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She managed to recover her composure.
‘Well,’ said Nikki. ‘Inspired by your burritos, I was thinking of doing a taco bar. You could help me with that.’
Adam circled his thumb and forefinger with a smile. ‘Perfect. I’ll bring you round a vat of my guacamole. And I could make Palomas? With tequila in them this time.’
‘Amazing. Shoot me a shopping list and I’ll get everything you need.’
Nikki finished her French toast and put her knife and fork together. She was sure she could transform what she’d now identified as her crush on Adam into something she could handle by putting him firmly in the ‘friend/neighbour’ box. She could look him in the eye without blushing and no longer have to tussle with her fantasy of them falling in love over the garden fence.
Later, as she headed out to Windcutter Farm, she realised it was all for the best. Now, she wouldn’t have to battle with her conscience about whether to tell him the kind of person she really was.
The kind of person who kissed the man who was going to marry her sister.
On their wedding day.
36
Then
The bungalow was in chaos. Perched on the outskirts of town, which made getting to the hospital in Tawcombe easy, it belonged to Jess’s friends, two other A & E nurses and a hairdresser, and the three of them cheerfully admitted that you needed a tetanus injection before crossing the threshold. It was a house full of laughter, lipstick stains and empty glasses, for they worked hard and partied harder. Today, the lounge was being used as a beauty salon-cum-changing room as the bride and her attendants were prepared for the most glamorous wedding ever seen in Speedwell. Niamh had been doing Jess’s hair for over ten years, and was armed with curling tongs, hair straighteners, false eyelashes and a bag of tricks that promised to disguise any blemish. Only perfection was allowed today.
She had already worked her magic on Nikki. Nikki, whose make-up routine consisted of a smidge of tinted moisturiser, mascara and lip-gloss, had sworn to make more effort with her appearance from now on as she gazed back at her reflection, her shoulder-length hair smoothed into a glossy mane, her eyes come-hither, her mouth a luscious pout of caramel.
‘Come to the salon one day and I’ll show you how to do it,’ Niamh offered. ‘You don’t have to spend hours. It’s all about the product.’
Niamh practised a kind of witchcraft really, Nikki decided.
Half an hour later, she saw that magic worked on her own sister. Niamh had transformed her into a Gothic fairy-tale princess. She was swathed in a sea of scarlet silk, the fabric cleverly cut to disguise her bump, her dark hair rippling over her shoulders as Niamh put on the finishing touches, applying a sticky coat of something to her lips that would make sure she didn’t leave a smudge on anyone’s cheek or a mark on the side of a glass.
By midday, she would be Mrs Jessica Mahoney-Chambord.
‘Damn right I’m taking his name,’ Jess had said in a flash of anti-feminist defiance. ‘I mean, that’s half the reason for marrying him.’
Nikki wasn’t sure how she was going to get through the ceremony. Envy was gnawing at her insides. With luck, after today her yearning would fade. Once they had tied the knot, Rik would be out of bounds. Any hope that he would have a sudden change of heart and declare his undying love would be extinguished. She couldn’t wait for the madness to stop. It was turning her into a shadow of her former self. She’d stopped going out with her mates, stopped going on all those silly outings that punctuated working life – shopping trips to Exeter, or clubbing in Tawcombe, or days out on Exmoor, ending up in a remote pub drinking cider. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
It was making her utterly miserable, no matter how sternly she spoke to herself. The worst thing was there was no one she could talk to about it. She wasn’t going to admit to being obsessed with her sister’s boyfriend … fiancé … to anyone.
‘Will I do?’ Jess was standing in front of her, arms out.
‘You look perfect,’ said Nikki, and was horrified to find tears springing into her eyes.
‘What are you crying for?’ Jess looked puzzled.
‘Because you look so beautiful,’ gulped Nikki. ‘I’d better go and get ready. The car’s coming to Mariners at half eleven.’ Nikki and Jess and their dad were going to the church together. Rik had stayed the night at the Pier Hotel with his mum, who had flown in to Bristol the day before.
‘I’ll be there.’ Jess stepped forward and put her arms around her sister. Nikki could feel her warmth, and her head was filled with Jess’s overpowering perfume, the familiar but unsettling scent, erotic and dangerous. It didn’t smell like that on anyone else. Nikki had tried it once, and it had been harsh and bitter on her skin. ‘And thank you. For everything. I’ll pay you back one day. I don’t know how, because I’m not an angel like you. But I promise I will.’
‘You don’t have to thank me,’ said Nikki, stiff with guilt at her treacherous thoughts, wriggling out of Jess’s embrace. Unlike her sister, she hated attention.
Nikki raced home through the streets, feeling a bit foolish with her hair done and her face fully made up, with jeans and a T-shirt on. Inside the house, she could hear her parents in the kitchen. She popped her head in. There they were, all dressed and ready to go, sharing a pot of tea as if it was a normal day. They seemed excited, but calm. Nikki had made sure that there was no pressure on them: she had wanted them to enjoy the wedding. Apart from William walking Jess down the aisle, they had nothing to worry about for the whole of the day.
‘Oh, Dad!’ she said. ‘Look at you.’
William had a new suit, dark grey with a white stripe, and he looked so handsome, with his hair cut and his beard trimmed.
‘Isn’t he the bee’s knees?’ said Helen. ‘I’ve told him we need to go on a date every week so he can get some wear out of it.’ She was in a tight-fitting coral shift dress and staggeringly high suede shoes. A wide-brimmed hat lay on the kitchen table, ready to go on at the last minute. Her mum had always had a good eye for what flattered her, and a figure that meant she could get away with anything. But life in Speedwell didn’t often call for dressing up.
‘You both look a million dollars,’ said Nikki. ‘Mum, the car’s coming for you and Graham at a quarter past, so you can get to the church early. Then it’s coming back for us, Dad.’
