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The driver had certainly taken Doug’s advice. Even in my kitten-heeled satin shoes and ball-gown wedding dress, I could have jogged the route faster than we drove it. It took precisely thirteen minutes and twenty seconds – according to the Bentley’s elegant dashboard clock – before the church came into view once more.
This time there were more people by the lychgate. But none of them were Finn.
‘Dad…?’ I asked hesitantly as we pulled up beside the gate again.
‘Maybe you’d better stay in the car, Gemma,’ he suggested, but his advice was directed to an already empty seat. Ignoring everyone else, I hurried straight to Hannah, who reached for my hands as I approached. She gripped them tightly, anchoring me even before I knew that I needed steadying.
‘Finn’s not here yet,’ she said, shooting straight from the hip, which was the only position she knew. ‘The guys have been trying to reach him for the last forty minutes, but it looks like his mobile is switched off.’
I frowned, as though she was speaking in a foreign language that I’d never quite mastered. Her words made no sense.
‘How can henotbe here? We’re getting married today.’
This was hardly breaking news to any of the bridal party, who were now assembled in a worried circle, each one looking anywhere rather than at me.
I shook my head and felt the lace of my veil graze my cheek. I pushed it back from my face, something Finn was supposed to do at the altar right before he kissed me.
‘How was he this morning? Did he seem okay to you?’ I asked Doug.
Finn’s best man worriedly ran a finger around the winged collar of his formal shirt, like a condemned man trying to loosen a noose. ‘Erm, that’s kind of hard to say,’ he admitted, looking decidedly awkward. ‘You see, I ended up not spending the night at his place after all. I was… somewhere else.’
Five pairs of perplexed eyes swivelled his way, but not mine. I’d already heard enough of Doug’s history of one-night stands to join up the dots.
Hannah got there first. ‘You hooked up with someone from the bar?’ she cried incredulously. ‘What the hell is wrong with you? You’re Finn’s best man – you’re supposed to have been looking after him.’
‘Finn’s a grown man who is more than capable of taking care of himself. He doesn’t need babysitting or bossing around by anyone.’ His eyes flicked briefly in my direction. I’d always suspected Doug didn’t like me very much, and right now the feeling was entirely mutual.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see that a small crowd of curious passers-by had started to gather. They were avidly watching while our drama unfolded on the pavement in front of them, as though it was an episode from a soap opera.
‘Did either of you see Finn this morning?’ I questioned the two men flanking Doug.
Their rose buttonholes identified them as Trevor and Pete, Finn’s friends from university, who he’d chosen as ushers. In my panic I couldn’t remember which was which. Not that it mattered, for they shook their heads in perfect unison. ‘We came straight here from the hotel,’ Trevor or Pete said, looking uncomfortable.
I swivelled to face Doug, sounding more like a journalist than a bride.
‘What time did you get to Finn’s flat this morning?’
Doug squirmed like a worm on a hook. ‘I didn’t actually go to his flat. I messaged him late last night to say I’d meet him at the church instead, if that was okay. He never got back to me, so I assumed it was. To be honest, I’m as surprised as you are that he isn’t here yet.’
Of all the emotions coursing through me at that moment,surprisedidn’t even register.
‘So where exactly is he then?’ asked my dad.
‘Something’s wrong. Something must have happened to him.’ My words sounded as though they were falling into a bottomless well.
We all jumped as the church doors swung open and a concerned-looking vicar hurried towards us, his cassock lifting behind him in the breeze like the wings of an agitated raven.
‘Is everything all right here?’ he asked. His probing gaze travelled straight past me to my father.
‘We appear to betemporarilymissing the groom,’ Dad replied. I loved him for the way he made it sound as if this was just a minor glitch that we’d all be laughing at over champagne and canapés very soon.
‘Something’s wrong,’ I repeated like a needle stuck in a groove.
‘Oh dear, that is rather unfortunate,’ declared the cleric in what might possibly have qualified as the understatement of the century.
‘We’re obviously trying to reach him,’ Hannah cut in, pointedly nodding at the two ushers, who obediently extracted their phones. ‘But so far no luck.’
I glanced away from the implicit sympathy in the vicar’s eyes, only to find myself the focus of the crowd of onlookers, which had grown noticeably larger. It was from one of them that I heard the word for the first time. The stranger’s question carried across the pavement like a poisoned dart, aimed straight at my heart.
