“Not exactly.”Oh God. How do I put this? Come on, Fliss. Just say it.“I want you to stop them from having sex,” I say in a rush.There’s absolute silence down the line. I’ve confounded even Nico.“Fliss, repeat to me your request again,” he says at last. “I fear I have not understood.”I fear he has.“I want you to stop them from having sex,” I repeat, enunciating as clearly as I can. “No sex. No wedding night. At least, not till I get out there. Do whatever you can. Put them in separate rooms. Distract them. Kidnap one of them. Whatever it takes.”“But they are on their honeymoon.” He sounds utterly flummoxed. “I know. And that’s why.”“You are trying to disrupt your own sister’s wedding night?” His voice rises in shock. “You are trying to come between a man and his new wife? Who have been joined before God?”I should have explained this better.“Nico, she’s rushed into this marriage. And it wasn’t before God! It’s a big, stupid mistake. I need to talk to her. I’m flying out as soo
I’m married! My mouth is fixed in a permanent, gleeful smile. I’m so euphoric, I feel like I might float away. Today has been the best, most magical, most extraordinary day of my life. I’m married!! I’m married!!!I still keep replaying the moment when I looked up from my desk to see Ben marching into the office, holding a bouquet of roses. His jaw was set and his eyes were flashing, and you could see he meant business. Even my boss, Martin, came out of his office to watch. The whole place was hushed as Ben stood at my office door and proclaimed, “I’m going to marry you, Lottie Graveney, and I’m going to do it today.”Then he lifted me up—lifted me up—and everyone cheered, and Kayla came running after me with my bag and phone, and Ben handed me the bouquet and that was it. I was a bride.I barely remember the marriage ceremony. I was in a state of shock. Ben practically jumped on each answer; I do remember that. He didn’t pause for a moment—in fact he sounded almost aggressive as he s
As I cross the lounge toward the washrooms, I’m actually trembling with anticipation. I knock twice on the third cubicle door, and as Ben sweeps me in, he’s already half undressed.“Oh God. Oh God …”His mouth is immediately on mine, his hand is in my hair, now he’s unhooking my bra and I’m wriggling out of my knickers. I’ve never moved so fast. I’ve never wanted it so fast. I’ve never needed it so badly in my life.“Shh!” we keep whispering to each other as we bump against the cubicle walls. Thank God they’re sturdy. We’re maneuvering into position as quickly as we can, Ben’s braced against the wall, we’re both breathing like steam engines, I can tell this is going to take about ten seconds.…“Condom?” I whisper.“No.” He meets my eye. “Right?”“Right.” I feel an extra spurt of excitement. We might make a baby!“Hey.” He suddenly pauses. “Have you got into any kinky stuff since we last did it? Anything I should know?”“A bit,” I say breathlessly, hoicking my skirt up farther. “Tell y
Educational. It’s an educational trip. Yes.I haven’t asked permission. I haven’t given warning. I haven’t sat in the headmistress’s study and been lectured. I feel that in this instance the element of surprise is crucial.“Mrs. Phipps?” Mrs. Hocking puts her head round the door of the classroom. “You wanted to see me?”“Ah, hello.” I smile as confidently as I can. “Yes. Just a small matter. I’m going to have to take Noah out of school for a few days. To a Greek island. It will be very educational.”“Ah.” She frowns off-puttingly. “I’m afraid you’ll have to ask permission from the headmistress—”“I understand.” I nod. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to ask the headmistress, as I understand she’s away today.”“Really? When were you planning to go?” “Tomorrow.”“Tomorrow?” Mrs. Hocking looks aghast. “But we only started term two days ago!”“Ah yes.” I act surprised, as though this hadn’t occurred to me. “Well, I’m afraid it’s an emergency.”“What sort of emergency?”A honeymoon-connec
What?“Fuck off!” I automatically respond.OK, that was needless and immature. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. There’ll be some explanation. I look more closely at the entry. Apparently I wouldn’t lend her my denim jacket to take on her gap-year trip.Oh, really? I’m a bitch because I wouldn’t just hand over my jacket which I paid for? I’m so outraged I feel like phoning her up right now and having this out. And, by the way, where has she written about how I did give her about six pairs of flip-flops and never saw them back and my Chanel sunglasses because she begged and begged?I stare at the diary, seething gently, then force myself to turn over a few pages. I can’t wallow in some fifteen-year-old argument. I need to skip ahead. I need to get to Ben. As I turn the pages, skimming the text, I almost feel like I’m on her gap-year journey with her: first to Paris and then to the South of France, then Italy, all in bite-size snippets. It’s kind of addictive.… think I might move to Par
I can’t stand it. I can’t stand it any longer. I’m going to be the first person who ever died from sexual frustration.I can remember long, unbearable waits as a child. Waiting for pocket money. Waiting for my birthday. Waiting for Christmas. But I’ve never had a wait as nightmarish as this. It’s been absolute torture. Five hours, four hours, three hours to go … All through the plane journey and the car ride from the airport, I’ve been silently chanting, Soon … soon … soon … It’s the only way to keep sane. Ben keeps fondling my leg. He’s staring straight ahead, breathing evenly. I can tell he’s as pent up as I am.And now it’s just minutes to go. The hotel is half a kilometer away. The driver is turning off the main road. The closer we get, the less I can bear it. These last moments of delay are killing me. All I want is Ben.I’m trying to look around and show an interest in our surroundings, but it’s only road and scrubby hills and garish billboards for Greek drinks with unfamiliar n
I almost can’t look at the texts. It’s like spying. It’s like rubbernecking a car crash. But I have to, even though they make me want to clap my hands over my eyes.Lottie and Ben are having the worst wedding night known to man. No other way to put it. It’s horrendous. It’s ghastly. And it’s all my fault. My stomach is one big guilty, acidy twinge. With every bulletin I feel worse. But it’s all in a good cause, I tell myself sternly, already clicking on the new text.Another round of margaritas. This fellow can certainly hold his drink. NNico’s been keeping me updated all evening with every development. His latest four texts have been reports on all the complimentary cocktails that Lottie and Ben have consumed. It’s an eye-watering amount. They started drinking at ten, local time. It’s midnight there now. Lottie has to be blotto.But what about Ben? I pause a moment, tapping my phone thoughtfully against my palm. Something Lorcan said about Ben is coming back to me: He’s a natural ga
I don’t want to be negative. But if I could describe how I expected the morning after my wedding night to be, it would not be this.It would not be this.I always imagined my new husband and me nestled in a huge white cottony bed, like in a soap-powder ad. Birds singing outside. Sunlight gently passing over our faces as we turn to each other and kiss, remembering our fabulous time last night, and murmuring sweet nothings to each other before moving seamlessly into spectacular morning sex.Not waking up on a single bed, with a cricked neck, un-brushed teeth, the smell of last night’s room-service pizza, and the sound of Ben groaning on the opposite bed.“Are you OK?” I try to sound sympathetic, even though I want to kick him.“I think so.” He lifts his head with what appears to be a huge effort. He looks pretty green and he’s still wearing his suit. “What happened?”“You won a bet,” I say shortly. “Well done, you.”Ben’s gaze is distant and his eyes are moving back and forth. He’s clea
Well, she was right about the sunsets. I’ve never seen anything as spectacular as this in my life. The sun is slowly glowing down the sky, and it’s not just sinking, it’s shooting rays of pink and orange with such dramatic force, I’m put in mind of one of Noah’s superheroes. “Sunset” sounds quite passive, quite nothing-y. This is more like sun-pow! Sun-take-that!I look down at Noah’s face, all rosy in the light, and I think again, He’ll be OK. For the first time in ages, I don’t feel angst or stress or anger. He’ll be OK. He’ll sort himself out. I’ll sort myself out. It’s all good.We’ve had an odd time. Kind of cathartic and uncomfortable, embarrassing and joyful, awkward and wonderful, all at the same time. Nico rustled us up a table at the beach-side restaurant, and all five of us sat around eating meze to make your taste buds sing with joy and slow-cooked lamb to make your insides whimper with ecstasy.The food here really is good. Must make sure I big it up in my piece.There wer
Of all the moments I’ve experienced in life, this is the one I will remember forever. I’m holding my breath. The whole place is silent. Lottie’s staring at Richard, transfixed, her eyes huge. Her Happy Couple of the Week sash is glimmering in the lights, and her crown has slipped.“Well … well …” She doesn’t seem able to get the words out. “Well, I still love you!” She tears off her crown. “I love you!”Richard visibly jolts with shock. “But—” He gestures at Ben.“It was a mistake!” She’s almost sobbing now. “It was all a mistake! And I was thinking about you all the time, but you’d gone to San Francisco, but now here you are—” She suddenly turns to me, her face tearstained. “Fliss? Did you bring Richard here?”“Er … kind of,” I say cautiously.“Then I love you too.” She flings her arms around me. “Fliss, I love you.” “Oh, Lotts.” Tears are welling up in my eyes now. “I love you. I just want youto have the happiest, happiest life.”“I know.” She squeezes me tight, then turns and leap
I’m frozen. All I can do is stare mutely back. This was not how I was planning to let Lottie know that I’d arrived on Ikonos.“Fliss?” she says again, and now there’s a sharp edge to her voice which makes me flinch. What do I say? What can I say? Where do I even begin?“Fliss!” Nico speaks before I can marshal my thoughts, and snatches the microphone from Ben. “And here we have the sister of the happy couple!” He addresses the audience. “May I introduce Felicity Graveney, editor of Pincher Travel Review. She is here to give the hotel a special five-star review!” He beams delightedly. “As you can see, she has been sampling the delights of the Aegean Sea.”The audience gives a polite laugh. I have to hand it to Nico. No marketing opportunity left unexploited.“Now let us have the whole family onstage!” He’s bustling Lorcan, Noah, and me onto the platform. “A family shot for your special honeymoon album. Stand together!”“What the hell are you doing here?” Lottie’s eyes are dark with ang
When I give my Making Your Job Work for You! seminar to staff members at Blay Pharmaceuticals, one of my themes is: You can learn from everything. I take a sample workplace situation and we brainstorm and then list as bullet points What You Learned from This.After two hours on Yuri Zhernakov’s yacht, my bullet points would go as follows:• I am never having my lips done.• Actually, I wouldn’t mind a yacht.• Krug is ambrosia from heaven.• Yuri Zhernakov is so rich, it makes my eyes water.• Ben’s tongue was practically hanging out. And what about all those embarrassing sycophantic jokes?• Whatever Ben may think, Yuri is not interested in “joint projects.” The only thing he wanted to talk about was the house.• If you ask me, Yuri will get rid of the paper company altogether. Ben doesn’t seem to realize this.• I think Ben may be quite thick.• We should never, ever have come back via the beach.This was our big mistake. We should have got the boat to drop us a mile up th
I can see the tiny figures of swimmers bobbing around in the sea as I gaze back to shore. The late-afternoon sun is casting long shadows on the beach. Children are screaming and couples are embracing and families are playing together. And I suddenly wish with all my heart I was one of them. People on simple holidays, without complicated lives, without flaky, self-centered husbands, without disastrous decisions they have to unpick.I hated the yacht the minute we got on board. Yachts are awful. Everything is clad in white leather and I’m terrified of making a mark, and Yuri Zhernakov just ran a glance over me as though to say, No, you won’t make the cut as my fifth wife. I was instantly banished to the company of two Russian women with plumped-up lips and boobs. They’re so puffed up with silicone they make me think of balloon animals, and they have made no conversation except “Which limited-edition designer compact are you examining your reflection in?”Mine’s Body Shop, so that didn’t
“I don’t know,” I confess. “If they’d just turn round …”“That’s not Aunt Lottie!” says Noah scornfully. “That’s a different lady.” “Doesn’t really look like Ben,” confirms Lorcan, squinting at the guy. “Tootall.”At that moment, the girl turns her head and I realize she looks nothing like Lottie.“Oh God.” I sink down onto a nearby sun bed. “It’s not them. I can’t run around anymore. Can’t we have a drink?” I turn to Lorcan. “You must have missed your deadline by now. Get it done in the morning. Have a drink. Lorcan? What’s wrong?”I blink at him in surprise. His face is suddenly like stone. He’s staring at something beyond my shoulder, and I swivel to see what he’s looking at. It’s a normal luxury-hotel beach, with sun beds, and waves crashing onto the sand, and swimmers in the sea, and, beyond, a few sailing boats and, way beyond that, a big yacht moored in deep water. That’s what he’s staring at, I realize.“That’s Zhernakov’s yacht,” he says steadily. “What’s it doing here?”“Oh
An open marriage?I’m so thunderstruck I’ve sunk down onto my suitcase, right in the middle of the hot, dusty pavement, ignoring the stream of passengers who have to divert around me.“Ready?” says Lorcan, striding up with Richard and Noah, his eyes squinting against the blazing Greek sun. “I’ve arranged the fare. We need to get going.”I’m too flummoxed to reply. “Fliss?” He tries again.“They’ve got an open marriage,” I say. “Can you believe it?” Lorcan raises his eyebrows and whistles. “Ben will like that.” “An open marriage?” Richard goggles at me. “Lottie?” “Exactly!”“I can’t believe it.”“It’s true. She just told me herself.”Richard is silent for a few moments, breathing deeply. “That confirms it—I don’t really know her,” he says at last. “I’ve been an idiot. It’s time to put all this to an end.” He holds out his hand to Noah. “Bye, little chap. It’s been good traveling with you.”“Don’t go, Uncle Richard!” Noah flings his arms passionately around Richard’s legs, and for a mom
Fuck.Oh fuck.I feel hot and cold. I didn’t see this coming. I never thought that at this late stage she would find out. We’re on the island. We’re nearly there. We’re so nearly there.We’re standing outside the airport on Ikonos, our luggage assembled in a pile. Lorcan is at the taxi rank, negotiating a fare to the Amba Hotel, and I gesture to him to keep an eye on Noah.“Hi, Lottie,” I manage, but my voice has stopped working. I swallow several times, trying to regain my cool. What do I say? What can I say?“It was you.” Her voice is lacerating. “You’ve been trying to stop Ben and me from getting it together, haven’t you? You were behind the butlers and the single beds and the peanut oil. Who else would know about peanut oil but you?”“I …” I rub my face. “Listen. I … I just—”“Why would you do that? Why would anyone do that? It’s my honeymoon!” Her voice rises to a shriek of anguish and fury. “My honeymoon! And you ruined it!”“Lottie. Listen.” I gulp. “I thought … I was doing it f
I can hardly believe it’s true. Our hotel suite is empty. No staff milling around. No butlers. No harps. As I look around the sleek, silent furniture, I can feel a buzz of anticipation in the air. It’s as though the rooms are waiting for us to fill them with noise and heat and gasps and lovely, lovely sex.We arrived back at the hotel and came straight up here. Neither of us said a word. I’m blocking everything else out right now. All thoughts about our marriage. All thoughts about Richard. All thoughts about Sarah. My shame, my sadness, my humiliation—I’m blocking it all out. The only thing I’m focusing on is that insistent pulse inside me I’ve been feeling ever since I clapped eyes on Ben in that restaurant. I want him. He wants me. We deserve this.As he comes toward me, his eyes are darkening and I can tell he feels like I do: where to start? We have the whole experience ahead of us, like a delicious box of chocolates.“Did you put out DO NOT DISTURB?” I murmur as his lips find my