Page 90 of The Wedding Game

‘I knewthat,’ she says. ‘But I thought you’d kissed Chris first.’

I shake my head.

‘He asked you to go with him to New York, but you hadn’t even kissed each other? I’m not sure if it makes the connection between you stronger or … weirder.’

‘Oh, shut up,’ I reply as I hurl a second bit of cinnamon bun towards her and it hits her on her right boob.

‘Good shot,’ Scarlet says, lifting up the pastry and eating it. Then she looks serious again. ‘You know what I mean, though – not kissing, but it all still being so intense … that sort of look-but-don’t-touch vibe. It’s hot without being hot.’

‘Stop,’ I beg.

‘It doesn’t matter now anyway,’ she goes on quickly as she works out the intricacies of all this. ‘He’s not yours. And you’re not his. And you can’t do anything. It’s too messy.’

‘Yeah, I know.’

Poor Josh. If he could hear me talking like this… I feel an overwhelming need to move this conversation on. I glance at my roller suitcase, in which Scarlet’s gift sits. ‘Want to open your birthday present now?’

‘Yes, please.’

I go towards the suitcase and retrieve her present: a small sterling-silver letter S on a chain. It feels like a proper grown-up gift, and I’ve not been able to buy one of those for her inyears. She puts it on immediately and tells me she loves it and that she’s going to wear it every day.

We’re spending the day sightseeing and walking – so much walking. And I’m amazed by how beautiful Edinburgh is. I’ve only been to this main bit once before and that was for the Fringe festival with my ex-boyfriend, when we basically saw a lot of theatre and drank a great deal of booze. I’m not at all into the Fringe, but went with him because … Edinburgh. Scarlet has a day of history planned, as we’re going to do Edinburgh Castle at the top of the street and then the Palace of Holyroodhouse at the far end later on, after the obligatory pub lunch that she’s booked halfway between the two.

‘And then tonight we’ve got a ghost walk booked, and Rory is going to join us for that when he finishes work,’ Scarlet says as we walk through the town, passing the Georgian sandstone buildings, elegant in their fine lines and uniformity.

‘Sounds fab. Look at us in our thirties. If you compare how we previously spent our birthdays throughout most of our twenties …’ I start.

‘Getting trashed, overdoing it and throwing up?’ Scarlet sniggers.

‘We can still do that tonight if you want?’ I suggest uncertainly, pulling the sleeves of my jumper down a fraction to cover my chilly hands.

She makes a face, shakes her head. ‘No, it’s OK. A few drinks, but let’s not lose our dignity.’

‘Do you think we’re behaving like we’re getting old?’ I ask.

‘Yes,’ Scarlet says. ‘I love it. I’ll be ready for a National Trust membership for my birthday next year,’ she jokes.

‘I think I’m ready for one of those right now,’ I reply as we walk up towards the castle, with a bagpiper playing at full force to all the other tourists and us, as we immerse ourselves in history and culture.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

On the train home from Edinburgh two days later I’m reading through my assignment for the design course that I finally enrolled on and getting ready to watch the accompanying video. Today it’s planning and drawing out a living room, measuring spaces and furniture and placing everything freehand onto grid paper to check it all fits. I’ve invested in pretty stationery and mechanical pencils, and I click one with purpose to get started. I realise, after I’ve begun drawing, that I’ve forgotten to include plug sockets to go with my table, lamp and armchair situation that I’ve drawn by my imaginary window. A lamp with no socket to go into is no use to anyone, and as the Scottish countryside merges into the English scenery, whipping past me at speed, I draw a socket and reference it at the side.

In the end I knew that, with a full-time job and trying to maintain some sort of romantic life with Josh in the Cotswolds, I wasn’t going to have time to attend a structured in-person course. Neither was I going to have time for a full-on degree, so I picked a go-at-your-own-pace online professional course and am dipping in and out when time allows. It does mean that I’ve had to be really disciplined about not automatically switching onThe Kardashiansinthe evenings. Instead I’ve been plugging into the course videos and reading reference materials during every spare moment I get.

After nearly seven hours that involve a train, a tube and another train, I arrive in the Cotswolds late at night. The taxi I pre-booked to pick me up from the station drops me a little way down the farmhouse drive. I don’t want the sound of the engine and the car door closing to wake Josh up, given how late it is. He’s long since stopped volunteering to pick me up from the station because I always politely decline at this time of night. I know how much he needs his sleep, given the unthinkable hour at which he has to wake up.

I enter the house, but it’s dark, which is unexpected. When I’ve travelled home late before, Josh has usually left a couple of lamps on downstairs so I can find my way in. I do my best not to knock into anything. I’ll never get used to how dark it is at night here in the countryside. I’m still programmed into the always-present street lights in London.

I managed a little sleep on the train and so I’m feeling quite alert, despite the hour. I make myself a cup of tea and head into the sitting room, closing the door gently behind me, so the sound ofThe Kardashiansdoesn’t travel up the stairs and wake Josh. I’ve done enough coursework today so I can treat myself to a bit of easy TV. I hammer my way through two hours and then am forced to call it a night as I’m yawning and have so much admin to catch up on tomorrow for Max, so I can’t be late to my laptop. Our next hotel project is in Dublin and I’m excited to have another start-to-finish jobto get to grips with. I feel like more of a pro now, though, no longer shit-scared of my own job description.

I unpack my laptop from my case and place it in the kitchen, all ready for me to leap onto it first thing in the morning while I’m floating around in my pyjamas and making my first cup of tea of the day. Then I go upstairs, taking care to avoid the creakiest of all the creaky stairs on my way up and heading into one of the guest bathrooms, rather than our en suite, so that I can faff around without waking Josh.

I change into the pyjamas from my overnight bag, so I don’t have to rifle around in the huge chest of drawers in our room, and slowly open our bedroom door, tiptoeing tentatively inside. I move round to my side of the bed and slide in. But, despite the fact it’s summer, it’s cold. Adjusting my eyes to the gloom after I’ve lain down, I glance across at the other pillow.

I look to where Josh sleeps.

And discover our bed is empty.

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