Wildflowers by Dorothy Koomson

Author:Dorothy Koomson [Dorothy Koomson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2018-06-14T00:00:00+00:00

Saturday, 9.40 a.m.

‘Has something happened to Fabian?’ I ask Mrs Shibden. That could be the only reason why she would be behaving like this – she has lost something precious and it has broken her. My heart slows down at the thought of something happening to him.

‘No!’ she barks. ‘Because of you, something has happened to me!’

Two weeks ago

My mobile bleeped with a text message from my best friend, Lawrence. He was in his sweats, eating pizza and drinking beer on my sofa, regularly updating me on the evening I could have had if I hadn’t had to sit through the world’s longest awards ceremony. Everyone at my table who’d suffered through the evening with me had gone either to dance or to get more drinks.

‘Hey. I’m thinking of getting a picture for my mother’s birthday …’ a voice said to me.

Fabian? Fabian!

I was half out of my seat, ready to throw my arms around him and greet him like a long-lost friend when I noticed the woman standing beside him. His wife.

She had the biggest, fakest smile I had ever seen on a real-life human. Her eyes were like flint, and she had her fingers clamped through his fingers, staking her claim.

‘Hello, Zillah, it’s good to see you,’ he said. He had aged well. The ten years had made him seem more solid, more comfortable in his body. He wore a beard, he’d grown his hair, he stood with the demeanour of a proper grown-up.

‘You too. What are you doing here?’

‘Alice was up for an award,’ he said. ‘She’s a young entrepreneur.’

‘Congratulations on the nomination,’ I said to Alice. ‘Sorry you didn’t win.’

‘Thanks,’ she replied with a thin smile. I had seen photos of them on their wedding day in the society pages of a magazine. Fabian Effram Shibden III and his ‘princess’ married less than eighteen months after I broke up with him. Their wedding had been lavish enough to rival a royal affair – celebrities, politicians, top business people were in attendance. The ceremony and reception were held at the Shibden family home. The bride wore an ivory princess gown and a diamond tiara, both designed especially for her; the bridegroom grinned like he had never been happier; the ex-girlfriend sat in her flat in Brighton, knowing their day would have been small and discreet, a registry office, a few friends for drinks afterwards, and absolutely one of the best days of her life.

‘I, um, I was just leaving,’ I said and grabbed my clutch bag and phone. ‘I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.’

‘We will,’ Alice replied. She moved closer to her husband, slipped an arm around his waist, almost automatically he slipped an arm around her shoulders, kissed the top of her head. The gut-wrench of that one little move, their shorthand for saying ‘I love you’ in front of other people, was like being driven through with a pickaxe.

‘Are you driving?’ Fabian asked.

‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘Too long a journey to get a taxi.

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