The Wedding Girl Read online

  `It's all right,' said Simon quickly. `I'll get it.' Harry turned round in surprise.

  `Oh, hello,' he said. `Are you expecting someone?'

  `I don't know,' said Simon awkwardly. `Milly, maybe.'

  `Ah,' said Harry. `I'll get out of your way, then.'

  Simon grinned at his father and, without thinking, allowed his eyes to roam inside the open study door. To his surprise he caught a glimpse of female leg by the fire. A mild curiosity began to rise through him and he glanced questioningly at his father. Harry seemed to think for a couple of seconds, then he flung the study door open.

  Isobel Havill was sitting by the fire. Her head shot up, a shocked expression on her face, and Simon stared back at her in surprise.

  `You know Isobel, don't you, Simon?' said Harry cheerfully.

  `Yes, of course,' said Simon. `Hi, Isobel. What are you doing here?'

  `I'm here to talk about the wedding,' she said after a pause.

  `No you're not,' said Harry. `Don't lie to the boy.'

  `Oh,' said Simon confusedly. `Well, it doesn't-'

  `We have something to tell you, Simon,' said Harry. `Although this may not be quite the best time ...'

  `No, it's not,' interrupted Isobel firmly. `Why doesn't one of you answer the door?'

  `What have you got to tell me?' said Simon. His heart began to thud. `Is it about Milly?'

  Isobel sighed. `No,' she said.

  `Not directly,' said Harry.

  `Harry!' said Isobel, a note of irritation entering her voice. `Simon doesn't want to hear this now!'

  `Hear what?' said Simon as the doorbell rang again. He looked from one to the other. Isobel was giving his father a private little frown; Harry was grinning back at her teasingly. Simon stared at the two of them, communicating in a silent, intimate language, and suddenly, with a lurch, he understood.

  `Get the door,' said Isobel. `Somebody.'

  `I'll go,' said Simon in a strangled voice. Isobel shot his father an angry look.

  `Simon, are you OK?' said Harry apologetically. `Listen, I didn't mean to '

  `It's OK,' said Simon, not looking back. `It's OK.'

  He strode up to the front door and yanked it open with a shaking, clumsy hand. On the doorstep was a stranger. A tall, wellbuilt man, with blond hair that shone under the lantern like a halo, and bloodshot blue eyes full of a miserable wariness.

  Simon stared back at the stranger in disappointment, too nonplussed by events to speak. Thoughts were skittering round his mind like mad bowling balls, as his brain tried to link this new information to all the evidence that had been before him over the last few months. How many times had he seen his father and Isobel together? Hardly ever. But maybe that fact should have been a sign in itself. If he'd paid more attention, might he have noticed something? How long had their affair been going on, anyway? And where the hell was Milly?

  `I'm looking for Simon Pinnacle,' said the stranger at last. His eyes shone entreatingly at Simon and there was a curious, preemptive defensiveness to his voice. `Are you him, by any chance?'

  `Yes,' said Simon, forcing himself to focus; to pull himself together. `I am. How can I help you?'

  `You won't know who I am,' said the man.

  `I think I do,' interrupted Isobel, from behind Simon. `I think I know exactly who you are.' An incredulous note entered her voice as she gazed up at him. `You're Rupert, aren't you?'

  Giles Claybrook and Eleanor Smith were standing at the altar of St Edward's, gazing silently at one another.

  `Now,' said Canon Lytton, smiling benevolently at the pair of them. `Is it to be one ring or two?'

  `One,' said Giles, looking up.

  `Giles won't wear a wedding ring,' said Eleanor, a slight flush of annoyance coming to her features. `I've tried to persuade him.'

  `Ellie, love,' said Eleanor's uncle, filming behind on a video camera. `Could you move slightly to the right? Lovely.'

  `One ring,' said Canon Lytton, making a note on his service sheet. `Well, in that case ...'

  There was a rattle at the doors at the back of the church, and he looked up in surprise. The door swung open, to reveal James, Olivia and Alexander.

  `Forgive us,' said James, walking briskly up the aisle. `We just need a moment with Canon Lytton.'

  `We won't be long,' said Olivia.

  `Sorry to interrupt,' added Alexander cheerfully.

  `What's going on?' said Giles, peering down the aisle.

  `Mrs Havill, I am busy!' thundered Canon Lytton. `Kindly wait at the back!'

  `It won't take a second,' said James. `We just need to know who told you about Milly's first wedding?'

  `If you are trying to convince me, at this late stage, that the information is false . . .' began Canon Lytton.

  `We're not!' said James impatiently. `We just need to know.'

  `Was it him?' demanded Olivia, pointing to Alexander.

  `No,' said Canon Lytton, `it wasn't. And now if you would kindly-'

  `Was it my cousin, Esme Ormerod?' asked James.

  There was silence.

  `I was told in confidence,' said Canon Lytton at last, a slight stiffness entering his voice. `And I'm afraid that '

  `I'll take that as confirmation that it was,' said James. He sank down onto a pew. `I just don't believe it. How could she? She's supposed to be Milly's godmother! She's supposed to help and protect her!'

  `Indeed,' said Canon Lytton sternly. `And would it be helping your daughter to stand back as she deliberately entered a marriage based on lies and falseness?'

  `What are you saying?' said Olivia incredulously. `That Esme was trying to act in Milly's best interests?'

  Canon Lytton made a small gesture of assent.

  `Well then you're mad!' cried Olivia. `She was acting out of spite and you know it! She's a spiteful, malicious troublemaker! You know, I never liked that woman. I saw through her, right from the start.' She nodded at James. `Right from the start.'

  Canon Lytton had turned to Giles and Eleanor.

  `My apologies for this unseemly interruption,' he said. `Now let us resume. The giving and receiving of the ring.'

  `Hold on,' said Eleanor's uncle. 'I'll rewind the video, shall I? Or do you want me to keep all this?' He gestured to James and Olivia. `We could send it in to a TV show.'

  `No we bloody couldn't,' snapped Eleanor. `Carry on, Canon Lytton.' She shot a malevolent look at Olivia. `We'll ignore these rude people.'

  `Very well,' said Canon Lytton. `Now, Giles, you will place the ring on Eleanor's finger, and repeat after me.' He raised his voice: `With this ring, I thee wed.'

  There was a pause, then Giles said self-consciously, `With this ring, I thee wed.'

  `With my body, I thee worship.'

  `With my body I thee worship.'

  As the ancient words rose into the empty space of the church, everyone seemed to relax. Olivia raised her eyes to the vaulted ceiling, then looked down at James. A wistful look came over her face and she sat down next to him. They both watched Alexander as he crept forward and took a discreet picture of Canon Lytton trying to ignore the video camera.

  `Do you remember our wedding?' she said quietly.

  `Yes,' said James. He met her eyes cautiously. `What about it?'

  `Nothing,' said Olivia. `I was just . . . remembering it. How nervous I was.'

  `You, nervous?' said James, half smiling.

  `Yes,' said Olivia. `Nervous.' There was a long pause, then she said, without meeting his eye, `Perhaps next week-if you felt like it-we could go up to Edinburgh. Just for a break. We could have a look around. Stay in a hotel. And . . . and talk about things.'

  There was silence.

  `I'd like that,' said James eventually. `I'd like that very much.' He paused. `What about the bed and breakfast?'

  `I could close it for a bit,' said Olivia. She flushed slightly. `It's not the most important thing in my life, you know.'

  James stared at her silently. Cautiously, he moved his hand across towards hers.
Olivia remained motionless. Then there was a sudden rattling at the door, and they jumped apart like scalded cats. The young curate of the church was striding up the aisle, cordless phone in hand.

  `Canon Lytton,' he said, a note of excitement in his voice. `You have a very urgent telephone call from Miss Havill. I wouldn't interrupt, normally, but--'

  `From Milly?' said Olivia in surprise. `Let me speak to her!'

  `From Isobel Havill,' said the curate, ignoring Olivia. 'Speaking from Pinnacle Hall.' He handed the phone to Canon Lytton, his eyes gleaming. `Apparently there's been a rather startling development.'

  Isobel put down the telephone and looked at the others.

  `I just spoke to Mummy at the church,' she said. `You know, it wasn't Alexander who told the vicar about Milly.'

  `Who was it?' said Simon.

  `You won't believe this,' said Isobel. She paused for effect. `It was Esme.'

  `That doesn't surprise me,' said Harry.

  `Do you know her?' said Isobel, staring at him in surprise.

  `I used to,' said Harry. `Not any more. Not for a long time,' he added hastily. Isobel gave him a briefly suspicious look, then frowned, tapping her nails on the phone.

  `And Milly doesn't even realize! I must call her.'

  `No wonder she wouldn't let me in the house,' said Simon, as Isobel picked up the phone again. `The woman's a bloody weirdo!'

  There was a tense silence as Isobel waited to be connected. Suddenly her face changed expression, and she motioned for the others to be quiet.

  `Hi, Esme,' she said, her voice airily casual. `Is Milly there by any chance? Oh, right. Could you maybe wake her up?' She pulled a face at Simon, who grimaced back. `Oh, I see. OK, well, not to worry. Just give her my love!'

  She put down the phone and looked at the others.

  `You know, I really don't trust that woman,' she said. `I'm going round there.'

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  the bottom of the stairs, Milly stopped and put her case down on the floor.

  `I'm not sure,' she said.

  `What do you mean, you're not sure?' said Esme briskly, coming into the hall. She was wearing her fur hat and holding a pair of black leather gloves and a road map. `Come on! It's getting late.'

  `I'm not sure about going away,' said Milly. She sat down on the stairs. `I feel as if I'm running away from everything. Maybe it would be better to stay and be brave and face it out.' Esme shook her head.

  `Darling, you're not running away you're being sensible. If we stay here, you'll spend all of tomorrow with your face pressed against the window, brooding. If we go away, at least you'll have a different view to distract you.'

  `But I should talk to my parents, at least.'

  `They'll still be here on Monday. And they'll be too busy to talk at the moment.'

  `Well then, maybe I should help them.'

  `Milly,' said Esme impatiently, `you're being ridiculous. The best place for you at the moment is somewhere far away, tranquil and discreet, where you can think about life properly for once. Take some time out, rebalance yourself, work out your priorities.'

  Milly stared at the floor for a while.

  `It's true,' she said at last. `I do need a chance to think.'

  `Of course you do!' said Esme. `You need some unhurried peace and solitude. If you go home, you'll be surrounded by mayhem and distraction and emotional pressure. From your mother especially.'

  `She was very upset,' said Milly. `Mummy. She really wanted the wedding to happen.'

  `Of course she did,' said Esme. `We all did. But now that it's not going to happen, you're going to have to think about life in a different way. Aren't you?'

  Milly sighed and stood up.

  `Yes,' she said. `You're right. A weekend in the countryside is exactly what I need.'

  `You won't regret it,' said Esme, and smiled at her. `Come on. Let's get on the road.'

  Esme's Daimler was parked on the street outside, underneath a street light. As they got in, Milly turned round in her seat and peered curiously through the back window.

  `That looks like Isobel's car,' she said.

  `There are lots of these little Peugeots around the place,' murmured Esme. She turned on the ignition and a blast of Mozart filled the car.

  `It is Isobel's car!' said Milly, peering harder. `What's Isobel doing here?'

  `Well, I'm afraid we can't hang around,' said Esme, swiftly putting the car into gear. `You can give her a ring when we get there.'

  `No, wait!' protested Milly. `She's getting out. She's coming towards us. Esme, stop!' Esme put the car into gear and began to drive off, and Milly stared at her in astonishment. `Esme, stop!' she said. `Stop the car!'

  Hurrying along the street, Isobel saw Esme's car pulling away from the kerb and felt a thrust of panic. She began to run after the car, panting in the winter air, desperate not to let Milly out of her sight. She could just see Milly's blond head incarcerated behind Esme's expensive Daimler windows; as she ran, she saw Milly turn and see her, then say something to Esme. But the car didn't stop. A surge of fury went through Isobel as she saw it disappearing away from her towards the end of the road. Who did this bitch think she was? Where the hell was she taking Milly? A furious adrenalin began to pump round her body and, with an almighty effort, she upped her pace to a sprint. She careered along the pavement, keeping the rear lights of the Daimler in sight, unsure what she would do when Esme turned the corner and zipped off down the main road.

  But the traffic lights at the end of the road were red, and as Esme's car approached them it was forced to slow down. Feeling like a triumphant Olympic athlete, Isobel caught up with the car and began to bang on Milly's window. Inside, she could see Milly shouting animatedly at Esme, then struggling with the handbrake. Suddenly Milly's door opened and she spilled out, half falling, onto the pavement.

  `What do you want?' she gasped to Isobel. `I thought it must be important.'

  `Too right it's important!' managed Isobel, red in the face and panting hard, almost unable to speak for anger. `Too right it's important! My God!' She pushed her hair out of her eyes and forced herself to take a couple of deep breaths. `For a start, you might like to know, it was this bitch who shopped you to the vicar.' She gestured scornfully at Esme, who stared back at her from the driver's seat with furious, glinting eyes.

  `What do you mean?' said Milly. `It was Alexander.'

  `It wasn't Alexander, it was Esme! Wasn't it?' snapped Isobel at Esme.

  `Really?' said Milly, looking at Esme with wide eyes. `Really?'

  `Of course not!' said Esme tartly. `Why would I do such a thing?'

  `To get back at Harry, perhaps,' said Isobel, a new, scathing note entering her voice.

  `You're talking nonsense!'

  `I'm not,' said Isobel. `He's told me all about you. Everything.'

  `Has he now?' said Esme mockingly.

  `Yes,' said Isobel coldly. `He has.'

  There was silence. Esme's glinting eyes ranged sharply over Isobel's face, then suddenly flickered in comprehension.

  `I see,' she said slowly. `So that's how it is.' She gave Isobel a tiny, contemptuous smile. `I might have guessed as much. You Havill girls do have a penchant for money, don't you?'

  `You're a bitch, Esme,' said Isobel.

  `I don't understand,' said Milly, looking from Isobel to Esme. `What are you talking about? Esme, did you really tell Canon Lytton about me being married?'

  `Yes I did,' said Esme. `And it was for your own good. You didn't want to marry that immature, sanctimonious little prig!'

  `You betrayed me!' cried Milly. `You're supposed to be my godmother! You're supposed to be on my side!'

  `I am on your side,' retorted Esme.

  Behind them, a line of cars was beginning to mount up. One of them sounded its horn and Isobel gestured impatiently back.

  `Milly, listen,' said Esme. `You're far too good for marriage to Simon Pinnacle! Your life hasn't begun yet. Don't you understand? I saved you from a lif
e of tedium and mediocrity.'

  `Is that what you think?' said Milly, her voice rising in disbelief. `That you saved me?'

  Several more cars began to sound their horns. Towards the back of the queue, a driver got out of his car and began to walk along the pavement.

  `Darling, I know you very well,' began Esme. `And I know that '

  `You don't!' interrupted Milly. `You don't know me very well. You don't bloody know me at all! All of you think you know me and none of you do! You haven't got any idea what I'm really like, underneath ...'

  `Underneath what?' challenged Esme.

  Milly gazed silently at Esme, panting slightly, her face bathed green in the glow of the traffic light above, then looked away.

  `Excuse me.' A truculent male voice interrupted them. `Have you seen the light?'

  `Yes,' said Milly dazedly. `I think I probably have.'

  `The lady was just leaving,' said Isobel, and slammed the passenger door of Esme's car viciously. `Come on, Milly,' she said, taking her sister's arm. `Let's go.'

  As they sped away in Isobel's car, Milly sank back into her seat and massaged her brow with her fingertips. Isobel drove quickly and efficiently, glancing at Milly every so often but saying nothing. After a while, Milly sat up and smoothed back her hair.

  `Thanks, Isobel,' she said.

  `Any time.'

  `How did you guess it was Esme?'

  `It had to be,' said Isobel. `No one else knew. If Alexander hadn't told anyone, it had to be her. And ...' She paused. `There were other things.'

  `What things?' Milly swivelled her head towards Isobel. `What was all that about getting back at Harry?'

  `They had a liaison,' said Isobel shortly. `Let's just say it didn't work.'

  `How do you know?'

  `He told Simon. And me. I was over there just now.' A tinge of pink came to Isobel's cheeks and she put her foot down rather hard on the accelerator. Milly stared at her sister.

  `Is something wrong?'

  `No,' said Isobel. But the pink in her cheeks was deepening to a red and she wouldn't look round. Milly's heart began to thump.