Yours Truly (34 page)

She’s right. I have to stop this.

Before I even think about it I run up towards the stage area, wobbling drunkenly along the way. When I get there I grab the abandoned microphone that Robbie was using. I tap to make sure that it’s on. It is.

Okay. I have the mi
c. I have to say something. Cripes
. Wha
t the hell am I supposed to say?

I take a deep breath.

“
Stoooooooooooop iiiiiiiiiiiiiit!
”
I bawl out into the mic with all my might. But I must be standing too close to the speakers b
ecause they suddenly emit a toe
curlingly high pitched screech.

Feedback. Oh dear. I hurtle, with the mic, to the other side of the stage area, but it doesn’t make a difference. The noise just keeps on wailing out, setting my teeth on edge and making the hairs on my arms stand up.

It stops the fight, though, because Riley and Jasper pull apart, primitive
instincts telling them that their hands would be better used protecting their ears than throwing punches at each other. The rest of the villagers do the same, grimacing at the noise and covering their ears, all of them looking up to see who is making such a racket.

“
Sorry!
”
I say into the mic, causing it to screech again. I swallow hard and fumble for an off switch. I can’t find one!

A chorus of jeers and shouts come from the locals, all them staring at me like I’m really stupid, which I obviously am. I sway to the side and try to keep my focus. Bloody hell. I didn't realise how drunk I was.

Then, to my horror I hear a few of the crowd start to ask me what the hell I’m doing? What is wrong with me? Why does the microphone keep making horrible noises?

The copious amount of alcohol combined with all of the questions produces the biggest, fizziest urge in my tummy. I notice Robbie out of the corner of my eye, hurrying forward and fiddling with dials on the PA system trying to stop the feedback.

I bring the mic up to my mouth, unable to help but answer the questions.

“
What am I doing, you ask me? I'm trying to stop these boys fighting before they cause each other serious, deathly injury. What is wrong with me? Well, many of you already know that I was hypnotised by
your neighbour, Amazing Brian.
”
I spit his name out and shake my head sadly. The room spins a little in front of me.

“
Since then many things have gone wrong. My wedding has been called off, I argued with everyone I love and my boss thinks I'm on drugs. Then to make things worse
,
you
-
”
I jab my finger in the vague direction of Barney Braithwaite,
“
-
you lied to me and said you were going to help me. You're a mean, mean man. And your comb over looks stupid. Why on earth would you let everyone know how much I wanted to sexually act out with Riley Harrington?
Can you imagine what AAAARGH!
”

Out of nowhere someone leaps onto me and pushes me over. The microphone rolls away from me and off the stage. I scrape my knee.

What the fuck?

“
Sorry, s
is.
”

It's Dionne. She's lying at t
he side of me, breathing hard.
“
I had to dive on you. It was the only way to, like, stop you talking. You were making a fool of yourself!
”

I look up into the crowd and see Uncle Alan and Liam the hairy bass playing nurse escorting Jasper out of the barn. The rest of them are peering up at the stage trying to figure out what's happening. I try to spot Riley, but he's nowhere to be seen. He must have left.

Shit.

“
Natalie! Oh my God.
Are you okay?
”

It's Meg. She's climbed up onto the stage.

“
Yeah. I'm fine. So fine
. Ha. That was funny wasn't it?
”

“
How much have you had to drink?
”
she asks, while Dionne helps me up onto my feet.

“
Dunno. Possibly a lot. Cups upon cups of wine, I think. I didn't mean to kiss Jasper. I mean.
He kissed -
”

“
Shhh
. It's fine.
”
Meg br
ushes the hair out of my face.
“
It's all fine.
”
She makes a weird face at Dionne and together they help me down from the stage area.

The three of us walk across the barn. I’m sure that everyone is looking at us as we go, but I don't care.

I'm so drunk.

Out in the tent, Dionne helps me on with my coat while Meg replaces my high heels with the sensible wellies.

“
What a palaver!
”
Dionne exclaims, linking my arm into hers.

“
I know,
”
Meg
says, linking the other side.
“
T
ime for bed, I reckon.
”

Yes. Definitely time for bed.

TEXT FROM MUM:

Irene from the shop said you were on YouTube. I looked and there you were. What are you playing at? Turn your ruddy phone on.

I awaken with a start, the pervading thought in my head that I must have fluids right now or else I will crumble and die a dry and dusty death. I reach across the bedside table for some water, but there is none. Fancy drinking that much booze and not taking a glass of water to bed.

I rub my eyes and peer at the plastic clock beside me. Oh hello four am, you cruel bastard. I sit up in the bed, expecting a headache of monster proportion
s. It doesn’t come. I do a half
-hearted air punch of joy, but then it occurs to me that I’m probably still a bit drunk.

I need water. No. I need coke. Full fat coke, with ice and lemons. And food. I’m starving. I rub my belly. I’m so hungry. Have I
ever
been this hungry before?

I really don’t want to get out of this snugly warm cocoon, foraging for sustenance in the dark, but I know that there’s no way my body is going to allow me to get back to sleep without it.

I scramble out of the bed, reluctantly. Shit, it’s freezing. I shiver making an actual
“
Brrrr
”
sound for the purpose of feeling sorry for myself. Looking down and noticing that I’m wearing one of Meg’s skimpy, frilly nightie affairs, I grab the duvet from the bed and wrap it around me tightly, tucking it in under my chin.

Slightly wonkily I creep across the room and out into the corridor.

It’s dark and deadly quiet. I try to avoid the creaks in the floorboard while making my way to the kitchen, all the while thinking about what food I’m going to eat when I get there.

Bacon. Definitely bacon. A massive salty smoked bacon sandwich with a ton of red sauce. Or brown sauce. Maybe one of each!

Coke. Lots of coke. I’m so thirsty!

Actually… not bacon.

I know! I’ll make some mashed potato. All creamy and buttery and carby and with cheese and fresh chives mixed in. That will so make me feel better. Man, I’m ravenous.

I get to the kitchen, pushing open the door slowly so that the old wood doesn’t creak and I
don’t
end up getting discovered looking like a still tipsy lunatic in a too short nightie and wrapped in a blanket that belongs in the nineteen seventies.

My slow door opening doesn’t matter much though. Because someone is already in the kitchen.

Of course.

It’s Riley.

He’s sat at the kitchen, cast in the moody shadows of a couple of candles and holding a bag of something frozen to his cheek.

Maaaaaan.

I take a few steps backwards, figuring that I’d rather die from lack of fuel than embarrass myself in front of him again. But it’s just my luck that while managing to avoid all the creaky floorboards on my way here, sods law ensures that right now I step onto what must be the loudest, creakiest bit of floor in the whole building.

I jump back as I hear Riley's chair scrape back across the floor. And then footsteps coming towards me. He's coming to investigate the noise.

Shit. If I run back to my room he’ll just follow and see me lumbering down the corridor. He’ll probably think I was spying on him.

I have no other choice but to give myself up.

“
Hello there,
”
I say, walking into the kitchen, the duvet positioned carefully to protect my modesty of which there is very little in the teensy nightie.
“
It‘s only me, just creeping around your house in the middle of the
night! Quick! Hide the silver!
”

He doesn’t laugh. I wouldn’t have done either.
“
Sorry,
”
I try again.
“
I’ve just come to get a drink, really.
”

Riley nods, gesturing for me to sit down.
“
I’ll get it.
”

“
Thanks,
”
I say taking a seat at the table and enjoying the delicious heat bursting out from the Aga.
“
Um, Coca Cola please. With ice. And, um, lemon.
”

He raises his sandy eyebrows at me, before taking a bottle of coke out of the fridge, pouring some into a glass and adding a load of crushed ice.

I can feel my mouth watering. He hands me the glass and I down it in one. Oh sweet, sweet cola.

“
Another?
”
he asks when I’m done. I nod, discreetly wiping the drops of coke currently making
their
way down my chin. Super classy.

“
Thanks. I’m dehydrated, I think. How’s your cheek?
”

I notice that the space under Riley’s eye is coloured with a deep purple bruise. Wow, Jasper must have really swung for him.

“
It’s fine.
”

I feel guilty, like it’s my fault. But I know it’s not. Not really. From what I can gather, the pair of them have been building up to fisticuffs for years. I just don’t understand why it was me who ended up as the catalyst. Unless… unless Riley was jealous? No. Of course not. He just didn’t like Jasper being there. Telling me about his private business.

I finish my drink and decide I should probably leave Riley to it; he’s obviously not in a very good mood. And I’m probably the last person he wants to see
right now. Sexed up, truth-
telling, secret blabbing fight starter that I am. But…
the thing is…
I’m still really hungry. I'm starving. But it somehow doesn’t feel like the right thing to do to start flouncing around in Riley’s kitchen cooking mashed potato, when he is so clearly fed up.

Riley is sat on the table top pressing the freezer bag back against his cheek. I peer closer. It’s a bag of frozen raspberries.

“
Peas,
”
I say suddenly.

“
Excuse me?
”
Riley says.

“
You need frozen peas.
”

I stalk over to the freezer and pull it open. I route around until I find a full bag of petit pois.

“
I think the point is that it’s something frozen,
”
Riley says a tad grumpily.

“
Nope,
”
I say, switching his raspberries for the peas.
“
Peas are the thing. That’s what they always tell you to use. Like, on the telly and in the movies. Probably even says peas on the
NHS D
irect website.
”

Riley shrugs and then stiffens as I press the peas to his cheek.

I can see a ghost of a smile play around his mouth.
“
Ah yes,
”
he says.
“
That’s much better. Magic, medicinal peas.
”

I adopt a serious expression and nod as if I am the font of all medical knowledge. He lifts his hand and places it over mine so that both of us are holding the peas to his cheek.

The touch of his warm hand over my cold one sends a bolt of desire straight through me. I think I actually jump slightly with the power of it.

How drunk am I still?

My heart starts to beat loudly in my chest.

Shut up, heart.

I sneak a peek at Riley, mortified that he can probably hear it thumping away. I think he can hear it because he’s looking at me with a very peculiar expression on his face.