A string of lights surrounds the deck outside the Charltons’ lodge and the windows of the tent are already steamed up. Inside, the sliding doors to the lodge are open. Seren steps inside, suddenly shy, and looks around to see who’s there. The room’s full and noisy, cheesy music pumping from the speakers in the wall. Old Mrs. Huxley is sitting on the sofa with Caleb’s mum, Clemmie, and two women from the village. The Staffords are here, laughing at something Blythe’s saying. Yasmin’s over there, talking to Mia, but there’s no sign of Rhys, and Seren feels suddenly anxious, overdressed, and out of place. Some of the women are in posh dresses and a few of the men are in dinner jackets, but most people are dressed as if they’re going to the pub.
“Hey.”
Seren feels a hand on her shoulder. She spins around, but her face falls when she sees who it is.
“You look good.” Caleb looks her up and down. “You look fucking amazing, actually. Listen, I was going to say this anyway. It’s not because you look—I mean, you really do look great—”
Seren’s still scanning the room. Where is he? Her chest is tight from nerves and excitement, and Caleb’s talking at her but she isn’t listening. She’s imagining the way Rhys will look when he sees her, how he’ll know she’s dressed up just for him.
“—if you’re not seeing anyone else. Maybe,” Caleb finishes uncertainly. He waits for her to say something.
Seren stares at him, then finally catches up. “Did you just ask me out?”
Caleb chews his lip. “Sort of.”
There he is! Wearing a black dinner jacket and a red bow tie, a matching handkerchief folded in his top pocket. He looks the way she’s seen him dress for concerts on TV.
“What do you reckon?” Caleb waits, then he follows her gaze and lands on Rhys. He looks back at Seren. “Jesus, Seren. Really?”
“What?” Seren feels herself getting hot. Caleb’s staring at Rhys as if he’d like to punch him, and she turns her back on them both and goes to find the bathroom. Mam was right: there’s a group of lads who drink in Y Llew Coch here, leaning against the wall like they’re waiting for something. Steffan Edwards is drinking, which even Seren knows is going to end badly.
On her way back from the loo, she picks up a glass of champagne and downs it in one go, then takes another. It settles her nerves and makes her head buzz, but she’s still not ready to speak to Rhys. She wants him to come and find her; she’s too anxious to make the first move—already feels out of her depth. She gets out her phone to send him a message.
Great party!
That should do it. Casual. Not needy.
Seren frowns at the screen. The message hasn’t been delivered—that’s never happened before. Next to her, Clemmie bangs Seren’s elbow, shouting “Sorry!” as she whirls about, doing some kind of Irish dancing.
“Amazing party, right?” Mia says, leaning into her to be heard.
Automatically, Seren conceals her champagne glass behind her back. “It’s okay.”
“Is your mam here?” Mia asks.
“Mam, at The Shore?”
Yasmin appears, her perfume sickeningly sweet. “Seren! Have you seen Tabby and Felicia? I’ve been looking everywhere for them.”
“I think they’re watching Netflix at Caleb’s.” That’s where the twins are, Seren knows—they messaged her to tell her to come over.
“Tell them I need them to make their father eat something.”
“Um. Okay.” Seren doesn’t want to go to number four. She wants to stay here where Rhys can find her. Her face is aching from the effort of smiling and laughing so that when he notices her, she looks like she’s having a good time, like she isn’t waiting for him.
“I put a sandwich under cling film in the fridge,” Yasmin’s saying. “They can give him that. He’s completely off his face. It’s mortifying.”
Seren sighs in resigned acceptance. She walks toward the door, then peels off and fetches herself another drink, then another. Only when Yasmin glares at her across the room does she reluctantly do her bidding.
Tabby and Felicia are sprawled on the sofa in Clemmie’s lodge; Caleb is on the floor, leaning against the coffee table. The TV is on mute and the music is up loud, and all three are on their phones. Empty pizza boxes litter the floor, grease pockmarking the cardboard.
“All right?” Seren says. Tabby and Felicia exchange glances before fake-smiling hello. They’ve been talking about her. Fuck them, then. Caleb is frowning at his phone as if he’s in the middle of something important and can’t be interrupted, but Seren knows it’s because of what he said earlier. The stupid thing is, she really likes Caleb. It’s just that he’s still a boy. Girls mature faster than boys, everyone knows that, so it’s not weird to fancy someone older. Not really.
Seren delivers Yasmin’s message.
“Fuck that.” Felicia doesn’t hesitate.
“He has to eat.” Tabby looks torn. “Mum says he’s wrecked. It’s going to be really embarrassing if he, like, voms everywhere or something.”