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Chapter Twenty Two

By 10 pm, the atmosphere has improved. A bit.

We’re sitting around the courtyard table, with a smorgasbord of bread, cheese and pâté, and about 16 bottles of wine. It’s getting cold, but we’ve drunk enough not to care.

And I’m feeling less self-conscious. With the help of wine, Sophie and Vix.

‘And the moral of the story is that snowflakes are not an adequate form of rehydration,’ says Vix, finishing a story about a house party in Scotland.

‘But the condensation from a cold beer bottle is OK, right?’ says JimmyJames.

‘Definitely,’ agrees Vix, leaning over to bump her fist against his.

‘We should make up a secret handshake!’ says JimmyJames.

‘Let’s not, and say we did,’ says Vix.

‘Robbie! Robbie. Robbie. Robert!’ says Dave. Robert, who is trying to talk to Bella and Ollie, ignores him. ‘Fine, ignore me. JimmyJames and Luke, what do you think about the Vegas plan?’

‘Vegas, baby,’ grins Luke. ‘Vegas!’ shouts JimmyJames.

Why is it that you mention Las Vegas to any man aged between 20 and 40 and he starts shouting ‘Vegas’ like a fratboy on spring break?

‘Aw, it’s so cute that you think you’re allowed to go to Vegas for your stag,’ says Sophie tenderly.

‘Vegas,’ whispers Dave hopefully.

I laugh, and he grins at me.

‘I’m having a low-key hen, with a fireman stripper, blow-up penises and L-plates,’ says Sophie. She’s joking, obviously. That’s her worst nightmare. She’s banned us from organising any kind of hen night.

‘Fucking hell, this wedding is just cliché after cliché,’ snaps Bella.

The table falls silent. Ollie gets up and walks inside without saying anything.

There’s a pause. Sophie stares into space. She’s pretending she’s not here. But I’m furious, and I can’t hold it in any longer. How dare Bella take her mood out on my poor sister?

‘What the fuck is your problem?’ I say. She looks at me unblinkingly, then slowly gets up and follows him inside. I shake my head to myself. What a cow.

‘Love on the rocks!’ shouts Dave. He turns to me conspiratorially. ‘It’s a Neil Diamond song. Love on the rocks, ain’t no surprise . . . pour me a drink and I’ll tell you some lies . . .’

‘Shut up, Dave,’ says Luke. He looks upset.

‘To be honest, I’m not surprised it’s not working. Bella lives in Bath, for fuck’s sake,’ says Dave amiably. ‘You know, I realised recently I don’t trust anyone who lives outside of London. In fact I don’t trust anyone who lives outside Zone 2.’

‘Then you’re a prat,’ says Vix. Dave grins at her.

The sound of angry shouting drifts from the kitchen. We all fall silent and listen, but I can’t make out any words other than ‘I’m sick of you—’ and ‘I’ve had enough of this bullshit, you never—’ and ‘I didn’t even want to—’ and then the kitchen door slams.

Sophie puts her face in her hands and starts crying. Shit. She really hates confrontation.

I quickly get up and walk over to her. ‘Honey, just ignore her. She’s a complete fucking bitch.’

‘Do you mind? She’s my sister!’ says Luke.

‘Well, get her a muzzle,’ I snap.

‘I don’t want her to come to the wedding,’ says Sophie, through her tears. ‘She’ll ruin it. I’m de-bridesmaiding her. I’d rather have Plum, anyway.’

‘Don’t talk shit!’ says Luke. ‘You do that and this wedding will implode.’

‘Fine!’ snaps Sophie through tears, and runs into the house.

Luke looks into space for a second. ‘Fuck!’ he mutters, and follows her.

There’s a very tense silence at the table again. JimmyJames and Vix start giggling slightly hysterically.

‘I love these group bonding weekends,’ says JimmyJames.

‘I think Bella and I could definitely be best friends,’ agrees Vix.

‘Bella likes drama, that’s all,’ says Dave. ‘Everyone just calm down.’

I’m biting my thumbnail worriedly. Robert looks up at me and our eyes meet. Please fix this, I think desperately. Thank God for mind reading: he nods, and turns to Vix.

‘So, Victoria, tell me more about this guy,’ says Robert quickly, pouring her another glass of wine. JimmyJames immediately starts to tease her, and the night – or what is left of it, anyway – picks up slightly.

Then Dave leans right back in his chair, his legs stretched out under the table, and our feet touch. I meet his eyes and, feeling cockier than I have all day, I don’t look away. He narrows his gaze and I can feel my heart beating in my throat for several seconds. Oh God, this is unbearable . . .

I look away.

Robert is now analysing a text from the date Vix had a few weeks ago.

‘That doesn’t mean he regrets the night,’ he says. ‘It means he regrets the hangover.’

‘Should I text him back, then?’ she says. ‘I mean, I took it as rejection, it’s been like, two weeks. What’s the statute of limitations on that stuff?’

‘You are breaking my heart, Victoria,’ says JimmyJames loudly.

She turns to him and presses her finger to her lips. ‘Shh. Let’s play a game called Shut The Fuck Up.’

‘Sounds fun! What are the rules?’ he says.

‘I’ll give you some love life advice, Victoria,’ says Dave. ‘Don’t ask what he’s doing, or what he’s thinking, or when you’ll see him next. Christ, I hate text-terrogations.’

‘Ignore him,’ says Robert to Vix.

‘I need some new friends,’ says JimmyJames. ‘You lot fight more than my parents.’

‘Do you think I should go and check on Sophie?’ I say worriedly. ‘No,’ says Robert. ‘Luke will sort it out.’

I can’t bear the squirmy feeling in my stomach any more. Combined with the wine and cheese, and the worry about Sophie, Dave’s presence is genuinely making me ill. Perhaps I should go to bed. He keeps looking at me with those laughing eyes, like he knows how much I’m attracted to him and thinks it’s just a big joke.

Then, as if he’s reading my mind, Dave meets my eye again. I hold his gaze for as long as I can, and feel my face start to boil. I will not look away first, I will not look away first . . .

‘I think we should buy more wine, don’t you, Abigail?’ he says quietly.

‘Ye-yeah,’ I stutter, and then swallow. ‘The place shuts in 20 minutes, though.’

Dave stands up. ‘Abigail and I are going to get more booze. You three hold the fort.’

I stand up and, without making eye contact with anyone, leave the courtyard.

We walk through the house and out the front door silently. I feel even more conscious of Dave’s presence than ever. I didn’t think that was possible.

We start walking slowly up the quiet, dark street towards the centre of town.

‘Don’t worry about Bella,’ says Dave after a minute or so. ‘She doesn’t mean that stuff. She’ll make it up to your sister.’

‘I hope so,’ I say honestly. ‘Sophie would never upset someone on purpose. Bella is totally out of line.’

‘Bella will feel bad tomorrow, trust me.’

‘Good,’ I say firmly.

I glance at him. He’s going to kiss me, I realise with a jolt of certainty. The only question is when.

The village shop sells everything from pâté and wine, to figurines of ice-skating teddy bears. Dave holds open the door for me and we head towards the wine section together. We don’t speak, but oh God, the pressure is ridiculous. I’m hyper-conscious of his every move.

At the cash register, I put my hand out to pay. Dave grabs it and moves it away, giving the shopkeeper money with his other hand. He keeps hold of my hand as we leave the shop.

Finally, as we reach a quiet, dark patch of street about halfway between the shop and the house, he stops walking. The cold November night is completely still.

I turn to face him, trying to look cool and detached, rather than anxious and lustful.

I wonder if you can die from sexual tension.

‘Cocky little thing, aren’t you?’ he says, very quietly.

I raise an eyebrow. ‘I’m actually quite tall.’

‘So there’s nothing going on between you and Robert?’ he says.

I don’t trust myself to speak, so I just shake my head.

Then Dave leans forward and kisses me.

And it’s a very simple kiss. No tongues, no pressure. Simply his slightly cool lips pressed against mine. But – and I am not exaggerating here, I swear – an electric jolt goes right through my body, all the way to my toes and back. I want to gasp, but my lips are busy.

This is it. This is that spark I’ve been looking for.

After what feels like an hour, but is probably only about a minute, he leans back and raises his eyebrows at me. Even in the dark, he’s so fucking good-looking, I think for the eleven-thousandth time today. ‘Well, that was unexpected, wasn’t it?’ he says.

I grin at him, and he grins back. Oh, perfect sexy smile.

We put the wine bottles down and start kissing properly. Fucking hell, I keep thinking, fucking, fucking hell, this is amazing . . . My body is a tangled mess of electrical wires. He’s not too tall, so even in flats I can kiss him perfectly.

With one hand on my neck and one around my back, Dave walks me back a couple of steps till my back is up against the side of someone’s house, his whole body pressed against mine. Good thing downtown Autignac is basically asleep at 11 pm on a Saturday night I reflect, then I get lost in the kissing again.

‘I couldn’t take the way you were looking at me any longer,’ he says at one point.

‘Me?’ I gasp back a few seconds later. ‘You were the one staring at me all day.’

‘Let’s leave the wine in the kitchen, and take this upstairs,’ he says.

‘Won’t they miss us?’ I say.

‘Of course they will,’ he says. ‘But I couldn’t give a shit. Let’s go.’