The Wedding Countdown (37 page)

‘His fiancée? I don’t think so. You must have the wrong guy.’

‘I wouldn’t forget a top model turning up on my ward!’ laughs the nurse. ‘A tall girl with blonde hair and the shortest skirt I’ve ever seen. Mr Jones nearly had another heart attack.’

I stare at her while the tacky floor rolls and dips beneath my feet and hear again Wish’s voice on the answerphone, urging me to call because he has something important to tell me. Well, now I know what it was.

Wish and Minty have got engaged.

‘There’s nothing like a brush with death to make you realise that you love somebody, is there?’ says the nurse.

‘No,’ I tell her. ‘There isn’t.’

I’m at work bright and early the next day because I’ve made a decision: I’m going to clear my desk, say my goodbyes and tell Nina Singh I’m leaving for good. This seems the best way, the kindest way – even if it hurts like Hell right now. This is the brutal amputation of Wish from my existence. No more friendship, no more chats, no more choccie sharing and no more working together. I know it sounds extreme but I don’t have a choice.

Because I think I’m in love with him.

I know! I don’t know how it happened either but Wish has somehow found his way into my heart. Maybe even my soul. And it hurts so much it’s all I can do not to throw back my head and howl because it’s never going to happen, Wish and me, is it? My parents would flip and I don’t suppose that his would be delighted either if he swapped a titled top model for some northern nobody. Right from the very start I knew it was impossible; I’ve never once let myself think otherwise, so how has he managed to get under my skin so totally and utterly?

I’ve done everything I can to convince myself Wish is just a friend but it seems Eve is right; what do feelings care about what people should or shouldn’t do? From the morning I met Wish by the photocopier I was lost.

When I went to bed last night I closed my eyes and I could see every detail of that moment: what he was wearing, the way that his hair curled over his collar, the patterns as the summer sunlight played across the planes and angles of his face. I can remember what he said and how he alone got me through those first few strange and difficult days. Then I thought about how kind he’d been to me, the fun we’d had going to Southampton, how our fingertips brushed in the cool silence of the Vanes’ library, the way he helped me search for Fizz. And I cried bitterly when I realised I’d chosen to believe Raza’s lies because this was easier than trusting my heart.

I’m going to miss Wish every minute of every day for the rest of my life, and he’ll never know it.

As I empty my desk I’m comforted by the knowledge that Wish has never known how I feel. I hid my feelings so well from myself I’m sure he hasn’t an inkling, which is just as well since he’s just got engaged. How stupid would I have looked if I’d arrived at the hospital and made some emotional declaration?

There’s no doubt either that the two of them are engaged because the tabloids have been full of it this morning. Even BBC Breakfast News featured images of the happy couple on their celebrity news section. Eve and Nish had watched with mouths hanging open, but at least I’d been forewarned and could smile and make chit-chat. So what if it felt like my heart was being stamped on by the entire Bollywood film industry? At least I looked good on the outside and had my own engagement to think about.

So my dignity’s intact.

But I’m starting to think my sanity’s another thing entirely.

‘I can’t believe it!’ shrieks Raj, for the hundredth time. ‘Has Wish gone mad?’

‘She’s up the duff, innit?’ says Kareena. ‘Why else would ’ee marry her?’

‘Because she’s beautiful and loaded?’ suggests Nish, scrawling
good luck, you’ll need it
across the engagement card Kareena has hastily purchased from Clintons.

‘Or maybe he loves her?’ says Sunny.

Raj balances one bum cheek on Sunny’s desk and pats him gently on the head. ‘You old romantic! This is Araminta Vane we’re talking about. Mouth like a sewer? Heart of ice?’

‘I’m getting married too,’ I say.

Suddenly I have the attention of everyone in the room.

‘Oh! My! God!’ Raj cries, one hand pressed dramatically to his pigeon chest. ‘The lawyer proposed?’

Oh crap, I’d forgotten about Raza. Well not forgotten exactly; how could I forget that charming experience when I’ve got so many bruises I look like something out of
Crimewatch
? But I’ve been living a very intense internal life for the past twenty-four hours and it’s strange to realise that, with the exception of my closest friends, nobody else has a clue what’s gone on.

‘I’m not engaged to Raza,’ I tell my saucer-eyed colleagues. ‘I’ve agreed to marry Subhi. He lives in Pakistan.’

You could hear a pin drop in the office. I think they’d be less surprised if I’d announced I was Wonder Woman in my spare time.

‘But you live here!’ says Raj.

‘Not for much longer. I’ve handed in my notice. Maybe we’ll live in Pakistan? We haven’t really talked about it.’

‘You haven’t talked about anything,’ mutters Nish, whom I suspect is not one hundred percent behind my arranged marriage, ‘because you haven’t even met him yet.’

‘You ’aven’t met him!’ Kareena gasps. ‘But what if he’s well minging?’

‘Marriage is about much more than looks,’ I say quickly. ‘It’s about a partnership, not sex. There’s more to life than sex.’

Kareena couldn’t look more shocked if I’d stripped naked, painted my bum blue and done a tap dance.

‘Like what?’ she asks.

‘Darling, are you sure?’ Raj says.

‘Of course. I can’t wait.’

Behind us echoes the sound of slow clapping. 

‘How charming, Mills. Congratulations.’

Raza stands in the doorway, his rangy body framed against the light that streams in from the lobby, and his mouth twisted into a mocking expression. His eyes are bloodshot, his face blurred with the suggestion of stubble and his nose is swollen, which makes me feel a bit better.

‘What do you want?’ I hope I don’t sound as terrified as I feel.

‘That’s not very friendly, Mills. I was hoping that we could have a chat.’ Raza crosses the office until he’s just inches from me. I’m no expert but I’m sure I can smell alcohol on his breath. ‘It’s not very nice for a man to discover his girl is about to marry someone else.’

‘She’s not your girl!’ Nish snaps. ‘Not after what you tried to do to her!’

Raza smirks. ‘Is that your story, Mills? That’s not how it felt when you decided to be alone with me.’

Oh great. That’s my
izzat
well and truly down the bog.

‘Don’t look at me like butter wouldn’t melt,’ sneers Raza. ‘Have you told your friends a very different tale?’

He tries to catch my arm but misses. Oh Allah
-ji
, he’s drunk.

‘Can we discuss this somewhere else?’ I say.

‘So you can make up more lies? I don’t think so. No, what I have to say I’m going to say right here and right now in front of everybody who works for your pitiful comic. You can find yourself another man, Amelia Ali, because,’ Raza breathes his sour breath into my face, ‘you’re a slag and a nobody.’

‘I’ve already finished with
you
, remember?’

Raza laughs. ‘Is that supposed to upset me? As if I’d really be interested in a girl from a family of peasants! Come on, Amelia! I wanted to show Wish who could get into your knickers first. I was just having some fun, like I did with your slutty sister.’

‘That’s enough.’ Nish steps forward and her little body only comes up to Raza’s chest. ‘You’ve said enough, you pathetic low life.’

‘Nice company you keep, Mills,’ sneers Raza. ‘Although I shouldn’t be surprised. A girl who’d spend time alone with a guy is hardly going to have classy friends. Good luck to the poor bastard who ends up with you.’

Turning his back on me, Raza weaves through the desks and my stunned colleagues just at the exact moment Wish decides to breeze in. His hair is on end, his jacket is scuffed and there’s a cut running down his left cheek, which has been stitched rather clumsily. But I don’t care. Brad Pitt couldn’t look more beautiful to me.

If Wish is surprised to see Raza then he doesn’t show it. But the atmosphere in the office is so thick you could cut it with a chainsaw and his green eyes glitter dangerously. Raza smiles at his friend.

‘Mate,’ he says slowly. ‘You can have the frigid bitch. The sister’s a much better screw.’

Wish’s face drains of colour and the flesh tightens over the high cheekbones. Without any warning the muscles beneath his tee shirt ripple with astonishing power and his clenched fist shoots out, hitting Raza squarely on the jaw. With a cry of surprise Raza sways and falls to the floor, like a tree felled in a forest of office furniture.

‘If you ever speak about Mills like that again,’ Wish grates, ‘a punch in the face will be the least of your problems.’

Woah!

Raza pulls himself to his feet and rubs his bruised jaw.

‘You’ll regret that, Darwish!’

Wish shrugs. ‘I doubt it.’

‘I won’t forget this.’ Raza turns his baleful glare on me. ‘And I certainly won’t forget
your
part, Mills Ali. No one attacks me with impunity!’

He storms from the office and a cold trickle of fear runs down my spine. I wouldn’t put it past Raza to do something really nasty just to spite me.

‘What’s impunity?’ asks Kareena. ‘A posh word for fists?’

And I could almost pity Raza because his dramatic exit is completely ruined as everybody creases up with laughter. On the other hand this could mean just one more grudge that he can hold against me.

‘Are you OK?’ asks Wish.

‘Fine.’ My heart is breakdancing beneath my ribs. Wish just defended my honour! That killer punch has to be the most romantic moment of my life.

Wish flexes his grazed hand and winces. ‘Ouch. That hurts in real life.’

‘Come on, knight in shining leathers.’ I force a note of lightness into my voice. ‘I think the least I can do is dress that hand.’

Wish perches on my desk while I search for the tatty first-aid box, which I eventually discover, buried beneath the washing up. Around us the others reluctantly return to work, but there’s an awful lot of whispering going on.

‘Don’t worry,’ Wish says. ‘They’ll forget about it in a minute.’

I take a deep breath. ‘I’m so sorry about the message I left you. I know Raza was lying.’

‘Relax,’ says Wish. ‘Whatever it was I never got it. My phone was trashed in the accident. I’ll have to get a new one.’

Phew.

I dab the dubious remnants of Dettol onto a cotton pad and reach for his grazed knuckles. As I take his hand I have the strangest fizzing sensation in my fingertips, and from the way that Wish takes a sharp breath I know he feels it too. A sudden rush of longing fills my every sense, a molten liquid sensation that is exquisite and terrifying all at the same time.

‘Mills,’ says Wish hoarsely, his warm fingers clasping my wrist, ‘there’s something I have to tell you. Two things actually.’

I say quickly, ‘I know all about your engagement. Congratulations! I’m sure you’ll both be really happy. You make a perfect couple! And I’ve got something to tell you!’ I gallop on. ‘I’m engaged too!’

Wish stares at me. ‘What did you say?’

‘I’m engaged!’ I slap a one-hundred-watt smile onto my face. ‘To a doctor called Subhi. My parents are over the moon.’

Wish’s fingers tighten their grip. ‘And what about you, Mills? Are you over the moon?’

‘Of course!’ I pretend to be absorbed by my first aid. ‘I can hardly wait to meet him.’

Wish says nothing. Then his fingers slide from my wrist.

‘I’m really happy for you, Mills.’

‘Thanks, Wish. What did you want to tell me?’

Wish shakes his head, the dark curls falling over his face. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

Then he does the most unexpected thing, something he really shouldn’t do but the memory of which I know I’ll take out like a precious treasure and pour over during the dark days ahead. Wish reaches forward and touches my cheek tenderly with the back of his hand. I close my eyes and savour his touch.

‘Whatever happens,’ he says softly, so softly that I have to lean closer to catch his words, ‘I wish you all the happiness in the world and your fiancé too. He’s a very lucky man.’

‘Thanks,’ I whisper. ‘I hope you’ll be happy too.’

But even as I say this my throat tightens with misery. Both of us are engaged to different people and both of us are moving on.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so desperate in all my life.

Chapter 31

They say time flies when you are having fun. The same is also true when you’re as miserable as sin but rushed off your feet preparing for a marriage that’ll take place in Lahore. It hardly seems possible that tomorrow I’ll be flying to Pakistan to marry Subhi. Eve and Nish arrived yesterday and last night Nanny-
ji
gave me her precious bangles, her eyes moist as she pressed the gold into my hands and told me how she wished she was well enough to travel to Pakistan.

‘I know you’ll be very happy, Milly
beti
,’ she quavered, squeezing my hand. Hers felt papery, the bones bird frail, and I couldn’t help wondering whether she’d still be here when (if?) I returned to Bradford.

All I seem to do lately is say goodbye.

Allah hafiz
,
Allah hafiz
,
Allah hafiz
.

And I hate it.

The staff at
GupShup
threw me a fantastic leaving party. There were balloons and streamers, more food than I could possibly eat and lots of promises to email. Even Nina showed up for an hour and presented me with a beautiful folder of all my articles and a top-of-the-range digital camera.

‘Nina!’ I’d gasped. ‘This is far too much’

‘Nonsense!’ snapped Nina. ‘I have a proposition for you, Amelia. Rather than letting that brain rot away I want to contract you to write a series of articles about your experiences as a young British woman in Pakistan, starting with the truth about arranged marriages. I want all the details. We’ll pay you, of course, our standard freelance fee.’ And then she named a figure so ridiculously high I’d needed oxygen to even contemplate it.