32

The atmosphere in the car is arctic. No one has spoken a word since we left the hotel this morning. Mum, Dad and Grace won’t even look at me.

I’m stuck in the middle seat, just like old times. I fix my gaze on the magic tree air freshener dangling from the rear-view mirror and concentrate all my energy on trying not to puke, not that there can be much left to puke. I spent most of the morning with my head down the toilet, completely missing the buffet breakfast.

‘Mia, we’d like to see you in the living room, please,’ Dad says as we pull into the driveway.

I nod and follow him and Mum inside, leaving Grace and Audrey to unpack the wedding presents from the boot.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, the second Dad closes the door behind us.

Mum whips round to face me. ‘Sorry isn’t going to cut it this time, Mia,’ she says, her eyes flashing with anger. ‘Too little, far too late.’

‘You just need to let me explain a bit,’ I say, my voice sore from all the puking.

‘Explain what?’ she shouts, making me flinch. ‘You completely ruined our wedding night!’

‘I’m sorry,’ I repeat, sinking down on the sofa.

Mum and Dad remain standing up, taking it in turns to pace up and down on the rug.

‘Not good enough,’ Mum roars. ‘Not only were you completely drunk, you assaulted a member of staff!’

‘Assaulted? It was just a push. And she pushed me first!’

It’s not just about the push though. They know that and I know that. The push was just the icing on the cake.

‘Enough with the excuses!’ Dad booms. ‘We don’t want to hear them, Mia!’

‘I can only imagine what people must be thinking and saying today,’ Mum says. ‘I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life.’

I bite down on my lip so hard I can taste blood in my mouth. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper. ‘Truly.’

‘Stop saying that,’ Mum snaps. ‘It’s meaningless. You’ve completely shown us up, Mia, the entire family.’

I start to cry, salty hot tears pouring down my cheeks.

‘Stop it,’ Mum barks. ‘I don’t have time for this. Literally. We need to pack.’

Mum and Dad are taking the train to London tonight, staying in a hotel near Heathrow airport before their morning flight to New York City.

‘Part of me wonders if we need to cancel,’ she adds.

‘No!’ I yelp, wiping away my tears with the sleeve of my hoodie.

If Mum and Dad cancel their dream honeymoon, they’ll never let me forget it.

‘Can you blame me?’ she cries. ‘How can we trust you to behave when you can’t even behave at your own parents’ wedding!’

‘Please don’t cancel,’ I say. ‘Please. I’ll do anything you say, I swear.’

‘We’re not cancelling our honeymoon,’ Dad says firmly, glancing at Mum, who just shakes her head and rakes her fingers through her hair. ‘But we are going to need some time to think about your punishment. Until then, I think it goes without saying you’re grounded until further notice.’

‘But what about Newquay? It’s only a week away.’

I sit on my hands. Newquay will still happen, won’t it? Kimmie and the others can’t keep up the silent treatment for ever. Can they?

Mum snorts. ‘Not our problem. You should have thought of that before you made a complete sham of our special day.’

‘We’ll be checking in every day, but until we get back you’re only to leave the house if you’re under Grace’s supervision, understood?’ Dad says.

‘Grace!’ I cry. ‘But it’s her fault all this happened in the first place.’

‘Look,’ Mum says, wagging her finger, ‘I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, but there’s absolutely no way you can peg anything that happened last night on your sister, no way at all, so don’t you even try it.’

‘I’m not trying to peg anything on anyone,’ I cry. ‘I’m just trying to explain!’

‘Mia,’ Mum yells, slamming her fist down on the mantelpiece. ‘How many more times do I need to tell you? We’re not interested in your excuses. We’ll talk about this properly when we get back, but until then Grace is in charge, no arguments.’

 

Mum and Dad leave for the airport two hours later. I can’t bring myself to say goodbye, huddling on the roof wrapped in my duvet instead as I listen to Grace and Audrey wave them off.

I try calling Kimmie again. Out on the terrace last night I fired off dozens of drunken apologetic messages, but so far I haven’t heard a peep out of any of my friends in response. This time, the phone rings three times before going through to voicemail. She’s clearly screening me and wants me to know it. I have nothing to add to the previous messages I’ve left (I’ve run out of new ways to say sorry) so I hang up. I try Stella again but she doesn’t pick up either and neither does Mikey.

It starts to drizzle, forcing me indoors. As I’m climbing through the window, I catch my foot on the sill and end up sprawled on the carpet, trapped in my duvet.

The door opens. An upside-down Audrey peers down at me.

‘Are you OK?’ she asks.

‘Fine,’ I mutter, rolling onto my front before struggling to my feet.

‘You look like a caterpillar.’

‘Thanks.’

She hovers in the doorway.

‘Did you want anything in particular?’ I ask, shuffling over to my bed. ‘It’s just that I kind of fancy being alone right now.’

‘Oh,’ she says, blinking. ‘I was just wondering if you wanted to watch TV with me? Mary Poppins is on in five minutes.’

Audrey adores Mary Poppins and knows every word of the script.

‘Can’t you watch it with Grace?’

‘She’s having a nap.’

‘Sam?’

‘He’s gone.’

‘Gone where?’

‘Home.’

‘What? Back to Cambridge?’

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘Why?’

‘Grace wouldn’t say.’

‘When’s he coming back?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Oh.’

It can’t be to do with what happened on the grass last night. Can it? Does Grace honestly think something happened between me and Sam?

‘Is that a “no” to Mary Poppins then?’ Audrey asks.

‘Yeah. Sorry. Not in the mood.’ I chuck myself on the bed, landing with a thud.

‘I think Grace is going to make some pasta in a bit,’ Audrey adds hopefully.

‘Thanks, but no thanks.’

‘But what will you eat?’

‘I’ll make something.’

‘But you can’t cook.’

‘Yes I can. I can make loads of things.’ I cross my fingers under my duvet that there’s bread and cheese in so I can make cheese on toast.

‘But Grace is probably making enough for all of us.’

‘I told you, I’m not interested.’

Another long pause.

‘I hate it when you and Grace fight,’ Audrey says in a small voice.

I shrug. ‘She started it.’

‘How? What happened?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it. Ask Grace. I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to fill you in.’

‘I already did. She said to ask you.’

‘Well, sorry. No can do.’

Audrey continues to hover in the doorway, the long sleeves of her hoodie pulled down over her balled-up fists.

‘Isn’t your film starting soon?’ I say.

‘Oh, yeah.’ She turns to go, then stops. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to watch it with me?’ she asks. ‘It might cheer you up?’ She hums a couple of bars of ‘A Spoonful of Sugar’.

‘Positive. Shut the door behind you, yeah?’

‘OK,’ she says softly.

‘Cheers, Auds.’