The Wedding Girl Read online

  Harry felt in his pocket, and for a mad moment, Simon thought he was going to produce an identical pair of ear-rings. But instead, Harry dropped a key on the table.

  `A key?' said Milly. `What's it for?'

  `A car?' said Olivia in incredulous tones.

  `Not a car,' said Harry. `A flat.'

  There was a unanimous gasp. Olivia opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again.

  `You're joking,' said Simon. `You've bought us a flat?'

  Harry pushed the key across the table.

  `All yours.'

  Simon stared at his father, feeling all the wrong emotions rise to the surface. He tried to locate a feeling of gratitude, but all he could feel was shock and the beginnings of a defensive, smarting anger. He glanced at Milly. She was gazing at Harry with shining eyes. Simon felt a sudden despair.

  `How . . .' he began, trying to summon the correct, grateful tones, but only managing to sound peevish. `How do you know we'll like it?'

  `It's the one you wanted to rent.'

  `The one in Marlborough Mansions?'

  Harry shook his head.

  `The one you wanted to rent. The one you couldn't afford.'

  `The flat in Parham Place?' whispered Milly. `You bought it for us?'

  Simon stared at his father, and felt like punching him. Fuck him for being so thoughtful.

  `This is very good of you, Harry,' said James. `Incredibly generous.' Harry shrugged.

  `One less thing for them to worry about.'

  `Oh darling!' said Olivia, clasping Milly's hand. `Won't it be lovely? And you'll be so near us.'

  `Well now, there's a plus,' said Simon, before he could stop himself. James glanced at him, and cleared his throat tactfully.

  `And now,' he said, `what about Simon's present?'

  `Yes,' said Milly. She turned to Simon and touched his hand gently. `What is it?'

  Simon reached into his pocket and silently presented her with the little box. Everyone watched as she opened it to reveal two tiny, twinkling diamond studs.

  `Oh Simon,' said Milly. She looked at him, her eyes suddenly glittering with unshed tears. `They're beautiful.'

  `Pretty,' said Olivia dismissively. `Oh Milly! Parham Place!'

  `I'll put them on,' said Milly.

  `You don't have to,' said Simon, trying to control himself. His heart pounded with a raw, hurt anger; it seemed to him that everyone was laughing at him. Even Milly. `They're nothing very special.'

  `Of course they are,' said Harry gravely.

  `No they're not!' Simon found himself shouting. `Not compared with a piece of fucking real estate!'

  `Simon,' said Harry calmly, `no one is making that comparison.'

  `Simon, they're lovely!' said Milly. `Look.' She smoothed her hair back and the little diamonds sparkled in the candlelight.

  `Great,' said Simon without looking up. He was making things worse, he knew, but he could not help himself. He felt like a small, humiliated schoolboy.

  Harry caught James's eye, then rose to his feet.

  `Let's have coffee,' he said. `Nicki will have put it in the drawing room.

  `Absolutely,' said James, taking his cue. `Come on, Olivia.'

  The three parents moved out of the dining room, leaving Milly and Simon together in silence. After a few moments Simon looked up, to see Milly gazing at him. She wasn't laughing, she wasn't pitying. Suddenly he felt ashamed.

  `I'm sorry,' he muttered. `I'm being a complete prick.'

  `I haven't said thank you for my present yet,' said Milly.

  She leaned forward and kissed him with warm, soft lips. Simon closed his eyes and cupped her face, feeling nothing but sweet sensation. Gradually, his father receded from his thoughts; his soreness began to lessen. Milly was all his and nothing else really mattered.

  `Let's elope,' he said suddenly. `Sod the wedding. Let's just go and do it on our own in a registry office.' Milly pulled away.

  `Do you really want to?' she said. Simon stared back at her. He had been only half-serious, but she was staring at him intently. `Shall we, Simon?' she said, and there was a slight edge to her voice. `Tomorrow?'

  `Well,' he said, feeling a little taken aback. `We could do. But wouldn't everyone get a bit pissed off? Your mother would never forgive me.' Milly stared at him for a moment, then bit her lip.

  `You're right,' she said. `It's a stupid idea.' She pushed her chair back and stood up. `Come on. Are you ready to be grateful to your father yet? He's very kind, you know.'

  `Wait,' said Simon. He reached out and grasped her hand tightly. `Would you really elope with me?'

  `Yes,' said Milly simply. `I would.'

  `I thought you were looking forward to the wedding. The dress, and the reception, and all your friends ...'

  `I was,' said Milly. `But ...' She looked away and shrugged slightly.

  `But you'd give it all up and elope,' said Simon in a shaking voice. `You'd give it all up.' He gazed at Milly and thought he'd never known such love, such generosity of spirit. `No other girl would do that,' he said, his voice thick with emotion. `God, I love you. I don't know what I've done to deserve you. Come here.'

  He pulled her down onto his knee and began kissing her neck; feeling for her bra strap; tugging urgently at the zip of her skirt.

  `Simon . . .' began Milly.

  `We'll close the door,' he whispered. `Put a chair under the door handle.'

  `But your father ...'

  `He made us wait for him,' said Simon, against Milly's warm, scented skin. `And now he's going to wait for us.'

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Milly woke feeling refreshed. The rich food, wine and conversation from the night before seemed to have disappeared from her system; she felt light and energetic.

  As she went into the kitchen for breakfast, a couple of guests from Yorkshire, Mr and Mrs Able, looked up from their coffee and nodded pleasantly.

  `Morning, Milly!' said her mother, looking up from the phone. `There's another special delivery for you.' She pointed to a large cardboard box on the floor. `And someone's sent you a bottle of champagne. I've put it in the fridge.'

  `Champagne!' said Milly in delight. `And what's this?' She poured herself a cup of coffee, sat down on the floor and began to rip open the cardboard.

  `It looks exciting,' said Mrs Able encouragingly.

  `And Alexander says he'll meet you at ten-thirty,' said Olivia. `To take some shots and have a little chat.'

  `Oh,' said Milly, suddenly feeling sick. `Good.'

  `You'd better put on some make-up first,' said Olivia. She looked critically at Milly. `Darling, is something wrong?'

  `No,' said Milly. `Of course not.'

  `Ah, Andrea,' said Olivia, turning to the phone. `Yes, I got your message. And, frankly, it perturbed me.'

  Milly began to tug at the plastic wrapping with shaky hands, feeling bubbles of panic rise inside her. She didn't want to see him. She wanted to run away like a child and block him out of her mind.

  `Well then, perhaps Derek will have to buy a morning suit,' Olivia was saying sharply. `Andrea, this is a society wedding. Not some dismal affair in a church hall. No, a good lounge suit certainly would not do.' She rolled her eyes at Milly. `What is it?' she mouthed, gesturing to the present.

  Silently, Milly pulled out a pair of Louis Vuitton travel bags and stared at them. Another sumptuous gift. She tried to smile, tried to look pleased. But all she could think of was the thudding fear growing inside her. She didn't want to feel his scrutinizing eyes on her face again. She wanted to hide herself until she was safely married to Simon.

  `Well!' said Olivia.

  `I've never seen anything like it,' said Mrs Able. `Geoffrey! Just look at that for a wedding gift. Who are they from, dear?'

  Milly looked at the card. `Someone I've never even heard of.'

  `One of Harry's friends, I expect,' said Olivia, putting down the phone.

  `I've never known a wedding like this,' said Mrs Able, shaking her head. `The storie
s I'm going to tell when I get back home!'

  `I told you about the procession, didn't I?' said Olivia complacently going over to the Aga. `We're having an organist specially flown in from Geneva. He's the best, apparently. And three trumpeters are going to play a fanfare as Milly arrives at the church.'

  `A fanfare!' said Mrs Able to Milly. `You'll feel like a princess.'

  `Darling, have an egg,' said Olivia.

  `No thanks,' said Milly. `I'll just have coffee.'

  `Still a little fragile after last night,' said Olivia airily, cracking eggs into a pan. `It was a wonderful dinner, wasn't it, Milly?' She smiled at Mrs Able. `I have to say, Harry's a wonderful host.'

  `I've heard his business dinners are quite something,' said Mrs Able.

  `I'm sure they are,' said Olivia. `But of course, it's different when it's just us.' She gave a reminiscent little smile. `We never have any of that stuffy formality we just all enjoy ourselves. We eat, we drink, we talk . . .' She glanced over at Mr and Mrs Able to make sure they were listening. `After all, Harry is one of our closest friends. And soon he'll be family.'

  `Think of that,' said Mr Able. `Harry Pinnacle, part of your family. And you just running a bed and breakfast house.'

  `An upmarket bed and breakfast,' snapped Olivia. `There's a difference!'

  `Geoff!' whispered Mrs Able crossly. `You must dine with him often,' she said quickly to Olivia. `Being such close friends.'

  `Oh well . . .' said Olivia in mollified tones. She waved her egg-slice vaguely in the air.

  Twice, thought Milly. You've been twice.

  `It really depends,' said Olivia, smiling kindly at Mrs Able. `We don't have any hard and fast arrangements. Sometimes he'll be out of the country for weeks then he'll come back and just want to spend a quiet few days with friends.'

  `Have you visited his London home?' asked Mrs Able.

  `No, I haven't,' said Olivia regretfully. `Milly has, though. And his villa in France. Haven't you, darling?'

  `Yes,' said Milly tightly.

  `Quite a jump for you, love,' said Mr Able. `Joining the jet set overnight.' Olivia bridled.

  `It's hardly as though Milly comes from a deprived family,' she exclaimed. `You're used to mingling with all sorts of people, aren't you, darling? At Milly's school,' she added, giving Mr Able a satisfied glance, `there was an Arab princess. What was her name, now??

  `I've got to go,' said Milly, unable to bear any more. She stood up, leaving her coffee undrunk.

  'That's right,' said Olivia. `Go and put some make-up on. You want to look your best for Alexander.'

  `Yes,' said Milly faintly. She paused by the kitchen door. 'Isobel hasn't called for me this morning, has she?' she asked casually.

  `No,' said Olivia. `I expect she'll ring you later.'

  At ten-forty, Alexander appeared at the door of the drawing room.

  `Hi, Milly,' he said. `Sorry I'm a bit late.'

  Milly felt a sickening thud of nerves, as though she were being called for an exam or the dentist.

  `It doesn't matter,' she said, putting down the copy of Country Life she had been pretending to read.

  `That's right,' said Olivia, following in behind Alexander. `By the window, do you think, Alexander, or by the piano?'

  `Just where you are, I think,' said Alexander, looking critically at Milly's position on the sofa. `I'll need to put up a couple of lights ...'

  `Would anyone like a cup of coffee?' said Olivia.

  `I'll make it,' said Milly quickly and, without looking back, scuttled out of the room. On the way into the kitchen she glanced at herself in the mirror. Her skin was dry, her eyes had a frightened look in them; she looked nothing like a happy bride. Digging her nails into her palms, she forced herself to smile brightly at her reflection. Everything would be fine. If she could just force herself to act confidently, everything would be fine.

  By the time she got back, the room had been transformed into a photographer's studio. A white cloth was draped on the floor and white umbrellas and light stands surrounded the sofa on which Olivia sat, smiling self-consciously at Alexander's camera.

  `I'm being your stand-in, darling!' she said brightly.

  `Nervous?' said Alexander to Milly.

  `Not at all,' she said coolly.

  `Let me see your nails, darling,' said Olivia, standing up. `If we're going to see your engagement ring ...'

  `They're fine,' snapped Milly, whipping her hands away from her mother's grasp. She picked her way over the white cloth, sat down on the sofa and looked up at Alexander with all the calmness she could muster.

  `That's right,' said Alexander. `Now just relax. Sit back a bit. Loosen your hands.' He stared critically at her for a while. `Could you sweep your hair back, off your face?'

  `That reminds me!' exclaimed Olivia. `Those photographs I was telling you about. I'll fetch them.'

  'OK,' said Alexander absently. `Now, Milly, I want you to lean back a little and smile.'

  Without intending to, Milly found herself obeying his commands. As she smiled, she felt her body relax; felt herself sink into the cushions of the sofa. Alexander seemed utterly preoccupied with his camera. Any suggestion that they'd met before seemed to have been forgotten. She'd been worrying over nothing, she told herself comfortably. Everything was going to be all right. She glanced at her ring, sparkling prettily on her hand, and shifted her legs slightly, to a more flattering position.

  `Here we are!' said Olivia, bustling up beside Alexander with a photograph album. `These are of Isobel, just before she graduated. Now, we thought they were marvellous shots-but then, we don't have the expert's eye. What do you think?'

  `Nice,' said Alexander, glancing briefly down.

  `Do you really think so?' said Olivia, pleased. She flipped the page backwards. `Here she is again. And again.' She flipped the pages back further. `And this is one of Milly at around the same time. It must be ten years ago, now. Just look at her hair!'

  `Nice,' said Alexander automatically. He turned his head to look, then, as his eyes fell on the picture of Milly, stopped still. `Wait,' he said. `Let me see that.' He took the album from Olivia, stared for a few seconds at the photograph, then looked incredulously at Milly.

  `She cut all her hair off and bleached it without telling us!' Olivia was saying brightly. `She was quite a wild little thing back then! You'd never believe it, looking at her now, would you?'

  `No,' said Alexander. `You'd never believe it.' He gazed down, mesmerized, at the album. `The wedding girl,' he said softly, as though to himself.

  Milly felt her insides turn to ice. She stared at him helplessly, feeling sick with fright, not daring to move a muscle. He remembered. He remembered who she was. But if he would just keep his mouth shut, everything could still be all right. If he would just keep his mouth shut.

  `Well,' said Alexander, finally looking up. `What a difference.' He looked at Milly with a small, amused smile and she stared back, her stomach churning.

  `It's the hair,' said Olivia eagerly. `That's all it is. If you change your hairstyle, everything else seems to change too. You should have seen me with a beehive!'

  `I don't think it's just the hair,' said Alexander. `What do you think, Milly? Is it just the hair? Or is it something else completely?'

  He met her eyes and she gazed at him in terror.

  `I don't know,' she managed eventually.

  `It's a mystery, isn't it?' said Alexander. He gestured to the album. `There you are, ten years ago . . . and here you are, now, a different woman completely.' He paused, loading film into his camera. `And here I am.'

  `Here's a super picture of Isobel in her school play,' said Olivia, holding the album out to Alexander. He ignored her.

  `By the way, Milly,' he said conversationally. `I never asked you. Is this your first marriage?'

  `Of course it's her first marriage!' exclaimed Olivia, laughing slightly. `Does Milly look old enough to be on her second marriage?'

  `You'd be surprised,' said Alexa
nder, adjusting something on the camera. `These days.' A sudden white flash went off, and Milly flinched as though she were being attacked. Alexander looked up at her.

  `Relax,' he said, and the flicker of a smile passed across his face. `If you can.'

  `You look lovely, darling,' said Olivia, clasping her hands together.

  `I only asked,' continued Alexander, `because I seem to do a lot of second marriages these days.' He paused, and surveyed Milly over his camera. `But that's not you.'

  `No,' said Milly in a strangled voice. `That's not me.'

  `Interesting,' said Alexander.

  Milly glanced at her mother apprehensively. But Olivia had on her face the same look of polite incomprehension which appeared when business guests started discussing computer software or the yen. As she caught Milly's eye she nodded and started backing deferentially away.'

  `I'll see you later, shall I?' she whispered.

  `That's good,' said Alexander. `Now turn your head to the left. Lovely.' The room flashed again. In the corner the door closed softly behind Olivia.

  `So, Milly,' said Alexander. `What have you done with your first husband?'

  The room swam around Milly's head; every muscle in her body tightened. She stared fixedly at the camera lens without speaking.

  `Loosen your hands,' instructed Alexander. `They're gripping too tightly. Try to relax.' He took another couple of shots. `Come on, Milly. What's the story?'

  `I don't know what you're talking about,' said Milly in a dry voice. Alexander laughed.

  `You're going to have to do better than that.' He reached across and adjusted one of the white umbrellas. `You know exactly what I'm talking about. And it's obvious no one knows about it except me. I'm intrigued. Try crossing your legs,' he added, looking at her through the lens. `Left hand on your knee so we can see the ring. And the other under your chin.'

  The white flash went off again. Milly stared desperately ahead, trying to frame in her mind a reply, a put-down, a witty riposte. But her thoughts were inarticulate and feeble, as though her brainpower had been sapped by panic. She felt pinned to the sofa by fear, unable to do anything but follow his commands.

  `A first marriage isn't against the law, you know,' observed Alexander. `So what's the problem? Would your bridegroom disapprove? Or his father?' He took another few shots, then loaded a new reel of film. `Is that why you're keeping it secret?' He eyed her thoughtfully. `Or maybe there's a bit more to the story.' He lowered his eye to the lens. `Can you come slightly forward?'