AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I said enough. I don’t want to hear it. You’re embarrassing our guests.”
You’re embarrassingyourself, is what he wants to say. It’s written all over his face. There’s no need for him to say it, though: I already know. And as he turns on his heels and walks away from me, off to smooth things over with the groups of strangers who are standing around my living room, I don’t think I’ve ever felt worse.
Which is honestly saying alotfor me, given that the stories my parents have been regaling the Buchanans with are all absolutely true.
“I’ll… I’ll go and get a cloth to clean up the mess,” I mutter, not daring to look at Rose. Or her parents. Ormyparents. Or anyone else in the room, including the portrait of Jack’s grandad, which seems to watch disapprovingly as I slink guiltily out of the room and run for the safety of the kitchen.
Or maybe running for thehillswould be a better option at this point?
Remembering thelasttime I ran from this house to the hills — and had to be rescued from them by helicopter — I decide to stick with the original plan, and head for the kitchen, slamming the door behind me, then turning and leaning against it, just to be sure no one can follow me in here. I’m going to need at least 10 minutes to have a good cry to myself before I can face everyone again.
Okay, make that 20 minutes.
“Having a nice evening, are you?”
I jump at the sound of a voice from the other side of the room, then jump again when I look up to see Frankie standing watching me from beside the sink, which she appears to be cleaning.
“Frankie? Oh, thank God you’re here.”
I’m so relieved to see a friendly face at last (Well, asemi-friendly face: by the looks of things, Frankie still hasn’t forgotten the incident in the bridal shop earlier …) that I rush over and give her a hug which almost knocks her off her feet.
“I didn’t know Kathryn had invited you,” I say, as she disentangles herself. “Why were you hiding in the kitchen?”
“She didn’t invite me,” Frankie replies, looking annoyed. “And I’m not hiding, I’m here to clean.”
She turns away and picks up her cleaning cloth, while I stand there gaping at her, confused.
“What do you mean, here to clean? You’re not here for the party?”
“No, Emerald,” she sighs, turning back to face me. “I’m not here for the party. People like me don’t get invited to the Buchanan’s parties. Or to be bridesmaids in their weddings, apparently.”
“Oh come on, Frankie, don’t make me say it again,” I wail, close to tears. “Youknowthat’s not true. Itoldyou Rose just tried to bulldoze her way in, but I’ve set her straight now. I told her you were always going to be my Maid of Honor. And you always were, Frankie. You know that. I wouldn’t dream of asking anyone else.”
She clears her throat self-consciously, her expression softening ever so slightly.
“But you still haven’t told me why you’re cleaning my kitchen?” I go on quickly, knowing she hates what she calls ‘a scene’. “You didn’t say anything about it earlier.”
“I didn’t know about it earlier,” Frankie replies, putting the cloth back down again. “Jack’s mum called the office while we were out today and booked someone to come and clean up after her engagement party. Apparently Mirren was supposed to be doing it, but she called in sick at the last minute, so here I am. Honestly,” she goes on, exasperated. “I’m away for a few hours, and the whole business just falls to pieces.”
I bite my bottom lip nervously as I mull this over.
‘Engagement party?’ I thought it was just supposed to be a ‘meet the parents’ thing?
“But… you shouldn’t be doing the cleaning, Frankie,” I say at last. “You should be at the party.”
Butnoneof my friends are at this party, are they? Just Mum and Dad, plus a bunch of complete strangers who haven’t made the slightest effort to talk to me.
It’s almost as if I’m irrelevant.
“Aye, well, you generally have to be invited to a party, Emerald,” Frankie says accusingly. “And I wasn’t. Neither was McTavish, or… or Lexie. Or Maggie Quinn.”
“Lexie’s in California,” I point out weakly. “And I don’t actually know Maggie Quinn.”
This is true. Then again, I don’t know anyone else who’s here tonight either. And the more I think about that, the more it starts to bother me.
Why is my best friend cleaning the kitchen rather than joining us? Why did no one bother to tell me how many people would be here tonight, or give me an opportunity to invite some people of my own?
More importantly, why do I always seem to feel like the odd-one-out in this family? The interloper? Theimpostor, for want of a better word?
