AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He glanced my way one last time before disappearing into the maze of parked vehicles, and actually had the audacity to give me a quick wave. Never, ever had I taken such a complete and instant dislike to another human being in my entire life.
3
The church came into view, and despite my assurances that I wasn’t nervous, I felt my heartbeat take a tiny skip and then skitter weirdly in my chest. St Anthony’s was old and traditional, with a rustic lychgate that we’d already earmarked for photos following the ceremony. There were flowers wound through its timbers, which I had expected to see, and Finn’s best man Doug pacing up and down in front of it, which I hadn’t.
As we approached, he hurriedly stuffed his mobile phone back into his pocket and began gesticulating. I frowned and leant forward, trying to work out what he was pantomiming. It looked an awful lot like he was miming mixing a cake.
Our driver clearly couldn’t decipher the charade either, for he pulled the vintage car to a stop beside the gate. Doug looked inexplicably frustrated and this time pantomimed winding down the car window. That one we understood.
The glass slid down with a whisper that sounded vaguely ominous.
‘Can you go round the block again?’ Doug asked, directing the request to the driver, before looking into the back of the vehicle with an expression of false cheer that even a blind man could have seen through.
‘We just need a few more minutes to get ready,’ he explained with a smile that never made it to his eyes.
Something eel-like twisted unpleasantly in my stomach. ‘Why? What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’
I didn’t know Doug well enough to realise he was worried, but I’d been a journalist long enough to know when someone was lying.
‘Where’s Finn? Heishere, isn’t he?’ My voice was rising, as though climbing through musical scales. It had gone from middle C to the top of the keyboard with disturbing ease.
‘Yeah, he is… or he will be in a minute.’
‘Well, which is it, son?’ My dad’s question cut through the best man’s bluster like a hot knife through butter.
‘Finn’s just running a bit late,’ Doug said lamely. ‘Probably forgot the rings or something.’
‘But I thoughtyouhad the rings,’ I challenged, not liking the sudden tremor in my voice. ‘Finn told me yesterday morning that he’d given them to you.’
A brick-red colour flushed Doug’s cheeks. ‘Ah yes. So I do.’ He made a big show of patting the breast pocket of his silk waistcoat, as though all our problems were now happily sorted. ‘Just one more circuit around the block and then I’m sure we’ll be back on track,’ he added.
The driver was looking at us over his shoulder, his face devoid of the panic that I felt sure was painted all over mine. Perhaps this was common; maybe it happened all the time. Although the muscle twitching beside his eye told a different story.
‘Let’s take a leisurely drive around the block and let Doug get everything sorted out here,’ suggested my dad, taking command.
It was neither the time nor the place to voice my concerns about Doug’s questionable ability to organise a booze-up in a brewery. He was Finn’s oldest friend, and if my fiancé believed he was the man for the job, then I was just going to have to trust his judgement.
‘You’re sure it’s just that he’s been delayed?’ I couldn’t resist asking one last time.
‘Yeah. Absolutely positive,’ Doug said, straightening up from the open car window.
I would have felt so much better if I hadn’t heard his quietly voiced instruction to our driver as he stepped back on to the pavement. ‘Drive slow, mate.’
*
I was looking back as we pulled away from the kerb, so I saw the precise moment when Doug’s shoulders slumped and he ran one hand distractedly through his hair. Still swivelled in my seat, I saw a man I didn’t recognise jog up to Doug, shaking his head as he approached. The news – whatever it was – made the best man reach for his mobile once again.
‘Do you think maybeIshould try to call Finn?’ I asked, feeling suddenly vulnerable without my own phone, which was currently at the bottom of a bag Hannah was bringing to the reception. ‘Perhaps I could give him a quick ring on yours,’ I suggested, already knowing exactly how my dad was going to respond.
‘Why don’t we just take a breath or two and see what happens after we’ve given them ten minutes or so.’ Dad was, and always had been, a ‘wait and see’ and ‘we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it’ sort of person.
I sat back in my seat, my eyes searching the route for signs of Finn, broken down at the kerbside, beside a beribboned car belching out smoke, or kicking a tyre that had picked the very worst moment to get a puncture. But he wasn’t there.
‘I thought it was thebridewho’s supposed to turn up late for the ceremony, not the groom,’ I said, with an attempted laugh that came out too sharp, too high and too close to shattering into tears.
Dad’s hands settled over mine, forcing them to be still. ‘Everything’s going to be fine. There’ll be some perfectly reasonable explanation for all this, you’ll see,’ he said.
