Summer Nights at the Moonlight Hotel (39 page)

‘Well,’ I shrug. ‘Edwin and Singapore turned out to be my little charade too. Part of me hoped to convince myself I
was
still mad about Edwin – it would’ve
been so much easier had I been.’ My phone beeps. ‘That could be Cate.’ I take my mobile out of my bag and read her message.

I sigh. Because, somehow, I don’t believe a word of it.

The wedding is an absolute riot. Esteban seems intent on breaking a world record in chatting up bridesmaids, before lingering on Stella’s older cousin Jasmine, who takes
one look at his biceps and seems unable to lift her tongue off the floor.

He’s not the only one who’s attracted attention today. As Will joins me, Joe and Emily on the lush terrace that runs alongside the meandering River Leven, I take a sip of champagne
and notice when most of the guests spill out of the double doors that he’s winning admiring glances from every direction. I honestly don’t think he’s even noticed though.

‘The weather’s meant to be good next week, Will. Fancy tackling Great Gable?’ Joe asks.

‘Why not,’ he answers.

‘We might even persuade Action Girl to come with us,’ Joe adds with a smirk. I realise he’s referring to me.

‘Very funny,’ I reply, feeling my cheeks heat up.

‘Hello, you lot!’ Stella heads over, sloshing champagne about so haphazardly there’s only about an inch left in her glass by the time she reaches us.

‘Stella!’ Joe says, standing up to kiss her on the cheek. ‘Congratulations. You look beautiful.’ The rest of us heartily endorse this statement, because it’s completely true, despite the fact that her tiara won’t stay on
straight.

‘Oh, I thank you, I thank you! So the burning question on my lips is this,’ she says, turning very serious. ‘What did you think of the organza chair tie-backs?’

The men look at each other blankly. ‘I made them myself,’ she adds proudly, failing to cover the slight slur in her words. ‘Seven bloody hours it took to get those bows
straight.’

The hint of a smile appears on Will’s lips. ‘Well, I can say categorically that those bows were definitely straight. That’s what I said to you, Joe, didn’t I? “Look
at the bows on these chairs. They’re sooo . . .
straight
.”’

Stella purses her lips, suppressing a giggle. ‘I hope you’re not being sarcastic.’

He laughs. ‘Congratulations, Stella. It’s been a great day.’ Then he glances self-consciously at the rest of the group and excuses himself to go to the gents.

A thought buries itself in Stella’s brow and she turns to me with a frown. ‘Where’s Cate?’

I squirm. ‘Oh, um, well . . . ’

‘She’s there,’ Emily whispers.

We all look up. Conversations are being cut short, heads are turning, and a sizeable number of guests have their eyes on our friend.

As Cate scans the crowd, searching for us, I wave to her and go to leap up before she can change her mind and dart home again.

Only before I get there, something surprising happens. She straightens her back, draws a fortifying breath into her lungs and looks, for the flicker of a moment, every bit the confident woman
she always was. Then she walks towards the guests, her head held high.

Instead of slinking away from people – people she knows could well have seen her picture – Cate does what she does best: she starts chatting. She’s making small talk with
Stella’s mum when I reach them, discussing posies and button-holes and how she’s not a fan of gypsophila as she thinks it looks dated. I join in briefly, nodding my approval about the
choice of colours, when the mother of the bride is politely swept away to take part in another family photograph.

Cate forces her mouth into another stoic smile when she sees me, then she leans in to give me a hug. ‘Hello, you.’

‘You came.’

She responds with a tight nod. ‘I did.’ Then she braces herself to add: ‘I have spent the afternoon with the police.’

‘Oh my God – really?’

‘I had to,’ she concludes. ‘You were right, Lauren. There was no other option left. I have to face the fact that everywhere I go, anywhere I go, people might have seen that
picture. And that is horrendous. But there comes a point when you have to say to yourself:
I
didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing at all. So I refuse to let my life be ruined by a
vicious little prick like Robby.’

I squeeze her arm. ‘That’s the truth.’

‘Well, I’m still dying inside just being here,’ she confesses. ‘But I won’t be bullied. Not by him and not by anyone. So if anyone here has anything to say about
the fact that they happened to see my boobs on Facebook this morning, bring it on.’

I’m about to respond when I become aware of someone tapping Cate on the shoulder. It takes me a second to place the woman, but when I do, recognition is instant: it’s the shop
assistant from the convenience store near Cate’s flat – the one with the blonde bob who froze when we went to buy wine that time. Cate’s jaw tenses.

‘Might I just say something,’ she says sternly.

‘Please,’ I leap in. ‘If you’re going to say anything detrimental about—’

‘No,’ she replies, horrified by the suggestion. ‘On the contrary. I was just going to say . . . we all know what’s happened. It must have been awful for you. But nobody
who’s worth knowing thinks any less of you.’

For a moment, Cate looks as if she might burst into tears of gratitude. Instead, she manages to mutter a thank you – or several – before the woman disappears to re-join her
husband.

Cate lifts up her glass and clinks it against mine, her lip trembling slightly as she says, ‘Amen to that.’

Then she looks up – and freezes. I follow her gaze until I see Will standing with the rest of the group again. He looks away and continues to make conversation with Joe.

‘Any bright ideas about what I say to make this right?’ Cate asks me.

For the sake of brevity, I don’t fill her in on everything I’ve been through this afternoon. But I do say simply: ‘I’d recommend starting with one word.
Sorry
’.

Stella and Mike’s first dance is the most brilliant spectacle I think I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s not just that Mike is putting on a miraculous attempt at
dancing without risking the two of them ending up face first on the starlit dance floor. It’s not just that they’re spinning round, twirling and salsa-ing like the best of them.

It’s the performance Stella puts on in order to convince Mike – and everyone else – that she had
absolutely no idea
that he’d learned to dance. She gasps, she
coos, her eyes are wide in amazement – as Mike looks thoroughly delighted at the ‘surprise’ he’s given his new wife.

I’ll be honest and say I’m amazed people are taken in by Stella’s acting job, which is hammier than a Peperami factory. But somehow they are. I can only put it down to the dim
lighting and flowing booze.

‘I think he’s pulled this off, don’t you?’ Lulu asks from the edge of the dance floor as we watch. I glance over to see if she’s being serious. She appears to be,
deadly so. ‘I’m so glad you decided not to tell Stella,’ she goes on. ‘It would’ve ruined the whole thing.’

I redden around the gills. ‘All’s well that ends well,’ I grin nervously.

Then I glance over at the corner of the room and see Cate and Will standing opposite each other, talking.

I have no idea what they’re saying. But the sparkle in Will’s eyes makes me suspect that they might just be able to have their new start, after all. He takes my friend by the hand
and leads her to the dance floor, and it’s as if the two of them were never apart.

‘Now that’s nice to see.’ I spin round and see Joe behind me. He reaches out for my hand, sending a shot of excitement through me.

‘It is,’ I agree and it strikes me that tonight, somehow,
everything
feels right. Except one thing.

As the song draws to a close, the beat of another song takes over. ‘Shall we get some air?’ I suggest.

Joe leads me outside, where we kiss under a black sky, alight with stars. And although I know it’ll kill the mood, I need to raise something now – because if I don’t,
it’ll just eat away at me. ‘Will mentioned that you were planning to leave,’ I say.

I feel him tense up. ‘Oh . . . he told you.’

‘He said you had your eye on a new venture.’ He does not reply, just looks into my eyes as my lips tremble and the warm breeze ruffles my hair.

‘At least I got a proper snog out of you, I suppose,’ I say, forcing a laugh. ‘Before you left.’

A million things are whizzing round my head, but the main one is this: I want him to say he’s not going. That he’s changed his mind. That he’s going to stay and we can make a
go of things and—

‘It
is
time for me to leave, Lauren,’ he says, as if reading my thoughts. ‘I’ve never stayed anywhere as long as here. And much as I love it, from a business
point of view, there’s nothing else around for me at the moment. I’ve looked.’

I nod. ‘I understand.’

‘Everything I can do for the Moonlight Hotel is done. I don’t
run
hotels – I set them up.’

‘You don’t have to explain,’ I whisper.

He reaches out, clutches my hand. ‘This is what I do, Lauren. But I promise you the Moonlight Hotel will be in good hands, if that’s what you’re worried about . . .’

I look at him, incredulous. ‘I’m not worried about that at all. I had no doubt about it. I just . . .’

‘What?’ he asks.

I look into his eyes and feel compelled, by alcohol or adrenalin, to confess something. ‘I’ll miss you. And I’d have loved to . . . just
be
with you. And I suppose
it’s this simple: I don’t want to lose a man I’ve kind of fallen for . . . ’ I feel a swell of emotion as reality comes crashing down on me.

‘You’ve kind of fallen for me?’

I redden and roll my eyes. ‘Don’t ask me to repeat that.’

His hand slips behind my waist and pulls me closer to him. ‘It’s OK, I won’t. But for the record, I’ve kind of fallen for you too.’

‘Have you?’

He nods. I just want – there and then – for him to kiss me and for it to never end. But he doesn’t. Instead he says: ‘Can I ask you something, Lauren?’

‘Of course.’

‘This is going to sound really sudden. Stupidly sudden. Except in my head it’s not, because it’s all I’ve thought about for the last few months – even if we only
technically got together three hours ago. I wondered if you’d consider . . . well, would you consider coming with me?’

My heart nearly stops. ‘Coming with you where?’

‘Well, that’s the thing. I haven’t decided yet. And we don’t need to go immediately, but I would like to start making plans, putting things into place.’ My head
starts spinning again. ‘There’s a place we’re looking at in Pembrokeshire, and another in Cornwall. But there’s also the possibility of somewhere further afield.’

My eyes flicker upwards. ‘Australia?’

He lets the word filter into his brain and starts laughing. ‘Well, I’ve got no experience out there, but we
have
got hotels in other countries . . . ’

‘Oh, don’t worry, I never for a second thought—’ I start to protest, feeling silly for even blurting it out.

‘Don’t apologise. It’s not beyond the realms,’ he says clearly surprising himself. ‘I think, Lauren, that you may have just planted the seed of something. Something
insane, I should add.’

Our faces are inches apart, and although there are other people milling out of the doors now, it’s just impossible to hold back from kissing him. Fortunately, he seems happy to oblige, at
least at first. Eventually, he whispers, ‘OK, I’ll do you a deal. I will give due consideration to this mad idea of yours if you do something for me.’

‘What is it?’

‘You and me. The Langdale Pikes. In two days’ time.’

I burst out laughing. ‘You want me to climb up a mountain with you?’

He nods, deadly serious. ‘Yes, I do.’

I shake my head and cover my eyes before sighing, ‘I suppose it had to happen at some point.’

Just then, the door to the balcony bursts open and Cate appears, beckoning us in. ‘What are you two doing out here? Every one of us from the salsa class is up dancing. Except
you!’

Joe squeezes my hand and says, ‘I think we need to get in there pronto.’

I giggle. ‘I think so too.’

We head through the doors and on to the dance floor, where the throb of music vibrates through my chest. Joe takes my hand and we start moving in time to the song.

‘You know I can’t do this bit where it gets to the reverse wrap,’ I protest, following his steps into a basic turn.

‘Yeah, I know,’ he replies. ‘But we’ve got to keep trying. You can’t let these things defeat you.’

‘Well, when you put it like that . . . I never have been the kind to accept defeat.’

He looks at me. ‘I noticed.’

At that, he sweeps me into an embrace and twirls me round into a series of moves that normally leave me tripping over my own feet. I don’t know why it is, but tonight, they almost
work.

The song draws to a close and another higher tempo song takes over.

Yet Joe and I ignore it.

As music and laughter and dancing and celebration clash around us, I simply sway in his arms – where I’ve never felt happier to be.

Thank you to the brilliant team at Simon & Schuster who, ten years since I signed my first publishing deal, remain not just enthusiastic champions of my books, but a
complete pleasure to work with too. Special mention must go to Clare Hey, Suzanne Baboneau, Sara-Jade Virtue, Ally Grant and Dawn Burnett – thanks so much.

Thanks also to Lulu Mitford, who made a donation to a charity that helps children with cancer in order to have her name mentioned in the book. Your generosity is hugely appreciated and I hope
my
Lulu did you proud.

Thanks, as ever, to my fabulous agent Darley Anderson, as well as Clare Wallace and Mary Darby. And to my parents Jean and Phil Wolstenholme, and my uncle Colin Wolstenholme for the
number-crunching.

Finally, thank you to the people who make my world go around when I’m not writing: my husband Mark and my three brilliant boys, Otis, Lucas and Isaac. I love you all. x