Always and Only You

Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

Present Day

I’m trying to thread a stud earring into my ear as I walk through the doors of the Royal Marina Hotel’s function room. Where is the stupid hole? I can’t seem to find it. I’ve mentally labelled this our ‘wedding eve’ gathering. Almost thirty family members and close friends have travelled some distance for the wedding and are staying at the hotel, so we thought we’d host an informal get-together this evening, a chance to catch up before the whirlwind of the big day.

The plan was to arrive early to check everything had been set up to my satisfaction, and to have a few minutes of peace and calm before the rest of the guests arrived. But then the local hairdresser I’d booked to do my hair tomorrow called, crying apologetically because one of her kids needed to have an emergency appendectomy and so she’s going to be at Torbay hospital until early next week. I had enough to do today as it was, and it took every spare second to find someone who can do bridal hair at short notice. I just hope she got what I meant about not going too mad with the curling iron. I don’t know why, but ringlets make me look as if I’m about five years old, instead of the almost thirty-something sophisticated woman I’m desperately aspiring to be.

As a result, instead of arriving at the gathering looking elegant and unflustered, I only had fifteen minutes to throw my dress on and do my face. My armpits feel like furnaces and, without checking in the mirror, I can tell my face is flushed and blotchy.

‘Here’s the blushing bride!’

I glance over to see Simon’s Uncle Terry raising a pint glass to me as he props up the bar.

Yup. Flushed and blotchy.

I smile brightly back, still stabbing relentlessly at my earlobe. Finally, the post slides through, and I click the butterfly on the back. It’s supposed to be a low-key gathering, but given the rowdy shouts from a group of men in one corner and screeching and giggling from a gaggle of women in another, it seems as if some of the crowd are already in party mode.

My mother strides up to me, with my stepdad in tow. They’ve only been together a few years, but it’s nice to see her happy. Settled. He joined the board of trustees of a charity she founded for parents who had lost children because of sudden infant death syndrome. They bonded over their shared experience of losing a baby, but more than that, I think he’s good for her.

‘Erin!’ Mum opens her arms and I walk into one of her all-encompassing hugs. I used to live for these hugs when I was a child; when Mum came back from wherever she’d been campaigning, pouring her heart into helping other people, and suddenly all that passion and focus was trained on me, it felt like being bathed in sunshine. But they hadn’t happened nearly often enough.

She holds my shoulders and straightens her arms so she can look at me. ‘How are you doing?’

I give a little shrug and say what I’m supposed to. ‘I’m happy.’ But then I throw a bit of honesty into the mix. ‘And maybe a little exhausted and overwhelmed. It’s a lot to—’

‘I know, baby,’ she says, releasing me. ‘We’re all feeling it.’ She glances up at her lanky husband. ‘Aren’t we, Emir?’

He looks down at her with his soulful brown eyes and nods.

I frown. I don’t see how she can feel overwhelmed at planning a wedding when she hasn’t really been that involved. Next week sees the launch of the charity’s latest big awareness campaign, and so she couldn’t even come down a day early to help.

I greet Emir, kissing him on the cheek. ‘It’s hard when we all know someone is missing from the room, someone who should be here but isn’t,’ he says.

Oh. That’s what they’re talking about.

They think I’m sad about Alex. My younger brother. And I am, I suppose, when I have more than half a second to stop running around like a headless chicken. I was only two when he died, so I don’t remember him. But I do have an image I’ve built of him that sometimes fills that shadowy space – a brother who has my fair hair and brown eyes, who’s a little bit taller and a little bit skinnier, who has my father’s nose while I sport my mother’s.

‘Now, where’s that gorgeous man of yours?’ she asks, scanning the room.

I give her another shrug, a little embarrassed I can’t answer. I expected to find Simon showering in the suite when I burst in, late myself, but the place was empty, so I hurried downstairs, thinking he might have got here before me, but ran into Mum and Emir before I could check. ‘I’ll see if I can find him.’

I do a sweep of the function room, and the spacious terrace outside, dotted with tables and patio heaters, but there’s no sign of him.

He’s been out on his brother’s boat all day with a group of his friends. They’d planned to head out of the Dart estuary to Start Point and back, a manly hurrah to celebrate their friend’s last day of so-called freedom. Simon already had his stag do, of course, but Gil lives abroad now and hadn’t been able to return to the UK for that, so Simon’s other friends had thought it a great excuse to have a do-over. Of sorts. I just hope too much booze hasn’t been involved. If I learned anything from my time on yachts, it’s that alcohol and large bodies of water aren’t the best of companions.

They were supposed to be back an hour and a half ago. I look around, hoping to spot one of Simon’s ushers in the crowd. If I had my colour-coded binder with the contact details, I could call around, find out where they are, but it’s tucked away safely in the suite upstairs. I’m just about to spin around and head for the lifts when I bump into Simon’s sister, Rachel.

‘Oh, God! Thank goodness I’ve found you!’ she says, her eyes a little wild. If Simon is a bit extra at times, Rachel takes it to the next level. ‘I’ve got a dire emergency!’

Of course she has.

Because that’s just what I need right now – another emergency.

Even so, I’m looking forward to being her sister-in-law. Simon’s the youngest of five. Being effectively an only child, I’ve always envied him his large, sprawling family, even if they hurl insults at one other as often as they hug. This is the reason I pause my hunt for her brother and ask her what the matter is.

‘It’s a disaster! The hotel has booked us the wrong rooms.’

‘You haven’t got the balcony overlooking the river, away from the marina?’

She waves a dismissive hand. ‘No, no … We’ve got that.’

Good. Because I had to wrangle hard with the hotel to meet my soon-to-be sister-in-law’s exacting specifications.

‘But there’s no door!’

I blink. ‘No door?’ How can that be? A hotel room has to have a door, doesn’t it?

‘Yes. No door between the rooms.’

‘An interconnecting door?’

She nods. ‘I can’t leave Poppy and Rufus on their own in a room, can I?’

Nope. She’s right about that. Even a single gal like me knows it’s probably wrong to leave a four-year-old and a two-year-old unattended overnight. But Rachel didn’t mention needing an interconnecting door until now, and it didn’t occur to me. I feel awful. With my background, it’s the sort of thing I should have thought of.

‘So that means Leo and I will have to split up and share with a kiddo each rather than leave the door open at night, which is hardly ideal.’ She grabs hold of my hands. ‘Will you help me sort it out, Erin? I’ve tried myself, but the flaky boy behind reception just started crying.’

I glance towards the doors that lead out to the hotel’s reception area, but I don’t need to see the receptionist to tell what sort of state he might be in. Rachel can be pretty forceful in full flow. It’s probably something to do with being the only daughter among four sons. ‘Uh …’ I begin. I want to help her, but I’ve also only just arrived at my party and I haven’t found my fiancé yet.

‘Oh, thank you so much! I knew I could count on you. I’m thrilled you’re going to be part of our family. Us girls will have to stick together!’ With that, she plants an emphatic kiss on the side of my head and chases down a waiter with a tray of flute glasses.

I turn and begin walking towards reception, but before I reach the doors, there’s a metallic click and thump, like a PA system being turned on, and Simon’s voice comes out loud and clear. ‘Where’s my bride-to-be?’