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‘Because apparently they’re very quiet and reserved and I think we’re probably a bit much for them.’
Henry’s mouth dropped open, then his gaze flicked to James.
James stared him down, desperate to have an excuse to punch away his own pain.
‘Sweetheart!’ Now Henry’s girlfriend was running down the corridor. ‘Hi Estelle! Hi James!’ Libby gasped, her smile trying to cover up the fact she’d obviously run to find them. ‘Why don’t we all go to the dining room?’
Nobody moved.
‘Your dad’s decided we should play some games before dinner!’ she continued, her smile utterly manic as her eyes bored desperately into Henry’s. ‘He wants to start with Twister!’
‘Jesus Christ,’ Henry muttered, his hand moving to his head as if to stop it exploding. He glanced at James. ‘I’m sorry.’
Huh? Henry was apologising? For his parents?
Henry strode off down the corridor with Libby, and Estelle and James followed. Everyone’s feet moved faster until they broke into a jog.
Laughter echoed from a room up ahead. This was it. The moment of ultimate mortification—when Lady Estelle Foxbrooke met Kevin and Beverley Hunter-Savage, née Skinner.
As James followed Henry, Estelle, and Libby through the door, his heart was pounding faster than when he’d been rowing for the line at the Boat Race.
‘There they are!’ a voice boomed out. ‘Come in, come in!’
James’s eyes shot to the end of the table where Arthur Foxbrooke was standing and beckoning them forwards. He was wearing one of the t-shirts Kevin had printed, with the aubergine emoji being struck by a lightning bolt.
Arthur pointed to his chest, then at his two wives sitting either side of him who were also wearing the t-shirts. ‘Estelle! Look what we got! Aren’t they wonderful!’
There was a choked gasp to his right, but James didn’t turn to see Estelle’s expression. The sight of supermodel and Hollywood actress, Vivienne Boucher-Foxbrooke, and her wife, Dervla, wearing something that belonged on a stag do was bad enough. He didn’t need the true horror of the situation reflected on their daughter’s face.
‘Next time I’ll bring more,’ Kevin said. ‘I didn’t know how many Foxbrookes to fit.’
James dragged his gaze from the Duke of Somerset and his two wives, to his father, who was dressed as if wearing the wealth of an East End pawn shop. He had fat diamond studs in his ears and so many gold chains around his neck James was surprised he could remain upright. Every digit on his hand held at least two rings, and his Versace shirt resembled the baroque-style rug on the floor of the room. His mother’s outfit was a mishmash of animal prints, as if she was sporting the results of a fashion designer’s big game hunt.
‘James!’ Vivienne cried. ‘We’re so glad you and Estelle could make it.’ She pushed back her chair and came to their side, Dervla following. Estelle’s mom kissed James on both cheeks as he stood woodenly, incapable of performing even basic social functions.
Vivienne’s nose wrinkled as she took in her daughter. ‘Honey, is this the best you can do?’
As Dervla came forward to embrace him like a long-lost son, James risked a glance at Estelle. She looked like a storm cloud about to break.
‘Mom,’ she spat through gritted teeth. ‘I only found out about this ten minutes ago.’
‘Come and meet James’s ma,’ Dervla said, taking her arm and pulling her forward. ‘This is Beverley.’
His mother stood to greet Estelle and the two women stared at each other. Estelle’s eyebrows were drawn together as if trying to work out a complex puzzle. His mother was blinking rapidly, as if attempting to communicate an urgent message to Estelle using morse code.
James’s stomach turned to ice. They must have already met.
‘How lovely to meet you!’ Estelle said warmly, holding out her hand. ‘I promise it’s clean, but I can’t say the same for the rest of me.’
‘You too, babe,’ Beverley replied, the relief evident on her face. ‘And that’s my husband, Kevin, over there.’
Across the table, James’s dad lurched to his feet with a clanking of chains and leaned across the china and silverware. ‘Awright Lady F? Charming to meet you, babe.’
James knew enough about Estelle’s body language by now to know she was making a herculean effort to hide the truth of whatever she was thinking or feeling. Her movements were stilted and her smile unnaturally big as she reached to shake his father’s hand.
‘Please, just call me Estelle,’ she said, then glanced at the people sitting at the end of the table. ‘Excellent,’ she said forcefully. ‘Everyone’s here.’
James followed her gaze to see three people he didn’t know, all staring at him warily.
