Page 9 of The Wedding Cake
Tim reached for his champers again and polished it off, wincing at the bitter, dry and citrusy mouthfeel. That little dialogue could toddle right off, as his mam would also say.
Eventually, Piper emerged, her makeup as flawless as ever. Tim ran in for a kiss and was rewarded with a tiny peck on the cheek.
“I can’t smudge my lippy, babe. I promise I’ll be all yours later.” She trailed her hand down his back and squeezed his buttocks enticingly. Tim felt himself grow frustratingly stiff. “But work first. Now then, where were we?”
Tim stifled his sigh and steeled himself for at least another hour of videography.
Dozens of heart-shapedinflatables floated irritatingly around the heated outdoor pool. Tim couldn’t even pack a few lengths into his first morning swim without interruption. Apparently they were a permanent feature, not just a run up to Valentine’s Day. Uber-enthusiastic, uber-groomed females – and the occasional male – dotted themselves around the pool’s edge, intent on capturing the early morning sun on their plethora of gadgets as it hit the pool’s surface, and lit up their immaculately contoured faces. Even the goddamn DJ was in place for the first breakfast sitting, making Tim wonder if he was in Ibiza.
Eventually he gave up on his attempt to exercise and returned to the room to grab a shower – in between Piper stencilling on her brows and affixing her lashes – and the two of them made it just in time for the second breakfast sitting in the dining-room-stroke-pool-area. Although Tim couldn’t see the DJ’s deck from his spot at the table, he could certainly hear his terrible remix of Ed Sheeran’s songs. Tim might as well have been at a nightclub, because virtually nobody was eating. From left to right, the diners at every table were either chair dancing and filming the moment as they lip synced, or embroiled in the very serious business of setting up selfie sticks and perfecting breakfast platters. Most of the latter consisted of trendy bowls of dark purple açaí berries, scattered with a rainbow of fruit and nut toppings. You couldn’t make it up. Yes, Tim looked after his physique and his fitness, but moderation was key, and when he was on holiday he wanted to eat something a little more filling and a lot more riveting. Preferably without recording the event on camera.
Alas, he couldn’t complain too much. Piper had, indeed, made it up to him beneath, and on top of the sheets last night… not to mention the balcony’s silk hammock swing in the early hours of the morning. Tim would be lying to say he wasn’t up for a bit of risqué love-making, but here in Puerto Banus, once Piper had returned her attention to being a couple, for some strange reason he’d found it harder than usual to relax. Not so much because his limbs had turned into pretzels, and not for fear of the hotel’s video surveillance capturing their moves – but the guests and their glut of gadgets. The hotel’s semi-circular structure meant that many of the terraces overlooked one another, and he’d yet to walk past a couple, singleton, or group in the hotel who weren’t intent on either photographing or videoing everything moving AND everything static.
With the sun trying its best to peep through the approaching clouds and the thermometer managing a moderate eighteen degrees, Tim and Piper skipped lunch and headed straight to the beach. Unfortunately, ninety-nine per cent of the hotel’s clients had had the same idea. What should have been an afternoon of wedding chatter, paddling in the sea, ice creams, and cocktails felt more choreographed than the ballet. The Instagram warriors and TikTok tribe were glued to their sleek mobile phones and iPads; pointing, clicking, and making trout- and duck-pout selfies of themselves and their surroundings at every angle imaginable.
For the love of God, was nothing sacred anymore?
And then Tim properly gasped (and not in a good way) as Piper shed all of her clothes, right down to a tiny bright red thong and a teeny weeny matching bikini top, whose triangular ‘cups’ reminded him of children’s birthday party sandwiches. Then she unpacked the lousy light ring and tripod from her rucksack, setting her mobile phone up to her exacting requirements at the water’s edge, to boogie in front, side and back profile as she dipped her toes in the sea. And then she returned to her sunlounger and whipped off her bikini top, too. Piper lay beneath the steadily mounting clouds flashing her perky attributes to all and sundry, flipping through a stash of¡Hola!magazines, which Tim supposed was Spain’s equivalent to the infamousHello!magazine (and its less prestigious rival,OK!). She had stripped off before, and Tim wasn’t a prude who had issues with nudity or semi-nudity on a beach. Each to their own. Piper was, indeed, a fully grown adult who could make her own decisions. But this was a rather public stretch of sand, where most visitors were fully dressed – given it was winter, and the current slate-grey shade of the sky suggested imminent rain.
In other words, no matter how delightful his fiancée’s figure (and blimey, at the moment, didn’t she know it?) there was a time and a place… and he couldn’t help noticing the holidaymaking Flash Harrys knocking back the bottles of Estrella Damm on the promenade wall over there were getting quite an eyeful.
He ran his hands through his hair.
“Sweet P, I know you’re keen to get an all-over tan but I’m not sure this level of exposure is appropriate. At least not at this time of year.”
“Oh, Timothy! That’s not what you were saying last night. Don’t be such an old maid.” Piper giggled.
“But you’re covered in goosebumps.” Tim couldn’t bring himself to appraise Piper’s nipples. “Never mind going back to Manchester with a tan, you’ll be fighting off pneumonia at this rate.”
“I’m enjoying myself, babe. Why don’t you relax and take your T-shirt off too? I haven’t seen those lush rippling abs of yours in several hours. I’m getting withdrawal symptoms.”
“It’s not just the risk of getting a serious chill!” Tim tried to stop himself from shouting back. “Have you seen how many mobile phones and iPads are out in action? You’ve no idea where all those images are being posted!”
“And I have absolutely no problem with that. You saw me in action down by the sea. I love my body. I thought you did too? I keep myself in peak physical condition, I’m young and I’m beautiful. In other words, I am offending no-one. Quite the opposite. I know it sounds boastful, but I’m the walking, talking advertisement for the rewards you reap when you watch what you eat, work out, and look after your appearance. I have every right to wear as much or as little as I like to the beach to soak up the rays. You can still catch them through the cloud cover, you know!”
Tim took a deep breath. He needed time out. Like yesterday.
“Right, that’s it. I’m going for a walk. I’ll see you in an hour or so when I hope you’ll have come to your senses.”
“Suit yourself, party pooper.”
Tim couldn’t stay there for a moment longer listening to Piper’s bizarre justifications. He’d either shapeshifted into an antique since they’d landed in Spain, or his partner had decided to become a full-on exhibitionist. Piper had never taken things to quite this level of vanity before. Either way, he needed to clear his head. He marched towards the promenade and didn’t look back.
One hour(and a restorative cuppa and chunk of disappointingly dry chocolate cake) later, Tim returned to a scene that he tried not to find alarming. Piper might now be back in her denim hot pants and T-shirt, having finally acknowledged the light drizzle, but from an unobserved distance, Tim could also see she was animatedly chatting to a male; a male who couldn’t seem to stop pressing his hand to the small of her back or tilting his pelvis her way. Was he one of that group of lads who’d been eyeing Piper up earlier? Tim hadn’t thought to itemise them. They’d all been wearing designer shades at the time, merging into one giant headache, so it was impossible to say.
Just as Tim’s foot connected with the sand again to make his way to the pair of them, the man leaned in and kissed Piper on the cheek. For a fraction too long in Tim’s humble opinion. The man leaned in again, this time apparently to whisper something in Piper’s ear. As if sixth-sensing her boyfriend’s unease, Piper turned on cue to dazzle Tim with a brilliant smile.
Okay, it was weird, but Tim refused to let it sidetrack him. This was not the general order of play when you went for a walk and returned to the woman you were due to marry in a matter of months, especially when you were two days into your wedding planning trip.
“Erm, what’s going on?”
Tim liked the authority in his voice. It wasn’t a vibe he was familiar with but he felt he could carry it off and make this chancer vanish into the ether.
“Hey,” said the man, holding a solitary hand up as if in surrender.
Tim planted his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes before letting them dart from the handsome brown-haired man with the Gucci shades pushed up onto his head, with his preppy blazer, nautical jumper and skinny jeans, to Piper. But already he felt like a fool and could detect no wrongdoing, no matter how hard he glared.
“Noah was just telling me about his influencer career over here. He’s from Manchester too, but he’s lived in Puerto Banus for the past twelve months and he’s making a killing! How awesome is that?”
