Читать книгу Nice Day For A White Wedding - A. L. Michael - Страница 14

Chapter Three

‘Wake up, sleepyhead.’

Kit was a morning person. Which Chelsea actually loved. When she had to get up early for work. Not when she was still emotionally drained from dealing with her family.

Before she even opened her eyes, she could smell the coffee. Kit had a thing about making coffee in a cafetiere. He loved the ritual of it all. He had a posh espresso machine on the sparkling kitchen counter but he said it was too instantaneous, too easy. Good things came to those who waited for decent coffee, apparently.

‘What is this?’ Chelsea blinked a little at the sunlight streaming through the windows of the bedroom.

His smile matched the sunlight. ‘I walked down to your favourite bakery to get those almond things you like.’

He wasn’t kidding. On a tray was a pile of almond croissants dusted with sugar, a cafetiere with two mugs, a bunch of sunflowers and a Kit Kat.

Chelsea smiled at him. ‘Is it my birthday?’

‘I’ve decided I want today to be your favourite day ever,’ Kit shrugged, bouncing in that way he had, the ever-eager puppy. ‘We’ll leave for the airport in a couple of hours, okay?’

Ah. That was the Kit Kat. Chelsea had said to him years before, maybe even on their first date, that she considered a Kit Kat an essential travel item. He’d made a joke about hoping he could be essential too. And whenever they travelled, he bought her the chocolate bar.

‘Do I get to know where we’re going then?’

‘I imagine you’ll figure it out pretty quickly once we get to the airport – let’s at least try to keep some of the magic, shall we?’ Kit arched a blond eyebrow, and Chelsea huffed.

‘You know –’

‘– that you hate surprises, you really dislike being out of control and that you’re going to bear it as best you can because you love me?’

Chelsea pursed her lip, said ‘Exactly’ and took a massive bite of her croissant so she didn’t have to seem like a selfish control freak.

The day was perfectly lovely, and Kit had spared no amount of thought or expense. He’d booked a town car to the airport, which felt as luxurious as it was unnecessary.

When they got to the airport he paused in front of the check in gates.

‘All right, so I assumed by this point you’d have to know so we could check in.’ Kit shrugged boyishly, his 6’4” frame somehow unsuited to it. ‘So I’ve given you some clues.’

‘Beyond what’s up on the departures board?’ Chelsea teased, getting into the game.

‘Well, if you want to sit here and guess for half an hour, but I thought you’d want to get through the gate to have a boozy lunch in the departures lounge.’

Chelsea’s eyes widened. ‘Okay, I’ll play.’

‘You’ve never been to this place before.’

That’s not hard, Chelsea thought to herself sadly, looking at the board. She’d been to Paris, Barcelona and Rome, all with Kit. She’d been to Iceland with a friend from uni, and LA for work. She was hardly well travelled.

‘I’m gonna need another clue.’

Kit grinned at her, apparently unaware of all the other travellers walking around them to look at the departures board. ‘The most romantic city on earth.’

‘Paris?’

‘It only thinks it’s the most romantic city.’

‘Well, thanks for correcting it,’ Chelsea rolled her eyes.

‘You said you wanted to go here almost two years ago when we were talking about bucket lists and you said that you’d never trust –’

‘– something that had a public transport system dependent on water.’ Chelsea looked up at him in amazement. ‘You remember that?’

‘I always remember those tidbits about your life,’ he replied.

‘We’re going to Venice?’ Chelsea whispered, a smiled already on her face and he nodded, grinning.

‘That’s amazing!’ she laughed, throwing her arms around him, breathing him in.

‘I thought you might say that!’

‘You, Mr Christopher…you’re just a bit wonderful you know.’

‘That’s the idea, Miss Donovan.’ Chelsea’s smile held, just a little tight at the mention of her surname as he kissed her softly. The only surname he’d ever known her with, the one she’d changed as soon as she left uni, ready for a new start separate from the father in and out of prison again and again.

She held him a little closer. ‘You really are too good for me, you know.’

It felt too intimate to be throwing around those truthful words in an airport terminal. The one time she’d expressed the exact fear, the exact love she felt.

‘Sweetheart, if you knew all the ways in which you’d saved me, you’d never even think of saying that.’ He swept a piece of hair back from her face. ‘Before you, I was an arsehole. As cheesy as it is, you’ve made me a better man.’

Chelsea snorted, raising an eyebrow. ‘Well, stop improving. I can’t imagine you being any more of an angel than you are now.’

‘Then let’s hurry up and get to that kingsize bed in the hotel on the Grand Canal so I can prove you wrong.’ His blue eyes gleamed and Chelsea grinned, kissing him.

‘Sorry bub, you’re always going to be a Prince Charming, no matter how much you want to play the bad boy. Some guys are just made that way.’

She took his hand and they walked through the terminal, him taking her bag from her without a word.

‘See?’

‘You want me to stop doing all the stuff I do automatically, because it’s too nice?’ Kit laughed, head tilted as he waited for her answer.

‘No, what am I, fourteen? Bad boys have nothing on the nice guy.’ She kissed his cheek, wondering how on earth she had managed that perfect transition, from the angry girl with nothing to the one who had it all.

***

‘What happened?’ Ruby’s eyes had this way of glowering.

‘It’s nothing. I gave as good as I got.’ Chelsea stood, hand on hip as Ruby seemed to suddenly take up the doorframe. ‘You coming in or what?’

‘You’re letting the cold in! Shut the fucking door!’ her mum’s voice called from the living room over the sound of the TV blaring.

Chelsea rolled her eyes, winced, and gestured for her friend to enter. She slammed the door loudly and pounded up the stairs, Ruby following her silently.

‘So?’

Ruby closed the door behind her and leant on it, as if afraid that her friend would make a run for it. Instead, Chelsea sat in front of the mirror, gently daubing at the angry purple bruise forming around her eye, ugly and angry.

She shrugged, eyes still on the bruise. ‘Tina Davies said something about my mum, so I started something.’

‘Naaah,’ Ruby made a buzzer noise, ‘try again.’

‘Tina Davies was trying to get Johnny so I decked her.’

Ruby rolled her eyes. ‘Chels, come on. You’re not even trying to sound convincing.’

Chelsea looked past her in the mirror. ‘One of mum’s fellas was drinking in the kitchen when I came down for water at 3am. Apparently Mum hadn’t worn him out.’

Ruby shot across the room to her, reaching for her shoulder.

‘Don’t crowd me, and don’t feel sorry for me.’ Chelsea’s lips were a thin line, and she refused to make eye contact, simply looking at her own reflection, the tightly pulled back blonde hair making the purple of her skin look even more painful. She loosened the ponytail and fluffed the hair around her face, covering her cheekbone on one side.

‘This is concern, bitch.’ Ruby’s voice was stone. ‘That’s what’s happening here. Look at me.’

Chelsea could feel the fight in her friend, and she couldn’t decide whether to stay mad and aloof, or crumple and let herself be comforted. She set her jaw as she turned around.

‘Don’t you dare feel sorry for me.’

‘I don’t,’ Ruby said, ‘doesn’t mean I can’t be angry for you.’ Ruby’s eyes seemed to be hollowing her out, trying to hypnotise her. ‘Did he –’

‘No,’ Chelsea shook her head, ‘I stopped him.’

‘Hit him over the head with a bottle or something?’

‘Didn’t need to.’ Chelsea laughed hollowly. ‘The bastard tried to stick his tongue down my throat so I bit down. Hard.’ She started to giggle, a little manic, eyes blinking rapidly. ‘I bit off the fucking tip of his tongue! He ran out of there screaming!’

Ruby watched as Chelsea collapsed into giggles, holding her stomach, wheezing as she tried to breathe. Somehow the shaky gasps became sobs, tears rushing down her cheeks and Ruby collapsed onto the floor next to her.

‘You know what the worst part was?’ Chelsea hiccuped, not thinking about where his hands had been or how dark his eyes were, breathing deeply and slowly until she felt calmer.

‘Almost swallowing a bit of someone’s tongue?’ Ruby made a silly face and Chelsea snorted.

‘No. It was my mum. Once I told her what happened she said, “You can never stop competing can you? You want to take everything I have”.’

Ruby’s eyes darkened and her fingernails dug into Chelsea’s arm. ‘Bitch.’

Chelsea shrugged. ‘That’s Carly.’

‘What’s Ty say?’

‘He doesn’t know what’s going on, I just said I got drunk and walked into something,’ Chelsea shrugged. ‘The old bag next door heard me scream though, keeps looking at me in horror and giving me all her fags. It’d be sad if it weren’t so funny.’

‘I think that’s the other way round, babe.’

‘Nope.’ Chelsea’s mouth set, lips pressed together. ‘I get to decide. And I have decided that this is one more horrific fucking adventure on Chelsea’s road to awesomeness.’

‘You get to decide,’ Ruby nodded, loosening her grip, ‘but someone has to make sure there’s justice.’

‘I’m not going to the police, Ruby.’

Ruby raised an eyebrow and looked unimpressed. ‘You know me, right? And I know a very important man named Jez.’

‘Jez who runs the estate? Who keeps the gangs sorted? I don’t even want to know why you know that guy.’

Ruby grinned. ‘He’s a sweetie really. All the oldies are. London gangsters, old school. They break the legs of bad men, but they look after their women.’

‘I’m not their woman. I’m no one’s fucking woman.’ Chelsea felt the rage building up, her hands shaking from anger or shock, she wasn’t sure.

They sat in silence, Ruby waiting for an answer, waiting for permission she was sure Chelsea was too proud to give.

Suddenly Carly’s shriek of laughter cut through the house, matching the noise from the television. Chelsea’s eyes hardened.

‘Give me his name, Chelsea. That’s all you’ve got to do.’ Ruby’s eyes held hers, wincing a little at the sound of that screeching laughter, like salt in the wound.

Chelsea gave her the name.

***

The flight was easyJet, and there was something immensely comforting about that. Kit apologised, said it was the only thing he could get last minute. She stuck out her tongue and called him a snob. In retaliation he ordered a bottle of Heisdeck, which Chelsea assumed must have been one of the few times anyone did that. Why pay half the price of your flight for a bottle of Champagne to drink it from plastic cups? And who’s the snob now, she laughed to herself, and thought about what Evie and Mollie would say when she told them about this trip. They were already convinced Kit was a Disney prince, and so far he was only adding fuel to the fire.

He wasn’t perfect, he had flaws, Chelsea had to remind herself as her eyes traced his face. He was human. He…ate noodles with a fork instead of even trying chopsticks…and he always called the waiter over in restaurants if she didn’t like something, even when it made her cringe…and she couldn’t think of anything else. Maybe that would change when they moved in together. Maybe the way he hummed the tune from Oklahoma! when he used the bathroom in the morning would start to grate. Maybe him insisting on making complicated dishes each night and refusing to drink five pound bottles of wine would start to irritate her. But somehow, she couldn’t imagine him being less than perfect. Which was terrifying.

He’d asked her to move in years ago, and she was there most of the time anyway. It would be the smart thing to do. But the idea of leaving her little dingy flat with the damp walls and mismatched furniture for his modern, sleek home seemed like the final step. She’d be leaving behind the last little part of Chelsea from the estate, leaving behind the last speck of proof that she wasn’t a middle-class London executive. And she wasn’t sure she was ready to let her go just yet. She didn’t want to forget.

‘Hey, where’d you go?’ Kit looked into her eyes, his finger stroking her cheek.

‘I just feel like I’m standing on a cliff edge.’

‘The altitude?’ he frowned.

‘No. I just…’ She struggled to find the worlds and downed her glass of Champagne. ‘I just have this feeling like everything’s building up. Like everything is about to change.’

‘Change can be good,’ Kit said carefully, topping up her glass.

She smiled at him. ‘In my life, it always has been.’

He looked at her, his head cocked to the side as if he wanted to ask more, as if he was storing that nugget of information for another day.

And then the captain’s crisp voice came over the Tannoy to announce that they were about to land in Venice.

Chelsea threw herself on the kingsize bed and giggled, watching how Kit just stood there in the doorway and looked at her, a bizarre smile on his face.

‘What?’

‘It’s nice to see you relaxed, that’s all,’ he shrugged and moved to the shuttered windows and door at the end of the room, opening them and walking out onto the balcony. It looked out onto the Canal, and Chelsea joined him, slipping an arm around his waist as the plush heat of the summer afternoon soaked into their skin. They watched in silence as the boats swished through the water, the smaller ones silently gliding, the larger ones offering a low thrum of engines. Everything was vibrant and alive, there was blue everywhere and Chelsea wanted to jump in and float. She leant her head against Kit’s shoulder, wiping her forehead against his shirt.

‘Oi!’ he laughed, pulling her closer.

‘Not sorry!’ she sighed against Kit’s mouth, tasting his smile. Twenty-four hours ago she’d been anxiously getting on the train to Badgeley, prepping herself for the jibes and the screaming and the jokes at her expense. And now here she was in Venice, surprised by someone who loved her. Maybe it was time to leave the old Chelsea in Badgeley, and finally live her life.

Kit was like an excited puppy at times, which was an impressive feat for a six-foot-four lawyer who looked like a Viking.

That evening he dragged her through the city, high on everything. They skipped over bridges and tripped on cobblestones, and everything was ‘more, more, more!’ The little candles on outside tables, the greetings from hosts outside every restaurant, the fairy lights in hidden courtyards and ice cream shops offering expanses of colour – everything made him giddy. And he’d been here before, she knew, he told her about a trip to Venice with his family when he was fourteen, after he’d been kicked out of his second boarding school. Or was it the third? Something comforted her about Kit being a bit of a trouble maker at school, like her. Except in his versions it was taking someone’s dad’s Lamborghini for a drive that got him expelled. It wasn’t quite the same.

‘Baby, you’ve got to calm down,’ Chelsea laughed, pulling back on his hand to slow him from charging ahead to some restaurant he was desperate to try, ‘we’ve got a couple of days here, right? We don’t have to do everything this instant!’ He looked at her, holding her hand even more tightly. He looked like he’d been told off, a puppy who’d been tapped with the newspaper. She’d hit a nerve, and she suddenly regretted her comment. Why not let him be an excitable child for a weekend, before he went back to his high-stress job? Why did she always have to be serious, boring Chelsea?

Kit took a deep breath, shaking his head and leaning back against the stone railing as they looked out on one of the canals. The water was dark and comforting, the cobblestones lit by old-fashioned street lights, and the warmth of the evening settling around them as the smells of coffee and delicious pizzas filtered through the air.

‘You’re right,’ he said distinctively, ‘there’s only one thing I want to do tonight and I’ve been focusing on everything else! It’s not good to procrastinate, you’re always saying that, Chels.’

He was starting to babble and Chelsea frowned at him.

‘There’s just been one thing I wanted to do here.’ He grinned at her, suddenly adorable and dangerous. The same look he had when he turned up at her flat at 5am and told her they were climbing the O2 centre, or he jumped in and started jamming with a busker in Covent Garden and the whole crowd cheered for him. He was going to do something ridiculous.

And sure enough, Kit raised his arm dramatically, showing her the scenery and threw back his head.

‘Just one Cornettoooooo!’ he sang loudly, imitating the operatic style ridiculously well. ‘Give it to meeee!’

Chelsea rolled her eyes, wondering how many poor Venetians had been subjected to such terrible renditions by drunk English tourists. She felt her cheeks colour as passersby smirked, laughing at that silly Englishman. They seemed to stop and hover to look at him, forming a relaxed semi-circle.

Chelsea looked back and saw Kit kneeling on the ground at her feet. He had stopped singing and was simply staring at her, a desperately hopeful look on his face as he held out a small, velvet box. The ring was obnoxiously huge, catching the light of the shop fronts and reflecting back into her dazed eyes. Three huge circular diamonds sat in a row, and a small smile graced her lips as she remembered him buying her a necklace years before, three small drops, and she’d said, ‘I love things in threes. It’s so symbolic, past, present and future,’ and he’d nodded like he was making a mental note. And he had.

‘Say something, Chels!’ he whispered through gritted teeth.

‘You haven’t asked anything, Christopher,’ she teased.

Kit looked at the crowd, hamming it up as he grinned and projected his voice.

‘Chelsea Donovan, light of my life, centre of my universe, apple of my eye – marry me, or I shall perish here and now!’

Chelsea rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, tapping her foot as the crowds gathered to look at the silly Englishman’s idea of romance. ‘Ask properly.’

‘I love you, Chels.’ He smiled that gleaming, white smile. ‘Will you marry me or what?’

‘Yes.’ It exploded out before he could finish asking and he nodded, like he wasn’t sure she was serious.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah!’

Kit jumped up and kissed her as the crowd erupted into applause, his arms holding her tight, rocking her back and forth as she laughed against his lips. When she pulled back she felt his tears on her cheeks, and cupped his face, wiping them away.

‘You big softie!’ She kissed his cheek, feeling her own eyes water. Just a little.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur, and none of it was the painful extravagance that Chelsea had dreaded. They strolled through cobblestone streets, hands clasped, occasionally bursting into giggles. They sat in a square eating pizza, drinking Prosecco and commenting on how wonderful everything was, and how amazing their life was going to be.

They drunkenly stumbled back to their room, excitedly showing the doorman, receptionist and bellboy her ring and receiving smiles and pats on the back in return.

Finally, Chelsea collapsed on the bed, arms out like a starfish. She closed her eyes and smiled.

‘I don’t think tomorrow can beat today. Today was perfect.’

‘Well actually, I do have another question to ask you.’ Kit plonked himself on the bed next to her. ‘I mean the first one was worse, but…’

‘Oh God, what?’ Chelsea groaned dramatically, not bothering to open her eyes. ‘You’re secretly a Mormon and you’re wondering if I’m okay with sharing.’

‘No,’ he laughed, and she could feel the bed springs bounce. She opened her eyes.

‘Okay, shoot.’

‘Well, it just so happens that my parents are at their place in Garda for the summer, only a short train ride away…’

‘You want me to meet your parents,’ Chelsea said simply, feeling the fear rise from her stomach, the sparkling wine suddenly turning on her.

‘Well, you agreed to marry me,’ he shrugged, looking at her with wide, hopeful eyes, ‘it’s got to happen eventually.’

‘Does it?’ Chelsea sighed. ‘You hate your parents. I kind of thought we’d make it through to our first wedding anniversary before I had to meet them.’

Kit frowned. ‘I never said I hated them…’

Chelsea rolled over to face him and raised an eyebrow.

‘You said, and I quote, “my mother is a vindictive harpy and my father hasn’t been sober since 1993”.’

‘All said with love,’ he laughed, putting an arm around her waist and pulling her closer, till they were nose to nose. ‘Look, we’ll go, we’ll tell them we’re engaged, we’ll swim in the pool, drink their expensive Champagne, and then we’re gone!’

He kissed her neck and she could feel herself softening, the exhaustion of an exhilarating day and too much wine catching up with her.

‘Okay, we’ll drink their pool and swim in their wine, and then we’re out of there.’ She nodded sagely, then frowned. ‘Wait, where are we going after that?

‘Wherever my future wife wants.’ Kit kissed her shoulder. ‘Rome? Sicily? Leave Italy and jump over to somewhere else? Or go home and plan the wedding?’

Chelsea wrinkled her nose and made a face. ‘Rome, and then wherever you want. We’ll take turns until the holiday is up.’

‘We’ll be like backpacking teenagers, making it up as we go.’ Kit snuggled against her.

‘I never did that as a teenager,’ Chelsea sighed. ‘The idea of being out of control used to terrify me.’ And the fact that I had no money, no skills and had to work. I couldn’t gallivant around Europe cashing in my trust fund.

‘And now?’ Kit murmured sleepily against her skin.

‘Now I don’t feel scared of anything at all,’ she smiled, drifting off to sleep.

***

‘Jez has been round three times this week,’ Chelsea hissed at Ruby as she plonked herself down beside her in the form room.

‘Why?’ Ruby frowned. ‘He sorted it, didn’t he? The guy who –’

‘Yes,’ Chelsea growled through gritted teeth, looking around the room, ‘he sorted it. And now he keeps coming back.’

She looked at Ruby darkly, her overly plucked eyebrows high on her forehead. She smoothed down her high side ponytail, the dark roots almost greasy.

‘Oh. Carly.’

‘Yep. Jez is dating my mum. What’s next? The Krays turn out to be my fucking fairy godfathers?’

Ruby snorted, ‘even I’m not that good, babe. This is a gift. A gift that happened because of me, by the way.’

Chelsea’s eyes hardened. ‘None of this has been a gift. Do you even know what happened to that guy?’

‘Was it worse than someone biting off his tongue?’

Ruby’s eyes were dark, her mouth smirking with no softness around the edges. Chelsea glowered, staring straight ahead.

‘Jez being your stepdad could have a lot of advantages you know,’ Ruby laughed, ‘he’ll scare off anyone who might hurt you.’

Chelsea snorted. ‘You scare off anyone who might hurt me.’

‘Well, maybe it’ll be all happy families and he’ll make your mum a better person. Maybe he’ll end up being that dad-type person who walks you down the aisle at your wedding.’

Ruby fluttered her eyelashes, hands clasped as she stared off into the distance dreamily for a moment, the whole thing a farce. She snorted and shook her head.

‘Married?’ Chelsea hooted. ‘Who the hells shackles themselves to someone for better or worse? No one goes down with a sinking ship, babe, no matter how good a person they think they are.’

She looked old, her nose twitched up in derision, like she knew the answers about the world. She felt ancient, like she’d already seen every stupid thing that anyone could do in this stupid town. That people were essentially bad, and you just had to let it go, because they were too stupid to be better.

Ruby paused. ‘Do you wish your mum had waited for your dad? Done that whole “stand by your man” country music thing?’

Chelsea shook her head, smiling just a little. ‘The man gets arrested, gets locked up, gets out, and does it all over again. Maybe he’s happier there. Or maybe he just makes shitty decisions.’

She looked down at the scratch marks on the table, the promises of loving ‘4eva’, the ‘Tracey is a bitch’, the random phone numbers and crude drawings. Horny little stick figures that had since been scraped over in the hopes of erasing them. But you could still always see what had been underneath.

‘Either way,’ Chelsea shrugged, ‘man’s an anchor. My mum’s a bitch, but she was right to let him sink. The man invites trouble, always has.’

‘And Jez doesn’t?’ Ruby grinned, thinking about the ageing cockney gangster with the ancient trilby.

‘I think Trouble knows to only call on Jez when she’s been invited,’ Chelsea grinned and Ruby pointed, grinning, her button nose turned up in triumph.

‘I knew it! You like him!’

‘He’s sweet for a gangster,’ Chelsea said, shrugging and turning silent as the teacher walked up to the front of the room and started writing on the board. If she was going to shock them all, and get out of Badgeley in the most unbelievable way possible, she was going to have to listen.