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Our Wedding Night 36
It’s a game. Just a game. It doesn’t mean anything.Even so, I’m feeling more irritable by the second. Why can’t I remember this stuff? And, more to the point, why can’t Ben? Isn’t he interested in the details of my life?We’re sitting in the hotel garden with ten minutes to go before Couples’ Quiz starts, and I’ve never felt less prepared for a test in my life. Ben is lying in a hammock, drinking beer and playing some new rap song on his iPad, which really isn’t improving my mood.“Let’s go again,” I say. “And, this time, concentrate. What shampoo do I use?”“L’Oréal.”“No!”“Head and Shoulders, extra strong for monster dandruff.” He smirks. “No!” I kick him. “I told you. Kerastase. And you use Paul Mitchell.” “Do I?” he says blankly.I feel instant rage boiling up inside me. “What do you mean, ‘do I’? You told me you use Paul Mitchell! We have to be on the same page for this, Ben. If you say Paul Mitchell once, you have to stick to Paul Mitchell!”“Jesus.” Ben takes a sip of beer. “L
Our Wedding Night 37
By question eight we’ve covered season one, season two, and the Christmas special. Melissa and Matt are ten points behind, and Melissa’s looking more and more tetchy.“This can’t be true,” she says, as Ben finishes describing our “most memorable day together,” which involved an armed siege, a police chase through the Central Park Zoo, and blowing out the candles on his birthday cake in a jail cell (long story). “I dispute these answers.” She raps on the microphone as though it’s a gavel and she’s a judge. “Nobody has a life like this!”“Dirk and Sally do!” I say, trying not to giggle as I meet Ben’s eye.“Who’re Dirk and Sally?” she demands at once, looking from face to face as though we’re tricking her in some new way.“Our pet names for each other,” says Ben blandly. “And may I ask what exactly you’re suggesting? That we learned an entire set of fake answers especially for this competition? Do we look like tragic losers?”“Come on!” Her eyes spark indignantly. “Are you telling me yo
Our Wedding Night 38
“France?” I say tentatively. “A farmhouse in France?” I’ve always fantasized about moving to France. “Maybe the Dordogne, or Provence? We could do up a house, find a real project.…” “I love that idea.” Ben’s eyes are sparkling. “Find a wreck, turn it into something amazing, have friends to stay, long lazy meals—” “Exactly!” My words tumble out, mingling with his. “We’d have a great big table and wonderful fresh food, and the children would help make the salad.…” “They’d learn French too—” “How many children do you want?” My question halts the conversation for a moment. I’m holding my breath, I realize. “As many as we can,” says Ben easily. “If they all look like you, I’ll have ten!” “Maybe not ten.” I’m laughing in relief. We chime perfectly! My worries were unfounded! We’re totally on the same page when it comes to life choices. I almost want to get out my phone and start finding old French properties to drool over. “You really want to move to France?” “If there’s one thing I
Our Wedding Night 39: Fliss
There’s nothing wrong with Sofia, Bulgaria. It’s a great city. I’ve been here many times before. It boasts beautiful churches and interesting museums and an outdoor book market. However, it is not where I want to be standing at six in the evening, hot, sweaty, and harassed, waiting for my baggage at the carousel, when I should be on the Greek island of Ikonos.The only plus point of the situation: I can’t blame Daniel. Not this time. This one is firmly fate/act of God. (Thanks a lot, God. Is this because of what I said in religious studies class, age eleven? I was joking.) Although I’d actually like to blame Daniel right now. More specifically, I’d like to kick him. Failing that, I may well kick my baggage trolley.The crowd around the carousel is five deep. There are people waiting for luggage from several flights, and no one is in a good mood, least of all my fellow passengers from Flight 637 to Ikonos. Not many smiles. Not a lot of jolly banter.Sofia, bloody Bulgaria. I mean.Year
Our Wedding Night 40: Lottie
This is the perfect setting for a wedding night. I mean, our own private beach! How cool is that?We’re in a secluded little cove that you reach from the main beach over stepping stones and there’s a DO NOT DISTURB sign placed on a rock. Our two massage therapists led us here in a little procession, followed by Georgios and Hermes carrying champagne and oysters, which are waiting for us on ice. Now we’re lying on a huge double massage bed, while the two massage therapists, Angelina and Carissa, rub oil into our bodies. Billowing all around us are white curtains, so we’re totally private in our enclosure. The sky is that intense blue you only get at a certain point in the early evening, and scented candles planted in the sand are giving off a sweet aroma. Birds are swooping and calling. I can hear the tiny splash of waves on the sand, and the air has a salty tang. It’s all so scenic, I feel as though I’m in some arty pop video.Ben reaches out his hand to take mine, and I squeeze it ba
Our Wedding Night 41: Fliss
No. Nooo! What is this drivel?Ben understands me at a profound level. He thinks it’s Destiny and I do too. We’ve made so many plans for our future. He wants to do all the same things that I do. We’ll probably end up living inFrance in a gîte.…I click briskly through the next three texts with mounting dismay.… amazing atmosphere with white curtains next to the sea, and, OK, it didn’t work out, but that’s not important …… We weren’t touching but I could FEEL him, it’s like a psychic connection, you know what I mean.…… happiest I’ve ever been …They haven’t shagged, yet she’s the happiest she’s ever been. Well, if I was trying to drive them apart, I’ve squarely failed. I’ve driven them together instead. Good work, Fliss. Marvelous.“Everything OK?” says Lorcan, observing my expression.“Everything’s dandy,” I almost snarl back, and flip viciously through the leather-bound cocktail menu.My spirits have not exactly been high since the touchdown in Sofia. Now they’re plummeting to roc
Our Wedding Night 42
“Thanks.” I can’t help smiling at the compliment. Noah is bright. Although “well balanced” I’m not so sure about. Do well-balanced kids boast about their fictitious heart transplants?“He seems very happy.” Lorcan takes a handful of peanuts. “Was custody amicable?”At the word “custody,” my internal radar springs into action and I feel my heart automatically start to pound, ready for battle. My body is flooding with adrenaline. I’m fingering my memory stick nervously. I have speeches lined up in my head. Long, erudite, scathing speeches. Also: I want to punch someone.“Only, some of my friends have had fairly torrid times with custody battles,” Lorcan adds.“Right.” I’m trying to achieve composure. “Right. I bet.”Torrid? I want to exclaim. You want to hear about torrid?But at the same time Barnaby’s voice is ringing in my ears like the chime of a warning bell. You said whatever you did, you wouldn’t end up bitter.“But you haven’t suffered?” says Lorcan.“Not at all.” From nowhere,
Our Wedding Night 43
“Here we are.” A waitress appears, bearing a silver tray on which is an ice- cream sundae. “For the brave little soldier. You must be so proud,” she adds to me.Oh God. Not again. I smile back, my expression carefully vague, trying to hide my embarrassment. I have no idea where we’re heading with this. It could be heart transplant. It could be bone marrow. It could be new puppy.“Training for three hours a day!” She squeezes Noah’s shoulder. “I admire your dedication! Your son was telling me about his gymnastics,” she adds to me. “Thinking of the Olympics 2024, are you?”My smile freezes. His gymnastics? OK, I can’t put this off any longer. I’m having the Talk, right here, right now.“Thank you,” I manage. “Wonderful. Thank you so much.” As soon as the waitress has disappeared, I turn to Noah. “Darling. Listen to me. This is important. You know the difference between truth and lies, don’t you?”“Yes.” Noah nods confidently.“And you know that we mustn’t tell lies.”“Except to be polit
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