Page 2 of The Wedding Pact
As he waited to exit the plane he checked his phone. He checked it again before he entered the immigration hall and again at baggage claim. Aside from two missed calls from the owner of the house he was to be lodging in from tonight onwards – no doubt checking on his journey and letting him know where they’d left the keys – there was nothing. Flynn decided he would return the owner’s calls once he was settled on the coach.
He yawned. It would be a long journey from Heathrow to Bath, nearly two hours according to his itinerary, maybe longer now due to the knock-on effects of all the delays he’d faced.
It was the height of summer, but this particular night time was cool, and Flynn felt a chill creep under his stained sweatshirt as he stepped out of the arrivals hall and took his first breath of fresh air. He couldn’t wait to get to his new home and shower, change into PJs and have a good sleep. He felt as if he’d been in the same clothes for a week, his skin was dry, and someone’s baby had thrown up on him on the flight during some turbulence.
Eventually his coach arrived, packed with tired holiday-makers either arriving home or just arriving, piling themselves on in a herd of elbows and overhead bags, neck pillows and separated children.
Flynn found a seat near the back, his eyes drooping before the coach had even pulled away from the airport.
He didn’t wake again until he was forty-five minutes outside Bath.
With a stiff neck and a parched mouth, he reached for his phone to see if she’d messaged him. Not with a declaration of love or a plea to return to Japan, he didn’t expect that, not really. But maybe a small question, a ‘How was your flight’; something that might have made him feel like he hadn’t just been erased.
But still nothing, at least from her. He had a text and a voicemail now from his new landlord, the text containing an address he didn’t recognise. He’d forgotten to call back and it was now approaching one in the morning. Grabbing a pen and the back of a magazine from his bag, ready to note down any instructions in the message, he pressed play, the volume low so not to disturb the nearby sleeping passengers.
‘Hello, this is a message for Flynn Miyoshi,’ the voice said on the end of the line. ‘Flynn, this is Chris, of Chris and Donna. I’m very sorry to tell you this in a message, mate, and I hope you pick it up before you hit Bath.’
Oh no, what more could go wrong on this journey? Flynn was beginning to wish he’d never left Japan.
‘Donna and I have just made the decision, the very difficult decision, to separate. It’s not good, mate, it’s not good, and we just can’t play host to someone else in the house at the moment, as much as we were looking forward to the extra money.’
Flynn’s mouth fell open. Did he hear that right?
‘Anyway, we need the spare room now and I don’t know what’s going to happen, but … Listen, we’ll … ’ There was a pause on the line, then a sigh. ‘We’ll pay for you to stay in a hotel until you find something, all right? It’s our fault for messing you around. We’ve booked you into a place near the bus station for your first night; I’ll text you the address now, and the directions. It’s not a great hotel but we can move you tomorrow if you want. I’ll swing by and sort the bill in the morning. Text me or something just to let me know you got the message, yeah?’
The line went dead but Flynn had to listen to it again to make sure he had heard right. That poor couple. They’d seemed so lovely on email, after he’d responded to their advert on the rental website looking for a lodger. They’d seemed happy when he FaceTimed with them a few weeks ago. They’d talked about how it would be nice having him in the house and how he was really helping them out because they could do with some extra cash. Donna especially had looked so lovingly at Chris as she talked about how maybe they could finally take a holiday together again, as they hadn’t had one since their honeymoon. He remembered that because it had made him wonder at the time if Yui ever still looked at him in that way. What had happened to rock Donna and Chris’s world so completely? It seemed likely he’d never know.
The coach quietly sliced its way through the night, following the ribbon of the M4 before it would turn off towards Bath, and Flynn sat back in his seat.
Although he was surrounded by fellow passengers gently sleeping or lit by the glow of their phones, he’d never felt more exhausted, unanchored and very, very alone.
Chapter 3
August
August woke early on Saturday morning after a light and troubled sleep. She rolled over and pushed aside the half-drunk bottle of San Miguel on her bedside table to reach for her phone.
‘Good morning, sunshine!’ a chirpy voice said on the end of the line.
‘I broke up with James.’ August declared, her voice raspy.
Bel paused and then said, ‘I’m on my way.’
‘No, don’t, thank you, though. I’m a festering stink bomb at the moment and my flat is a tip. I just want to lie face down in my beer-soaked duvet cover. In other words, I’m not quite ready for company.’
‘What happened?’ asked Bel. Thank god for Bel, August’s favourite person and best friend.
August rested the phone on her cheek so she could flop her heavy arms back down beside her. ‘The most amazing flat came up for rent, so I suggested we move in together and he suggested I take a hike.’
‘I didn’t know you were flat-hunting?’
‘I’m not, but this wasn’t just any apartment, it was in the house on Elizabeth Street.’
‘Ohhh,’ replied Bel, having heard August make passing comments and declarations of love about that house for years. ‘So he freaked out because you suggested living together?’
‘I am unlovable.’
‘You aredramatic. And very lovable.’
