скачать книгу бесплатно
‘So you thought you’d, what, make extra confetti?’ he teases.
I playfully throw a handful of shredded paper at the total stranger. Thankfully he takes my gesture as intended – as a joke – and doesn’t have me manhandled off the plane by an air marshal.
‘I’m heading home for my little sister’s wedding. She’s twenty-four. I’m twenty-nine and I’m single.’ I stare at the stranger expectantly until he works out what is so wrong with that. It doesn’t take him very long.
‘Rather you than me, sweetie,’ the stranger says as he sweeps his long fringe from over of his eyes. ‘You should have paid someone to be your date, get everyone off your back.’
‘Oh, they would never believe I was a reformed character with a sudden respect for monogamy. It was only a couple of days ago I called my sis and told her she could come and stay with me if she wanted to call it all off. Anyway, it’s too late now – unless you’re not busy,’ I jokily suggest with a wink.
‘Honey, they’d be far more likely to believe you’re a romantic than they would me being a straight guy.’
I can’t help but laugh. It did occur to me that my new friend was rather camp, but this is LA after all and you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.
‘Anyway,’ he continues, ‘I’m going to London to try and meet a prince! I want to marry into royalty.’
‘I’m not so up on current events back home,’ I explain, ‘but I’m fairly sure most of the royals are taken and/or straight.’
‘Well aren’t you a Debbie Downer,’ he teases. ‘I’m Ethan, by the way. I suppose we should do names.’
‘Yes, we seem to have skipped that bit. A mere formality considering we’re already plane pals. I’m Mia.’
‘Yey! Plane pals!’ Ethan squeaks. ‘We can share our lunch and go to the bathroom together.’
‘I’m all for distributing the calories but it might look like we’re trying to join a different kind of club if we go to the loos together,’ I laugh.
‘Speaking of the not so exclusive Mile High Club – which I have been a proud member of since 2009…’ we slap each other a high-five, ‘… that cute flight attendant is checking you out.’
‘No! He’s gay, right?’ says the girl who was just preaching about not judging a book by its cover.
‘He’s straight. I’m the authority on the matter and he is hot for you.’
I smile back at the tall, muscular flight attendant. His gorgeous smile and his dirty blonde hair would usually make for my type, but he’s almost too pretty. Too polished and perfect. Of course, I can’t tell Ethan that this gorgeous creature’s teeth are too white. That his face is too symmetrical. That his clothes are too neat. He looks like he’d want to snuggle afterwards and that’s the last thing people do in aeroplane bathrooms.
‘Not my type,’ I insist to Ethan.
‘Your type isn’t gorgeous and crazy for you?’
‘Nah,’ I reply with a laugh. ‘You might be into that weird stuff, but I’m not.’
‘You like a bad boy?’ Ethan asks.
‘I do. I like them manly and dangerous looking. Rough and ready, heartbreakingly handsome, could have any girl they wanted – that’s my type.’
‘So you like the chase,’ Ethan concludes. ‘You reel them in and then you throw them back.’
‘Well, you know, if we’re sticking with the fish metaphor, you kill them when you catch them. What would I want with a dead fish? I just chuck them back, leave them for someone else to suffocate.’
‘Mia, honey, you are a case study waiting to happen.’
‘Why thank you,’ I reply proudly.
As the in-flight movie starts playing, Ethan and I – or the plane pals as we’re now known – both reach for our headphones. It’s some weird animated movie and all the characters are things you would find in the bathroom. I watch Ethan recoil in horror as he watches a talking toilet brush chatting with a “sexy” loofah with long eyelashes and lipstick.
‘What the hell?’ he asks me, before standing up in his seat and addressing the entire plane. ‘Can we get something with Ryan Gosling on please?’ he yells to no one in particular. Most of the female passengers find this utterly charming (they’re clearly Gosling fans) and applaud Ethan’s bold move.
‘Sir, if you’d like to sit down,’ the sexy cabin crew guy insists firmly.
‘Yeah, sit down,’ I whisper to Ethan as I pull him back down by his arm. ‘It’s not worth getting wrestled off a plane for Ryan Gosling – unless Ryan is the one doing the wrestling.’
‘Aw, would you miss me, plane pal?’ he teases me.
‘I would actually, because for the first time in days you have managed to stop me stressing about having to go to this wedding.’
And now I’ve just reminded myself again…
***
As we touched down on English soil everyone applauded the pilot for doing what he does every day of his working life. He’s landed the plane, we’re all alive, it’s a miracle, applause, applause. In a new twist, Ethan started throwing the sick bag confetti in the air – something that landed us absolutely filthy looks from the crew as we left the plane. I did still get a wink from the cabin crew cutie though.
I know it’s just a weird coincidence, but the more I tried to keep my mind off the wedding, the more things would crop up to remind me exactly what would be waiting for me when I got off the plane. The funniest of all was when the second in-flight movie turned out to be one of mine – and a wedding flick, no less. As Ethan gushed over the male lead, I decided it best not to tell him I had a hand in writing it, because I imagine it would take the shine off it a little.
After going through the usual airport motions without a hitch – which is surprising, considering Ethan told a hot policeman he had twenty grams of cocaine hidden in his rectum – I followed my sister’s ridiculously detailed itinerary down to the letter and made it safely onto my Cornwall bound train.
With four hours down and just one to go, I know it won’t be long now until I arrive. My sister and her hubby-to-be will be waiting for me on the platform and then there really will be no turning back. I’ll be in captivity and my sister will be my keeper – my sister who has told me that all wedding-based celebrations will not be optional.
To take my mind off where I am heading, I grab one of the trashy celebrity magazines I picked up at the train station. Unless their fame makes it across the pond, I don’t know very much about what is going on in UK celeb culture, so reading about people from the likes of The Only Way Is Essex, Geordie Shore and Made In Chelsea do little to hold my attention. Reality TV inspired fashion is certainly a big hit here, though. I’ve only been home a few hours but I could play fashion bingo with the number of people I have seen replicating the styles these famous-for-being-famous people are sporting. I’ll just tick each one off in this magazine as I spot it in real life. Huge false eyelashes, tick. Man-tans, tick. His and hers onesies, tick.
Looking at the current fashion here fills me with dread. I wonder what kind of bridesmaid dress my sister has lined up for me. They had the dress fittings ages ago, so I had to send Belle my measurements and hope she put them to good use. Even before my Hollywood makeover, my sister and I never had much in common when it came to fashion. Growing up one of the cool kids, Belle embraced any silly trend going. These days my previously skinny sister is now a little on the chubby side and her dress sense has settled down to a comfortable style, think: function over fashion, comfort over style, etc. When I was the chubby one my mum would make me feel like shit for even looking at a chocolate bar, but now that my sister is the one who has piled on the pounds my mum has put it down to her being a contented woman. Oh, and I’m dangerously thin and I don’t eat enough. Even when the shoe is on the other foot, Annabelle is still perfect and I am still a huge let down.
It isn’t fair to blame my mum for everything. Sadly, my dad is of a similar opinion, and I’m fairly certain my Auntie June hates my guts – she thinks I’m a bad influence on my cousins, who in turn love me for being a bad influence. My gran doesn’t really “get” me, but my granddad absolutely worships me. I’m so glad he’s going to be there because he is always on my side, even when I know I’m in the wrong. That just leaves my Uncle Steve, and while he does like me, he likes me a little too much. We’re not blood relatives or anything (Auntie June and my mum are sisters) but his weird crush on me is still entirely creepy. Still, it’s nice to have another fan. When my mum is complaining about my outfits, my gran is trying to feed me and my auntie is trying to stop me talking to my cousins, I’m sure that inevitable slap on the arse from my uncle will be almost welcomed.
Hopefully I’ll be able to avoid having to spend too much time with anyone in particular because so many other people will be there too – people who are not related to me and therefore might actually like me. I haven’t met any of Dan’s relatives, but I know there’s going to be quite a few members of his family there. The rest of the guests are just friends of Belle and Dan, some that I don’t know and some that I wish I didn’t know.
After hours of travelling I can’t help but let out a big yawn. Put it down to a combination of jetlag and tiredness, but I rub my sleepy eyes with my hands, smudging my heavy black eye makeup everywhere.
‘Dammit,’ I can’t help but say to myself.
Grabbing my toilet bag, I head for the train toilets to smarten myself up. It won’t be long before I arrive so I’d better go and apply my war paint.
Chapter 4 (#ulink_bcb300c5-52d2-58b7-aa9e-247db805970a)
Ah, the great British Summer. Despite it being August, the sky is a thick blanket of cloud that is doing nothing to keep me warm. In fact, I am positively freezing. The weather back in Beverly Hills was supposed to be lovely these next few weeks, so a vacation from work to just chill out and enjoy the nice weather would have been welcomed. Instead I am here, in jolly old England, feeling the wrath of the hit-and-miss summer.
As I stand alone on the platform – under strict instruction from my sister, who couldn’t stress enough that I should wait on the platform, lest I wander off and die – I give my outfit the once over. I check that my black and white bandage dress is straight and give it a quick brush-down with my hands. Safe in the knowledge that my hair and makeup look as best they can after a twelve hour flight, a five hour train, and countless hours waiting in between, I stand and wait for my sister.
Right on schedule, Belle and Dan appear out of nowhere and bound towards me like a couple of puppies would if I were holding a tennis ball made of meat.
‘Hello,’ I greet them with all the enthusiasm I can muster. It’s clearly not enough though, because my sister and Dan simultaneously grab me and hug me.
‘Wow, OK,’ I can’t help but blurt out. I’m not used to much affection these days – least of all group hugs.
‘Don’t let Gran see how thin you look,’ my sister warns me when she finally lets me go. ‘She’ll flip.’
I could ask my sister – who is absolutely serious, by the way – how she proposes I hide my thinness from my gran, but I’m worried she might actually have a few suggestions. Whether it involves eating several Cornish pasties on the drive to the house or stuffing a pillow up my dress, I’m not crazy about actively doing anything to hide the body I work hard for.
‘You’re looking good too,’ I tell her. ‘You too, Dan.’
‘Thanks,’ he says, still as excited as a child at Christmas. ‘We’re so glad you could come, we were worried you might not show.’
‘You really think I wouldn’t show up to my own sister’s wedding?’ I gasp.
‘Yes… I mean no… I mean, you’re so busy with work all the time and–’
‘Relax, Dan. I’m messing with you,’ I assure him, but if I could have thought of a reason that wouldn’t see me disowned by my entire family, believe me, I would have used it.
‘Right.’ Dan laughs nervously. ‘Shall we get in the car…’
Dan, being the gent that he is, goes to pick up my suitcase by the handle.
‘You might want to drag it,’ I warn him. ‘It’s–’
Dan screams out in pain as he picks up my deceivingly heavy suitcase.
‘–really heavy,’ I rather pointlessly finish my sentence.
I stare at poor Dan who is doubled up in pain, his face turning purple, his eyes looking like they are about to pop right out of his head and bounce onto the train tracks… but that’s nothing compared to the angry shade of red my sister is turning.
‘Prince, are you OK?’ she asks, fussing around Dan who seems to feel more pain every time she touches him.
‘It’s my back,’ he tells me. ‘I hurt it playing football when I was at school, ended my career before it started. If I overdo it, I put it out. Why is your suitcase so heavy?’
‘Just clothes and shoes and stuff. I tried to warn you,’ I reason.
‘Mia,’ my sister starts, and I just know that this is going to be all my fault, ‘if you have broken my fiancé just in time for my wedding I will never speak to you again.’
My eyes widen in response to the way my sister is overreacting.
‘First of all, he’s a man, not a toy,’ I rant. ‘Second of all, I didn’t break him. He tried to lift my case before I could warn him it was heavy, it’s not like I took a swing at him with a baseball bat.’
‘I can’t believe you’re already trying to ruin my wedding,’ my sister shouts.
‘What the fuck?’ I screech, but I don’t get to say anything else before usually mild mannered Dan interrupts us with an ever so slightly raised voice of his own.
‘Enough,’ he snaps. ‘Let’s just get in the car and head back to the house, it’s not that bad and the house isn’t far.’
‘Are you sure, prince?’ Belle asks in her most sickliest voice.
‘I’m sure, princess.’
Oh God, I’d forgotten about their pathetic pet names for one another. Excuse me while I throw up.
Belle puts her arm around Dan and they slowly head for the car park.
‘I’ll just carry my own case, shall I?’ I call after them.
‘You should have done that in the first place,’ Belle snaps back.
I drag my case to Dan’s car before lifting it up and putting it on the back seat. It’s not that heavy but I suppose if the poor bastard has a weak back there was no way it was going to end well. Belle and Dan are in the front, so I climb in the back with my case.
‘Seatbelts,’ Belle insists. ‘We don’t want any more accidents.’
As instructed, I strap myself in – like I hadn’t planned on doing it anyway. As soon as Belle has given us all the once-over she gives Dan the nod to set off.
I knew that I would end up having arguments with my little sister over the next week or so, but I hadn’t expected the first one to be within minutes of seeing her. There’s an awkward atmosphere in the car. I can just tell my sister is mentally planning the speech she’s going to give me if Dan’s back is anything less than one hundred percent on their wedding day. I decide to try and quash the awkwardness by making small talk – and if there’s one thing Belle loves talking about, it’s Belle.
‘So have all the guests arrived?’ I ask.
‘Would you believe you aren’t the last person to arrive,’ Belle says brightly, like that’s supposed to make me feel like Sister of the Year. ‘Dan’s friend Leo and his mum aren’t here yet because he’s got work. He’s a fireman.’
‘That’s hot,’ I joke.
‘Mia, no,’ my sister says firmly.
‘Oi, it was a joke,’ I insist. Well, it was. Fire, hot, get it? My sense of humour is wasted on this audience. ‘I’m a writer, I’m supposed to make crap jokes.’
‘Anyway,’ she continues, shrugging off my attempt at humour, ‘our lot are here – Mum, Dad, Gran, Granddad, Auntie June, Uncle Steve, Hannah, Meg and Josh.’
Hannah, Meg and Josh are my cousins. They like me because they think I’m cool – much to their mother’s disgust. I haven’t seen them in a while, but I know that Hannah will be fifteen now, Meg is thirteen and Josh is ten.
‘Are your family here, Dan?’ I ask to keep the conversation going.
Dan opens his mouth to talk but my sister gets in there first.
‘Of course they are,’ she snaps. ‘We’ve got Dan’s mum and dad, his grandparents, his brother, his auntie, cousins and so on. Then we have our friends: Beth, Nancy, Jason, Heather.’
Belle says these names like they’re supposed to mean something to me but I have no idea who her friends are. Apart from Nancy, who has been my sister’s BFF since she started school. I know her well because she spent a lot of time at our house, and because she relentlessly bullied me, despite being five years my junior. Belle wasn’t always horrible to me, but when she was, you could guarantee she was doing it because Nancy was there. I played the role of fat, boring, nerdy older sister well – not that that’s an excuse for bullying.
As wedding parties go, it isn’t massive, but Belle has been planning this wedding/mini holiday for everyone for a long time now. I wasn’t doing the maths, but that sounds like an awful lot of people to be staying in one beach house.
‘Where is everyone going to sleep?’ I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
‘Oh, well, not everyone is staying at the house – only close family and important wedding people – and anyway, the house is massive,’ Belle insists.
‘Massive enough to sleep so many people?’ I ask.
‘See for yourself,’ Dan says as he pulls into the driveway.
As I take in the stunning contemporary beach house that will not only be my home throughout my stay, but also the venue for my sister’s wedding, my jaw literally drops. Not only is the house right on the beach, but it is massive. It looks like a hotel! This isn’t any old beach house – you just know that one day an architect with endless money had this brilliant vision and the massive, brilliant white, funky-shaped property in front of us was what came of it. I have to admit, I’m impressed.
