‘I’m going to tell her,’ I say. It’s an effort to get the words out, but I’m determined to do it. ‘I’m going to … I’m going to tell her about us.’ I’m thinking of what Hannah said, earlier. ‘It’s always better to get it out in the open – even if it seems shameful, even if you feel like people will judge you for it.’
He clamps a hand over my mouth. It’s a shock – so sudden. I can smell his cologne. I remember smelling that cologne on my skin, afterwards. Thinking how delicious it was, how grown-up. Now it makes me want to vomit.
‘Oh no, Olivia,’ Will says. His voice is still almost kind, gentle, which only makes it worse. ‘I don’t think you will, actually. And you know why? You won’t do it because you would be destroying your sister’s happiness. This is her wedding day, you silly little girl. Jules is too special to you for you to do that to her. And for what purpose? It’s not like anything is going to happen between us now.’
There’s a burst of chatter from the other side of the marquee, and perhaps he’s worried someone is going to see us like this because he takes his hand away from my mouth.
‘I know that!’ I say. ‘That’s not what I mean … that’s not what I want.’
He raises his eyebrows, like he isn’t sure whether he believes me. ‘Well, what do you want, Olivia?’
Not to feel so awful any longer, I think. To get rid of this horrible secret I’ve been carrying around. But I don’t answer. So he goes on: ‘I get it. You want to lash out at me. I will be the first to admit, I haven’t behaved impeccably in all of this. I should have broken it off with you properly. I should perhaps have been more transparent. I never meant to hurt anyone. And can I tell you what I honestly think, Olivia?’
He seems to be waiting for a reply so I nod my head.
‘I think that if you were going to do it, you would have done it by now.’
I shake my head. But he’s right. I have had so much time to do it, really, to tell Jules the truth. So many times I have lain in bed in the early hours of the morning and thought about how I’d get Jules on her own – suggest lunch, or coffee. But I never did it. I was too chicken. I avoided her instead, like I avoided going to the shop to try on my bridesmaid dress. It was easier to hide, to pretend it wasn’t happening.
I’ve thought about what I would do in this situation if I were Jules, or Mum. How I would have made a big display, probably the first time I saw him – embarrassed him in front of everyone at the engagement drinks. But I’m not strong like them, not confident.
So I tried with the note. I printed it out and dropped it through Jules’s letterbox:
Will Slater is not the man you think he is. He’s a cheat and a liar. Don’t marry him.
I thought it might at least make her question him. Make her think. I wanted to seed a tiny bit of doubt in her mind. It was pathetic, I can see that now. Maybe Jules didn’t even get it. Maybe Will saw it first, or it got swept up with a load of flyers and binned. And even if she did see it, I should have realised Jules isn’t the sort of person to be bothered about a note. Jules isn’t a worrier.
‘You don’t want to destroy your sister’s life, do you?’ Will says, now. ‘You couldn’t do it to her.’
It’s true. Even though at times I feel like I hate her, I love her more. She’ll always be my big sister, and this would ruin things between us forever.
He has such confidence in his own story. My own version of it all is falling apart. And I suppose he’s right in saying that he didn’t lie, not really. He just didn’t tell the truth. I don’t seem to be able to hold on to my anger any more, the bright burning energy of it. I can feel it slipping away from me, leaving in its place something worse. A kind of nothingness.
And then, suddenly, I think of Jules, the smile on her face as she stood next to him in the chapel, not having a clue about who he really is. Jules never lets anyone make a fool of her … but he has. I feel angry for her in a way I haven’t been able to for myself.
‘I’ve kept your texts,’ I tell him. ‘I can show them to her.’ It’s the last thing I have over him, the last bit of power I hold. I hold my phone out in front of him, to emphasise it. I should see it coming. But he’s been speaking so softly, so gently, that somehow I don’t. His arm darts out. He grabs my wrist in mid-air. He grabs my other wrist, too. And in one quick motion he’s got my phone off me. Before I can even work out what he’s doing he’s hurled it, far away from us, into the dark water. It makes a tiny ‘plop!’ as it enters.
‘There’ll be back-ups—’ I say, even though I’m not sure how I’d find them.
‘Oh yes?’ he sneers. ‘You want to mess people’s lives up, Olivia? Because you should know that I have some photos on my phone—’
‘Stop!’ I say. The thought of Jules – of anyone – seeing me like that … I felt so uncomfortable when he was taking them. But he was so good
at asking for them, telling me how sexy I looked while I was performing for him, how much it would turn him on. And I was worried that not doing them would make me look like a prude, a child. And he wasn’t in them at all – not his face, not his voice. He could claim I sent them to him, I realise, that I had shot them myself. He could deny it all.
His face is very near to mine, now. For a crazy moment I think he might be about to kiss me. And even though I hate myself for it, a tiny part of me wants him to. Part of me wants him. And that makes me sick.
He’s still got a hold of my other wrist. It hurts. I make a sound and try to pull away but he only grips me harder, his fingers digging into my flesh. He’s strong, so much stronger than me. I realised that earlier, when he carried me out of the water, looking like the big hero, playing to the crowd. I think of my little razor blade, but it’s in my beaded bag, somewhere in the marquee.
Will gives me a yank forward and I trip over my feet. My shoe comes off. It is only now that I realise it’s not all that far to the cliff edge. And he’s pulling me towards it. I can see all the water out there, glossy black in the moonlight. But … he wouldn’t, would he?
