went hot, and it was as if all the air in the small galley space had been sucked out of it.
‘Come on, got to finish this lot,’ I said, turning back to the washing-up bowl, embarrassed, feeling as if I had to look anywhere apart from at him.
‘Why are you with him?’ he said quietly.
‘What?’
Zach didn’t answer immediately. He just looked at me in the same way as before, the way which made me feel as if he could almost see inside me. ‘With Rory. Why?’
‘What do you mean? Because he’s my boyfriend, that’s why. Come on, dry this.’ I handed him another wine glass.
He dried it in silence while I swished suds over a plate, trying not to feel awkward. From upstairs came the muffled shouts of Norris and Eugene belting out ‘Joy to the World’.
‘The guy is a selfish jerk.’
‘Zach…’
‘Where is he now?’ he asked, spinning to face me. ‘If he’s so great, why wasn’t he here tonight? Why is he never here for you?’
‘Zach, I’m not a child that needs a minder. He’s got work.’
He clenched his fists and growled. ‘Jesus, Florence, you just deserve so much better. You’re too good for him, and I wish you could see that.’
‘Zach—’
But he ignored me, his voice getting louder. ‘You think that he’s everything you want because he dresses like an Edwardian and talks like a despotic medieval king. But he’s going to squash you.’
‘Zach, seriously, this is very dramatic,’ I said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. I could sense my fear of any difficult, emotional conversation flex itself inside me.
‘I’m going away on Saturday, I’ve got to be dramatic! Listen, when I first met you, I thought you were the weirdest, most uptight person I’d ever come across.’
‘Thanks very much.’
‘You’re welcome. But then I got to know you, and I realized that underneath that weirdness and your genuinely astonishing obsession with mugs, you were also the kindest, sweetest, most loyal person I’ve ever met. And he’s taking advantage of that.’
‘Zach—’
‘You don’t love him, do you?’
I glanced at the lino floor, sticky with slopped coffee stains, and made a mental note to mop it on Monday. ‘I… I’m not… I don’t know.’
He shook his head. ‘You don’t, I know you don’t.’
I felt a flare of anger. ‘Why are you saying this all now?’
‘Because I can’t watch him eat away at you.’
‘He won’t, he doesn’t. He’s just busy. He’s got a serious job instead of—’
‘Instead of what? Taking pictures? Working for his uncle?’
‘I wasn’t going to say that, course I wasn’t,’ I mumbled, shamed by Zach’s hurt expression.
We were interrupted by my phone vibrating in my pocket with a message. Leaving office now and heading back to mine. Hope this evening was a veritable triumph. See you tomorrow my darling. R
‘I’ve got to go,’ I said, suddenly desperate to get home to my own bed.
‘Florence, please just think about you. And what you want for once.’ He reached out and grabbed my arm, his fingers pressing into it.
‘I’ve got to go,’ I repeated, shaking his hand off.
‘Fine,’ he said, tersely. ‘See you when I get back.’
I spun in the doorway, anguished at the idea that Zach and I could leave things like this, but also stuck, unsure what else I could do.
‘Have a good trip,’ I said, waving pathetically before running upstairs, saying goodbye to the others, who were slurring their way through ‘Good King Wenceslas’.
Bursting out of the shop, I drew in large gulps of cold, December air. It was dark, nearly midnight, and the pavements were black with rain, but I walked the whole way home, rolling lines of the conversation around my head.
Chapter Eleven
ON SATURDAY MORNING, IN room number 432, I heard the hotel door click shut and Ruby climb into bed next to me, burrowing under the duvet covers like a wriggly child. It was still dark. There must be hours of night left. I closed my eyes again. No point in spending the night in Claridge’s, in a bed as soft as candy floss with ninety-three pillows, only to be woken up early.
‘Flo,’ she hissed.
I ignored her.
‘FLO!’
‘Mmm.’
‘You awake?’
‘No.’
‘I need to tell you something.’
I sighed and rolled over. ‘What? Where have you been?’
‘In Jeremy’s room.’
Jeremy was one of Hugo’s ushers, an American who looked like a young Arnold Schwarzenegger: big forehead, wide mouth. After last night’s wedding rehearsal in the ballroom, the wedding party (my family, Hugo’s family, plus select guests) had gathered in the bar for drinks. Hugo’s family had left for dinner elsewhere while