by Shari Low
Mitchell could see that she was being truthful. He gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Don’t be, honey, it wasn’t your fault. It’s been a long time coming.’
He glanced around quickly to see if he could spot Aggs, but there was no sign of her.
‘Tell your mum I said goodbye. I’ll call you tomorrow, love.’
Thankfully, Celeste wasn’t getting very far, because she was having to excuse herself to get through groups of people all the way to the door. Following in her wake, he caught up with her just as she pulled the door open and stepped outside to see…
Ah, there was Aggs. She was standing leaning against the window, smiling as she watched a car approach from the other direction.
Maybe it was a taxi. If so, they could jump in, go home and get this whole fiasco sorted out. Time for truth. Time for decisions.
Celeste spun to the left, ignoring her former friend, clearly not interested in goodbyes. For a second, he was torn between saying goodbye and catching up with Celeste.
Aggs had now stepped forward towards the car that was slowing down as it approached her. From where he was standing, he couldn’t see who was in the vehicle, but it must be someone coming to join the party.
As he turned to follow his wife, he was struck by the thought that unlike all those years ago, this time he didn’t want to leave Aggs.
Maybe it wasn’t too late to change his mind.
27
Agnetha and Celeste – 1997
The plane had barely touched down in LA when Aggs had felt the first wave of nausea. She made it to the loos inside the terminal just in time to lose her stomach contents, then she slid down the side panel of the cubicle, crouching at the bottom, her head on her knees, her arms around her shins. God, she felt awful. It must have been something she ate at the pool. Or maybe just the anxiety about her dad. How could he have collapsed? Her dad was a big strong man, way over six feet and broad as his pizza oven. Sure, he had high blood pressure, but he took pills for that and he was fine. He was indestructible. A force of nature. The kind of man who protected everyone else. How could something awful have happened to him?
She kept telling herself that Nancy must have it wrong. Maybe he’d just slipped. Or fainted. Maybe Nancy was making it all sound so much more dramatic than it really was.
Pushing up off the floor, she went out to the basins, washed her hands and gargled with the mouthwash she always kept in the bottom of her backpack. For a moment, she thought she was going to be sick again, but she held on to the white porcelain of the sink until it passed.
Now, half an hour or so later, she’d made her way to terminal two for her flight to London, and she was sitting in a café with a cup of tea that was making her nauseous just looking at it. The prospect of food made her want to heave again, so she’d given the trays of pizzas and the rows of burgers a miss. A glance at her watch told her it was just after eight o’clock. Sixty minutes ago she should have walked down the aisle. If she squeezed her eyes tight shut, she could imagine Aaron’s face when Celeste told him what had happened. He’d be gutted, but he would understand. He was a good man, Aaron Ward. She just prayed that Celeste had got to him before he went to the chapel, because the thought of him standing at the end of an aisle, waiting for a bride that wasn’t going to show made her stomach lurch again.
Do not throw up here. Do not throw up.
She had to get a grip on this. She’d read somewhere that airlines didn’t let you travel if you were being physically sick.
Too restless to sit any longer, she pushed the cup of cold tea away and picked up her backpack. In the shopping area, she searched for a pharmacy and finally spotted one a hundred yards or so down the terminal. Walking slowly, afraid any sudden movement would make her retch, she eventually made it to the counter. ‘Anti-nausea pills please.’
‘Airsickness?’ the brusque man in the white coat asked her.
If she admitted she thought she had some kind of bug, would she get offloaded from the flight? She couldn’t risk that. She had to get home to her dad. ‘Erm, yes, I think so.’
‘Any chance you could be pregnant?’
‘No,’ she blurted automatically. Of course there wasn’t. She and Aaron had been careful and had used condoms every time. Well, almost every time. There had been one brief slip up but that was it. Nothing, really.
The pharmacist slid over a box of pills and she took it gratefully, handing over ten dollars in return.
‘Could you give me all the change in quarters please?’
She’d spotted a bank of phone booths just outside the shop and headed there with her handful of silver. Before she picked up the receiver, she popped a couple of the pills in her mouth, then washed them down with some water. Steadying herself, she inhaled, then exhaled, praying that the pills would stay down. They did.
A rummage in her bag located a matchbook she’d taken from Caesars as a memento of the trip. Aggs popped four quarters into the slot, then dialled the number that was on the matches. It was answered after one ring by a very polite receptionist who announced the name of the hotel in a sing-song voice.
Aggs forced the words out through a watery mouth. Urgh, these pills had better work soon. ‘Room 306, please.’
‘Can I ask the name of the guest you’d like to contact please?’
‘Ward. Aaron Ward.’
The receptionist appeared to approve of her answer. ‘Certainly, madam. Please hold on and I’ll connect you.’
The line went dead and for a second Aggs thought she’d been cut off, then she heard the ringtone. Closing her eyes, she could see the room they’d spent the last two glorious nights in.
More rings. Please be there.
More rings. Still no answer.
Damn. Where was he? Probably in the bar, or maybe he’d found a way to follow her and right now he was on his way back to LA. Maybe he’d hired a car. Maybe a seat had become available on a later flight. Maybe Zac had worked his magic and pulled some strings to hitch a lift for his friend on yet another celebrity jet. Wishful thinking, she knew, but she was desperate.
‘I’m sorry, madam, there’s no answer from Mr Ward’s room. Would you like to leave a message?’
She thought about it, but she wanted to speak to him in person. It was the least he deserved. Maybe Celeste would be in her room and Aaron might be there too. ‘Can you try Room 332 then please?’
‘Certainly. Can I have the name for that room too?’
It was booked under Zac’s name, but Aggs’ mind went blank. What was Zac’s surname? Crap. Shit. Bugger. She couldn’t remember. It was… it was… She remembered Celeste teasing him about the fact that it sounded like a porn star’s alias. ‘Stone! Zac Stone.’
‘Just putting you through now, madam.’
Ringing. More ringing.
Come on, Celeste. Come on.
More ringing. Damn it!
She hung up, a little too violently, and a couple of passing travellers swerved to give her a wider berth.
Maybe they’d both checked out. No, the receptionist wouldn’t have put her through if that was the case. Maybe they were in a bar somewhere. She didn’t blame them.
A thought struck her. If she’d stayed in Vegas, the wedding ceremony would be over by now and that’s exactly what she should be doing – drinking champagne in the bar with her new husband and her best friend. She briefly thought about calling his cell phone, but he’d left it in LA so that he didn’t get bothered with work calls and, besides, she didn’t know the number off by heart. It was written on a Post-it on the front of the fridge back in the LA apartment and she’d only used it a couple of times. Damn, why hadn’t she taken a note of it?
How could today have turned out like this? One of the best days of her life to one of the worst. How did that happen? And when were these pills going to kick in and take away this nausea?
She checked her watch again – half an hour until boarding for the eleven hour flight to Heathrow. She couldn’t wait that long to find
out how her dad was doing. She calculated the time difference again. It would be around four o’clock in the morning. Could she phone home now? She thought about it for a moment. If her mum answered, that meant that her dad had got home from hospital too, because there was no way that her mum would leave him there alone if it was serious. And if the panic was over, then of course her mum wouldn’t mind Aggs calling, even at this time of night. When they were younger and Celeste still lived with them, her mum had been the one who always told them to call when they were leaving a nightclub. At 3 a.m., Ella would show up, a jacket thrown on over her pyjamas, happy to pick them up because it meant they got home safe.
Aggs flipped back to the deliberation about whether or not to call. Best-case scenario, her mum answered and it was all a false alarm – in which case, she was turning around, getting on the next flight back to Vegas and marrying Aaron Ward. And if the phone rang out… She clenched her eyes shut, scared of where that option would take her. It would mean that they were still in hospital and that Nancy hadn’t overreacted at all.
Aggs pumped the phone box with at least five dollars’ worth of quarters, hoping beyond hope that she’d use them all to hear her mum’s voice telling her that her dad was fine. It would be the best five dollars she ever spent.
With shaking fingers, she dialled the country code and then the number. Just like the hotel rooms, it rang, but it was a different tone, a more familiar one.
It rang again. And again. Aggs felt the sickness welling in her throat once more. She was about to hang up when…
‘Hello?’ The voice was groggy, but, oh, the relief.
‘Mum, it’s Agnetha. Oh, Mum, I was so worried. I’m at the airp—’
‘Agnetha, it’s Nancy.’ Aggs’ world crashed. ‘Your mum asked me to stay here overnight, pet, in case you called back. She knew you’d be sick with worry.’
Her mum and dad were still at the hospital. This wasn’t good. She closed her eyes, willing herself to stay upright. When she opened them again, she could see the digits counting down on her cash. Two dollars spent already. She fired the rest of her quarters into the slot.
‘Nancy, how is my dad? Is there any news?’
She heard a sob catch in Nancy’s throat. ‘I’m going to be honest with you, pet, because your mum told me to. He’s had a stroke. They’ve got him in intensive care and they’ve stabilised him. They’ve said that he’s not out of the woods, but they’re hopeful they got him in time. They said the next twelve hours are critical. I’ve never been more scared in my life, Agnetha, it was awful. Your poor dad. He’s such a good man.’
Aggs rested her head against the cold steel of the booth, trying not to cry. She loved Nancy, but the woman could talk for weeks about her feelings if she was given any encouragement. Aggs tried to concentrate on what she needed to know before the quarters expired. ‘Did my mum ask you to tell me anything else, Nancy?’
‘Just that he’s in the best place and that you’ve not to fret. I told her you said you were coming home.’
‘I am, Nancy.’
The bing-bong of an announcement from the speakers above her made her pause, as she heard the words London and Heathrow.
‘Nancy, that’s my flight, so I have to go. Please tell my mum that I’m flying from Los Angeles to Heathrow, and then I’ll get another flight up to Glasgow. I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon and I’ll come straight to the hospital. Shit, what hospital is he in?’
‘Glasgow Central Hospital.’
‘Okay, I’ll get a taxi straight there. You try to get some sleep now and, Nancy, thank you. It was good of you to stay.’
‘I wouldn’t be anywhere else, pet. You just get home as soon as you can. I’ll tell your mum everything you’ve said, don’t you worry.’
Beep beep beep. The digital display went to zero as her money ran out.
Aggs replaced the receiver and checked the departures board. Her flight was in final boarding now, gate 10.
She took off, running, her stomach churning with every step, but she didn’t care. She had to make that flight. It was going to take her at least fourteen hours to get to the hospital, and that was only if she could get a quick connecting flight from London to Glasgow. Nancy had said that the next twelve hours were crucial.
Hang on, Dad, I’m coming. Please hang on until I get there.
She made it with minutes to spare, took deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth as the plane took off until the buildings on the ground were too small for her to see.
As the clouds enveloped her, she thought about Aaron and her sore heart chipped a little more.
Goodbye my love, she said silently. I’ll be back as soon as I can.
28
Hope
Hope swung open the hotel room door. ‘Did you come by helicopter?’ she asked her sister, genuinely fearful about how fast Maisie must have driven to get there so quickly. Her sister was a mass of wild hair and typically eccentric clothes.
‘Red lights are for losers,’ Maisie joked. At least, Hope assumed she was joking. With Maisie, you never knew. God, she was so happy that she was here. Saying goodbye to her this morning already seemed like a lifetime ago.
As Maisie passed her, Hope took in her outfit. ‘Helena Bonham Carter or Cyndi Lauper?’
‘Helena. Too much?’
‘You’re never too much. Aaron is going to love you.’ Hope was careful not to throw the ‘D’ word out there to Maisie just yet. Baby steps. Their adoptive dad had meant the world to them and she didn’t want Maisie to feel that Hope was replacing him without a second thought. This was all so much to take in. It would be understandable if Maisie was overwhelmed, especially when Hope hadn’t had time to process it all herself yet.
A few steps past the wardrobe on one side, and a bathroom on the other, and they were in the sitting room of the suite. Aaron was already on his feet and Hope felt a surge of… what was it? Pride? Joy? She wasn’t sure, but it was wonderful to see her biological father hug her adoptive sister, even if her sister then promptly burst into tears.
Hope nipped into the bathroom and retrieved some loo roll. Maisie took it with an apologetic shrug and blew her nose noisily.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Maisie laughed through the sobs. ‘I’m the dramatic one. You’re lucky you got Hope and not me. I’d be doing Insta updates every five minutes and dragging a fly-on-the-wall documentary team behind me.’
It was one of Maisie’s most endearing traits – she babbled uncontrollably when she was nervous, often complete nonsense. She once met Kate Winslet and was thrown into such a flap that she asked her where she’d bought her shoes and offered to show Kate her appendix scar.
‘No need to apologise,’ Aaron said, kindness oozing from his words. ‘There’s been a lot of that in here today.’
‘Jet lag,’ Hope told him and they both smiled. Their first father/daughter in-joke. Maisie was too busy drying her eyes to wonder what they were on about. ‘Why don’t we go and grab something to eat and we can fill you in on everything over dinner?’ Hope suggested, keen now to get going. It suddenly felt a bit overwhelming again, and she needed neutral territory and a distraction to decompress for an hour or so. And there was no greater distraction than her sister.
They opted for one of their favourite Indian restaurants, just off Charing Cross and next to the beautiful Mitchell Library. They were shown to a table straight away, and a large plate of poppadoms magically appeared in front of them. The waiter took their drinks order and left them with menus.
Now that Maisie was sitting directly across from Aaron, Hope wondered how long her sister would be able to keep it in.
‘Has anyone ever told you that you look like Tim McGraw?’ Maisie blurted. Approximately one and a half seconds was the answer to Hope’s question.
Aaron had the grace to act like the question was unexpected and Hope decided not to point out that she’d already shared Maisie’s text with him. ‘Yeah, once or twice,’ he told her, his square jaw crac
ked by a grin.
It was the perfect icebreaker.
Over the next hour, both of them piping into the conversation, they brought Maisie up to speed with the main points of discovery so far.
Maisie swooned when he described his romance with Hope’s mum, blinked back tears when Aaron revealed he’d been jilted at the altar, and listened with astonishment as they recounted how they’d tracked down Agnetha.
‘And she’s definitely not the one from Abba?’
‘Definitely not,’ Hope confirmed, then watched as Maisie tried to act as if she wasn’t gutted by this news. A bit of teasing was in order. ‘I know it’s disappointing, but try to focus on the brilliance of the fact that I found her so quickly, instead of mourning your loss of backstage passes if Abba ever get back together.’
Maisie played along. ‘It’s just such a blow. I know all the words to “Fernando”.’
To his credit, Aaron totally clicked with her sister’s sense of humour. He was genuinely interested in hearing Maisie’s story too. ‘You’ve never tried to track down your biological parents?’ he asked gently, while Maisie shredded a peshwari naan.
‘I haven’t. I guess I think…’ she paused, trying to articulate her feelings. ‘I think that if they wanted to meet me, they’d come looking. What if I find them and they want nothing to do with me? Or they’re people that I have nothing in common with except genetics? I don’t want to set myself up for a whole lot of hurt.’
Aaron listened to her carefully. ‘I completely understand that. Although, maybe there could be a reason that they haven’t sought you out. Maybe not all the facts are out there.’
It was obvious that he was alluding to his own situation and Maisie saw that immediately.
‘Why do you think Hope’s mum never told you she was pregnant?’
‘I honestly have no idea. I just wish with everything I have that she’d shared what was happening so that I could have been there for her.’
