held anything back from him. This is a straight business transaction, albeit with a walk up the aisle together at the end. It’s quite liberating, this not having to pick and choose my words or worry what someone thinks of me.
We’re all on our best behaviour in a new relationship, right? When it’s real, I mean. Nobody wants to frighten the life out of a partner until they have to. Not that I’m comparing Rafael and Matt in any way, but it was months before I even mentioned my parents to Matt. They’re definitely not a new-relationship topic.
Rafael is under the illusion that having all this foreknowledge will help, that he understands what he’s walking into with my family. He doesn’t. My parents have to be experienced to get the full picture.
‘Well, Mum claims that Dad’s deaf,’ I tell him as the sea comes into view out the window. I love this bit, when we turn towards the north coast after travelling down the middle of Cornwall. ‘But that’s usually when he doesn’t do what she asks. Sometimes he’s stalling for time, till he can come up with an answer she’ll accept. Mum’s sharp, to the point of being prickly sometimes, but you’ll get on well with my dad. He loves playing host.’
As long as he doesn’t get too generous with his drinks. All bets are off with Dad once he’s on a bender.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to warn them about me?’
‘No way,’ I say. ‘I need the element of surprise on my side. Believe me, you don’t know these people … Thanks for coming with me.’
It’s Dad’s birthday weekend. What better time to tell your parents that the wedding is still on, but that they’ll need to spell the groom’s name R-a-f-a-e-l on their cards.
‘What are fiancés for?’ He drops my hand but then flips up the arm rest between us and flings his arm over my shoulder. I could get used to this, despite always agreeing with Matt that public displays of affection are over-the-top yuck.
As we pull into St Ives station, I feel like my tummy is eating itself. If my parents don’t believe us, then there isn’t much point in carrying on with this charade. Mum would never go along with it for the magazine interviews, so I wouldn’t even get out of paying back the advance. Which I can’t do. My entire future is riding on the next few hours.
‘This is stunning,’ Rafael says. He’s looking out over Porthminster beach. The gulls glow white above us in the deep blue sky. The sea is calm today. Mum said it’s been dry here.
I aim my phone at the horizon. #beachtastic. My followers can’t get enough of my Cornwall pics. ‘Bogotá is a big city, right?’ I ask him as I squint at my screen in the bright sunlight. ‘Near the water?’ I add a few more hashtags. ‘Come here. We’ll get one together.’
‘Not even close,’ he says. ‘It’s landlocked.’ Then he smirks as I pull my selfie stick from my bag. ‘Seriously?’
‘It’s very practical.’ A man shoots me a dirty look as he hops away from the waving stick.
‘Yeah, I can tell. Why not just ask someone to take a photo?’
‘Because that’s bothersome.’
‘Much better to take out people’s eyes.’
Ignoring him, I snap a dozen or so pictures.
‘Why did you ever leave here?’ he asks. When he closes his eyes to breathe in the warm breeze, I get a glimpse of what he’d look like asleep. He’d give Matt a run for his money in the gorgeousness department.
Stop thinking about Matt, I chide myself. It’ll only start me crying again, and then Mum will never believe I’m happy and in love with Rafael. What’s done is done. This is my life now.
‘You’re very lucky that your parents are here,’ he adds.
‘Wait till you meet them,’ I warn, shoving Matt out of my head and my phone back into my bag.
It’s a short walk from the station to the house, where we find Mum and Dad sitting in the back garden at the big old farm table that’s been weathered to a shimmery silver. They practically live out here in nice weather. Mum’s munching toast between sips of the no-doubt cold tea that she claims not to mind drinking. She says her job means she has to abandon her cuppa at the office whenever clients call. I think she just likes to be a martyr.
She and Dad have identical smiles to mine plastered on their faces as we approach. ‘I’ve got a surprise,’ I tell them, because there’s no use hoping they don’t notice that it’s not Matt by my side. ‘Mum, Dad, this is Rafael.’
Formally, he shakes my parents’ hands. ‘So nice to finally meet you,’ he tells them both.
I can tell that Mum catches the finally.
‘Nelly didn’t mention … You’re a friend of Nelly’s?’ Dad might look as jovial as Father Christmas (minus the snowy hair and beard), but don’t be fooled. A shrewd man lies just beneath that chubby, red-faced surface. He might not be quite as quick as Mum (nobody is), but he almost always knows when I’m up to something.
Rafael and I reach for each other’s hands. The warmth of his does make me feel a bit better. ‘Like I said, I’ve got a surprise for you.’ They must be able to hear my heart clacking. ‘We’re in love. I’ve broken up with Matt and now I’m marrying Rafael.’
My mother’s mouth drops open. ‘You’re— You’ve— You’re … what? What?’
‘Yep,’ I tell her. ‘Rafael and I are getting married.’ The only way I’m going to survive this is to brazen it out. If I keep talking, there’s a chance I’ll get through it. Mum’s a solicitor. In other words, suspicious for a living. If I let her have any time to think, she’ll only start picking holes in our story. ‘I know it seems sudden, but it’s not, really. We met months ago, at work, didn’t we?’ Here, Rafael’s arms encircle me as he hugs me to him. ‘I’ve never met anyone like him and the more we saw each other, at work, I mean, because we weren’t dating, obviously, because I was with Matt, the more I realised that I couldn’t go on with the wedding plans, given the way I feel about Rafael. It wouldn’t have been right, so I told Matt a few weeks ago.’
This blathering on is part of the plan, till they get over the initial shock.
Mum’s delicate eyebrows scrunch together as she frowns. I didn’t inherit those eyebrows. Or her pale bobbed hair or the kind of figure that makes women half her age jealous (speaking for myself). ‘You’re saying that Matt is out and Rafael is in?’
‘That’s what I’m saying. Everything else is the same: the date, the venue, the registry. And Paul is still standing up for Rafael.’
‘Matt’s sister is still your maid of honour?’ Mum asks.
‘Obviously not, Mum! It’ll be Rafael’s best friend, Mabs.’
‘And Matt knows?’
‘Oh, yes. He’s gone off to Spain on sabbatical. Actually, we talked just last week.’
‘That’s very …’ Dad trails off.
‘Mature,’ Mum finishes. ‘But you’ve known each other … how long, you and Rafael?’
‘Since the beginning of March, but we’ve seen each other every day at work. Not seeing seeing each other. Till I told Matt. Now we’re seeing each other properly. At night.’
Now it’s Dad’s turn to frown. Why did I have to put that image into my father’s head?
‘That’s not very long to know each other before getting married,’ he says.
I’m ready for this. ‘You and Mum were engaged in three months and we’ve known each other almost twice as long. We’re just being practical, Dad, with everything already underway and all. Believe me, I didn’t plan for this to happen.’ That could not be truer.
My