Wish You Weren't Here, page 19
36
Dinner this evening was roast chicken and vegetables – which means that, thankfully, Ethan is well fed enough not to wake me up by crunching biscuits at 3 a.m. In fact, it was only as he served up his third portion of broccoli that I begged for mercy, reminding him that I’m the one who has to share a bed with him.
We’ve just finished our dessert – fresh fruit and more cheeses than I can name – and our coffees, and now it’s time to retire to our rooms.
I always find myself getting a little anxious, as the sun goes down, and bedtime draws closer and closer. It still feels so peculiar, to be in a bed with Ethan. That’s the only word I can think to describe it because it’s not that it’s awful, or all that awkward, it’s just that it feels… incorrect. It’s almost as though my body isn’t working with the same information as my brain, so while I know that Ethan is absolutely a no-go, and that really I should be focusing on getting to know Beau better, my body hasn’t got the memo. I know, this is going to sound crazy, but it’s like they’re working separately. I’ll find one of my limbs edging toward him, my hand creeping toward his as he lies next to me, my legs slinking across the bed like snakes, trying to intertwine with his. It’s like they’re possessed, and I have to really mind-over-matter them back over to my side of the bed.
Speaking of Beau, it’s only tonight, when I’m seeing him sitting next to Eleanor, that I am noticing just how much she flirts with him.
‘Everyone knows it’s the best man and the principal bridesmaid who ride off into the sunset, at the end of the day,’ she tells him flirtatiously. She’s talking quietly, just to him, and while everyone else is distracted talking amongst themselves, my ears are fully tuned into their channel.
‘Is that so?’ he replies.
He sounds like he’s smiling but I’m scared to even look. I’m enjoying getting to know Beau, and there’s something about him that I really like. Everyone else here (apart from Ethan, of course) seems so two-dimensional, like there is nothing to them but money and image, but Beau seems like he has something going on behind his eyes.
‘Oh my goodness, stop the press, someone call Tatler, because I think we might have a hot new couple on the horizon,’ Seph sings, turning everyone’s attention toward Eleanor and Beau.
‘Sephy, you are awful, stop,’ Eleanor says, batting her hand, clearly not wanting her to stop at all.
Beau looks a little embarrassed maybe, although he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who likes to have eyes on him in this way. I feel like he’s a very private person but, then again, I know how many people visit his house each year.
‘I would just D-I-E if my best chum and Chester’s best chum got together,’ Seph says.
‘You could do a lot worse than an earl,’ Chester tells Eleanor. Then he turns to Beau. ‘And we all know you need a wife ASAP.’
Oh, I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. I can feel my shoulders rising, my head tipping forward as I grip my bottom lip between my teeth just a little too hard.
‘I can’t wait to marry you,’ Ethan tells me.
I almost get whiplash, turning to face him. What is he talking about? And the way he said it, sort of quietly, but definitely loud enough for everyone to hear.
‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t realise you were all listening,’ Ethan says, feigning mild embarrassment. ‘It’s just all this talk of weddings… it really, really makes me and Lana want to finally make this official.’
‘Are you two engaged?’ Dad asks, raising an eyebrow.
‘No,’ I say quickly.
‘No, not yet,’ Ethan replies, taking my hand in his. ‘But watch this space.’
‘Well, it’s about time,’ Chester says. ‘Lana is like Beau, growing dusty on the shelf – of course, Lana has EPJ blowing her cobwebs off.’
Oh, my dad doesn’t like that.
I look over at Beau. He’s staring at us, glancing back and forth between my eyes and Ethan’s hand on top of mine.
‘We are very much looking forward to tomorrow, Ethan,’ Bea says.
‘What’s tomorrow?’ I turn to him to ask.
‘A surprise,’ he tells me, his eyes twinkling as they widen for effect. ‘I’ve planned something for us all to do.’
‘Seph had arranged an activity for us all, but the place has closed for work on the electrics, so Ethan stepped up, he says he’s got something good for us,’ Chester tells me.
‘Like what?’ I ask Ethan.
‘It’s a surprise for you too,’ he replies.
‘Right, well, time to retire,’ Bea says – I think she hates it when she feels like Ethan and I are becoming main characters.
We all exchange polite goodnights before heading to our rooms. The second I close the door behind me and Ethan, I whip around to confront him.
‘What the hell was that?’ I ask him.
‘What?’ he replies.
‘You, telling people we’re getting married,’ I reply, my voice squeaking with disbelief.
‘Oh, that,’ he replies. ‘You’re welcome.’
‘I’m… what? Why am I welcome?’
‘You want Beau, right?’ he asks – of course, I don’t answer. ‘And Eleanor was flirting with him, and everyone was talking about them getting together, so I said that to make him jealous, and it worked – didn’t you see the look on his face? So, yeah, you’re welcome.’
For a moment I don’t know what to say. Wow, that’s really… nice of him? What even is that? He’s helping me to bag Beau now?
‘And the thing tomorrow…?’ I say.
‘Oh, it’s nothing, Seph had booked some group thing – it sounded shit anyway – so when she was upset that it had been cancelled, I said I’d sort something, it’s no big deal,’ he replies.
Again, I’m speechless for a few seconds.
‘It is a big deal,’ I tell him. ‘Look, this family don’t think much of me. They think more of that stupid bench, that they’ve got locked away, protected by cameras, like it’s in some kind of vault.’
He laughs.
‘Really, it’s nothing,’ he insists. ‘Now, come on, wifey, bedtime.’
He strips down to his boxers, completely comfortable in my presence, before heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed.
For a moment I just sit there, on the edge of the bed, trying to make sense of everything in my brain.
Is Ethan working with me or against me now? I really can’t figure it out.
37
It occurred to me, when I woke up early this morning, that opinion of me is already quite low, so I could probably get away with a lie-in – even if it was just this once.
Ethan was starving so he went to join everyone for breakfast, which meant that I could spread out in bed, going full starfish, taking up every corner of the bed, and it was glorious. It was almost a shame that I had to get up at all. I know, I know, I’m in a beautiful country and I should be exploring, but you know that feeling where your batteries desperately feel like they need charging? I felt like that, totally flat, and with no remote control to steal the batteries from then a bit of extra sleep seemed like the best thing for it.
I’m up now though and it’s strange. I feel like Kevin, in Home Alone, because the house is completely empty.
‘Hello?’ I call out as I explore the rooms downstairs.
There’s no sign of anyone – well, I can hear the staff working in the kitchen, so I can rule out a zombie apocalypse. Actually, no, I can’t, because I’ll bet Chester’s parents would make the staff keep working, apocalypse or not.
There’s no one on the patio, no one around the pool – oh, I can hear voices though, coming from the beach, so I make my way down the garden and onto the sand.
And here they all are – playing cricket. Oh yay, another sport!
Chester is the centre of everything, as usual, standing in the middle of the ‘pitch’ waiting to bowl.
‘Lana, there you are,’ he calls out.
‘We thought you might sleep all day,’ Bea adds.
‘It’s a shock to the system, adjusting to the time difference,’ I point out.
‘We all did it,’ Bea points out.
‘Join us,’ Dad insists, keen to move the game along.
‘Yes, you’re missing all the fun,’ Chester adds.
Funny, because it looks like all I’m missing is playing cricket with my family – aka the opposite of fun.
‘I don’t even know how to play,’ I reply.
‘It’s easy,’ Ethan tells me with a smile. ‘I’ll help you. You pretty much just hit the ball and run.’
‘There’s more to it than that,’ Beau replies. I don’t think he likes it, when Ethan makes his hobbies seem like silly little games that anyone can play.
‘Honestly, you all keep doing what you’re doing,’ I insist.
‘She’s always been a bore,’ Seph says. ‘If she doesn’t want to join in, let her watch us all having fun.’
‘Actually, while we don’t have anything planned, I thought I might go for a walk,’ I reply. ‘I’ve never been here before – I’d love to see more of the sights.’
I notice Ethan open his mouth, as though he’s going to say something, but Beau gets in there first.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Beau says. ‘I fancy a stroll – and I make an excellent tour guide.’
‘Oh, okay, thank you,’ I reply politely. ‘Sounds great.’
‘Don’t worry, Lana, we’ll look after Ethan for you,’ Tiggy calls out. She’s currently standing with the bat in her hand, wiggling her bum as she waits for Chester to bowl.
Tiggy looking after Ethan is absolutely something to worry about.
‘So, what are you in the mood for?’ Beau asks as we stroll.
‘I would love to visit Bondi Beach,’ I tell him.
‘Bondi it is,’ he replies. ‘Let’s go.’
I glance back at Ethan, who gives me a small wave – but then the ball flies in his direction so he turns his attention back to the game.
I’m sure he’ll be fine and, to be honest, some time apart might do us good. Even if it just means nothing bad can happen…
38
Bondi Beach is really something else.
I’ve seen plenty of photos of it, and scenes in TV shows and movies, but being here is just so surreal.
I feel like I’m on a film set, oddly, like my entire day is a page ripped from a movie script. I mean, come on, I’m strolling along Bondi Beach with a fucking earl.
I’m carrying my shoes in my hand, so that I can feel the warm sand beneath my feet. It sounds silly but the sand here is perfect – like, if you could buy bags of beach sand, this is exactly how it would look and feel.
It’s like its own little area of perfection. It’s touristy, sure, but not in the same way that, like, Blackpool beach is – as though the two places are at all comparable.
Beau took me into what is essentially an Aussie chippy. It had a vibe of a UK chippy, with its wall-mounted menu and stainless-steel surfaces, but the food is a lot different.
I have fish and chips – although the fish is in breadcrumbs, not batter – and Beau is tucking into calamari and chips. We’re eating them out of cardboard containers, using wooden forks, as we stroll – not very earl-y at all. I’m probably the most relaxed I’ve felt – apart from when I’m with Ethan, obviously.
He’s currently telling me more about the manor house he owns and I’m not sure if I’m jealous or it sounds like a nightmare. I’m guessing the reality is somewhere between the two.
‘So, theoretically, there are twenty-one bedrooms,’ he says. ‘Not that I’ve ever actually counted them. I have my own bedroom, of course, and I’ve turned one of the libraries into a private living room. It’s a big old thing – about 15 metres long – but it’s full of books and I’ve got a television in there. That’s probably where I spend most of my time, when I’m home.’
‘Wow, it’s like you live in a hotel,’ I reply.
‘Quite,’ he replies. ‘Especially in the seasons when the house is open to the public. The place is either crawling with people or it’s just me and the staff – I would go mad, if I didn’t have my dogs. Of course, with the staff, it never quite feels like company, though they are friendly enough.’
‘No, I totally get that,’ I reply.
‘That feeling, of coming home to an empty house, it’s something I’ve never quite got used to – since Father died,’ he continues. ‘It’s the reason why I know I need to settle down – aside from the silly pressure to procreate, to produce an heir – just to have someone to come home to, to have someone to live life with. What’s the use in having twenty-one bedrooms and no one in them?’
‘It’s a tale as old as time, needing to find someone to knock up, so you have a boy to inherit your title,’ I joke, instantly regretting my choice of words and my tone. I can’t help but find all the old-fashioned nonsense kind of daft.
He laughs – possibly just politely.
‘There should be an app for that, really,’ I joke. ‘A dating app that is exclusively for finding partners befitting the upper class. People could put things on their profile like “lady material” and “marchioness in training”.’
‘Such an app does indeed exist,’ he points out – and he isn’t joking. ‘I had a quick look once, egged on by my friends, and it really was quite intense. You had to meet certain criteria – to show wealth, as though that is a measure of anything. There are some incredibly rich people from working-class backgrounds, and I know plenty of noblemen who can barely afford to get by – there’s a reason we open our big houses to the public – so it really is a rather pointless measure of a person. Money should never come into it, when it comes to finding true love.’ He laughs at himself. ‘I don’t know if that makes me sound terribly old-fashioned or just frightfully corny, but that’s the way I’ve always looked at it. I want someone who loves me in spite of the title, the house and the expectations – not because of them.’
I smile back at him. Is it possible that Beau could be a rare creature in a world full of beasts? The rest of them all feel the same: preoccupied with class, money and status – and they’re all interlinked. Beau seems to look at the world in a different way. He knows he’s rich and privileged but he doesn’t seem to think it matters. I mean, really, it’s all just down to luck, isn’t it? He was lucky enough to be born to an earl who passed the title (and the big house) on. My fortune played out differently, and I had a normal upbringing with my mum, and it may seem like I missed out but I wouldn’t change a thing. I know, it’s easy to say when you’re on the outside looking in, but the idea that I could have been as out of touch and (let’s not beat about the bush) snooty as Seph makes me feel kind of sick.
‘Ah, now, speaking of apps – did I hear someone saying you and Ethan build them for a living?’ he asks.
I mean, I’m a part of the machine, sure, but I don’t build apps any more than the people who clean the building or do the accounts do.
‘Yes,’ I say – because that sounds much better.
‘Any I might have used?’ he asks.
Oh, I seriously doubt that.
‘Potentially,’ I reply, trying to think of a way to move the conversation along. ‘I’m actually working on something of my own. It’s only at the planning stage right now but I think it’s something really special – a must-have app for women. It might be something I work on separately from my day job though.’
Because the idiots at work don’t take my ideas seriously.
‘You know, I have multiple revenue streams – one of which comes from investing in small businesses and entrepreneurs. I would love to know more about your app – later, when we’re not supposed to be relaxing, of course – and, well, if it sounds good it could be just the venture for me. I want to get into tech.’
‘Wow, really?’ I reply, trying not to sound too keen. Isn’t it silly how we’ve been conditioned over the years to downplay our emotions, especially to men? ‘Yeah, ahem, yes. Yes, I would love to talk more about it later.’
As we approach a bin, Beau takes my rubbish from me and places it inside.
‘Now then, any requests, or would you like me to make some suggestions, for what we do next?’ he asks. ‘I know some women favour scenery over shopping, playing games over peace and quiet – I’m sure we could still participate in the cricket, if we head back now.’
He laughs, letting me know that he’s joking about that last part, and I laugh too until I realise something. Shit. I do actually need to go shopping, and the reason for that is because the only thing I brought with me was the fuck you/fuck me black dress, and Beau may be more down to earth than the rest, but that dress is not befitting someone who you might find on the arm of an earl. No way. It is not a dress for royalty, it’s a dress for royally pissing people off. So I need to buy a bloody dress.
Let’s think, let’s think… how do I spin this?
‘Well, I’m not usually one for shopping while I’m on holiday,’ I tell him, which is only true in that I can rarely afford to go on holiday, and when I can – as a direct consequence – I can’t afford to shop. ‘However, I do need to buy a dress for the wedding.’
I notice Beau’s eyebrows rise as he wonders why I don’t have one so late in the day.
‘The airline lost one of my bags,’ I lie. ‘And of course it was the one with my wedding attire within it.’
Yes, I’m still trying to keep my accent as neutral as possible and, yes, whenever I try to fancy up my sentences they only seem to make less sense. I swear, everyone else throws unnecessary words into their sentences, and it just makes them sound sophisticated. When I do, it sounds like I’m drunkenly slurring my words.
‘Oh, nightmare,’ Beau replies.
‘So I am going to need to go shopping, in fact,’ I say – ugh, even that sounded ridiculous. ‘But thank you for a lovely walk.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Beau insists.
‘Oh, no, don’t feel like you have to trek to the city with me,’ I reply.
