Wedding Night

clarity. And the longer I sit there, the clearer things are to me. There’s a growing heaviness in my stomach. Lorcan was right. Not just now, but last night. He was right. This has all been a mistake.
    I have to give this mission up right now. It’s flashing through my brain like a TV headline.
Give up. Give up
. I can’t carry on. I can’t risk losing Lottie.
    Yes, I want to protect my little sister from the same pain I had. But it’s her life. I can’t make her choices for her. If she breaks up with Ben, so be it. If she goes through a divorce, so be it. If they’re married for seventy years and have twenty grandchildren, so be it.
    I feel as though a kind of madness has been propelling medown a crazy path. Was it really about Lottie, or was it about Daniel and me? Is Lorcan right? Has this been my own Unfortunate Choice? Oh God, what have I been
doing
?
    I’m suddenly aware that I muttered those last few words aloud. “Sorry,” I add. “I just … I realized …” I raise my head, feeling abject.
    “You’ve been doing your best to help your sister,” says Lorcan, almost kindly. “In a totally deluded, fuckwit, wrong-headed way.”
    “What—” I clap my hand to my mouth. “Oh God. What if she found out?” The thought is so horrifying, I feel almost faint. I was so determined to succeed, I never considered the downside. I’ve been an absolute fool.
    “She doesn’t need to,” says Lorcan. “Not if you turn round and go home and never say a word. I won’t tell.”
    “Nico won’t tell either. He’s my guy at the hotel.” I’m breathing hard, as though I’ve had a narrow escape. “I think I’m OK. She’ll never know.”
    “So the honeymoon-sabotage campaign is off?”
    “As of this moment.” I nod. “I’ll call Nico. He’ll be relieved.” I look at Lorcan. “I’m never going to interfere in my sister’s life again,” I say with emphasis. “Hold me to that. Hold me to my vow.”
    “It’s a deal.” He nods seriously. “And what are you going to do now?”
    I shake my head. “I don’t know. Get to the airport. Take it from there.” I tug at my sweaty hair, remembering again that I’m sitting in a steam room in my clothes. “I must look a sight.”
    “I agree,” says Lorcan seriously. “You can’t get on a plane like that. You’d better go under the cold-drench shower.”
    “The cold-drench shower?” I stare at him disbelievingly.
    “Closes up the pores. Invigorates the circulation. Gets rid of snotty tearstains.”
    He’s teasing me. I think. Is he?
    “I will if you will,” I challenge him.
    “Why not?” He shrugs. I feel a rising giggle. We
cannot
be planning to do this.
    “OK, here goes.” I push the door open and hold it politely for Lorcan. I can see the stares and nudges from hotel guests at the sight of two fully-clothed people emerging from the steam room, one in a business suit.
    “After you.” Lorcan gestures politely at the cold-drench shower. “I’ll pull the lever, if you like.”
    “Go on, then.” I start to laugh as I step underneath. A moment later a blast of freezing water descends on me, and I give a tiny scream.
    “Mummy!” A piercing voice hails me in delight. “You had a shower with your
clothes on
.” Noah is watching from the table with Richard, his face bright with disbelief.
    Lorcan takes his turn and lifts his face up to the drenching shower.
    “There,” he says to me when it’s finished. “Isn’t that refreshing? Doesn’t life seem better?” He shakes out his wet suit sleeve.
    I pause a moment, wanting to answer him honestly. “Yes,” I say at last. “Much better. Thank you.”

21

LOTTIE
    I don’t quite know how to react. Here we are. Back at the guest house. And it’s just as it was. Kind of.
    As soon as we descended from the water taxi, Ben took a call from Lorcan, which
really
annoyed me. I mean, this is our big, romantic, meaningful moment—and he takes a call. That’s like Humphrey Bogart saying, “We’ll always have— Sorry, love, just got to take this.”
    Anyway. Be positive, Lottie. Relish the moment. I’ve been thinking about this place for
fifteen years
. And here I am.
    I’m standing on the wooden jetty, waiting for waves of nostalgia and enlightenment to engulf me. I’m waiting to cry and maybe think of something poignant to say to Ben. But the weird thing is, I don’t really want to cry. I feel a bit blank.
    I can just glimpse the guest house, far above, from where I’m