I hear the fridge door open and close, then the sound of a chocolate wrapper crackling.
“How is she?” Tom says casually.
“Who?”
He sighs, irritated. “Sophie.”
“She’s good. I’m glad she’s here.”
There’s a long pause.
“It was all my fault, you know,” Cordelia says, cutting through the silence. “She was just doing her job. She couldn’t tell anyone her real name. She signed a contract.”
“Yeah.”
“If it means anything, she’s a terrible actress.”
HOW DARE SHE?I’ll have her know that I amextremelyconvincing at playing a variety of roles for my bridesmaid profession. Not to mention I once got cast as the understudy for the part of Knuckles for my school’s performance ofBugsy Malone.
I didn’t make it onstage, but I might have done.
“She wasn’t playing anyone but herself,” Cordelia continues. “She had a different name and she pretended we met in an art gallery, but everything else is exactly who she is. I don’t want to boss you around—”
“Right, because you’ve never done that before.”
“—but you should really forgive her. Come on, Tom, don’t be an idiot. You’re finallyyouaround someone. You’re relaxed and goofy when she’s in the room. It’s nice to see. And don’t think I haven’t noticed you trying to impress her. You offered her a lift from London to Dashwell, and you’d only met her a couple of times.”
“I was being nice to your friend.”
“You were being allsmushy.You loser. And what about the special tour around Paxton? You’ve never done that before.”
“I’ve taken people into Paxton!”
“Yeah, but not like that! Maybe to grab something from a shop, but you’ve never given thema tourof where you grew up! You wanted to show her around and tell her things. You were basically bringing her into your life. You don’t need to blush—Mum and I think it’s adorable,” she teases.
“You’re very annoying.”
“All I’m saying is, your dopey, loser face lights up when you see her. So, don’t let her go. Trust me, you won’t find anyone else like her.”
I hear Cordelia crush her empty chocolate wrapper in her hand and it suddenly comes flying toward the bin, which is next to the doorway. The wrapper lands short.
“Terrible throw,” Tom declares.
His arm appears as he bends down to pick it up and put it into the bin. I hold my breath and flatten myself against the wall, breathing in as much as possible, as though that might somehow help to make me invisible.
He moves away and I quietly exhale, my heart thudding against my ribs.
“We should go back to the dinner,” he says.
“Yeah. Who are you sitting next to?”
“Great-Uncle Edward, who keeps mistaking me for Dad andcalling me a punk,” Tom grumbles. “It’s all my fault—I made a joke this morning about Lord Cluck being unnaturally stupid and Mum hadn’t finished the seating plan. She’s well and truly punishing me.”
Cordelia bursts out laughing. “At least you can sit there and chat to a couple of people. I’ve been working the room from the moment I got here. I don’t know how Jonathan’s managed it all night. My jaw is already aching from smiling at everyone. And it’s not even the wedding day yet. I’m not sure I’ll last.”
“Yeah, you will,” Tom says, and I can hear he’s smiling. “Tomorrow is going to be brilliant. I know you know this, but I’m proud of you, sis.”
“Shut up.”
