eyes to the ceiling. ‘This is Vince, Lyds. You know I can’t say no.’
‘What’s he going to do, Freddie? Fire you?’
He huffs. ‘I’ve worked night and day for this contract. It’s mine. I won’t let someone slide it right out from under my fucking nose at the last minute.’
And then I see it. Vince hasn’t had to force Freddie to go.
‘But what about us?’ I say, my voice small.
He looks at the floor and then back up at me. ‘I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’
I do the maths in my head. We’re here for five days, and he’s leaving for at least one of them, probably two when you factor in the travel. Almost half of our honeymoon gone at the click of Vince’s fingers. It can’t happen, I won’t let it. I reach out and place my hand on Freddie’s jaw, my eyes fixed on his.
‘Tell him no, Freddie. Tell him our honeymoon is sacred.’
He looks at me and we have a silent conversation with our eyes. He’s asking me to see it his way, I’m asking him to see it mine. There isn’t a compromise, no middle ground. Someone has to lose.
‘I can’t.’
He gets to his feet and walks away from me, and hot, sudden fury ignites in my gut.
‘You mean you won’t,’ I say, and he spins back round, his arms flung wide.
‘Look around you, Lydia. Look at this room. Who do you think paid for us to come to a place like this? Fucking Santa Claus?’
‘Oh,’ I say, feeling stupid as the penny drops. ‘Oh, I get it now. The company paid for this, so now we owe them, right? Was this the plan all along then?’
He’s angry now, exasperated. ‘Of course it bloody wasn’t. It’s been booked for months, you know that. But things happen sometimes, it’s just bad timing, that’s all.’
‘Bad timing?’ I half yell. ‘Bad timing? This isn’t bad timing, Freddie.’ I’m so angry I’m shaking. I’ve moved mountains to be here with him, for this precious uninterrupted time. ‘This is way beyond bad timing. This is us, you and me, our once-in-a-lifetime honeymoon. Doesn’t that matter more than sodding work?’
He stares at me. ‘Why are you being like this? Surely you can see how hard this is for me?’ he says, almost as if I’m the one being unreasonable. ‘Do you think I want to have to do this?’
‘I think you could say no if you wanted to.’
He looks as if I’ve slapped him.
‘I don’t know what’s happened to you lately,’ he says.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
He shrugs. ‘You’re just … I don’t know, different. Always ready for a row.’
I laugh, because surely anyone would be argumentative under the circumstances. ‘Well, excuse me for saying what I think,’ I mutter. ‘So, what am I supposed to do while you’re off in LA? Go for breakfast at Tiffany’s alone, watch Wicked with an empty seat beside me?’
He wipes his hand down his face. ‘I’ll rebook them. We’ll go on Thursday. I can make it work.’
We both know he can’t, and it isn’t even the point.
‘If you do this …’ I say, not even sure what I’m about to say next.
He looks at me, silent for a few charged beats, and then turns away and pulls the suitcase from the wardrobe. I sink down into the armchair and watch him throw things into the case. It’s desolate, just awful to see our honeymoon in tatters.
‘Please don’t go.’ I stand up and try one last time. ‘This is too important.’
He looks at me, and I know from his face that he’s not going to change his mind.
‘You could make this easier on me,’ he says. ‘You could use the spa, wallow around in the bath, enjoy the city for a couple of days until I get back. But you won’t do that, will you?’
We stare at each other. He means it, and it dawns on me that the woman I used to be would probably be able to find it in herself to do the things he’s just suggested. To allow him to leave without guilt, to make a silk purse from a sow’s ear, to grudgingly accept the change of plan. Only I’m not that woman any more. I’ve been through the worst thing life could possibly throw at me, I’ve had to find strength I didn’t know I had, and it’s changed me. I’m not the same person now. Lydia here hasn’t lived through disaster. It’s not just the toned arms