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‘What’swrong?’ askedJaiveer.Hegrasped her by the hand. ‘Goldie, what’s wrong?Youlook ill.’
Andeven though he was inside the tent and she was outside of it and he probably couldn’t see her, she could feelKrish’seyes piercing her like daggers.Herthroat constricted, and she struggled to speak. ‘Heheard me,’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘Heheard everything we just said.’
‘Oooh,’ saidJaiveer, wincing. ‘Well, as my grandmother used to say:to control the mind is like trying to control a drunken monkey that has been bitten by a scorpion.’
‘Whatthe fuck does that mean?’
‘Noidea.Sheusually said it wheneverIwas being stupid about something.’Heshrugged and patted her twice on the cheek. ‘Justtell him.’
Shewould have liked more sympathy.
‘Okay, team,’Krishannounced through the headset. ‘Westill have a couple more hours on the clock.Let’sjust get through those and…and,Francesca, we’ll talk later.Over.’
Over.Thatone word said so much.
27
Forthe restof the wedding,Francescakept herself busy by cataloguing female villains.CruellaDeVille, animal cruelty at its finest.NurseRatched, who should have thought twice about her job choice.BellatrixLeStrange, so terrifying she madeVoldemortlook like a puppy.FrancescaMarch, liar and heartbreaker extraordinaire.
Whenshe tired of that, she played word games.Couldshe come up with a different word for ‘idiot’ with each letter of the alphabet?
Arsehole, bonehead, clod, dipshit, eejit,Francesca…
Anything—she’d rather think ofanythingthan the storm that was coming.
Jaiveer, taking the role of new friend very seriously, offered to get her drunk, but she explained that she still had work to do, tempting as the offer was.Afterextracting a promise from her to text him later with any news, he went in search of the dancing boy from earlier.
Theworst thing wasKrish’ssilence.
Hehadn’t said two words to her sinceMic-gate.
Unlessshe counted: ‘Starttaking the bags to the van’ when they finished shooting and he returned to the marquee to say goodbye toAnkitaand her husband.
Inside, dread unfurled, one capillary at a time.Nohiding anymore.Butold habits died hard and hiding wasallshe wanted to do.Theurge to run off into the grounds ofBlenheimand disappear into the night likeCathyon the moors seemed like a feasible idea.Shecould pass into local legend, and they could talk about her on the tours, calling her the ‘CrazyLadyofBlenheim’ and recounting how they could still hear her desperate voice crackling through microphoneson certain wedding nights: ‘Canyou keep a secret, my precioussssss?’
She’dhad worse ideas.
Herback resting on the van, she dropped her head into her hands and shook it back and forth.No.Itwas time to stop running.She’dhave to tell him all her secrets now, including the one aboutNorman.
Ashe walked past,Wallystopped to punch her on the arm in encouragement. ‘Goodluck, mate,’ he said.
Davidcouldn’t even look at her.Hisface was red by association, as though vicariously living the embarrassment with her.
Stellagave her a motherly hug, whichFrancescatolerated.
‘Idon’t know what’s going on between you,’Stellasaid, ‘butIknow you’ll work it out.’
Asob caught inFrancesca’sthroat and she pressed it back down.
Nobodyspoke on the way to theB&B.Francescacould just imagine the tennis game of significant looks playing in the van.Shecouldn’t see them, as she’d slipped into the back seat and was lying across it.Shestared up into the inky night sky, the occasional street lamp blinding her as they zoomed past.
Whenthey pulled into the drive, she grabbed her camera bag and sprinted for the front door, thinking that if she could barricade herself in her room, she could push this conversation back another 24 hours.Safelybehind her locked door, she listened for footsteps.One, two, three, four doors shutting.Shewaited, counting the footballs on the wallpaper.Thirty-six.Theyfloated on a deep blue background.Acherry redArsenalduvet set covered the single bed, which was pushed up against the wall in the corner.Luckily, despite it being a child’s room, there was an en-suite bathroom.Wantingto shed every reminder of today, she peeled off her aquamarine outfit and jumped into the shower, washing her hair twice for good measure (and to take up time).
Asshe collapsed onto the bed with the wet towel still wrapped around her and damp hair hanging around her shoulders, she allowed herself to relax, thinking she had evadedKrishfor yet another day.
Knock.Knock.Knock.
Shebolted upright.Oh, shit.
