My Fake Wedding(132)

‘No regrets?’

‘None,’ I say truthfully. ‘I was helping a friend. Two friends I just wanted to make happy. They do love each other, you know.’

‘I know,’ Sam says. ‘I’m sorry things have turned out the way they have. Between us, I mean.’

‘I know.’

‘Do you think we can still be friends?’

‘I hope so.’

‘Would you like to?’

Slowly, from somewhere deep inside, I manage a small smile.

‘Yes,’ I answer truthfully. ‘We don’t exactly have any choice, do we? We’re going to be related. Remember?’

‘Oh yeah.’ He smiles ruefully. ‘You’ll be my sister.’

‘So it’s probably just as well we didn’t, you know…’

‘I know.’ He gives me a hug. A brotherly one this time. And I feel a twinge of regret.

But only a very tiny one.

‘Bye for now,’ I say, trying to be brave. ‘Perhaps we can go for a drink when it’s all a bit…you know.’

‘I know.’

It’s weird, making my way home alone from my own wedding. I’m just about to climb into a cab at Kew Bridge when I hear running behind me.

Sam.

‘Can I keep you company?’ he asks. ‘This evening, I mean?’

‘I don’t know.’ I shake my head. ‘I’m not sure…’

‘Please?’

‘OK.’

When we get home, I feel strangely flat. All I want is a hot bath and bed.

‘Will you feed Graham and Shish for me?’

‘Sure.’

I don’t particularly want the bath for the bath’s sake. I just feel the need to get away from Sam. I’m confused. Why is he here? And where’s Pussy?

God, this hurts too much.

OK, so we’re friends again. And I’m glad. Really glad. We’ve known each other for ever. I would have hated to lose him.

But how long is it going to take? Getting over him, I mean.

And how will I manage to be a good sister to someone I’m head over heels in love with?

Especially when I’m going to have to watch him and Pussy being so bloody happy together.

I lie back in a mound of patchouli-scented bubbles, glancing down at my white gold wedding ring with a wry smile. George insisted that I wasn’t to have gold, because it would look common.

I close my eyes, sinking underneath the surface to scrub away the rigours of the day.

Suddenly, as if from nowhere, I’m being pelted with stones.

‘What the fuck?’

I come spluttering and coughing to the surface.

‘What…’

Sam is climbing into the bath with all his clothes on.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’

‘I’m taking the tap end. What does it look like?’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Don’t you?’ he says gently, sitting down suddenly so that water slops all over the side of the bath and onto the floor.

‘And what’s this?’ I feel underneath my right buttock to see what’s digging into it. ‘It bloody hurts. Why are you throwing stones into the bath?’

And then, with a tiny flutter inside, I realise that it isn’t a stone.

It’s a jelly bean.

A red jelly bean.

And there are packets of Brannigans crisps all over the floor of the bathroom.

‘I love you, Katie,’ says Sam, looking utterly ridiculous in his black Diesel jacket, sitting in a full bath, stinking of patchouli and surrounded by floating, brightly-coloured sweets. ‘You can make me take the tap end as often as you like and I’ll still love you.’

‘But you’re still marrying Pussy.’

‘Whatever gave you that idea?’

‘I came to see you. And she was there. Moving all her stuff in.’

‘Dope.’ He flicks a mound of bubbles at my nose. ‘She was moving it out. I gave her my keys because I wanted her to remove the rest of her things from my property. She had loads of stuff just lying around.’

‘So she made it up?’ I ask, my heart suddenly lifting.

‘Of course she did,’ he says. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t twig. You know what she’s capable of.’

‘So why didn’t you come to the wedding?’

‘I didn’t want to stop you from doing whatever it was you wanted to do. And it doesn’t matter. You being married to David, I mean.’

‘Honestly?’

‘Honestly. I thought it would but it doesn’t. All that matters is that I love you. Married or not. I mean, it’s not as though you’re married in the true sense of the word, is it?’

‘Well…’ I begin, then seeing his face I start laughing. ‘I’m joking.’