1 Chapter 1
I stand alone in my childhood bedroom, staring into the mirror above bookshelves full of fiction and adventure books, school award certificates, and an embarrassingly huge number of Transformer and Pokémon models. Am I musing on my younger life, and comparing it to where I am today, a grown man in his early twenties? Maybe a little bit.
But mainly I’m wondering whether the lurking spot on the end of my nose is on its way out, or is going to erupt when I least expect it.
Cue heartfelt sigh into the empty room.
Let’s face it, the sophisticated, handsome look on me alwaysneeds work, but it’s being particularly uncooperative this morning. Of all the mornings to choose! My hair won’t lie straight—there’s a tuft on my crown that insists on spiking up whenever I try to slick it down. I’ve nicked my chin shaving, and now there’s a small, dark scratch under my lip. And the left side of my collar doesn’t lie comfortably on top of the stupid bow tie, and keeps rolling up at the end. Even though I’ve ironed it flat. Three times.
Cue a second, heartfelt sigh.
“Pat?” Mandy, the younger of my two sisters, pokes her head around the door. She’s clutching a couple of towels and what looks like the plastic bucket from our garden shed. Her smile looks more like a grimace. “How’s it going?” She rushes on before I can even start to answer. “May’s two young ‘uns are running riot downstairs. Poppy insists on wearing her jeans under her frock, and Daniel won’t keep his smart jacket on. May’s tried alternately bribing him with the promise of extra TV and threatening him with cutting it off completely.” At my raised eyebrows, she laughs. “The TV, idiot. Nothing more aggressive than that. Though I’m not sure May’s not tempted.”
I love my niece and nephew, though I know my other sister May has her hands full looking after them.
Mandy’s continuing, “Phil can’t find his cuff links. The silver ones I bought him for his birthday last year. I give him one job—get yourself dressed!—and it’s still a production. Oh, and Uncle Ed’s just called to say his car’s stuck in traffic on the M25 by the Dartford Tunnel and won’t be here for another hour. That’s cutting it really fine to meet the registrar at the hotel for midday.”
“Mandy—” But it seems like she’s not listening.
“And the caterers say the salmon mousse is off, something about the hot weather. All they have available to substitute is a meatloaf, I mean, they say it’s a very superiormeatloaf, but Mum says if they can’t deliver what we ordered, they can shove it up their superior—”
“Mandy!” I hold up a hand to stop the tirade. “Look, it’s fine. I’ll have a word with the kids in a minute if you like, but it’s probably better they let off steam now rather than in the middle of everything. Phil’s cuff links are in the pot on the mantel, he left them there at Christmas when he got drunk and they were still there yesterday. And I don’t care about the car. We can be ready to go as soon as it arrives, but the registry office is only a half-mile away. Worst case scenario, we’ll call a cab or walk. And you know what else? I don’t give a rat’s arse about whether we have mousse or meatloaf.”
She wrinkles her nose sympathetically. “You haven’t had any breakfast today, have you?”
I grit my teeth. The thought of food has that bubbling effect in my belly which I’ve been trying to avoid. “No problem. I like dry toast, really I do. Is that bucket for me?”
She laughs and comes closer. Her hand on my shoulder is a surprising comfort. “It’s just nerves. We’ve all got them. I was much worse before Igot married. During it as well, actually. Phil had to greet all the guests at the reception on his own. I was holed up in the toilet saying goodbye to breakfast and my ‘welcome’ champagne cocktail.”
“Too much information, big sis.” I wince.
“And it hardly shows,” she adds.
“What does?”
“The spot. Here, I’ll just dab it with some concealer—”
“Back off!” I snap, but I take the concealer stick from her while she preens for a moment in front of my mirror. Both of my sisters have inherited the good looks of the family, and Mandy looks great in her outfit, a pale blue dress and matching jacket, her hair glossy and newly styled. I sneak a look at the top of her head. No, no tuft. Looks like I’m the only one who inherited thatparticular throwback.
“Right,” she says briskly. “Well, if you’re okay—”
“Believe me, I am.”
“I’ll go and check on May, then. That baby of hers got hold of some chocolate from the table favours—ate the whole bloody lot—and she’s been sick twice, all over May’s shoes.” Mandy brandishes the bucket like a war trophy. “I suspect Poppy of feeding the chocs to her in the first place, but my sisterly duty is to catch the worst of it, if the kid has a relapse.”
There’s a discreet tap at the door.
