My Sister's Wedding: For better or worse, two families are about to become one . . .

by Vicky Pattison

  Toni nods and squeezes my arm. ‘I’m perfectly serious.’ She laughs as she takes in my shocked face. ‘This is good news. No, wait, this is fantastic. You’ve done a completely brilliant job on this book and the whole publication. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your attention to detail or the fact that Darla phones you in a panic on the verge of a nervous breakdown most days.’ She gives me a wry, knowing look.

  ‘But . . . ’ I’m at an utter loss for words. ‘I didn’t think . . . I mean I hoped but it’s so competitive and I never thought it would . . . ’ I trail off. ‘This isn’t a joke?’

  ‘It’s no joke. Check your email when you have a second – all the details are in the round-up from the sales team but take my word for it. It’s officially a top ten bestseller.’ She beams at me again. ‘Now, why don’t you go and tell Darla the good news?’

  ‘Me? Shouldn’t we tell her together?’

  ‘Nope. Your author, your book, your news to break.’ She clinks her glass to mine and then gives me a gentle push. ‘Now, go!’

  The party is in full swing. Things couldn’t be going better – that news about how well the book is doing was really the icing on the cake. Everyone’s thrilled with the news about the novel’s success, but none more so than Darla who gave a very heartfelt speech, thanking the whole team and me for all of our hard work. She was so kind that it brought a tear to my eye and almost made up for the daily phonecalls, anxiety-filled emails and general nutty behaviour. Almost.

  There’s a tap on my shoulder, and I spin around to find Daniel standing behind me. ‘Hey!’ I say happily. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d make it!’

  ‘Neither was I,’ he replies. He’s been working so hard recently. Balfour Industries are trying to land a new account with a global chain of luxury hotels, providing high-end services for the guests staying there. Almost like an outrageously expensive and well-connected concierge service. Rupert’s determined they should get it and has assigned Daniel to the task, but there are two rival companies pitching for the same gig and I can see that the stress and the pressure are wearing him down. He looks as handsome as ever in a charcoal grey Ralph Lauren suit, his blond hair shiny and groomed. But his eyes look tired and his smile isn’t as bright as normal.

  ‘You don’t have to stay.’ I say, rubbing his arm. ‘We can go for dinner another time. You look like you could do with a rest.’

  Daniel throws me a grateful smile. ‘I’ll stay for a drink or two,’ he says. ‘This is an important night for you and I want to celebrate my brilliant fiancée’s success.’

  I laugh and kiss him on the cheek. ‘OK, stay for a while but let’s postpone dinner. You have a couple of drinks and then get yourself home to bed. You need your beauty sleep.’

  ‘Don’t treat me like a piece of meat, Bex, I’m more than just a pretty face,’ he says, in a mock stern voice.

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’ I respond fondly, squeezing his arm muscle, firm beneath the suit, and leading him over to the bar for a glass of fizz.

  Despite his tiredness, Daniel turns on the charm and fusses over Darla, chats it up with my colleagues, and even manages to secure some extra attention for the book from some notoriously hard-to-please bloggers, such is his charisma. I don’t know how he manages it but it’s one of the many reasons I love him.

  After half an hour or so, I step outside for a breather. I hate this about myself, but in all honesty I find social gatherings like this a little tiring. Lizzie can go to any party any time, dance all night and be as bright-eyed at the end of the night as she was at the start. I’m just not built like that. I find the small talk and being ‘on’ all the time exhausting and draining. It’s part of my job sometimes so I put my all into it when I have to but it doesn’t stop me needing a break every once in a while, to find a moment of quiet to calm the nerves. All the new people, the small talk, the pressure, the schmoozing sometimes just gets too much for me. And with the added dramas of Lizzie’s media storm and trying to organise the wedding, I’m more knackered than I’ve ever felt before. I think I might back-door it pretty soon and go home early with Daniel if I can manage it and if things seem to be running smoothly. Darla’s fine and happy, in the spotlight where she belongs, and now that the speeches are done it should be fine for me to head off. The official part of the evening is over.

  I’m daydreaming about how lovely it will be to take my bra off, get into my pyjamas and watch something on Netflix when there’s an almighty flash in front of my face.

  I look up, startled and disorientated, the light still blaring in my eyes.

  ‘Sorry, love!’ says a man with an Australian accent. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you!’ When my eyesight has returned to normal, I notice that there are a few other men with cameras gathered on the street. Paparazzi. What the hell are they doing at a book launch?

  ‘How’s the party going, Rebecca? Is Daniel here with you?’

  They know my name? And about the book launch? They cannot be here for me, surely? How did they even know I’d be here? I feel unnerved at the thought of them digging around to find out about my diary commitments but I know that I can’t let them see that. I lift my chin and smile in their direction. If I’m nice to them they’ll be nice back, right? And even though they seem to have lost interest in Lizzie that might not be for ever so if I make a connection with them they might back off from her permanently as a favour to me.

  ‘Yeah, he’s inside!’ I say. ‘Charming everybody, you know!’ Then an idea comes to me. ‘I’ll be back in just a second.’ I call, diving back into Chelsea House. Once I’m back in the party, I seek out a tray of champagne. Then I find Darla and grab her hand.

  ‘What is it?’ Darla says, confused.

  ‘Trust me!’ I say as I pull her outside.

  Back outside, I offer the booze to the photographers, who take it gratefully.

  ‘This is Darla Merchant,’ I tell them. ‘She’s the author of debut novel I Will Love You and this is her book launch.’ I put my arm around Darla. ‘Smile,’ I say under my breath. So she does. ‘Her book is going to be the novel of the year, you mark my words.’

  ‘You like books, then, Rebecca?’ one of the paparazzi asks.

  ‘I’m a book geek and proud of it!’ I say, which makes them all laugh.

  ‘Will you take one of me with the book?’ Darla asks. Good girl, I think. If we can get a picture of the book in the entertainment sections in online magazines, that would really help sales. While Darla’s inside getting a copy of the book, I hear a familiar voice.

  ‘Hi, sis!’

  I spin around to find Nicole heading my way. I bristle at her calling me sis. Something in the way she says it sounds mean, like she’s mocking me. She’s with her Angelina Jolie sidekick again. What is she doing here?

  ‘Oh, hi,’ I say. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘We’re members.’ Nicole answers, pointing to herself and Seffy as if I don’t know who she’s talking about. ‘We’re going to the members’ bar upstairs. It’s kind of our local, I suppose you’d call it.’

  ‘Is Daniel here?’ asks Seffy, casually.

  ‘Yeah.’ I say. ‘But we’re at a private book launch. It’s a work thing.’

  ‘I’ll just nip in to say hi, quickly!’ Seffy says, diving inside before I can stop her. At the same moment Darla returns and I know that I can’t follow Seffy and stop her crashing the launch.

  Darla, oblivious to my anxiety, stands next to me, excited and ready for her photo opportunity. But before she can get in position, Nicole steps right up to me and places her bony arms around my shoulders.

  ‘How about a photo of us too, babe? We’ll be family soon!’

  I want to say no. I don’t want a picture with Nicole. I don’t trust her. And she’s still wearing a stupid bandage on her foot. But I can’t say no. It’ll cause another scene. Maybe she thinks that’s what I’m about to do, maybe she’s waiting for me to be openly hostile to her in front of the press. Well, if that’s her game, I’m not playing into
her hands.

  ‘Of course!’ I say beaming, leaning in to pose with Nicole. Darla waits patiently on the sidelines, while I plaster on a fake smile and pretend to play nice with Nicole.

  ‘Look who I found!’ Seffy returns, pulling Daniel behind her by the hand.

  ‘Daniel, mate! Get in the picture, will ya? All the family together.’

  Daniel looks as uncomfortable about this as I feel. He gets in the middle of Nicole and me, puts his arm around us both and smiles stiffly. He gives me an odd look which I know means, why are you participating in this? I shrug my shoulders; I’ll explain to him later.

  When the photographers have had their fill, I grab Darla from where she’s still waiting and ask the paps to take a photo of her with the book. ‘Like I said, it’s going to be a major hit!’

  But they’re no longer paying attention, and they’re all staring at their phones instead.

  ‘Harry Styles has been spotted getting cosy with an unidentified blonde in Soho. Let’s go.’

  And before we can say another word, the photographers have scattered, getting into cars and on motorbikes as they head off for their next fix.

  ‘Sorry about that!’ I say to Darla with an embarrassed laugh. ‘We definitely gave them the name of the book, so let’s hope they give it a mention.’

  Darla shrugs, looking a little downbeat. ‘They came to see you anyway,’ she says with a tense smile. ‘Must get back in to the people who came to see me.’ She pushes her way back in through the doors and I’m about to follow her in when Nicole grabs my arm.

  ‘Well, somebody’s certainly popular!’ she says brightly.

  ‘Hmm.’ I have nothing to say to her. I need to get back inside but she’s still gripping my arm.

  Daniel frowns at me and then looks at his sister with a smile. ‘She certainly is. She’s the toast of London, following in your footsteps.’

  Nicole simpers, but I remain stony-faced. Daniel throws me another look as if to ask what my problem is.

  ‘Are you ready to head off?’ I ask Daniel. ‘I’ll just head in and say my goodbyes but then I’m ready to go. I’m shattered.’

  ‘Oh, don’t go yet!’ Nicole says, laying her head on Daniel’s shoulder. ‘Come on. Come upstairs just for one drink. It’ll be so nice.’

  I can’t think of anything worse. It’s been a long day and the last thing I want to do is make conversation with Nicole and her friend.

  ‘No thanks, we have to go.’ I say in a clipped voice.

  My curtness is clearly a step too far for Daniel because he says, ‘I’ll join you ladies for a drink.’ Then he turns to me. ‘But you should head home if you’re tired. Shall I hail you a cab?’

  I blink. He’s not coming with me? I feel a flicker of anger in my chest. He’s her brother. He knows what she’s like! But now isn’t the time or place to get into another row about his family – especially not in front of Nicole and Seffy, who look a bit too pleased at the idea of me heading home alone. I should stay, I know that Daniel would appreciate the effort, but I’m my sister’s sister and the Ashworth women have always been stubborn as hell. Tonight was meant to be my night. We were meant to be celebrating my author and the blood, sweat and tears I’ve put into this launch over the last year. And we were supposed to be making plans for the wedding! I’ll be damned if I’m going to let it turn into The Nicole Show, or let the residing memory of the night be how I spent the last couple of hours of it wanting nothing more than to wipe that self-satisfied smirk off Nicole’s face. And I’m hurt that Daniel is letting the night be hijacked by his sister, when an hour ago he was the one who wanted to go home. Lately, it’s starting to feel like it’s the Balfours first and me second.

  Daniel is looking at me hopefully and I almost give in. But then Lizzie’s tear-stained face flashes through my mind and my resolve returns. I smile at him and hope he can see the love in it when I say, ‘A cab would be great, hon. You have a fun night, though. I’ll see you at home.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lizzie

  This is what it feels like to be a total loser. I am in Jay’s studio, alone, wearing the fugliest pyjamas I own (old, worn-out tartan with a hole in the thigh), hair scraped back into a bun, fluffy socks and glasses on and a bit of toothpaste on an errant and persistent chin spot. I’m flicking from film to film on Netflix, until something catches my eye, and intermittently eating from a bowl of Cheerios which have started to go soggy.

  I curl my feet beneath me on the sofa and wonder about my life. How did I get here? I’m twenty-three and I’m alone, indoors, jobless, zit-faced. I should be out having fun with my friends, not worrying about whether some idiot photographer will be waiting for me to fall out of a club.

  I pick up my phone and find Dad’s number. We usually speak three or four times a week but I haven’t answered any of his calls since the party. At first I thought it was because I was mad at him for not defending me when Nicole accused me of pushing her. But now I think it’s because I’m embarrassed about the whole thing. The last person who should see you drunk and tearful is your dad, especially when your dad has spent your entire life telling you how proud he is of you and how much of a ‘big strong girl’ you are. Just thinking about his kind face makes me miss him more.

  I press the FaceTime app and wait while it rings, checking my zit out in the camera screen. Oh yeah, it’s a juicy one.

  ‘Hiya, love!’ Dad’s voice booms out a second before his face fills up the screen. I feel like I’m giving him an eye examination with how close he holds the phone to his face.

  ‘Hey!’ I say, laughing. ‘Dad, pull the phone away from your face slightly, it’s a tad close.’ As he does I can’t help noticing how bright-eyed and smiley he’s looking. ‘Just thought I’d see how you were doing!’

  Dad grins, looking behind him for a moment. ‘I’m afraid I’m just on my way out. Jill and I are going for a curry.’

  Who’s Jill? I think momentarily, before remembering that Dad told us that he was seeing someone. I notice that he’s wearing a crisp checky shirt instead of his usual T-shirt.

  ‘No worries,’ I say, feeling happy that he finally has a social life that extends beyond an after-work pint with the other mechanics he employs at the garage. ‘Shall I try again tomorrow then? Would be great to catch up!’

  ‘Can’t tomorrow, love. Me and Jill are going kite-flying up on the Yorkshire moors. We probably won’t be back until late.’

  ‘Oh!’ I say brightly. ‘Kite-flying!’ Wow. That’s the last thing I ever expected my dad to do. I can’t quite believe it. Who does he think he is? The dad from Mary Poppins?

  ‘How about at the weekend, then?’ I ask.

  Dad grimaces. ‘Ah! We’ve made plans to go to stay with Jill’s daughter in Scotland.’

  I nod quickly. It must be getting serious if he’s going to meet her family.

  I can’t help but feel a bit put out. Dad’s always been around to chat whenever I’ve needed him to. I’ve never had to, like, make an appointment.

  ‘Listen, darlin’, I have to go! I’ll be late! Speak soon, I promise!’

  I smile and give him a wave. ‘All right! Bye, Dad!’

  He waves back and ends the video chat.

  I sigh what must be my millionth sigh of the night. I feel restless. I pop on my Instagram and reply to a few comments on my recent picture of Justin and Good Boy. Then, as I’m scrolling through the general feed, I spot a picture of my sister. With Daniel. And Nicole. It’s a pap shot, even I can tell that. I open up the pic and it’s been uploaded by the Daily World. The caption says Balfour family live it up at exclusive book launch!!

  What the fuck? Why is Nicole at the book launch? Why is Becky getting cosy with her? Tears spring to my eyes. She didn’t invite me to the launch, but she invited Nicole. Things have been strained since the party but we talked about it and cleared the air. I thought she found Nicole as big a twat as I did. Why did she leave me out? I look at the photo again.

  The Balfour f
amily.

  Shit. I hadn’t really thought about it before now but Becky’s not going to be an Ashworth for much longer. We won’t be the Ashworth sisters. She’ll have a new family. And what if Dad marries Jill? He’ll have a new family too. Where will that leave me? On my own with only this huge spot and soggy Cheerios for company! That’s where!

  I go into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of white wine. Then I wander to Jay’s bed and pull out my massive purple canvas suitcase from under it, which contains all my worldly belongings. I root through it until I find what I’m looking for. It’s a shoebox filled with private things. I’ve brought it with me everywhere I’ve ever lived. Inside are old letters and Valentine’s cards, tickets and photos and little trinkets that have sentimental value, like the tissue sprayed with aftershave an old boyfriend wore, or the Yo-Yo I was obsessed with mastering when I was twelve, a couple of my favourite old Pokemon cards and a certificate for attendance in middle school. (Attendance? God, that is weak even for you, Liz!) I pull out the photos from their paper folder. I love the way they feel in my hands – cold and stiff and glossy. Don’t get me wrong, I love online images, Instagram and all that too, but there’s something about a physical, tangible photograph that you can hold in your hands. There aren’t enough of them around these days. Maybe that’s why I like my Polaroids so much. You get something that physically exists and there is only one copy of it in the world. That feels special to me.

  I flick through the pictures until I get to the ones I was looking for.

  Mum.

  My mum, Tracy. Here she is holding me as a newborn baby, looking happy and tired. And here she is at a Christmas dinner, drinking a glass of wine while I sit on her knee and Bex plays on the floor by her feet. She looks happy here, too. And here’s another. Of our caravan holiday in Wales when I was ten. We’re posing for a family picture outside the caravan, Mum and Dad by the door and me and my sister in front of them. Mum doesn’t look quite as happy here. I look closer. Actually, while the rest of us are smiling, she is straight-faced. I think this was taken not long before she left us. I don’t really know much about what happened at that time. I have blurred memories of arguments and shouting and slamming doors. The thing I remember most vividly is Becky playing with me in my room. I don’t even remember my mum saying goodbye. I don’t even remember if she did say goodbye. I remember asking Dad and Becky about what had happened, but their answers were vague and didn’t make any sense, and even at that age I knew they were hiding something from me. Eventually I stopped asking. So I don’t really remember that much of her. All I have is these photos. Most of the time it doesn’t matter because Dad and Becky have never made me feel anything except loved, but even though I have no clue where she is or what she’s doing, I still think of her often and wonder if she thinks about me too. Does she miss me? Does she wish she’d stayed?