Page 6 of The Island of Hopes and Dreams

‘A bit of a weird situation?’ Rhys spat back. ‘You know I was in love with her.’

The second the words were out of his mouth he regretted them because of the pitying look Freddie gave him. Freddie was everything he wasn’t: bolder, fitter, bigger, funnier, more confident. The list went on and on. Of course Zoe would wind up with someone like him.

Acutely aware of everyone else in the room, and realising that the music wasn’t quite loud enough to overpower the conversation, Rhys tried to control his anger. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Zoe hanging back in the kitchen, watching. He lowered his voice and tried to backtrack. ‘It’s fine to be with her now, but when we were together at uni? Gareth told me.’

Freddie’s eyes widened. ‘We fooled around a bit.’ He shrugged as if it was nothing. ‘I honestly didn’t think you two were that serious…’

Rhys saw red. Freddie was spewing lies. All nineteen-year-old Rhys had talked about when he’d first been with Zoe was how wonderful she was. Freddie would have been an idiot to not have known how hard Rhys had fallen for her. And yet he’d happily ‘fooled around’ with her, while she’d obviously cared so little for him that she’d slept with one of his mates behind his back.

Rhys slammed his bottle on the marble mantlepiece and launched himself at Freddie. Rage thrummed through him as he put his full weight into the punch. His fist connected with Freddie’s cheek with a satisfying smack, splitting his lip and sending blood spraying. Pain ricocheted up Rhys’s arm and his knuckles burned as he stumbled back.

There were shouts of ‘what the hell!’ as he charged back towards Freddie, still with a desperate desire to smash his fist over and over into his smugly handsome face.

Zoe was screaming at him to stop. Someone grabbed his arms and wrestled him away. Zoe flashed him a look of loathing before rushing over to Freddie, who was cradling one side of his face.

Rhys struggled against the firm hands holding him back. Hot tears blurred his vision, while rage still smouldered in his heart.

Friends rushed around Freddie and Zoe, casting looks of disappointment and downright disbelief.

‘Rhys. Rhys!’

It was Fabs who was gripping his shoulders as he herded him out of the room. In the quiet of the hallway, Rhys caught the worry on his friend’s face, mixed with a touch of pity. Rhys’s heart dropped. Not only had he made a fool of himself, but he’d made a scene at his best friend’s stag do by allowing those lingering feelings for Zoe to get the better of him.

‘I’m okay. I’m calm.’ He dropped his gaze from Fabs’s and wrenched himself away from his grip. ‘Did you know, though? About them being together when we were at uni?’

Fabs sighed and beckoned him into the room on the opposite side of the hallway. Rhys reluctantly followed and stood his ground in the middle of Barnaby’s book-lined study.

Fabs perched on the armchair next to the fireplace. ‘I had my suspicions. I’m sorry, Rhys. Obviously they were both invited to the wedding, but until Freddie said they’d only need one room, I hadn’t realised they were together. I wanted to tell you, but Freddie asked me not to. He said he wanted to tell you himself; I just didn’t realise he was going to wait until tonight.’ He folded his arms. ‘I should have said something. I knew how much you liked her.’

‘And now I know how little she thought about me.’ His head swam with regret as much as drunkenness. ‘I’m sorry for causing a scene.’

‘You don’t have to apologise for that.’ Fabs adjusted his Rolex and stood up, looking at him firmly. ‘Zoe and Freddie are friends, but you’re my best friend, Rhys. If anyone’s to blame, it’s them for telling you about their relationship at the worst possible time. I absolutely should have said something, about them being together now, and my suspicions about them when we were at uni.’

Rhys grunted. ‘It wouldn’t have made a difference. I was besotted with Zoe at nineteen. I’d have probably hated you for telling me something I would have refused to believe.’

‘Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for not speaking up.’ Fabs clapped his hand on his shoulder. ‘You okay?’

Rhys nodded despite feeling as if his emotions had been dissected. ‘I’m gonna go home. Not sure I want to face everyone right now.’

* * *

Rhys never liked getting back to an empty house, but as he staggered in that night, chased by a feeling of shame and leftover rage, he hated it. The whole situation was a mess and he was annoyed with himself for the way he’d handled it, making a spectacle of himself while coming across as the bad guy because of his reaction.

He stood in the dark, quiet hallway. He’d love to get a dog, but knew it wouldn’t be fair when he was out five days a week working a long school day. What was the point if he had to get someone else to take them for a walk and keep them company? His sabbatical was only temporary and in a year’s time he’d be back to the grind. Not that he felt that way about his job necessarily, it was just how he felt about everything right now, going through the motions of life listlessly, like he was drifting with no clear direction, no idea of what he wanted or how he really felt. That was why he needed some time out. Being snappy and stressed with his classroom of kids wasn’t fair on them and had left him with so much guilt he’d decided drastic action was needed.

But tonight, drowning his sorrows had definitely not been a good idea, and the truth about Freddie and Zoe had knocked him sideways. Why had Zoe rekindled their relationship years later, only to wind up with Freddie? He should be relieved that he was no longer with her – he’d put in all the effort, and for what? For her to have played him for years; for her to have lied to him from the very start. She and Freddie had just proved that he was better off without her. Why then did he feel incapable of finding or deserving love?

4

On an overcast day in mid-September, four weeks after the hen weekend, Lola put her out-of-office on and shut down her laptop. Less than an hour later, she was on her way to Heathrow. She loved her job, but bar the hen weekend in Cornwall and a fleeting visit to her parents over Easter, she hadn’t taken time off all year. Surrounded by music and interesting people on a daily basis, the distraction of work had been positive, and she’d jumped at every opportunity to get away from London. The thought of a ten-day holiday to Sardinia, culminating in Mirabel’s wedding, was incredibly appealing.

Lola knew how much planning had gone into the wedding, because it was pretty much all Mirabel had talked about for the last year. Not that she blamed her. If she was getting hitched to a kind and wonderful man like Fabs, then she wouldn’t stop talking about it either. Although she’d also seen Mirabel’s stress levels increasing over the last few months. The hen do had been the last time she’d actually seen her relax before they’d returned to London and Mirabel had frantically wrapped things up at work and handed over to her successor, ending a whole chapter of her life, something which had added yet more worry, anticipation and nervousness to an already emotional time.

Jittery nerves started fooling about in Lola’s stomach the moment the plane touched down with the lightest of bumps on the tarmac at Olbia Costa Smeralda Airport. Even with Deni next to her, it didn’t stop the worry gnawing away that she was about to spend a large chunk of time with a whole load of Fabs and Mirabel’s friends and family that she didn’t know.

There was excitement too – Deni’s own excitement was off the scale. For a workaholic, she was fully embracing this time away in Sardinia and, until her equally workaholic husband joined them for the wedding, Lola was enjoying having her friend to herself.

‘I’ve needed this so badly,’ Deni said when they were in a taxi heading up the Costa Smeralda coast towards the guest villa, which was located across the bay from where Fabs’s family lived in luxurious Porto Rotondo, with its celebrity mansions and stylish marina. ‘I think you do too.’

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