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‘It’s all paid for,’ I said, trying to sound practical, which is hard to pull off when your voice keeps trying to break. ‘As soon as we locate Finn, we’ll join you there.’
Dad’s nod was slow and cautious, but at least he wasn’t saying I was crazy.
I glanced up hopefully as a car pulled into the small parking area. But it wasn’t the bright red American coupe I was desperate to see but a gleaming white Rolls-Royce from which two strangers emerged, dressed in top hats and tails. They bantered and jostled each other playfully as they looked towards St Anthony’s. The taller of the two men said something to his companion, who dutifully pulled a ring box from his pocket. The groom had arrived – but he wasn’t mine. Soon guests I wouldn’t recognise would begin to spill out of cars, eagerly looking forward to the wedding ceremony.
It was time for us to leave.
4
Dad headed into the church to deliver a vastly different speech from the one he’d spent the last month writing; the one he’d rehearsed so many times even the cat could recite it by now.
I turned back to William, who’d returned just a few minutes earlier. He was standing beside Hannah and there was something about their physical closeness that threatened to tear down the protective wall I was trying to construct around my heart. They weren’t a particularly touchy-feely couple and rarely went in for PDAs, but I saw Hannah’s hand reach for her husband’s behind the folds of her magenta skirt, and how his was already there waiting for her. I was struck by a feeling of longing for Finn so strong it was almost physical.
‘You definitely rang his doorbell?’ I questioned again.
William was a Cambridge science graduate, with more lettersafterhis name than I had in both of mine. But he took no offence when I queried his competence. ‘I kept it pressed down long enough for some old biddy to throw open her window and give me a load of abuse about disturbing the peace.’
I nodded grimly, knowing exactly who he meant. Mrs Barnard, Finn’s neighbour, was a cantankerous old woman who loved nothing more than a good argument.
‘And you checked his parking bay?’
‘Empty,’ confirmed William. ‘And it’s not the kind of car you can easily miss.’ His expression was apologetic. ‘I’m afraid all that does is tell us where Finnisn’t,rather than where he is.’
‘Were the curtains of his flat open or closed?’ I asked, my ingrained reporter instincts kicking in.
‘Erm… I’m not sure. Open, I think.’
I closed my eyes and conjured up an image of the exterior of Finn’s rented flat. It was in a small, unremarkable block of purpose-built apartments. Finn was on the second floor, his bedroom at the rear of the property, looking out over a modest square of overgrown scrubland that the landlord grandly called a communal garden. Unless William had scaled the six-foot brick wall behind the bin store, he wouldn’t be able to answer the question of whether Finn’s bedroom curtains were open or drawn shut.
I noted the mixture of sympathy and frustration on the faces of the ushers and Doug, who’d now rejoined us on the pavement. I knew I should probably be focusing on the larger question of exactly why my fiancé hadn’t shown up at the church, but right then I could only focus on the minutiae, convinced the answer was to be found in the small details.
‘Can I borrow your car?’ I asked William, holding out my hand for the keys.
‘Erm… sure,’ he replied hesitantly, withdrawing them from his pocket.
My fingers grazed the keys before the bunch was roughly whipped away by Hannah.
‘Absolutely not,’ she declared, her fingers fastening around the ignition key as though I was about to wrestle her to the ground for it.And wouldn’t that give the onlookers an even bigger treat, I thought, swallowing down a laugh that would have sounded dangerously hysterical if I’d allowed it to escape.
‘You’re in no fit state to drive anywhere. And besides, you’d never evenseeyour feet beneath that mountain of tulle.’
I glanced down at my voluminous skirt and realised she made a good point.
I bit my lip in frustration and looked around for the liveried driver of the Bentley. Was he allowed to drive me anywhere I wanted to go, I wondered? It was a question I never got to ask.
‘I’lldrive,’ Hannah announced, reaching up and pressing a kiss on to her husband’s cheek. ‘Can you go and relieve Gemma’s Aunt Helen from childminding duties?’ she asked, her brow furrowing for just a moment as she added, ‘And tell Milly I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
*
‘You didn’t have to do this,’ I said when I’d finally succeeded in clipping the passenger seat belt around both me and the yards of fabric bunched beneath my legs. Hannah had been absolutely right; I would never have been able to work the pedals with that much material crowding the footwell.
‘I most certainly did,’ Hannah replied, waiting until she had safely pulled out into the busy stream of afternoon traffic before turning to face me. ‘It’s actually a clause in the chief bridesmaid contract,’ she said, hoping to elicit a smile. None materialised. ‘Or maybe it’s in the best friend one,’ she corrected softly. That one at least brought a glimmer of a smile.
‘Remind me again of exactly what we’re doing?’
We’d driven in silence for five miles before Hannah asked the question that was probably on the lips of our guests as they sipped on their glasses of welcome champagne at the hotel where my reception was right then taking place – with neither the bride nor the groom in attendance.
‘We’re looking for Finn.’
