The Wedding Countdown (22 page)

‘What the Hell’s going on?’ demands Wish, putting down his camera and striding across the library. ‘For God’s sake, Minty, I’m trying to work.’

His eyes glitter like a stormy sea. I’ve never seen Wish angry before. It’s kind of sexy.

Did I say sexy? I meant scary.

‘What’s the big deal?’ sneers Minty. ‘It’s photography, not rocket science. Anyway, if I’m not allowed to touch anything in here then I don’t see why you lot should either. Especially
her
!’ Her voice goes up several decibels when she spits this in my direction. ‘I’ve changed my mind about this fashion shoot! It’s a shitty idea! I want everyone out now!’

By this point I’m just about through with her behaviour. Doesn’t she care that Raj has spent hours working on the practicalities of this exercise or that I’ve spent ages devising the copy or Nina’s pulled out all the stops to secure Ana Pana
in the first place? And what about Wish, who’s spent days painstakingly measuring the light and working out the shots? Doesn’t she care at all?

I look at her hard beautiful face and realise she doesn’t give a toss about any of this. Someone else has touched her toys and now everyone has to pay.

I’m not having it! I’m going to give Minty a piece of my mind! I open my mouth but it appears I’m now in possession of amazing ventriloquism skills because Wish speaks instead.

‘We’ll do no such thing! Grow up, Minty! We’ve started a job and we’re bloody well going to finish it. If you don’t like it, tough. Go and sulk somewhere else before you embarrass yourself even further.’ He rakes a hand through his hair, leaving tufts standing up in outrage. ‘I’m ashamed of you.’

Everyone in the library holds their collective breath, waiting for Minty to flip because Wish has dared to yell at her – but, shock horror, she shuts up. Without so much as a peep she races from the room leaving only the wrecked library as evidence that she’s even been there.

‘My God,’ mutters Wish, more to himself than to anyone else. ‘What a performance.’ He rubs his forehead with his fist and then gives the stunned models his lopsided grin. ‘That’s the show over, folks. Shall we get on with the shoot?’

‘What a guy!’ whispers one of the models admiringly. ‘What is he doing with a bitch like that?’

I say nothing but his authority in the face of such insane rage impresses me. No doubt he’s had loads of practice.

‘I’m so sorry, m’dear,’ Lord Henry sighs. ‘Araminta has something of a temper.’

This is the understatement of the year. That girl makes the Incredible Hulk look like a study in anger management.

‘She’s not had the easiest time of it,’ he continues. ‘Which is no excuse for what she’s just done, but it does explain it.’

There’s nothing wrong with Minty that a good wallop wouldn’t have cured, in my opinion. If any of us had ever dared to speak to Daddy-
ji
like that I know for a fact that we wouldn’t have sat down for a week, and even after that we’d have needed a cushion.

‘It’s been a pleasure to meet you,’ Henry Vane says. ‘I’d be more than delighted to show you around any time that you might want to come back. Ask young Wish to drive you over sometime and I’ll show you some of the illuminated manuscripts.’

Privately thinking that a) this will send Minty into orbit and b) I’d have to return in full body armour, I make polite agreeing sounds until Lord Henry shuffles off, clutching his ruined books to his bony chest. Then I shake my head and return to the real business in hand, running around the models and racing backwards and forwards with armfuls of clothes.

And so the shoot goes ahead, albeit a bit behind schedule thanks to Minty’s hissy fit, but the preliminary shots on Wish’s laptop look amazing. After about twenty minutes Minty slinks back in and winds her arms around Wish’s neck. I try not to notice when he calls a ten-minute break and they vanish off together, and I’m (nastily) hoping he gives her the bollocking of her life and sends her on her way. But of course they return holding hands and Minty spends the next few hours draped all over Wish. Is it my imagination that whenever I approach him to discuss the lighting or one of the model’s pimples she moves even closer to him and throws undisguised evils my way? Why does she hate me so much?

I haven’t forgotten the horrible things that she said to me. The comment about not knowing where my hands had been was horrible. Should I confront her? I suppose I could but I’ve no desire to provoke another tantrum. Some of us here
are
professionals with a job to do, so I try hard to ignore my smouldering anger. I’m also furious with Wish for forgiving Minty so quickly. Didn’t he hear what she called me? Doesn’t he care?

Obviously not.

Wish and Minty are welcome to one another, I decide as I wander outside to take deep lungfuls of crisp autumnal air; I’m through with both of them.

By the mid afternoon I’m dead on my feet, having walked miles along the echoing corridors with my arms brimming with clothes, and I never want to brew another cup of tea as long as I live. The models leave amid much air-kissing and Raj and I pack the equipment away, loading up the boot of the four-by-four with twice as much stuff as I remember bringing. Just when I’m finally trying to close the boot, and looking forward to collapsing into the passenger seat and shutting my eyes, I hear the crunch of footsteps on the gravel.

‘Too late, Raj, you lazy git,’ I say, slamming the door. ‘I’ve packed it already. Just get your butt in the car and get me out of here, will you?’

‘It’s not Raj.’

I turn around and sure enough Wish stands awkwardly in the courtyard with his hands pushed deep into the pockets of his jeans and a troubled expression on his face.

‘Hey,’ he says.

‘Hey,’ I say coolly because I’m still angry.

Wish scuffs the gravel awkwardly with the toe of his biker boot. ‘I’m really sorry about earlier. Minty was out of order. She had no right to speak to you like that.’

‘You’re right.’ I raise my chin a fraction and stare straight at him. ‘She didn’t.’

Wish sighs. ‘I know what you’re thinking.’

I really hope not because I’m thinking how very let down I feel. He’s going to take her side isn’t he? He’s going to try to make excuses.

‘You think I’m going to make excuses for her,’ says Wish, ‘and you’re angry I didn’t stick up for you earlier. I’m sorry, Mills, I should have said something. I should have told her to take it back.’

My eyes almost fall out my head in shock. Since when has Wish been telepathic?

‘But how can I excuse what she said?’ he continues. ‘She was vile. Believe me, I’ve pulled her up short about it and she is sorry. I just want to apologise on her behalf and to let you know that I don’t approve of her behaviour.’

I don’t say a word; I just let him keep on talking.

‘It’s no excuse but there are things that have happened in Minty’s life that explain how she sometimes behaves. She’s desperately insecure, especially when it comes to having her father’s attention. She doesn’t mean it.’

Give me a break. He’ll be telling me next that Cruella de Vil is an animal lover.

‘She’s severely dyslexic,’ says Wish. ‘Can you imagine? All those wonderful books and she can hardly read any of them. It went undiagnosed for years. The Vanes were going to send her to a special school.’

I say nothing. Dyslexia may explain the book-flinging episode. How’s he going to explain the total bitch bit?

‘She’s desperately insecure about reading,’ continues Wish. ‘I’ve been helping her improve her reading. We’re hoping she’ll be able to sit a GCSE this summer. But seeing you discussing the books with Lord Henry sent her off the deep end. She can hardly bear to let me look at them. Try and understand it from her point of view.’

‘I’m sorry to hear about her dyslexia, I really am, but I’m not at all interested in Minty’s emotional issues. She may be your girlfriend but I’d really appreciate it if next time she could deal with them in therapy rather than by verbally assaulting me.’

‘I’ll get her to apologise to you,’ he promises. ‘Honestly, I will. She had no right to be so vicious.’

‘Forget it.’ I shrug my bag onto my shoulder. ‘There’s no point.’

‘There’s every point!’ Wish cries, reaching out and grabbing my arm. ‘You’re my friend, Mills, and I’m not going to let
anyone
put you down.’

I yank my arm back.

‘Too late, Wish. You already did.’

I turn away from him, hold my head up high and walk back towards the house. I don’t look around but I know that he stays there watching because I can feel his green-eyed gaze burning into my back. With each step that takes me further away from him I’m desperately hoping he’ll cry out for me to stop. That he’ll say he’s sorry, that he should have dragged Minty out by the roots of her blonde hair to apologise and that he should have said something earlier. But of course he doesn’t say any of this.

My eyes fill with ridiculous tears. Did I really think that a shared passion for reading and a love of comics could possibly compare with titles, money and the body of a goddess?

Until now I hadn’t even realised that I’d hoped that they could.

Chapter 21

‘Mills!’ Eve is hammering on my bedroom door. ‘What are you doing in there? Get your butt out here!’

I stare down at my bed, which is piled high with the contents of my wardrobe, and feel a growing sense of despair. There’s absolutely nothing in my collection of clothes that can turn me into a tall leggy model type. Even David Blaine would struggle to achieve that illusion. I seem to have one hundred outfits but absolutely nothing to wear. This has to be a sign I’m not meant to go to Wish’s birthday party.

I’ve been in two minds about attending. Part of me really, really wants to go but my husband-searching experiences and traumatic run-ins with unsuitable marriage material guys have taken the gloss off this highlight in the
GupShup
social calendar. Last week’s disastrous book-flinging fest still rankles too and I think I can be forgiven for not feeling my most confident at the moment. Wish has apologised over and over again but I’m still smarting.

Maybe I should forgo the party and have a hot date with my Mac instead, perusing the Matrimonials website again just in case someone halfway decent has registered his details? Time is rolling away like quicksilver and if I’m not careful I’ll be packed into economy and flying off to Islamabad before I know it.
Then
I’ll be wishing I hadn’t wasted my time going to parties but had stayed in and pressed on with the search.

‘I’m not going. I don’t feel like it.’

‘No way!’ Eve bursts in, oblivious to my being dressed only in my bra and knickers. ‘What do you mean, you don’t feel like it?’

‘I haven’t got anything to wear.’ I snatch a pashmina from the jumble sale on my bed and drape it over myself.

‘Yeah, so I see,’ snorts Eve.

‘There’s nothing I want to wear. Nothing that I look good in, anyway.’

‘Amelia Ali!’ Eve sifts through my garments. ‘I have never heard such bollocks in all my life. You’ve got more clothes than a Marks & Spencer warehouse and, anyway, you’d look good in a bin liner.’ She scoops my discarded outfits out of the way and sits down on my bed. ‘What’s this really about?’

‘Why does it have to be about anything? Maybe I just fancy a night at home?’

‘And maybe I’m giving up shopping!’ scoffs Eve. ‘You’d rather have a night in drinking cocoa and watching crap than go to Wish’s birthday party? Is this the party of the same sex-on-a-stick Wish who dropped you off here the other day? Or have I got it wrong? Are Nish, Raj and Kareena all dolled up and waiting to go to the party of some other bloke called Wish?’

I don’t say anything.

‘Are you really blowing him out on his birthday?’

I feel a twinge of guilt. I don’t want to stand Wish up on his birthday. On the other hand he’ll have plenty of people there and probably won’t even notice that I haven’t made it. Minty will be wearing some Liz Hurleyesque safety-pin dress – only minus the safety pins if I know her – and he won’t be able to tear himself away to tend to his guests.

‘I’ve got nothing to wear.’

‘Just put anything on. Here,’ Eve holds up my 7 For All Mankind jeans and a Morgan top I think I may have
accidentally
pinched from Fizz, ‘try these. It doesn’t matter what you wear as long as you make it to the party.’

This is easy for Eve to say. Her body is poured into a gorgeous Gaultier corset and practically screams ‘Touch me!’ She’s spent ages straightening her hair and it falls down her back like a platinum waterfall.

Hugh Hefner would die of joy.

‘Just go without me.’

‘No way,’ says Eve. ‘I know what this is all about, even if you won’t admit it, and there’s no way I’m going to let that bitch win. Wish wants you there.’

Would that be the same Wish who’s hardly given me the time of day since the fashion shoot? I’ve tried to put Eldred House out of my mind but sometimes the memory of the library, the secret things I told Wish and the way the air crackled between us seep into my mind like slices of sunlight through a blind. I’d been so sure there’d been something special between us, that the connection was real.

Yeah, well so much for that. My imagination is obviously so good that I’m wasted at
GupShup
. Maybe I’d be better suited to tabloid journalism?

‘You’ve been gossiping with Raj.’ I pretend to pull a loose thread from the jeans. ‘Honestly, Eve, you really should know better. He’s full of more crap than the London sewers.’

‘Just put the jeans on,’ orders Eve, who is not to be sidetracked. ‘The taxi’s arriving any minute and unless you want to go in that bra you’d better get dressed. I absolutely refuse to let you become a hermit when there’s a party to go to.’

In spite of myself I perch on the edge of the bed and slide the jeans on. 

‘Wish I was as slim as you,’ sighs Eve. ‘What I wouldn’t give to fit into those jeans. Here!’ She lobs the top at me. ‘Stick that on, do your make-up and get your arse in gear.’

I pull the top over my head. It’s little more than a froth of lace and ribbons, some gypsy-style thing that Fizz found, but it has sleeves and doesn’t show much cleavage, which must be how she persuaded Mummy-
ji
to pay for it. I think it’ll take more than a glittery pink top and designer jeans to get me in the party mood though.