The Wedding Crasher, page 18
Ottilie bit her lip, glanced back at the hotel, and quick-walked out of sight, disappearing down a path that led to the fisherman’s hut. Working with teenagers had exposed Poppy to a jumble of unfiltered emotions, often triggered by seemingly disconnected events. It was like fusion cooking, but for feelings. Anger with elation (inter-school football leagues), jealousy with kindness (year nine girls), and hilarity with fear (sex education). What she saw in Ottilie was hard to place. Her shoulders were tight, her chin high, and her cheeks wet. With the wedding two days away, a certain level of friction was to be expected, but this seemed like something else.
Poppy hopped down from the pergola, unscrewed her lens, and tucked it away in her rucksack. Her hunger mounted. If she was quick, she’d be able to swipe a roll and a slice of pre-cut cheese from the continental breakfast bar before it reached the dining room.
As she rounded the corner, Poppy yawned. On the terrace, Will was doing the same.
‘Snap,’ he said, pointing at her from a distance.
‘Fancy seeing you here,’ said Poppy, her voice upbeat to disguise the fact that she had seen Ottilie just moments before. ‘Early riser?’
‘Not usually. I know a lot has changed over the past decade, but me getting up early?’ Will grimaced. ‘Unless there’s a tennis game on in a different time zone, there’s no chance.’
‘Or if you never managed to go to bed in the first place?’
Will rubbed his chin and shook his head as though remembering something. ‘Yeah, I remember a few of those. What was our old routine? Get to the club at nine—’
‘Dance for two hours—’
‘A shot of sambuca at eleven to get us through—’
‘—until midnight, when we’d leave on a high, dignity intact, and get a footlong Subway on the way home, split down the middle. BBQ sauce at your end, piri-piri at mine, lettuce, sweetcorn, and black olives down the middle. Classy.’
‘Oh, yeah. So classy we never did manage to verify the meat inside. Who knows what we were eating?’
Will laughed and shook his head, but his eyes were clouded. He fell quiet as they passed beneath bedroom windows. Poppy thought he might veer back towards the hotel, but he stepped down into a herb garden that she hadn’t noticed before, the plants set out in ruler-straight lines with neat terracotta stakes listing the Latin names of each. Will plucked a basil leaf, scrunched it in his hand, and dropped it on the floor. Poppy could tell that he wanted to talk but didn’t know how to start.
‘Did you sleep well?’ Poppy said.
‘Not really. I’ve never spent so many nights alone as I have this week.’
Poppy ran her hand over a tufted head of lavender and offered a weak laugh, unsure how to gauge the tone of Will’s statement. ‘It’s a lot, isn’t it?’
Will nodded. ‘She can be.’
‘I meant weddings in general,’ Poppy said in a rush. ‘It’s why honeymoons exist. Everyone thinks it’s for the romance, but a honeymoon’s base function is to put distance between you and another discussion about which gluten-free, vegan option is best for the second cousin you haven’t seen since you were a kid.’
‘I sussed that pretty early on. I’ve been doing the “nod and say yes” approach for the last couple of months. It’s not like I don’t care about having the mood board wedding, except…’
‘You don’t care?’
Will wrinkled his nose in admission. ‘Yeah. I don’t care. I would have been happy to elope, but Ottilie said her parents would get upset. You’ve met her mum?’ Poppy nodded. ‘Exactly. There’s a reason she was the most successful salesperson on QVC. On her own, she’s also quite terrifying. It doesn’t end here. We’re meeting up with Ottie’s parents partway through the honeymoon.’
‘The in-laws? On your honeymoon? Are you into sadomasochism?’
‘There’s a reason, but I feel like it’s not going to make me sound any better. You can’t judge me for the next sentence, all right?’
‘Okay, hit me.’
‘They have a yacht docked in Bermuda. Therefore, it would be silly not to take them up on the offer of a charter,’ said Will with mock affectation.
‘Oh, la-di-da! My dad has a timeshare caravan in Hemsby, so if you fancy a holiday swap at any point, just let me know.’
Will laughed and rubbed his eyes. ‘It might get to that stage.’ He looked exhausted, his cheek imprinted with the faint outline of a creased pillow.
‘Why, what’s up? Everything cool?’ Poppy fiddled with the straps on her rucksack. She was secretly pleased that Will was on the verge of confiding in her. She hadn’t felt useful to anyone for a long time.
‘You spent some time with Ottie down at the cove the other day, didn’t you?’
‘Yeah. She made me a cucumber spritzer and the sight of her in a bikini left me with the creeping feeling that I should take squats more seriously.’
‘And she seemed okay?’
Poppy thought back to the faces of Will’s fiancée that she’d borne witness to in the past forty-eight hours. She seemed most comfortable down by the water, away from everyone else. At most, Ottilie seemed overwhelmed by the number of cogs involved in the Mountgrave machine that ticked on around her, but it wasn’t as though her family were strangers to large-scale business. Perhaps Poppy had misunderstood her. When it came to this morning’s sighting, Poppy held back. She didn’t want to act as a go-between any more than she was already. Lola’s rule was to stay out of other people’s relationship drama, so that’s what she would do too.
‘She was fine. Nervous, but not weirdly so. I’ll be honest, I didn’t spend that much time with her so I’m not sure how useful my assessment is.’ Poppy pulled back. ‘She seemed a bit down towards the end of the bingo last night, but there might not be anything in it. Did you tell her she’d won?’
Will nodded, a brief smile on his face. ‘Yeah. She loves winning. Naturally, she was fuming she’d mistimed her departure.’ He put his hands in his pockets, elbows turned out. ‘I don’t know, I’ve definitely sensed a negative vibe. Something’s changed.’
‘If you want to offload, I’m all ears. Better to do it now than at the altar.’
Will fidgeted and pushed air into his cheeks, releasing it with a long sigh like a slowly deflating balloon.
‘Okay, here’s the thing. I find her so hard to read. I’m worried that seeing my family all in one place has been a baptism of fire and now she’s freaking out about legally being part of it. When you become a Mountgrave, you get a few years on the bench and then you’re pulled up to play. I didn’t think about how that might affect her. It’s different for me; I don’t have a choice.’
‘Don’t you? What about Josie? She seems pretty happy commentating from the sidelines.’
Will laughed. ‘If that’s the impression you’ve got, she’s put on a good performance. She’s the Foundation’s largest shareholder. It’s why she doesn’t have to get her hands dirty. It’s also why Dad can’t stand the fact that she turned up unannounced. I love Josie, but she and Dad are like either end of a pantomime horse. It’s funny to watch them in the same room, but functionally it doesn’t work.’
‘As a person who grew up watching The Simple Life with Paris and Nicole, I’m pretty sure you can still maintain a job if you’re an heiress. When you’re that rich, everything you do is a hobby, isn’t it? It’s minimum pressure for maximum reward.’
‘Except, where’s the choice? You’re not making me feel more positive about the future,’ said Will. ‘It’s like those puzzles you get on the back of cereal boxes. It looks like there are loads of paths, but only one actually ends up at the pot of gold.’
‘Who cares if there’s no choice; it’s a pot of gold.’
Will sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.
‘Sorry! I didn’t mean it like that. I guess I’m still struggling to see you as a multi-millionaire international businessman.’
‘That’s probably because I’m not. This lifestyle agrees with Ottilie far better than it does me. It was different when we first got together. I met her in London – Lawrence introduced us – and right after that we were chasing summer around the world, volunteering and remote working. I don’t want to go into too much detail because it’s not my story to tell, but she’s not had it easy in life, despite what everyone thinks. Since we came back from Laos, it’s like the world has shifted on an axis even though we haven’t moved. I know this is a proper “tiny violin” moment, but Dad hasn’t exactly let me figure out what I want to do. I told him years ago that I don’t have a business head, but he’s pulling me into ‘informal chats’ with his colleagues almost every other day and I leave worrying that I’ve let him down, even though I’m not sure what I was supposed to be doing in the first place. Ottilie has been so busy preparing for the wedding that I’ve barely seen her. Oh, and apparently we feature in dodgy tabloid articles now, which my mates send me links to thinking it’s hilarious.’
‘Not the Sidebar of Shame?’ asked Poppy.
‘Yes, the Sidebar of Shame,’ said Will.
‘I bet no one reads them except for saddos with no purpose in their life.’ Poppy visited such websites at least once a day, but would never admit to it.
Will ran both hands through his hair, his curls bouncy in the damp morning air. ‘I get photographed nowadays. Not in a cool The World’s Eye way, but in a middle-aged-man-hiding-behind-your-recycling-bin kind of way.’
‘That’s insane,’ said Poppy. ‘I had no idea this was the world you came from when we were at university. I’m guessing you don’t like the attention.’
‘Would you?’
‘My students once made a TikTok of me topping up my deodorant in the store cupboard and that was a bleak few months of internet fame. I can’t imagine what it’s like when strangers make up gossip columns about you.’
‘I have no idea what they get out of it. I try to absorb all the stress to stop Ottilie from feeling it. Maybe it comes across as being overly laid-back, but it’s only because I’m acting as a buffer to protect her. I don’t know, I feel like it’s not enough sometimes. I feel like I’m not enough sometimes.’ Will sat on a low wall, pulled a rosemary sprig from the border, and plucked its leaves off one by one. If you swapped the balloon sleeves for a crumpled T-shirt, Will looked like a lovelorn Regency hero.
‘Did you ever feel like that? With Josh? Don’t answer if you don’t want to.’
‘No, it’s fine.’ Poppy sat opposite him and leant forward. ‘I did and I didn’t. I put him on a pedestal, for sure. You remember what he was like, right?’
‘Josh? Oh, yeah. I remember,’ he said, a sarcastic undertone to his voice. Poppy found a basal defensiveness rippling below the surface. She pushed it to the side.
‘Whatever way you look at it, I always craved stability,’ she said. ‘I craved not being the one making decisions all the time. I never had that in my life. He was overprotective and that felt like a compliment. Over time, he swallowed me up vertebra by vertebra until I didn’t have a backbone. And I barely resisted.’
Will softened. ‘That surprises me. You were always self-assured at uni. Like, intimidatingly so.’
‘A few people have said that. I still don’t really know what it means.’
They fell into a comfortable silence, the waves lapping the cliffs on the other side of the fence. ‘Did you ever bring it up with him? Josh?’
‘I used to, but he was so good at arguing that somehow we’d end a conversation having both accepted blame for something he did.’
Will shook his head. ‘You see, Ottilie and I… we don’t argue. That’s not her style. She grows pensive and distant. I think that can be worse. I’m wracking my brains over whether I’ve done something to annoy her, but even if I had, she wouldn’t tell me, so I’m stuck.’
‘Why wouldn’t she tell you?’
‘She likes to claim that everything is fine and then she’ll text me a picture of our unmade bed a few days later with no context. I love her, but it can be a bit confusing. I don’t know. I can be too chill. She keeps me on my toes.’
‘Yeah, I’ll say. Have you tried having a direct conversation? You know, on a day when you have made the bed, so she hasn’t got one hand on the shotgun.’
‘I tried that. Whenever I bring up anything that sounds like criticism, she lashes out and blames it on being a Gemini. I looked it up online and the thing that sticks out is that ninety-seven per cent of the world’s dictators are also Gemini. In hindsight, I should have anticipated how that would be misinterpreted when I brought it up with her.’
‘Linking her personality to Hitler isn’t a great way to initiate domestic reparations, I’ll give you that.’
Will exhaled sharply, his mouth tight. ‘I’m not explaining myself very well. It’s not like we’ve got this big relationship problem to solve. I worship that girl. But…’
‘But?’
‘I don’t know how to finish that sentence.’
Poppy bit her lip and looked out to sea, which had slowly come into view as though dials on the horizon had been twisted into focus. Poppy wondered whether now was the right time to bring up her sighting of Ottilie. Did a right time exist? Would Will feel better or worse knowing that she’d seen his fiancée so upset?
Will looked so dejected, Poppy couldn’t help but reach over to squeeze his arm. He looked at her hand and smiled.
‘Hey, take it from me, the longer you leave awkward conversations, the harder they are to have,’ she said.
He nodded. ‘Thanks, I will. I’m probably overthinking everything, aren’t I?’
‘There you go. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.’
Will rubbed his eyes and stretched. ‘God, I wish there was a Subway on the island.’
‘Me too,’ said Poppy, thoughts drifting back to food.
‘Fancy raiding the kitchens? I think there’s a leftover tiramisu.’
‘For breakfast? Absolutely.’
Chapter Twenty-One
‘If you could tuck your shirt in on the left?’
‘My what?’
‘Your shirt. I can see a bit of your stomach.’
Will disguised a laugh and rubbed his jaw, relaxing the pose he held.
‘Ah, blast. It’s one of those awful Balenciaga shirts. Not worth their weight in gold, not since they moved production to Indonesia. What does a man have to do for Italian tailoring made in Italy, hmm?’ Lord Mountgrave jabbed at his shirt, tugged his blazer straight, and ran a spit-coated finger across his eyebrows. ‘What about the boy? Is he all right?’
‘Oh, he’s fine.’ Poppy smiled at Will from behind the camera as he groaned at his father. ‘If you could chat whilst I move around you, that would be great. The lighting is so good, it’s doing my job for me.’
‘Did Julia give you the brief?’
‘Yes,’ said Poppy, although the neatly typed document she had been handed earlier was wish fulfilment more than anything else.
Poppy raised the viewfinder to her eye and shifted to the left to line up a golden ring of bokeh between the two men. As far as candid corporate shots went, she wasn’t sure what message these were sending. Lord Mountgrave’s arm was stiff around Will’s shoulder, crumpling his linen suit with a sweaty palm. Will was lithe, tall, and broad-shouldered, a contrast to his stout and deep-jowled father.
‘I think we need to try something else…’ said Poppy, tapping her flip-flop against the terracotta tiles.
‘Shall I get him to sit down?’ asked Lord Mountgrave. Will’s lips twitched with a wry smile.
‘We could do that, but how about if you sit down? Lean forward, elbows on knees? Will could stand to the side. It would give me great angles – and present a kinship between the two of you. Quiet, but powerful.’
‘No, no. Better if Will sits. I don’t want to look like I’m ailing. It sends the wrong message.’
Will perched on the edge of a flower bed and winced. ‘I can’t sit here for long. I’m getting penetrated by a shard of flint.’
Poppy stood back and crouched beside a Greek pot so large she could safely climb inside. She fell into a rhythm, clicking and twisting. For someone who observed so much, this was a job that appealed to her natural instincts, the good and the bad. You could tell a lot about a person by the way they reacted when the shutter sounded. Her father scowled and told her to sod off. Lola sucked herself in and up, her curves accentuated by a waspish waist. Lord Mountgrave barely flinched, but Will constantly fidgeted, self-consciousness colouring his cheeks.
Lord Mountgrave tilted his head and lowered his voice, but not quietly enough to stop Poppy from hearing.
‘Try to keep a lid on this business with Lawrence, will you?’
Will maintained a neutral expression. ‘There is no business.’
‘There are lots of people here, son.’
‘Mm. I’m aware.’ He glanced in Poppy’s direction. She stayed behind the camera, thighs screaming from the squatted stance she held to avoid a purple flowered cactus protruding from the rockery behind her.
‘I don’t want it to look like we’re at each other’s throats as a family,’ said Lord Mountgrave.
‘Have you given Josie that memo?’
‘That’s different. You have to handle Lawrence with a little more care. He’s a good talker. There’s a lot you can learn from him, you know. He can get an investor to sign over seed funds between sets at the French Open. Extraordinary. He has a chip on his shoulder, mind, and he can royally piss someone off if the mood takes him. I say the same to him, you know. He can learn from you. As much as he tries to convince us otherwise, he’s not an idiot. He knows how much money I’ve spent on keeping him on the straight and narrow, and out of the papers.’
‘Do you think that might be the problem?’
‘Not at all. He’s grateful. Who else is going to give him something to do, eh? This is a big moment for our family. For the company. On Sunday I’m going to announce my decision as to who will succeed me as CEO, but we both know it’s not going to be him. Are you marking me, Will? The board want to see a fresh face behind the desk. Someone in the family who isn’t a loose cannon. We need to avoid unnecessary squabbles. Timing is everything.’
