The Mix-Up by Holly McCulloch

CHAPTER 18

I need to leave this place. But at the moment I’m still stuck hiding behind the cake. I’ll make a run for it when Noah goes to the loo; there can be no other reason for guests to be down here when there is still daylight upstairs. That way I can sneak out without him seeing me. I will confront him, but not now. Not in front of all these people. I start to fold up the box and pack away all my bits in preparation for a hasty escape. He goes down the corridor to the loo. I get a final look at her before she also disappears towards David Attenborough’s voice. She is very beautiful. Her features perfectly complement his. They are a good match for each other.

As soon as the halo of her skirt disappears, I make a break for it. I haven’t taken any photos to add to my portfolio, but it’s so dark down here anyway.

Fuck.

I am halfway up the stairs when I realize I’ve left my spatulas. I was too busy packing up the box and trying to be sneaky. But I can’t leave without my spatulas. I look back at them and consider the risk. I fancy my chances. Another benefit of my orthopaedic shoes is how easily I can move in them. Once again, I am relieved I put function ahead of style. I run down the stairs, pick up the spatulas, and am back to my starting position impressively quickly, bounding away as fast as possible.

‘Paige?’

But apparently not fast enough.

Fuck. Again. Fuck boys and their easily accessible and packable spouts.

I pretend not to hear him and continue up the stairs. Never before have I wished to be one of those people capable of taking two stairs at a time.

‘Paige?’

He sounds a little closer, but I think I can still make it outside before he catches up to me, and once outside I could run away and disappear into the crowd. Sure, this would be a bit of a bizarre thing to do, but the alternative seems even less appealing.

I open the door to outside and make a move to cross the road.

A loud squeal from aggressively deployed bike brakes followed by, ‘Watch where you’re going you fucking idiot!’ forces me to stop. In truth I do more than stop. I fall back, bum landing right on the pavement step. I’m tempted to throw my spatulas at the cyclist, but my arms are busy, one armpit pinning the broken-down box. Cyclists make me so angry. The only reason I would learn to cycle would be so I can catch up to them and hit them on the head when they are being pricks. I might be guilty of wearing too much athleisurewear for someone who rarely exercises, but cycling Lycra is on a whole other scale. Calm down, mate, you’re just a fifty-year-old in desperate need of a personality outside his job. Wearing Lycra isn’t going to shave a significant amount of time off your two-wheeled commute.

‘Paige?’ A hand on my shoulder. Noah’s hand. ‘Are you OK?’

Am I OK? No. I’m fucking mortified.

I make a move to get up. Noah’s hand moves from my shoulder to my elbow. The extra support does make standing easier. When I look up, I’m faced with his face. His smiling face.

‘I thought that was you. I would know that bum from anywhere.’ He hasn’t let go yet. ‘Didn’t you hear me call out to you?’

‘Oh. No. I didn’t.’ I say this with no conviction. He knows I am lying. I know he knows I am lying. I shake my head and remember that one of the things I felt was self-righteousness. ‘OK, that’s not true. I did.’

‘Why didn’t you stop?’ He still hasn’t let go.

‘Because I saw you talking to your girlfriend and I didn’t want to make a scene.’ Today is a day full of ironies.

‘My girlfriend?’

And as if on cue, she walks out of the pub and towards us.

I turn so my arm breaks free of his grasp and look between the two of them.

‘I should go.’ This next bit I direct towards her. She looks even more beautiful in daylight. I think this is a sign of true beauty. I look better in dimmed lighting. ‘I think you two need to talk.’

I turn to leave, but once again, Noah’s hand appears to stop me. ‘Paige—’

I turn back towards them. ‘Noah—’

I am about to launch into what would probably be a very poorly thought-through and executed diatribe about dating and respect, when I notice that the woman is moving her arms, well, more like her hands, but that the movement isn’t accompanied by words.

I am speechless.

An inappropriate choice of words to think.

But realization begins to hit and I’m frozen to the spot.

Noah starts to gesture back, but his hand actions are accompanied by words. For my benefit, I imagine.

‘Lucy, this is my friend, Paige.’ I smile. I worry it comes out more like a grimace. ‘Paige, this is my sister, Lucy.’

I look at Lucy.

Once again, I feel a mix of emotions: embarrassment, relief and a healthy dose of shame. I’m also trying not to be stung by his use of the term ‘friend’.

She smiles and signs something to me. I have no idea what she is saying, but Noah is there to translate.

‘She says it’s nice to meet you and asked if you made the cake downstairs.’

‘Oh yes.’ I nod. ‘I did.’ She must have seen me setting up.

‘She likes it. She says you did well to incorporate birds in a beautiful way without making it weird.’ Then he adds to me, ‘She designed their invitations. Between you and me I think the bird thing is a bit strange.’ He squints in the sunlight. ‘But then Luke has always been a bit strange.’

I smile up at him, but I know it doesn’t quite reach my eyes.

Once again, Lucy signs something, mainly to Noah, but once she’s done, she gives me a hug before heading back inside. It was a bit awkward as I’m still holding the collapsed box, and I can’t put it down as I am sure my anxious armpit sweat is leaving a mark, but I’m amazed at the friendliness behind the hug. We haven’t exactly met under normal circumstances, due totally to my own very bizarre social awkwardness.

‘I didn’t know you’d be here.’ A stupid thing to say, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind.

‘Yeah, Lucy and I grew up next door to the groom, Luke. We were all pretty close growing up.’

‘I’m sorry that I thought Lucy was your girlfriend.’ Something on the ground is extremely interesting. ‘I saw you talking and it looked really, well, intense, kind of like you were arguing. I jumped to conclusions, I’m sorry.’

‘It’s OK.’

‘It’s not really.’ I sneak a peek at Noah, and immediately wish I hadn’t. He’s too attractive today, and next to him I know I look a mess. ‘You never told me your sister was deaf.’

He nods. ‘She is, but it’s not her defining feature, so I don’t tend to tell people until it comes up. She had meningitis when she was younger, and the deafness came as a result.’

I just nod a bit. My reactions haven’t been great today, so I think silence is my friend.

‘It’s actually why I became an ENT doctor.’

He says it so casually, but I think my heart just broke a little bit.

I don’t know what to say. Anything I say to follow this will sound unimportant and inconsequential.

‘I’m just glad I caught up to you.’

I can reply to this. ‘Again, I’m sorry that I ran away.’

‘Well, had the situation been the other way around I probably would have run away too. Are you OK?’

He keeps asking me this. And again, my answer is no. I am freaking the fuck out, but quietly, and internally. Mostly internally. So I lie.

‘Yes, I’m fine, why?’

‘You haven’t been replying to any of my messages.’

And now, the biggest thing I feel is guilt. I have no excuse either. My left hand immediately assumes the worry pose, the one where your temple gets rubbed so hard your skin turns a bit red. ‘I am a terrible person. I’m so sorry. I’ve just been really busy this week. It’s the start of wedding season, the cake took more time to make than I thought it would and my car’s not working.’

‘So how did you get here?’

‘I took the tube.’

‘You took the tube? And the cake made it in one piece?’

I nod. ‘Miraculously, yes.’

‘Impressive.’

There is tension in the air, and I’m sure it’s my fault. I don’t like it. It makes me feel sad and uncomfortable. It’s definitely me. It’s me that breaks things.

‘Not really. It’s quite a small cake, so it actually fits into a bag.’ I motion towards the bag that is also being pinned down by my arm. I don’t really need to. It’s bright orange. He’s probably seen it already.

‘What about next weekend?’

Once again, my face grimaces.

‘I haven’t actually figured that one out yet. They have to order in some special part for my car, which sounds both very expensive and also very time-consuming, so I’m not sure it will be ready.’

‘Is it too big for the bag?’

‘Sadly, yes.’

‘Let me take you.’

I’m momentarily caught off guard by this overly generous gesture and take a pause before answering so my brain can make sure I heard the words right. ‘Oh no, delivering cakes is by far the most stressful part of the whole cake thing.’ I put ‘cake thing’ in air quotes. I don’t know why. It isn’t made up, even if sometimes I wish it could be. ‘Honestly, thank you for the offer, it’s very kind, but trust me, I wouldn’t impose this on my biggest enemy, let alone my … you.’ Did it sound like I just called him mine?

‘Go on. Let me help.’ His smile is particularly dazzling today, and I am momentarily blinded. ‘It’ll be fun. I’m a pretty good driver.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘And I have a big boot.’

I smile a bit. The tension is still there, but it’s easing.

‘Go on. We can get food after. Plus, I owe you. You looked after me in my hour of need and all I did in return was make you ill. And then almost poison you.’

I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t.

But I really want to. It would be so much easier than getting a taxi. Taxi drivers usually go faster when they know they have delicate cargo.

‘You’re sure?’

He nods. ‘I’m sure. It’ll be fun. And you’ve just given me a great excuse to get out of golfing.’

‘You golf?’

‘Oh no, much to my dad’s disappointment. Which is why I’m so grateful to have something else to do.’

‘Oh, OK. Use me, that’s fine.’ I say it mockingly, when really it’s me who will be getting more out of this plan.

He smiles in return. ‘It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.’

At this moment, the wedding car pulls up.

Noah looks at it.

‘I think that is my cue to go inside.’ He leans down, places his hand in that magical position – big man-thumb on the cheek, fingers lightly massaging the space just behind your ear – and plants a kiss on my lips. I feel ridiculous that I can’t move my arms, but my body leans up and towards him. I want this to keep going for ever.

But he breaks the kiss and I stumble slightly forward.