Chelsea let herself into her brightly lit but undeniably cramped studio, stopping to water the sad spider plant by the door and dump the bundle of letters and adverts from her mum’s on the side. She pulled out a few slim-fit dresses and wrapped them in tissue paper, then haphazardly threw in some jeans, tank tops and cardigans. She fished out a bikini, her very favourite white dress with the roses printed on it, and a pair of strappy heels, just in case. She didn’t like not being able to make her methodical lists, but she had to admit, every other time Kit had whisked her away it had been worth it. If she had to trust someone to take control, Kit was the one who could do it. Even if he had to wrestle it from her stiff, cramped fingers.
Chelsea dumped the entirety of her make-up bag into her suitcase (a small leather wheel along that Kit had bought her for the surprise trip to Spain for their first anniversary) along with shoes, and a light coat.
Chelsea normally took care of her clothes, not forgetting that she’d once never even dreamed she might own things that could cost so much. Fifty pounds on a pair of trousers? Teenage Chelsea would have smirked, ‘What, have they got no personality?’
She bundled the case down the stairs and Kit came out to help load it into the car, ever the gentleman. The man couldn’t help but be a cliché sometimes.
‘A woman who packs light, and packs quickly,’ he exclaimed, slamming the boot of the car and enveloping her in his arms. He always smelled spicy, clean like soap but with some masculine undertone she could never distinguish. He smelled like Kit, and that scent was both a turn on and a comfort.
‘Have I mentioned that I missed you?’ His lips captured hers, soft and full as his hands roamed her back, pulling her closer. A passing car honked at them, and Chelsea pulled back laughing, a blush on her cheeks.
‘You might have brought it up,’ she laughed, stepping away to get into the car.
‘You haven’t.’ He wiggled his eyebrows. ‘Didn’t you miss my various charms?’
‘I always miss your charms, darling, it’s the dirty clothes on the floor every time I come round that I could do without.’
‘You know I’d never leave my clothes on the floor,’ he gasped dramatically, jumping into the car. It was true, the man was a neat freak. He had a cleaner, Helena, come in once a week to re-clean what he’d already done, and iron his shirts for him. He tried, but never managed to get it right, so admitted it was better to ‘just throw money at the problem’. It made Chelsea uncomfortable in a way she couldn’t identify.
Maybe because his flat always seemed so clinical, she thought as they arrived at his bachelor pad a few moments later. It was only twenty minutes’ walk away, a walk in the park for two twenty-somethings who had just realised they were crazy about each other. She’d walked over to his so many times in those first few weeks, excited and hesitant, wondering what his place would look like, then where this was going, what it meant. She’d been shocked the first time she’d seen Kit’s place. A penthouse that seemed so typically masculine and modern, all black shiny surfaces and oversized technology.
Now she stayed quite often, because it was more spacious and comfortable than hers, and easier to get to work in the morning but almost everything about it screamed ‘rich pretty boy’. Sometimes she imagined seeing it through Tyler’s eyes and she knew he’d just roll his eyes and mutter ‘rich prick’. Some days even the ice machine in the fridge seemed to mock her, or the underfloor heating, or the remote control blinds. Here was a man who’d never had to huddle up with his siblings, wearing all his clothes, squished up under their duvets because the heating hadn’t been paid again.
‘Home sweet home,’ Kit said, putting her bag by the door and running a thumb down her arm, switching on the air conditioning. ‘Wine?’
‘Tea,’ she smiled, ‘it’s been a long day.’
Kit looked at her, scanning her face for a trace of something, his eyes soft and concerned.
‘How was the birthday boy?’
‘Thrilled with his presents, the trainers especially.’ Chelsea smiled her brightest smile, her I’m okay, really smile, and Kit nodded in that small way he had, like he was telling you he accepted that you didn’t want to talk about something. It was one of her favourite things about Kit, he didn’t push.
His blue eyes held hers for a fraction longer, then he simply kissed her cheek and went to put the kettle on.
The rest of the evening passed exactly as Chelsea wanted, cuddled up on the sofa, a comedian spouting rubbish on the TV as she laughed into Kit’s chest and tried not to hold his arm too hard.
Some days it seemed like she was desperately clinging to him, holding on as tight as she could without cutting off circulation. Kit seemed to sense these moments, usually after visiting her family, and held her a little tighter, rocking her slightly against his chest. He knew she liked to be quiet at times like that.
His soft eyes held hers that night in bed, as she looked at him, saying nothing, trying to convey in that small smile that she was grateful for him, for his patience and understanding when she retreated into herself.
She watched as he closed his eyes, smiling as he yawned and snuggled into the pillow. She always thought at times like this, of Kit’s offhand comment, a few months into their relationship: ‘You’re hard to get to know, but it’s okay because you’re very easy to love.’
So far he had been happy just to love her, but Chelsea wondered how much longer it would be until he wanted more.
***
‘It’s all about confidence,’ Ruby said as they walked down the high street, ‘start small, smile, and try to be invisible.’
‘You could never be invisible,’ Chelsea snorted, looking at her beautiful friend with the red hair, wearing their pathetic school uniform, the checked skirt clashing horribly with her Titian curls.
‘Watch me.’ She pulled the sides of her hair back, and pulled on a pair of badly fitting reading glasses.
‘Where did you –’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ she grinned, slipping her arm through the crook of Chelsea’s elbow, ‘watch and learn.’ She seemed to suddenly become an airhead the minute they walked into the shop, chatting away laughably about some imaginary boyfriend and the troubles she was having. Chelsea nodded along, watching warily as the security guard walked past them.
Ruby’s sleight of hand was on a par with any magician. One minute she was holding a nail polish, the next it was gone, dropped in her pocket. She alternated, picking up and putting things back, getting more animated as she kept her back to the security guard.
She smiled, shrugged, and said, ‘Shall we try somewhere else? I need to find a dress for Gaby’s party.’
Chelsea shrugged, and they walked along at a leisurely pace until they left the shop, the security guard not even giving them a second glance.
When they reached the bus stop, Ruby emptied her pockets, revealing lipsticks, hair ties, necklaces as well as even more random objects that Chelsea hadn’t even noticed in the shop – pens, paperclips, hand sanitiser.
‘What’s the point though? We don’t need half of this stuff.’ Chelsea shrugged, her fingers gripping the baby pink nail polish a little too tightly.
Ruby looked at her, eyes serious and dark. ‘Babe, we are starting this race at a disadvantage. I’m just evening out the playing field.’
‘What race?’
‘Life.’ A small smile played about Ruby’s lips. ‘You want to do something fabulous? You want to dance on a stage and play the diva and drink Champagne for breakfast one day? Everyone else has got something on us. They’ve got a name, or education, or the Bank of Mummy and Daddy. We deserve a leg up.’
‘And stealing some cheap crap is going to help us how?’
Ruby rolled her eyes. ‘Okay, say you’ve got a job interview, and you need a shirt. Say you need to do a class that needs materials. We deserve a little help.’
Chelsea knew it wasn’t right, but something about it felt right. They did need help. They were at a disadvantage
. And who was going to help them, two girls from the estate? What hope did they have for a life that was more than what everyone else got in Badgeley?
‘Life skills, babe,’ Ruby nodded certainly, pulling her hair free and taking off the ridiculous glasses. ‘Your education begins.’
Chapter Three
‘Wake up, sleepyhead.’
Kit was a morning person. Which Chelsea actually loved. When she had to get up early for work. Not when she was still emotionally drained from dealing with her family.
Before she even opened her eyes, she could smell the coffee. Kit had a thing about making coffee in a cafetiere. He loved the ritual of it all. He had a posh espresso machine on the sparkling kitchen counter but he said it was too instantaneous, too easy. Good things came to those who waited for decent coffee, apparently.
‘What is this?’ Chelsea blinked a little at the sunlight streaming through the windows of the bedroom.
His smile matched the sunlight. ‘I walked down to your favourite bakery to get those almond things you like.’
He wasn’t kidding. On a tray was a pile of almond croissants dusted with sugar, a cafetiere with two mugs, a bunch of sunflowers and a Kit Kat.
Chelsea smiled at him. ‘Is it my birthday?’
‘I’ve decided I want today to be your favourite day ever,’ Kit shrugged, bouncing in that way he had, the ever-eager puppy. ‘We’ll leave for the airport in a couple of hours, okay?’
Ah. That was the Kit Kat. Chelsea had said to him years before, maybe even on their first date, that she considered a Kit Kat an essential travel item. He’d made a joke about hoping he could be essential too. And whenever they travelled, he bought her the chocolate bar.
‘Do I get to know where we’re going then?’
‘I imagine you’ll figure it out pretty quickly once we get to the airport – let’s at least try to keep some of the magic, shall we?’ Kit arched a blond eyebrow, and Chelsea huffed.
‘You know –’
‘– that you hate surprises, you really dislike being out of control and that you’re going to bear it as best you can because you love me?’
Chelsea pursed her lip, said ‘Exactly’ and took a massive bite of her croissant so she didn’t have to seem like a selfish control freak.
The day was perfectly lovely, and Kit had spared no amount of thought or expense. He’d booked a town car to the airport, which felt as luxurious as it was unnecessary.
When they got to the airport he paused in front of the check in gates.
‘All right, so I assumed by this point you’d have to know so we could check in.’ Kit shrugged boyishly, his 6’4” frame somehow unsuited to it. ‘So I’ve given you some clues.’
‘Beyond what’s up on the departures board?’ Chelsea teased, getting into the game.
‘Well, if you want to sit here and guess for half an hour, but I thought you’d want to get through the gate to have a boozy lunch in the departures lounge.’
Chelsea’s eyes widened. ‘Okay, I’ll play.’
‘You’ve never been to this place before.’
That’s not hard, Chelsea thought to herself sadly, looking at the board. She’d been to Paris, Barcelona and Rome, all with Kit. She’d been to Iceland with a friend from uni, and LA for work. She was hardly well travelled.
‘I’m gonna need another clue.’
Kit grinned at her, apparently unaware of all the other travellers walking around them to look at the departures board. ‘The most romantic city on earth.’
‘Paris?’
‘It only thinks it’s the most romantic city.’
‘Well, thanks for correcting it,’ Chelsea rolled her eyes.
‘You said you wanted to go here almost two years ago when we were talking about bucket lists and you said that you’d never trust –’
‘– something that had a public transport system dependent on water.’ Chelsea looked up at him in amazement. ‘You remember that?’
‘I always remember those tidbits about your life,’ he replied.
‘We’re going to Venice?’ Chelsea whispered, a smiled already on her face and he nodded, grinning.
‘That’s amazing!’ she laughed, throwing her arms around him, breathing him in.
‘I thought you might say that!’
‘You, Mr Christopher…you’re just a bit wonderful you know.’
‘That’s the idea, Miss Donovan.’ Chelsea’s smile held, just a little tight at the mention of her surname as he kissed her softly. The only surname he’d ever known her with, the one she’d changed as soon as she left uni, ready for a new start separate from the father in and out of prison again and again.
She held him a little closer. ‘You really are too good for me, you know.’
It felt too intimate to be throwing around those truthful words in an airport terminal. The one time she’d expressed the exact fear, the exact love she felt.
‘Sweetheart, if you knew all the ways in which you’d saved me, you’d never even think of saying that.’ He swept a piece of hair back from her face. ‘Before you, I was an arsehole. As cheesy as it is, you’ve made me a better man.’
Chelsea snorted, raising an eyebrow. ‘Well, stop improving. I can’t imagine you being any more of an angel than you are now.’
‘Then let’s hurry up and get to that kingsize bed in the hotel on the Grand Canal so I can prove you wrong.’ His blue eyes gleamed and Chelsea grinned, kissing him.
‘Sorry bub, you’re always going to be a Prince Charming, no matter how much you want to play the bad boy. Some guys are just made that way.’
She took his hand and they walked through the terminal, him taking her bag from her without a word.
‘See?’
‘You want me to stop doing all the stuff I do automatically, because it’s too nice?’ Kit laughed, head tilted as he waited for her answer.
‘No, what am I, fourteen? Bad boys have nothing on the nice guy.’ She kissed his cheek, wondering how on earth she had managed that perfect transition, from the angry girl with nothing to the one who had it all.
***
‘What happened?’ Ruby’s eyes had this way of glowering.
‘It’s nothing. I gave as good as I got.’ Chelsea stood, hand on hip as Ruby seemed to suddenly take up the doorframe. ‘You coming in or what?’
‘You’re letting the cold in! Shut the fucking door!’ her mum’s voice called from the living room over the sound of the TV blaring.
Chelsea rolled her eyes, winced, and gestured for her friend to enter. She slammed the door loudly and pounded up the stairs, Ruby following her silently.
‘So?’
Ruby closed the door behind her and leant on it, as if afraid that her friend would make a run for it. Instead, Chelsea sat in front of the mirror, gently daubing at the angry purple bruise forming around her eye, ugly and angry.
She shrugged, eyes still on the bruise. ‘Tina Davies said something about my mum, so I started something.’
‘Naaah,’ Ruby made a buzzer noise, ‘try again.’
‘Tina Davies was trying to get Johnny so I decked her.’
Ruby rolled her eyes. ‘Chels, come on. You’re not even trying to sound convincing.’
Chelsea looked past her in the mirror. ‘One of mum’s fellas was drinking in the kitchen when I came down for water at 3am. Apparently Mum hadn’t worn him out.’
Ruby shot across the room to her, reaching for her shoulder.
‘Don’t crowd me, and don’t feel sorry for me.’ Chelsea’s lips were a thin line, and she refused to make eye contact, simply looking at her own reflection, the tightly pulled back blonde hair making the purple of her skin look even more painful. She loosened the ponytail and fluffed the hair around her face, covering her cheekbone on one side.
‘This is concern, bitch.’ Ruby’s voice was stone. ‘That’s what’s happening here. Look at me.’
Chelsea could feel the fight in her friend, and she couldn’t decide whether to stay mad and
aloof, or crumple and let herself be comforted. She set her jaw as she turned around.
‘Don’t you dare feel sorry for me.’
‘I don’t,’ Ruby said, ‘doesn’t mean I can’t be angry for you.’ Ruby’s eyes seemed to be hollowing her out, trying to hypnotise her. ‘Did he –’
‘No,’ Chelsea shook her head, ‘I stopped him.’
‘Hit him over the head with a bottle or something?’
‘Didn’t need to.’ Chelsea laughed hollowly. ‘The bastard tried to stick his tongue down my throat so I bit down. Hard.’ She started to giggle, a little manic, eyes blinking rapidly. ‘I bit off the fucking tip of his tongue! He ran out of there screaming!’
Ruby watched as Chelsea collapsed into giggles, holding her stomach, wheezing as she tried to breathe. Somehow the shaky gasps became sobs, tears rushing down her cheeks and Ruby collapsed onto the floor next to her.
‘You know what the worst part was?’ Chelsea hiccuped, not thinking about where his hands had been or how dark his eyes were, breathing deeply and slowly until she felt calmer.
‘Almost swallowing a bit of someone’s tongue?’ Ruby made a silly face and Chelsea snorted.
‘No. It was my mum. Once I told her what happened she said, “You can never stop competing can you? You want to take everything I have”.’
Ruby’s eyes darkened and her fingernails dug into Chelsea’s arm. ‘Bitch.’
Chelsea shrugged. ‘That’s Carly.’
‘What’s Ty say?’
‘He doesn’t know what’s going on, I just said I got drunk and walked into something,’ Chelsea shrugged. ‘The old bag next door heard me scream though, keeps looking at me in horror and giving me all her fags. It’d be sad if it weren’t so funny.’
Nice Day For a White Wedding Page 3
