shoulders. ‘Let’s find you some cake.’
‘Yes, wedding cake. Because we’re married!’ Ollie yelled as they stumbled away.
All around her, people laughed, danced and drank. Happy clusters of people on the dance floor were now dancing to (I’ve Had) The Time of my Life. Greg and Hannah attempted to do the Dirty Dancing lift but collapsed into a table to hoots of laughter before friends pulled them upright.
From beside her came a slurred voice and a waft of beery bad breath.
‘Smile, love, it might never happen’, said a fifty-something man who had sweated through almost all his shirt. He leered and swayed at Lucy, his half-full glass of beer sploshing over his hand, and she recoiled.
Lucy snapped, ‘It already has.’
Then she pushed her way through the doors.
She looked about, but there was no sign of Jack and his new dark-haired friend. She wandered toward the hotel and climbed the steps to the terrace. She hated that she wanted to know, but her legs kept driving her forwards. It was nearly completely dark now, and the worst of the heat had eased, a soft, warm breeze moving through the trees. A young couple made their way down the steps, arms around each other, in lockstep. They smiled shyly at Lucy as they passed. Lucy drew level with the hotel and drifted along the terrace, glad to have a break from the noise and chaos of the party. She heard soft voices and passed a couple trying to rock a toddler to sleep, then a familiar laugh came from just around the corner. Lucy stopped and listened. The indistinct murmur of Jack’s voice and then another voice, a woman’s. Her throat tightened.
She stood stock still on the terrace and strained her ears. Too far away to hear anything, she shuffled along the wall, squeezing past the heavy iron garden furniture and peered around the corner. Parting the leaves on the wisteria, she saw Jack and the woman sitting at a small table near where they had had breakfast only hours before. The woman was speaking and had her back to Lucy, while Jack gave her his rapt attention, his eyes glued to her face. Lucy’s breath caught in her throat. As she watched, the woman reached out and took Jack’s hand and he covered it with his. Then Jack took out his phone and started typing something in. Lucy caught a couple of digits as the woman said them aloud to Jack. Their voices dropped to a murmur then Lucy could make out Jack saying, ‘I’m so glad we met tonight.’
Jack stood, and Lucy heard him say, ‘We’d better get back,’ as he offered his hand to the woman.
Lucy pressed herself back into the wisteria and felt tears well up in her eyes. She was being unreasonable, she knew it. She had no right to be upset. She had no business stalking her friend through dark hotel gardens.
A trailing frond of wisteria fell across her face. Batting it away, it got stuck in her hair. She tore at it in frustration, cursing, and felt her scalp burn as she ripped at her hair.
‘For fuck’s… bloody ow!’
She could hear footsteps approaching. Rubbing at her head, she turned to head back the way she had come. As she moved, her foot caught the leg of one of the garden chairs. It crashed to the ground, the bang reverberating around the quiet gardens. Lucy tumbled after it, her bare shins hitting the chair as she fell, breaking her fall with her hands as she hit the terrace.
The woman’s voice sounded nearby. ‘What was that?’
Lucy lay still on the ground, pressing herself into the space between the wall and the tables, hoping the darkness would conceal her sprawled figure. Just a few feet from where her cheek was pressed against the flagstones, was a pair of elegant designer shoes, above which slender ankles turned into slim and shapely calves. Holding her breath, she hoped she was well enough hidden. Her shins were burning, but she didn’t dare reach down to rub them. How could she explain what she was doing stumbling about on her own just around the corner from Jack and his new companion? She couldn’t very well pop up with wisteria in her hair, limping and introduce herself.
‘Not sure,’ came Jack’s reply, just a few feet from Lucy. ‘Nothing important, I don’t think. Here, after you.’
As they walked away, Lucy heard the murmur of the woman’s voice and Jack’s deep chuckle. She lay motionless in the darkness beside the fallen chair. Rubbing at her shins, a tear ran down her face. She pulled herself to her knees and squinted over the table at the shadowy figures heading down the steps.
She could stay out here all night, she thought. In the cool and dark. What Jack got up to was none of her business, so long as it didn’t jeopardise the lie. He was, after all, a free man. Then she remembered watching Jack taking the woman’s hand, listening intently to her. A lump formed in her throat. She had to know what was going on, even if she didn’t like what she found. Clambering to her feet, she winced at the pain in her shins and hobbled down the terrace.
The staff had rolled up the ends of the marquee to let air in, and Lucy stumbled through the opening. Most people were on the dance floor, moving as one sweaty surge of bodies to Tina Turner’s Proud Mary. Alcohol-filled arms and legs struggled to keep up with the furious pace of the music, faces contorted with effort. Sophie sat with Ollie at a table, patiently feeding him cake and making him take sips of water.
There was no sign of Jack in the throng, so Lucy headed straight to the bar.
‘Double gin and tonic,’ she shouted over the music.
Maybe Jack and the woman hadn’t come back to the party. Perhaps they were still wandering the grounds, hands entwined, whispering sweet nothings to one another. Jack brushing that lustrous, dark hair away from her face, laughing at everything she said.
A hand came to rest on her waist. ‘There you are,’ Jack said, and slid in beside her.
‘Yes, here I am,’ Lucy said primly. ‘I didn’t go anywhere.’
Jack looked at her. ‘You okay?’ He reached a hand out and plucked at her head. ‘Why do you have leaves in your hair?’
‘I’m fine,’ Lucy said, gratefully accepting the ice-cold drink the barman pushed over to her.
She swatted Jack’s hand away and stomped over to the nearest table, sitting down heavily in a lavender-coloured chair.
Jack followed her and sat beside her, his brow furrowed.
‘Luce, what’s going on? Has something happened?’
He reached his hand across the table to brush hers, but she snapped her hand back and pressed it into her lap, her fingers knotting together. Jack looked confused and slowly retracted his hand.
‘You tell me,’ she said, a little too forcefully.
She took a gulp of gin and tonic and had to swallow hard to force it past the lump in her throat. Taking a breath, she said, in what she hoped was a more casual and measured tone,
‘Who was that woman you were talking to?’
Jack’s face lit up, and he smiled. Lucy clenched her teeth to stop her chin wobbling.
‘Oh,’ Jack said. ‘That was Suzy.’
‘Suzy,’ Lucy parroted.
Jack nodded, but didn’t elaborate. He watched as two of Ollie’s friends attempted to carry him around on their shoulders in some sort of victory lap.
‘Well,’ Lucy said, into the space he left. ‘You’re supposed to be my plus one, but I got stuck talking to Nanna.’
She shook her head, feeling the rapidly consumed gin taking hold, mixing with several glasses of champagne, giving her the courage to say things that were better left unsaid.
‘People will think,’ she said, swilling more gin, ‘that you’re trying to cheat on me.’
Jack was studying her face. ‘So, I can’t talk to anyone else?’
‘You weren’t just talking to her,’ Lucy muttered, the gin doing the talking now. ‘You were fawning over her. I don’t care, of course,’ her voice tremored slightly, as she waved her hand in the air, ‘do what you want. But it’s not exactly what a loving boyfriend would do. Fake boyfriend,’ she added hastily.
‘We were just talking,’ Jack said, but didn’t add what about.
His expression was unreadable as he watched her.
‘Yes, I know,’ Lucy said, flicking at some confetti on the table. ‘Talking and laughing at each other’s jokes.’
She knew she sounded petty and shrill but she couldn’t seem to stop the words tumbling out. Jack reached out and took her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles, his grip firm and warm.
‘Oh, there’s no need,’ Lucy said, snatching her hand back. ‘Everyone’s perfectly convinced we’re a happy couple. You can stop pretending now. They’re sold.’
She felt her lips twist as she spoke and wished she could take it back. He was here because of her. Helping her.
For a moment, Jack looked hurt, stared at her with a furrowed brow, a question on his lips. Then his mouth narrowed into a line and he said through gritted teeth.
‘Well, maybe there’s been a story development.’
‘Oh, really?’
‘Reaalllyy. Maybe we aren’t getting along that well. Maybe there’s trouble in paradise and our relationship is on the rocks.’
Lucy’s mouth fell open, and she couldn’t think of anything to say.
‘You’re clearly fed up with me, and I don’t much like your attitude right now. And it would hardly be out of character for either of us, would it? For it all to fall apart.’ His lip curled. ‘I don’t really do relationships, and you––’ He paused. ‘Perhaps I’ve had enough of this,’ he gestured back and forth between them, ‘and I’m looking for a way out.’
Lucy felt her eyes prick with tears. She stood up abruptly, pulled her shoulders back and struggled to control the tremor in her voice, as she said,
‘Fine. Consider this me showing you the door.’
She turned before Jack could see the look on her face.
As she made her way across the marquee, striving to keep her face composed, she passed Suzy. With freshly applied lipstick, she looked elegant and relaxed, chestnut hair sleek, as she headed into the fray.