Cowboys & Englishmen

Chapter 5.

I eyed the mess of wrappers on the passenger seat, crumpled Big Mac boxes and the sorry remains of a chocolate muffin. The scenic village of Carrow lay in front of me, dotted over the hills like something from a fairy tale, high above the valley and straddling a meandering river that snaked down into Carrow lake. I'd been here many times before, usually during half term holidays, when my father would meet up with Tory politicians in a stuffy stately home to go fox hunting and drink vintage whiskey. Of course Melissa had picked this village as the location for her ostentatious wedding.

'Daddy' had been so pleased, Lissa has said as much in her monthly newsletter. Something she'd inherited from Mum, and I really should defer to 'junk mail' status. Every month, I'd get the usual emailed insight into her 'privileged' life. Tales of yachts and tea parties with the Middletons, skiing in the alps and dress fittings for lavish balls in Monte Carlo. Melissa had been everything my dad could have asked for, attending Cambridge university, and then joining daddy dearest in his London offices, almost immediately being promoted to management. She wore all the right things, gave speeches that had corporate audiences on their feet, and she was everything I wasn't. Last year, she had appeared in British vogue, dressed in designer garments, and draped across the front of the issue looking like a seasoned professional.

Whenever I saw photos of myself tagged on Facebook I either looked like I had a hundred chins, or stood so ungainly that I looked two stone heavier than I actually was. And the wedding pictures would be no different. Le sigh. I'd spend days untagging myself in the vain hope that no attractive males I met in the future would ever come across them. But who was I kidding? The best I could hope for was Tarquin the tool. Not that that was ever going to happen. He wasn't even a last resort. I'd rather become aunt Victoria in a heartbeat than slip under the covers with him. The thought made my skin crawl, as if a swarm of ants covered every inch of my skin. And he was waiting for me, we'd agreed to meet outside the Marques Manor, a mansion with thirty six bedrooms, hired out for the week. The manor was an upmarket hotel, where a one night stay would set you back a pretty penny, but my father had insisted that Lissa have the whole place dedicated to her special day.

And of course she agreed, she wasn't paying for it, after all.

I looked back at my beaten up Minnie Mouse suitcase, packed with dresses I'd borrowed from Donna in the vain attempt at looking mildly presentable, and I groaned. Like high street labels would fare in comparison to the cocktail gowns my sisters friends would be wearing. But then I had a word with myself. Flipping down the sun visor, I glared at myself, narrowing my eyes fiercely at the reflection I saw.

'You are not one of them. So what, you wear dresses you bought in the supermarket whilst buying your meals for one. You're making your own life.'

I flipped the visor back up, and took a deep breath. Donna was right. I needed to enjoy this. Make the most of the free room, the free food, and Tarquin? I didn't need him. Boyfriend or no boyfriend I could play the confident care free ex girlfriend, plastering a smile on my face and eternally grateful for my freshly dyed mane. It was a little morticia Adams but nothing I couldn't play up with a dash of scarlet red lipstick and a smile.

...................

'Oh goody!' Tarquin clapped his hands together as I got out of the car. I'd chosen a red wrap dress, and now wished I'd worn a turtleneck. I could hear his heavy breathing from here. Vomit.

'Tongue away Tarquin.' I chided, opening the backseat to slide out my case.

'You look absolutely delectable.' He enthused, coming towards me with intent. I shoved the case between us, and accidently whacked him in the crotch.