Wedding Night(84)
Author: Sophie Kinsella

“Look,” I manage at last, my face puce. “I didn’t mean … that.”

“Which bit?” He raises his eyebrows.

Bastard. Does he think this is funny?

“You know as well as I do,” I begin icily, “that those words were taken out of context. They didn’t refer to …” I trail off as a growing hubbub attracts my attention. It’s coming from the desk. Two air hostesses are remonstrating with a man in a linen shirt and chinos, who’s trying to squash a suitcase into the hand-baggage measuring stand. As he raises his voice angrily to answer, I realize it’s familiar.

He turns, and I quell a gasp of shock. I thought so: it’s Richard!

“Sir, I’m afraid the case is clearly too big for the cabin.” A woman from the airline is addressing him. “And it’s too late to check it in now. Might I suggest that you wait and catch a later flight?”

“A later flight?” Richard’s voice erupts from him like the sound of a tormented animal. “There aren’t any other flights to this godforsaken place! One a day! What kind of service is that?”

“Sir—”

“I need to get on this flight.”

“But, sir—”

To my astonishment, Richard vaults up so that he’s resting on the high desk, his eyes level with the airline woman’s.

“The girl I love has tethered herself to another man,” he says intensely. “I was too slow off the mark, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. But if I can do nothing else, I can tell her how I really feel. Because I never showed her. Not properly. I’m not even sure I knew myself.”

I gape at him, absolutely astonished. Is this Richard? Making declarations of love in public? If only Lottie could see this! She’d be bowled over! The airline woman, on the other hand, looks supremely unmoved. She has black dyed hair pulled into a harsh bun and a doughy face with mean little eyes.

“Be that as it may, sir,” she says, “your case is too big for the cabin. Could you step aside from the desk?”

What a bitch. I’ve seen plenty of people take luggage that size onto planes. I know I should step forward and tell Richard I’m here, but something inside me needs to see what will happen next.

“Fine. I won’t bring the bag.” Glowering at her, Richard jumps back down to the floor and snaps open the clasps of his case. He grabs a couple of T-shirts, a wash bag, a pair of socks, and some boxer shorts, then kicks the case aside.

“There. This is my hand luggage.” He brandishes it all at her. “Happy now?”

The airline woman regards him evenly. “You can’t leave that case there, sir.”

“Fine.” He snaps the case shut and dumps it on top of a litter bin. “There.”

“You can’t leave it there either, sir. It’s a security issue. We don’t know what’s in it.”

“You do.”

“No, we don’t.”

“You just saw me unpack it.”

“Be that as it may, sir.”

The entire place has turned to watch this exchange. Richard is breathing hard. His broad shoulders are raised. Again I’m reminded of a bull about to charge.

“Uncle Richard!” Noah has suddenly noticed him. “Are you coming on holiday with us?”

Richard’s whole body jolts in astonishment as he registers first Noah, then me.

“Fliss?” He drops a pair of boxer shorts on the floor and stoops to pick them up, looking a little less bull-like. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi, Richard.” I try to sound nonchalant. “We’re joining Lottie. What— er—” I spread my hands questioningly. “I mean, what exactly—”

Clearly I know the gist of what he’s up to, as does everyone here, but I’m interested in the details. Does he have a plan?

“I couldn’t just sit back,” he says gruffly. “I couldn’t just lose her and walk away and never even tell her what I—” He breaks off, his face working with emotion. “I should have proposed when I had the chance,” he adds suddenly. “I should have cherished what I had! I should have proposed!”

His roar of grief rises through the silent air. The whole place is agog, and, quite frankly, I’m flabbergasted. I’ve never seen Richard moved to such passion. Has Lottie?

I wish I’d recorded his whole speech on my BlackBerry.

“Sir, please remove your case from that bin.” The airline woman is addressing Richard. “As I say, it’s causing a security alert.”

“It’s not mine anymore,” he counters, brandishing his boxer shorts at her. “This is my hand luggage.”