Plot Twist

by Breea Keenan

Genres: Contemporary Romance; Holiday Romance; Humorous Fiction

Synopsis

A pitch-perfect, heart-warming and hilarious Scottish and Irish romantic comedy, perfect for fans of Catherine Walsh, Annabel Monaghan and Emily Henry, you can't miss this irresistible audiobook.

(P)2024 Headline Publishing Group Ltd

Release date: March 28, 2024

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 400

Sample

1

Nothing quite like a smear test to start the weekend in style.

Said no one, ever.

‘Appointment time?’

‘Well, it was five minutes ago, actually. I’m so sorry I’m late, I couldn’t get a space and—’

‘Which doctor is your appointment with?’

‘The nurse,’ I said.

She sighed heavily and tapped on her keyboard for a moment. The phone started ringing but she ignored it. I noted her name badge. Moira.

You definitely wouldn’t fuck with Moira.

The silence hung between us.

‘Look, I was allocated a ten-­minute slot so technically I still have five minutes left. I could just nip in really quickly. Whip my pants off. I won’t even have any small talk about how I’ve not shaved my legs. I promise.’

‘I find that hard to believe.’ She arched her eyebrow. ‘If you want to take a seat, I’ll see whether the nurse can still carry out the procedure. You may have to come back another day though.’

‘OK. Sorry, Moira.’

She didn’t even flinch at the mention of her name.

Why didn’t I listen to my own instincts? You clearly weren’t supposed to fuck with Moira.

I wondered where this little game of cat and mouse would take us as I moved over to the waiting area and took my seat amongst the row of people staring intently at their phones. Glancing at my watch, I stretched my legs out, hoping my punishment wasn’t going to last too long. Thankfully, I had another teacher lined up to cover my class in case I was late back. All arranged behind the Demon Headmistress’s back, of course. You don’t fuck with her, either.

I tapped a quick message out to Riley.

 

Me: Late for appointment. Fate now in the hands of Moira, the grumpy receptionist. What’s a girl got to do around here to get someone to collect cells from her cervix?

Riley: Slip her some bank notes over and see if it helps to ‘move the situation along’?

Me: I get the strong sense that won’t work in my favour. Clearly NTBFW.

Riley: NTBFW??

Me: Not To Be Fucked With. Thanks for your comments on my chapter, by the way. I’ll read through tonight. If all else fails, I could write a steamy romance featuring Moira the doctor’s receptionist?

Riley: Yes! Eyes meet over the huge plastic shield at the reception desk as Tom comes in to see the doctor about his piles.

Me: Not sure that would make the wedding speech but, y’know, it’s better than her ex, Eric with erectile dysfunction.

Riley: Poor old Eric. A stand-­up guy, in all ways but one.

Me: Lol. How’s the writing coming along today?

Riley: Aaaargh, don’t ask. Going to try more yoga. Speak later. Happy smear test, by the way. If you get it.

Me: Thank you. Hope your writer’s dysfunction passes soon . . .

 

‘Becca Taylor?’

My name echoed through the hallway and I scrambled to stand up. Moira obviously hadn’t wanted to admit that the nurse was still free, so she’d got her to collect me rather than letting me off the hook herself.

Well played, Moira. Well played. I followed the nurse down the corridor.

‘God, you know, I just hate these things. My hands are sweating and everything,’ I said, trying to build a rapport with the nurse so she didn’t take Moira’s side when they inevitably talked about me later.

‘I know, no one likes it, I’m afraid,’ she sympathised. ‘A necessary evil. Now, if you don’t mind, we actually have a student with us today. It helps with training and development if students can be involved and observe the procedure. If you’d prefer not to, please just let us know. You’re the only appointment this afternoon and it really would help with her practical experience . . .’

Ach, shite. I couldn’t say no now. Not after I’d kept them all waiting.

‘That’s fine, I guess. The more the merrier!’ My high-­pitched laugh echoed as we entered the room.

‘We’ll be as quick as we can, if you just want to get yourself ready.’ The nurse smiled.

I always thought they should give more explicit instructions about these things: what exactly to take off and leave on.

My best friend, Rae, had seen it all. She’d trained as a beauty therapist while studying for her psychology degree. She figured she’d spend most of her wages on beauty treatments when she graduated anyway, so might as well learn how to do it all herself. Always planning ahead. Plus, she said it was the best insight into the female mind.

Rae giggled over the wax appointments gone wrong, like once when the customer got completely starkers, boobs out and everything, when she turned her back to get set up. The lady had only come in for an eyebrow wax. She quickly learned that the customer wasn’t always right.

I lay back on the thin sheets of paper covering the long, faux-­leather bed, trying to think about something nice. Meeting Rae at the weekend. Focus on that. I was so desperate to see her, I’d managed to convince her to come home a week earlier than she’d originally planned. We’d spent the previous day planning where to meet and had exchanged several voice notes.

‘I’m going to find you a man this weekend,’ she’d vowed.

I’d rolled my eyes and reciprocated with a voice note: ‘Like I need any more hassle in my life. Thanks but no thanks.’

A response came back in record time. ‘You do realise you are “hesidating”. It’s a thing, you know. Google it.’

I snorted. ‘Also known as common fucking sense. With a side serving of “I can’t be arsed”. And anyway, since when were you Little Miss Relationship? You got something you want to tell me?’

Rae sighed on her next voice note. ‘Come on, Becca. You need to get out a bit more! What about that new dating app I sent you a link for?’

‘I am getting out. With you, this weekend, remember? All I want to do is sit in the sunshine with our gins in the air like we just don’t care and LAUGH. I haven’t seen you in forever.’

‘Me too! But I am on a mission. I’ll find you a Mr Right, or even just Mr Right Now, this weekend, if it kills me.’

I didn’t reply to her last voice note. When Rae got something in her mind, it was best not to argue.

It still amazed me how much we could chat and yet always have more to tell each other. And, for once, the Scottish summer was showing signs of actual beer garden weather. It was like all the stars were aligning for us reuniting.

I could hear the nurse explaining everything to the student as she went along. The words cervix and speculum floated around in the air. I curled my toes.

‘At least once it’s done, it’s over for a while.’ The student smiled at me. The Sadist.

Jesus, she must have been about twelve.

‘Yes. Great,’ I said. I wished I hadn’t agreed to the student thing. It was taking forever and a day, plus I really hadn’t shaved my legs properly, never mind anything else. I wondered if they’d talk about me when I left the room.

‘Now, that’s you all done,’ the nurse said eventually. ‘I’ll leave you to get dressed again. You should get a letter through in a few weeks.’

I wobbled, slipping my tights back on, before straightening my skirt and pulling back the curtain.

‘Brilliant, thanks. That’s the most action I’ve had in a while,’ I said. ‘See you later.’

The student opened the door to let me out without even so much as a smirk. Twelve year olds really were professional these days.

I checked my phone on the way to the exit, as my flat shoes squelched against the floor through reception. Seventeen missed calls from an unknown number. What the . . . squelch.

There were no voicemails, no messages. If it was one of those scam calls about being in an accident, I planned to give them intimate details about my smear test. That would definitely have me promptly struck off their marketing list for future calls.

My phone vibrated again, and this time I answered. ‘Becca? Is that you?’

‘Sorry, who’s this?’

‘It’s Adam. Rae’s brother.’

A flashback popped into my head of the Halloween he’d dressed up as Big Bird from Sesame Street for a fancy dress party he was heading to in Glasgow’s West End (i.e. ‘the posh end’). I was horrified; Rae was mortified. We tried to convince him to change but he just kept flapping his wings at us.

‘It’s about Rae . . .’ he said.

Next thing I knew, I’d dropped the phone at my feet.

2

‘The wee chapel up the hill, aye?’ the taxi driver asked.

‘Aye.’

I always felt the need to exaggerate my accent when I was in the company of someone who seemed more Glaswegian than me. Prove I belonged there too. Rae used to call people ‘hen’ when we were at school. I’d never been able to pull ‘hen’ off. I can’t remember when she stopped but I hadn’t heard her use the phrase for years.

The driver pulled over and I tapped my card on the machine. He was in the middle of a monologue about the Tories and bloody Brexit as I leapt out of the car, closing the door firmly behind me. If there was one thing I knew about taxi drivers, it was how much they hated slack-­door-­closers. I wasn’t about to be caught out. Not a chance, hen.

I smoothed my blond hair down and buttoned up my mint-­green coat. My trusty black heels moulded around my feet. I hadn’t worn them in months but they’d welcomed me back like I’d never left them. The heels were slightly too high, perhaps, for a funeral, but I’d had so many good nights wearing these shoes.

With Rae, of course.

All the best nights out had been with Rae.

The church sat at the top of a hill, beside the school where I’d met Rae in primary three, when she’d started as the new girl. She’d marched straight up to me and introduced herself, demanding that I assume the role of her best friend. I was impressed with her ballsy attitude. If we hadn’t declared each other best friends that day, we would probably have become arch enemies. Instead, we’d admired each other’s balls.

I felt my cheeks flush and my skin prickle as I strode up the hill towards the church. We’d made our First Communion in the same chapel. I’d gazed enviously at Rae’s dazzling full-­length dress, while my plain number grazed apologetically at my ankles. Rae’s whole family turned up en masse, eclipsing all other families. Dad and I didn’t have that problem of course. Party for two, as usual.

The whole Mass thing always freaked me out. Rae had always been on hand to whisper instructions in my ear about the whole ‘sign of the peace be with you’ bits during school Mass. Everyone would be too caught up in their own thoughts today to care about whether I was doing it all properly. I knew that. But I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that they’d all be looking at me.

It was my fault, after all. Rae was driving to Glasgow to meet me. We planned to put our gins in the air like we just didn’t care. She was meant to come the following weekend, but I’d begged her to make it earlier. I felt like I hadn’t seen her in forever.

She didn’t stand a chance when the lorry smashed into the side of her black Mini as they both turned into a dual carriageway. Apparently she would have died instantly. The police said that as though it made the whole thing better somehow.

And now I’d never see her again.

I smoothed down my coat. Breathe, Becca.

I picked up pace and eyed the crowds outside as I made my way inside.

A blur of faces, black clothing and big hankies passed by as I entered the church. Rae’s family loved the whole Scottish vibe, from traditional attire to necking a good whisky, so I wasn’t surprised to see many had donned their kilts, despite the warm weather. Rae always said she was a sucker for a guy in Scottish uniform.

I gasped as I caught sight of the coffin. Should that thing even be in here? I’d thought they’d be carrying it in. Surely they hadn’t just left her by herself here overnight? The flurry feeling intensified. I reminded myself to breathe as I sat down.

A tall figure in a short, black jacket and deep green kilt stood at the end of the row in front of me. I frowned, trying to work out who he was. Unless Rae had a hot cousin she hadn’t told me about, I was lost. I drew my eyes away; now was hardly the time to be eyeing up the talent.

Rae wouldn’t mind. She was going to find me a man if it killed her, after all.

The service started with a low hum of the organ. I glanced around at the church’s ornate decor, the candles in the corner and then up at the altar, avoiding the coffin at all costs. I remembered Rae telling me that the funny smoky smell at Mass was called incense. I’d thought she’d said incest. We’d giggled about that for ages.

The priest’s low voice rolled off the words he’d no doubt said a million times. I studied the back of the head in front again. His very presence and somehow familiar head were annoying. I clocked a tiny bit of dandruff on his shoulders. Just as I spotted it, he flipped his hand up to brush it away. I looked down, worried he’d somehow heard my thoughts. Or worse still, I’d said something out loud.

Everyone sat down for the first reading. He turned his head to the side, as if he was looking for someone. Then he turned right around.

We locked eyes. He managed to deliver a carefully executed nod of acknowledgement that conveyed his recognition but also sadness at the situation.

My mouth fell open. What the actual fuck was he doing here?

3

TEN YEARS AGO

‘Gawd, Bec, if we want to get to Tenerife this summer, we really need to get these jobs. I hope I don’t fuck it up. I’m useless when they ask me things like where I’d like to be in five years. Eh, hello? Rich husband, obviously,’ Rae said, gazing over her sunglasses at me.

‘Well, that’s truly aspirational.’ I rolled my eyes at her. ‘We will totally get these jobs. They’ll be begging us to come and work for them. We’re free for the summer and we’re sober most days. What more could they want? Plus, it’s a theme park so I’m not sure they’ll care where you’d like to be in five years.’

I was right.

‘Uniforms are hanging up inside. Shift finishes at six,’ the boss said, barely giving us a second look.

‘What, we’re starting today?’ Rae asked.

‘Yup. Smile and don’t steal, you keep it.’

He opened the portacabin and showed us to the staff toilet to get changed.

‘Eeeek!’ Rae exclaimed, as she flipped open her lipstick and adjusted her hair in the mirror. ‘You go first, I’ll fix my face. Tenerife here we come! If you like piña coladas . . .’

She sang as I wrestled the small top over my head in the single loo.

I buttoned up the shirt and opened the door.

‘Weeet, woo!’ Rae said, applying her bright red lipstick. ‘Give me a twirl.’

I laughed and twirled around in my new khaki trousers and light blue top, shaking my bum.

‘I see you baby, shaking that ass,’ she sang on the way into the loo.

‘I’ll wait for you outside,’ I called as I opened the door to leave.

‘Hey,’ a voice said.

A tall twenty-­something man wearing the same light blue shirt stood with one hand tucked into his shorts pocket.

‘Hey,’ I replied. ‘You working here too?’

‘What gave it away?’

‘Wild guess,’ I replied, raising an eyebrow at our matching uniforms.

‘You’re new?’

‘I am. Starting in the ice cream truck apparently.’

‘No shit,’ he said. ‘Well, you must be the girl I’ve been told to train. Don’t worry, you’re in the best possible hands. So, who did I end up with? The boss said it would be Becca or Rae?’

‘You’ve ended up with Becca.’ I smiled.

He grinned. ‘Nice one. I’m Drew. I work in the ice cream truck. They call me Mr Whippy.’

I looked up at his mischievous brown eyes and grinned.

I knew then and there that I was a goner.

4

I could almost hear Rae’s voice whispering in my ear: ‘All family and no fucking fun. Let’s get out of here.’

They all greeted one other with warm hugs and muttered words of disbelief and condolences at the reception. The hordes of family members narrowed their eyes when they saw me, trying to place whether I was on Jim’s or Linda’s side of the family. I wanted to shout at the top of my lungs that I was Becca, the one who’d been a firm fixture by Rae’s side practically all her life. The friend that held her when she was sobbing after Lee Kilburn broke her heart in second year. The pal that held her hair back when she was sick after one too many cocktails.

The one whose fault it was.

‘Becca?’

I would know the voice anywhere. A warm, familiar feeling flooded my stomach until my head caught up and reminded me: Drew should not be here. Or anywhere near me for that matter.

I swung around and came face to face with him. He looked into my eyes, bold as brass, and offered me a small, almost smile.

‘What the hell?’ I sneered up at him. ‘Why are you here?’

I’d promised myself I wouldn’t cause a scene. But the sight of his short dark hair, perfectly shaven face and smug smile in his stupid kilt, blending in with the rest of the family, was just too much. Worse still, he was still hot. Damn him. Although he looked exhausted. Shattered.

‘Rae and I were always close, Becca, you know that.’ He shifted his balance from one foot to the other.

He set his glass down beside mine. The prick.

‘I don’t think gatecrashing the funeral is appropriate. I hope it wasn’t because of me.’

He threw his head back and laughed. The bloody nerve of him and his stupid loud laugh. How inappropriate to practically guffaw at a funeral. Rae’s funeral. My face flushed in anger. I blinked as I realised my expression mirrored his. He had the cheek to look angry, too. What the fuck did he have to be angry about?

‘God, Becca, you’re so full of shit. I came to say goodbye to Rae. Nothing to do with you. Not everything in life is about you, believe it or not. Let’s not do this . . . not here.’

I gulped as his furious gaze fixed firmly on my eyes. My big baggy eyes that needed to rest so badly.

What did he mean with all this cloak-­and-­dagger ‘not here, not now’ anyway? God, he was always so over the top.

He let out a huge, dramatic puff into the air and turned to leave. I stood still for a moment before deciding to follow him. I wasn’t bloody well finished telling him all the reasons why he shouldn’t be here.

I walked out towards the bar area but there was no sign of him.

‘Becca?’

I spun around.

Rae’s brother, otherwise known in my mind as his childhood nickname ‘Adam-­the-­Absolute-­Worst’, towered over me.

He must have missed the family kilt memo, but he did look sharp in a black suit, white shirt and black tie, along with his trademark wide-­framed, black-­rimmed glasses. Imagine if he’d worn his Big Bird costume to the funeral. Rae would have killed herself laughing.

Oh.

‘I’m sorry, Adam, I’m just looking for someone . . .’ I mumbled.

‘Drew,’ he stated.

‘How did you know?’ I frowned. ‘What the fuck is he even doing here? I thought Linda said it was family only. And me, obviously.’

He cleared his throat.

‘Rae never wanted this . . .’ Adam started, looking down at his feet and then back up to meet my gaze.

‘What, a funeral? Pretty sure I knew that, Adam, but thanks for the memo,’ I said, looking over his shoulder for Drew. The bastard.

‘No,’ he said, lightly placing his hands near my shoulders. ‘I mean, she would have hated you finding out from someone else. She was determined to be the one to tell you.’

I narrowed my eyes, feeling my stomach clench. What was he talking about?

‘Tell me what?’

‘They were together, Becca.’ He spoke so quietly I had to strain to hear him. ‘They had been for ages. They moved in together in Edinburgh. She was going to tell you, the day she was coming home. The day that . . . well, you know. She was so worried about it, but I told her that you’d be fine. I mean, you and Drew were up and down, weren’t you? Plus, it was ages ago now. I mean, years have passed, haven’t they, and—’

I staggered slightly in my black heels.

‘Rae and Drew?’

He must have been mixed up. Rae and I literally told each other everything. Every little detail of life. We were in contact every single day. It wasn’t possible. This wasn’t possible.

‘I don’t think so,’ I stammered, my voice barely recognisable as it adopted some sort of high-­pitched squeak. ‘She would have told me.’

‘She was going to tell you. She needed to be sure it was right.’ His eyes narrowed, as though he was trying to play some sort of mind game with me, convincing me that this was all normal.

I was silent for a moment as my brain struggled to process the new information.

‘So, if she was going to tell me that day –’ I frowned – ‘that meant it was. It was right?’

‘Yeah,’ he said, relieved that I finally understood. ‘He wanted to propose to her, but she told him to hold off.’

I briefly wondered if my heart had actually stopped beating.

‘Hold off, why? Until she told me?’ I managed to whisper, like I was passing on the secret.

‘Yeah,’ he replied. ‘She wanted you to be a bridesmaid, like you always planned.’

‘A bridesmaid. For Rae and Drew,’ I repeated.

We had it all planned. I’d be her bridesmaid when she married, she’d be mine. I planned a big wedding in the Bahamas, while she wanted to stick to the church, to make Linda happy. The grooms hadn’t been worked out yet, or so I thought.

My face started doing that weird wobbly thing that happens when you yawn and try to hide it.

‘And you knew about it?’ I almost laughed, my voice rising. ‘She didn’t even like you, Adam. Like, no offence. She would send me pictures of her lunch. I knew when she had her period, yet she couldn’t tell me. . .