The Wedding Countdown (35 page)

I sat in my lonely bed and came to a few hard-drawn conclusions.

The first is that soul mates don’t exist. It’s all bollocks. I’ve spent too many years with my nose in a book and must have absorbed romantic drivel by osmosis. But it’s fiction! Romance is nothing more than a myth used to sell everything from diets to knickers to cinema tickets. A nice myth but a myth nonetheless, and one I’ve bought into heart and soul. All the dreams I’ve had about meeting my one true love, my other half, my soul mate, are nothing but ashes now because I know that reality is very different.

Men lie. Men cheat. Men force women to do things against their will.

How unromantic is that?

The second conclusion is that maybe my parents do know best. Perhaps the terror of Raza’s so-called seduction and the pain of Wish’s betrayal were exactly what my parents were so desperate to protect me from when they sought to arrange my marriage? With the knowledge and wisdom gleaned from maturity they could foresee the dangers I would face seeking my own partner and tried to spare me from them. The arranged marriage came from the desire to love and protect me rather than from an impulse to control my life. They only wanted my happiness but I couldn’t see it.

As Nish once put it, Mills Ali the Dating Queen knew best.

It’s time to learn from my mistakes...

At precisely six-twenty-seven a.m., I make a decision. I’m going to call my parents and tell them I’ve changed my mind. I want to marry Subhi as soon as possible. I’ll go to work, hand in my notice then pack up my things and return to Yorkshire. My parents will be overjoyed, the family name will be untarnished and I’ll be able to give myself over to ages-old tradition and hand all responsibility for my marriage over to somebody else.

My tongue’s glued to the roof of my mouth and I feel lead-heavy with exhaustion. Coffee, that’s what I need. Once I’m buzzing with caffeine I’ll put my master plan into action. There’s so much to do: clearing my desk, packing, writing resignation letters, booking plane tickets. Crap! I’d better get on with it!

I hobble to the kitchen. Every bone in my body aches – though whether this comes from hugging the loo for ages, or from being crushed beneath Raza, I can’t tell. Taking care not to catch sight of my reflection in the shiny chrome appliances, I put the coffee on and collapse at the breakfast bar.

‘Christ, Mills!’ Eve wanders in, clutching a fag in one hand and an empty cereal bowl in the other. ‘What happened to you?’

‘I don’t feel well.’

‘Bollocks,’ says Eve. ‘There’s only one reason why women get in a state like that. Man trouble! Right?’

Man trouble is one way of putting it.

‘Raza?’ Eve takes a drag on her cigarette and blows the smoke out of her nose. ‘Is it over?’

‘Yes. It’s over.’

‘Well, good riddance to him. I wasn’t sure how to tell you but one of my old school friends, Emily Moncrieff, told me yesterday that her cousin’s in a right old state over some lawyer also called Raza. Apparently this girl got pregnant by him and he totally abandoned her. Paid her a wad of cash for a termination and practically told her to sod off. If it’s the same bloke he’s no loss.’

Click. Another piece of the puzzle falls into place.

‘Caroline Moncrieff,’ I whisper.

‘That’s her, poor cow,’ says Eve. ‘So it is the same guy! What a bastard!’

‘You have no idea. But I’m over it.’

‘You look terrible.’ Eve stubs the cigarette out on the draining board. Then she takes my chin between her thumb and forefinger, raises my face to the light and studies me before picking up one of my wrists and lifting my arm so the sleeve of my pajama top falls to my elbow. The bruises flare bright against my skin.

‘My God! Did Raza do this?’

I snatch my arm away. ‘It was an accident.’

‘Like Hell!’ Eve pulls me into her arms. ‘I’m going to kill him.’

The comfort of having her arms round me opens the floodgates and suddenly I’m howling into her shoulder and coughing out the whole sorry tale. Eve listens, smoothing my hair back from my damp cheeks and shaking her head. Eventually I hiccup to a halt.

‘Sorry.’ I wipe my eyes on my sleeve. ‘I can’t believe I’ve got any tears left.’

Eve squeezes my shoulder. ‘There’s nothing for you to be sorry about; it’s that bastard who’ll be sorry. You have to report him to the police.’

‘He didn’t actually do anything, did he? He kissed me when I didn’t want him to but I was there in his flat, alone.’

‘So you asked for it?’ Eve is incredulous. ‘What century are you in? A woman can have dinner with a man without sex being involved! It’s called consent! You have every right to say no.’

‘I know, I know.’ More tears splash onto the wooden floor. ‘I can’t help thinking I gave him the wrong impression by going there alone. Wish said,’ my voice clots with grief just mentioning this name, ‘Wish said I was mad to go in alone. But Raza told me Wish knew exactly what was going on. Wish left the flat so that Raza could make a move!’

‘I need a drink to get my head round all this,’ Eve says. While I blot my face with kitchen towel she pours a good three inches of Scotch into a tumbler and downs it. ‘You’re telling me Wish set all this up?’

‘According to Raza they’ve been discussing who gets to sleep with me.’

‘That doesn’t sound like Wish.’

‘Wish and Raza had bets on who could sleep with me first.’ I close my eyes but I can still see Raza’s mocking face. ‘How could they do that to me, Eve?’

‘Because they’re wankers,’ says Eve. ‘God, the more I see of men the more I like dogs.’

‘And how could Wish leave me at the flat knowing what Raza had in mind? I thought he respected me!’

Eve perches on a stool and wipes my tears away with the disintegrating kitchen towel. ‘Babes, I’m confused. This Raza, who you were thinking about marrying, seduces your sister, lies to you about everything and then tries to force you to have sex. You should be absolutely furious with him, not Wish. We should be ripping his gonads off and stuffing them down his throat.’

Note to self: never piss Eve off.

‘I am angry with Raza, but Wish set the whole thing up. He could have told me exactly what Raza was like. And he must have known about Caroline too; he even knew about Fizz! Wish let it happen! How could be betray me like that? We’re supposed to be friends.’

Oh no, more tears.

Eve rips off another length of kitchen roll. Taking it, I dab my eyes and blow my nose. Then she pours me a coffee.

I wrap my hands round the mug. ‘I’ll get my act together in a minute.’

‘You seem way more upset with Wish than you are with Raza, which doesn’t make sense.’

‘Wish is supposed to be my friend!’

‘Raza’s supposed to be much more than that! You were contemplating marrying him, for God’s sake. So why are you so upset about Wish?’ Eve’s brow crinkles.

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘Unless it was never about Raza at all.’

Eve stares at me as though she’s never seen me before.

‘Are you in love with Wish?’

‘Don’t be stupid! Wish is with Minty! We’ve never been anything more than friends. That was all we ever could be. We knew that from the minute we met.’

‘Yeah,’ Eve says slowly. ‘All very logical, Mills, but since when was love logical? Anyone with half an eye can see the two of you are made for each other. It’s obvious he adores you.’

‘Being with Damien has turned your brain to slush. You don’t believe in love, remember?’

‘I’ll tell you something I do believe,’ says Eve. ‘Love doesn’t care about crap like who is suitable or available. Love isn’t logical. It just happens and even you can’t control it. God knows I tried to fight my feelings for Damien. Forties? Married? My dad’s best friend? My boss? So not a good idea. But it didn’t work because I happened to fall in love with the guy. Mills, if you love Wish, then you love him. It’s that simple.’

For a split second I’m right back at my first day at
GupShup
toiling over the photocopier before being rescued by Wish. 

‘Is that it? Do you love Wish?’

Love.

The word snaps me back to the present, back to my livid bruises and my endless tears. Love is just a fantasy, I remind myself as I touch my sore lips, this pain and aching emptiness is the reality. I’m through with love and all my silly romantic nonsense.

‘Of course I don’t love Wish,’ I snap. ‘And I don’t love Raza either. In fact I’ve made a decision. I’m going to go back to Bradford and let my parents arrange my marriage. I’m through with dating.’

Eve’s jaw nearly hits the breakfast bar. ‘Are you off your trolley?’

‘No, I’ve just come to my senses. I’ve tried it my way and nothing but disaster. My parents can’t do a worse job. I’m sure Subhi will be a great husband.’

‘But you don’t love him!’

‘No.’ I get up from my seat, suddenly energised and wanting to get on with it. ‘And he doesn’t love me either. But he’s suitable, respectable and we come from similar backgrounds. It’s as good a starting place as any.’

‘Just listen to yourself! Suitable? Respectable? Similar backgrounds? This is the man you’re going to marry, not a business acquaintance. It’s the rest of your life, Mills!’

‘I know,’ I say slowly. ‘Which is why I want to get it right and why I’m going to marry Subhi.’

‘For real?’

‘For real, Eve.’

‘Mills!’ Raj backs away when I walk into the office. ‘Nish said you’re ill. Don’t come near! I’ve just met the most divine guy and I simply can’t get a red nose.’

‘You won’t catch it,’ I say. ‘It’s hay fever.’

‘Well stay away, darling, just in case!’

And there I was thinking I’d done a great job with my Clarins Beauty Flash and layers of cover-up. Still, it doesn’t matter what they think of me anymore because in my bag is a letter of resignation, hot off Eve’s printer and asking that I be released from the internship with immediate effect. In a few minutes all this will be nothing but a memory and I’ll never have to see any of my colleagues again.

Especially Wish Rahim.

Talking of Wish, where the Hell is he? I’ve psyched myself up for a confrontation all the way from Chelsea, playing out scenarios and scripting comments so cutting he’ll be sliced up like pepperoni. By the time I arrive at Canary Wharf I’ve reached boiling point. Let me at him!

‘Where’s Wish?’ I ask. His desk is clear and there’s no sign of the habitual motorcycle helmet.

‘They seek him here, they seek him there,’ sighs Raj. ‘The scrumptious Wish is more elusive than the Scarlet Pimpernel. Nina’s already been hollering for him, so join the queue!’

‘Where’s he gone? Look in the diary, Kareena.’

‘There’s no point.’ Kareena is busy gluing gold stars to shocking pink nails. ‘Wish hasn’t turned up.’

‘What?’

‘Wish isn’t here,’ Kareena says. ‘Look in the book if you don’t believe me. Wish hasn’t come in today.’ She shoots me a sly look from beneath eyelashes clogged with violet mascara. ‘Me and Raj thought you were skiving off together.’

‘Don’t be so bloody stupid!’

‘Sweetie, calm down.’ Raj steps between me and Kareena’s desk. ‘She’s telling the truth. Wish hasn’t shown up.’

This is totally out of character. Wish loves his job and normally he and I are the first people in the office. He makes coffee while I sit at my desk and go through the early editions of the papers. Sometimes he brings me pain au chocolat from the French café because he knows that I’ve got such a sweet tooth or–

Saheli
! Stop it! You’ll drive yourself
pagal
.

What was it Raza said? Wish was playing the long game. Of course he was nice to me.

‘He hasn’t even phoned in,’ says Sunny, from across the newsroom. ‘Or emailed.’

I’m wrong-footed. I’d been so certain Wish would be here, biker boots up on the desk and charming everyone with his crinkly smile. Maybe he’s off with Raza? Looking for the next victim?

I check the plasma screen above Kareena’s desk. CNN flickers down at me while Barack Obama mouths wordlessly into the ether.

The time reads eleven-thirty, way too late for Wish to have overslept.

He must be lying low.

‘Where is he?’ I demand. ‘Somebody must know; he can’t have vanished.’

‘He’s probably in bed with Minty,’ says Kareena nastily. ‘Everyone knows those two can’t keep their hands off each other. So chill out, we didn’t really think he’d be with you. Like, as if.’

Kareena’s saved from having her keyboard shoved down her throat because Nina Singh marches in and appraises the staff with her gimlet gaze.

‘Darwish still not here, I see,’ she says. ‘But Miss Ali has decided to grace us with her presence at least.’

I decide to take the bull by the horns.

‘Nina, please may I have a word?’

‘Hold the eleven-fifty,’ Nina orders Kareena, and beckons me to follow her. Swallowing my growing nervousness I trail after her, shutting the office door behind me.

Nina settles herself back behind her desk, motioning for me to take a seat. ‘What can I do for you, Amelia?’

The letter of resignation is in my hand, the paper dry against my skin. This is it. The point of no return.

I place it on Nina’s desk.

‘What’s this?’

‘My resignation. I need to go back to Bradford.’

Nina stares at me thoughtfully. ‘Nothing unpleasant has happened to your family I hope?’

‘No, they’re fine. Thank you.’

‘So you are unhappy at
GupShup
?’

‘No! I love my job.’

‘I know,’ says Nina. ‘I can tell. So why this sudden desire to leave? Is it something to do with relationships?’

Oh Allah-
ji
. Not her as well.

I take a deep breath. Thanks to Raj, Nina’s unhappy relationship history is common knowledge in the
GupShup
office but I can’t help worrying that any mention of arranged marriages will upset her.

‘I’m going to get married,’ I begin, and as I plough on it feels as though I’m talking about somebody else, a stranger with my face who sits at a big desk talking about her engagement to a Pakistani doctor called Subhi and her intention to be a good wife. All the while Nina regards me coolly, her hawk-like features expressionless.