CHAPTER40
Alex splashed water on her face and winced. Her cheek was still bright red and sore, and the mark showed no signs of fading any time soon. She’d do her best to cover it but knew that she’d be travelling home today looking like she either had slapped-cheek syndrome or was the type of woman who liked to have the odd scrap now and again.
With Aiden gone, she felt the pressure had lifted somewhat. No pretending. No running into him in the hallway, no stolen glances over breakfast.
No texts.
He had not been in touch since he left last night. Nothing. Not even a stupid emoji. Perhaps this whole fiasco was just too much for him to handle. Understandable, his showdown with Tara couldn’t have been pretty; Alex wouldn’t blame him if he’d just cut his losses and run. Maybe that was that and she’d never see him again. Over just as quickly as it had begun.
Everyone was already in the living room when she got downstairs. Erin had laid out some toast and pastries and was currently enquiring whether anyone wanted a boiled egg.
‘Never,’ Tara replied. ‘Horrible wee bald things.’
‘Morning,’ Alex said, lifting a croissant. ‘Is there any tea on the go?’
‘Oh God, your face,’ Erin exclaimed. ‘In the light of day, it looks like a port-wine stain.’
‘Yes, thank you, Erin. I’m hoping someone will have some decent concealer or foundation with them. Maybe a balaclava?’
Tara just sat there, looking horrified.
‘You know, you really shouldn’t have done that, Tara,’ Becky said.
‘I know. Thanks, Captain Obvious.’
‘You should have challenged her to a duel or something,’ Becky suggested. ‘We don’t see enough of them anymore.’
‘It’s alright,’ Alex reassured her, grinning at Becky’s suggestion. ‘It’s forgotten… no Paul this morning, Beth?’
‘Aiden left some things. Paul’s gone to drop them off at the hotel,’ Beth replied. ‘He’ll probably have some breakfast there.’
‘Since we’re not leaving until three, I thought we’d do a little ceremony… vanquish some demons, affirm a new future?’ Becky looked around the room.
‘I thought you’d stopped all that,’ Tara said to an unreasonably chipper Becky. It appeared her first night without Christine hadn’t dampened her mood at all. ‘I was quite enjoying the vanilla Rebecca with her sensible slacks.’
‘I had,’ Becky replied, ‘But you never forget. It’s like riding a broomstick.’
‘I think it’s great idea,’ Beth agreed. ‘It was the last thing we did on graduation weekend. Seems appropriate.’
‘You’ve changed your tune,’ Erin remarked. ‘I seem to remember you having a panic attack in case everyone laughed at your wish thingy.’
‘Affirmation,’ Becky corrected.
‘Well, sure, but that was then,’ Beth replied. ‘I think I’m safe now. You wouldn’t laugh at a woman with a walking stick now, would you?’
Tara snorted. ‘Nice try, Hop-a-Long, no special treatment here.’
Beth laughed loudly. ‘Fair play, I wouldn’t expect anything less… However, all jokes aside, I think the time has come for us to discuss something important, Tara, and I think I speak for all of us, when I ask – where on earth did those boobs come from?’
‘Rude!’ Tara replied.
‘Beth!’ Erin exclaimed. ‘You can’t say that! You cannot just suddenly ask someone about their bolt-ons, no matter how impressive they are.’ She leaned in. ‘I mean, are they silicone or saltwater?’
‘I have no idea what either of you are talking about,’ Tara responded, swiping away Erin’s hands. ‘I just happened to develop much later in life.’
‘What, in your thirties?’
Alex began to laugh. ‘Girls, that’s quite enough. We’re all adults here.’
