Next of Kin (12 page)

‘Turn up? No, and he didn’t come to rescue me either.’

‘And did Josh ring you before the wedding?’

‘He might have – but… ’

‘But what, Sarah?’

‘I don’t really know if he called or not. I lost my phone. About a fortnight before the wedding it just vanished. I’d got no idea where I’d lost it, I was going through my handbag and just realised that it wasn’t there.’

‘You lost your phone?’

‘That’s what I assumed. I looked everywhere for it.’

‘Was it on a contract?’

‘No, pay-as-you-go. I rang to see if I could get my number back but then Ryan said he’d got an old phone that I could use. I needed one for work so I borrowed that one.’

‘And you didn’t see your phone again?’

‘ Not then, but later.’

Chapter Thirteen

‘You look absolutely amazing, Sarah, you know that? And I just love your dress. Is it vintage?’ Amy asked, topping up her wine glass as she did so. She worked at the nursery; she was in her twenties, blonde and plump. While Sarah and Anessa usually worked together on whatever needed doing, Amy worked on the tills and was good to work with if you didn’t mind doing most of the work yourself.

Amy’s hands were unsteady; the wine splashed onto the table, looking for all the world like a puddle of blood as it soaked into the white cloth. ‘Whoops,’ she giggled, making no attempt to clear it up, instead she steadied herself against the table and waggled the bottle in Sarah’s direction, in invitation. ‘You fancy a little top up?’

Sarah shook her head and pulled a roll of black plastic bags out of the kitchen drawer. ‘No thanks. I’ve got one on the go somewhere,’ she lied.

Amy sighed theatrically and then, grinning, poured the remainder of the wine into her own glass – not that she needed any more, she was already drunk. ‘And you’ve lost so much weight,’ she said, taking a handful of peanuts from a bowl tucked in amongst the debris on the table. ‘Me and Anessa were saying you must be what? An eight now? Did you go on some sort of diet plan, or was it just nerves. What do they call it? The wedding day diet?’

She patted her own rounded belly. ‘I’m living in hope that it’ll work for me some day. Been a long time since I could get this lot into any thing close to a size eight. Not that I’d really want to, you know? I think I really want a man who likes me for what I am.’ She fielded a wet belch with the back of her hand. ‘They do say you’re never as skinny as on your wedding day, don’t they.’ She took a slug from her glass and peered past Sarah. ‘Ooh that’s nice. You know Anessa is in there chatting up your husband, don’t you?’

Sarah smiled indulgently. ‘She’s welcome.’

‘Oh come on, you don’t mean that. He’s quite cute, your Woody. Not my type but I can see the attraction. Quiet. Strong. Anessa said he comes from the same place as her mum and dad do, wherever that is.’

Sarah nodded. ‘Quetta. It’s in Pakistan.’

Amy laughed. ‘If you say so. I’ve got no idea, me. I’m lost as soon I’m out of Cambridge. Suppose you’ll be going over there on holidays now? Bit different from a week in Spain.’

The kitchen table, along with every surface and worktop in the kitchen was littered with empty glasses, bottles, trays, dishes and discarded paper plates. Through the open door into the hall and from the sitting room beyond came the chatter of voices and laughter and the bass beat of dance music.

Amy picked up the bowl and tipped the last handful of nuts into her open mouth. ‘You’re not going to lose any more weight though, are you?’ she said, with her mouth full. ‘Only you’re beginning to look a bit drawn round the eyes and a bit tired. Mind you I suppose planning this lot is enough to make anyone tired.’

Sarah, glancing out of the kitchen and through into the sitting room, realising that she hadn’t been listening, pulled a face. ‘What?’

‘Weight. You’re not going to lose any more, are you? That dress looks totally amazing on you but you can be too thin. I mean not that you are, not at the moment. But I don’t think most blokes want to sleep with a skeleton. They like a bit of flesh on your bones. Don’t you reckon?’

Sarah nodded but didn’t reply; instead she began collecting up some of the debris, scooping it straight into the rubbish bag. While she’d come out of the sitting room on the pretext of checking up on the food and drink, in reality she just wanted to be on her own and get away from Woody and Ryan. Amy had caught her on her way out into the garden. Clearing up in the kitchen was a half-way house solution.

She took another look into the sitting room; Woody and Anessa were standing over by the sofa deep in conversation. Maybe Amy was right, maybe he was chatting her up. Sarah watched for a moment or two longer. Woody was laughing at something Anessa said and leaning in close as if he didn’t want to miss a word.

‘You can’t do that,’ Amy protested, breaking into Sarah’s train of thought, as Sarah, with most of her attention fixed on the events in the other room, slid another pile of dirty paper plates into the rubbish bag.

‘Sorry? Do what?’ she said, bemused.

‘Be in here clearing up. Not today. It’s your wedding day; you shouldn’t be clearing up other peoples’ mess. Come here, let me help you. You go back and grab a dance with Woody and I’ll do that. Save him from Anessa.’

Unsteady on crazily high heels Amy started to gather up some of the empty packets and pushed them into the sack, plastic cutlery and oddments of food scattering across the floor. She giggled. ‘Maybe it would be better if we left it tonight, me and Anessa could come back and help you tomorrow if you wanted. We don’t mind. You’re not going away, are you?’

Sarah smiled grimly. ‘It’s fine. We’ll manage.’

Amy leaned in close to Sarah, her breath sour with the smell of white wine. ‘You’re a real dark horse, Sarah, you took us all by surprise, you know. Fancy you bagging yourself two decent fellas. Mind you, they do say it’s always the quiet ones you’ve got to watch, don’t they? I’m impressed.’

Sarah stared at her without speaking.

Amy tapped the side of her nose. ‘But don’t you worry, I won’t let on about Josh.’

Sarah felt her colour rising. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Bit of fling before you settled down, was it, eh? And who can blame you. He’s very easy on the eye.’

Sarah wondered if Amy was expecting some kind of a reply. ‘Woody knows,’ she began.

‘What, about your romantic weekend away? Anessa told me that it was going out with him made Woody see what he was missing. But then again it must be nice to have two blokes fighting over you. Get it while you can that’s my motto,’ Amy slurred. ‘Seems a real pity though. Josh seemed much more your type. Mind you, I won’t say anything if you don’t, and who wouldn’t? That Josh is really fit.’

‘Another one for the album?’ said Ryan, popping his head around the open kitchen door, making Sarah jump. He peered out from behind the camera he had been carrying around all day. His eyes were bright, his face red, and he was grinning like a loon. It didn’t take a genius to work out he was also pretty much wasted.

‘Come on, come on, get in a bit closer. That’s it – and a bit more. More. Say cheese.’

Amy leaned in even closer to Sarah, and putting her arm around her shoulder, held up her glass and mugged a huge smile, while Ryan snapped away.

‘Lovely, I just want one more,’ Ryan said.

‘He was round the yard again yesterday morning looking for you,’ Amy said, sotto voce. ‘Josh.’ And then to Ryan said, ‘I’m thinking of getting a refill, d’you want one, Sweetie?’

‘Just hang on there, won’t be a minute. Don’t go anywhere.’

Ryan was fiddling with something on the back of the camera, while peering myopically at the image on the screen.

‘Drink?’ Amy pressed.

‘In a minute,’ he said, attention elsewhere.

‘What did you tell Josh?’ said Sarah to Amy, dry mouthed.

‘I’ve got it now. Can you just get back how you were,’ Ryan said, waving them closer together. ‘And smile; it’s a wedding not a wake,’ he giggled.

For him maybe.

‘So what did you say,’ Sarah pressed.

Amy was still grinning at Ryan and saluting him with her wine glass. ‘Nothing much, we didn’t really get a chance to talk. He came in and asked if you were there and then when he found out you weren’t in he went. Why, what would you like me to tell him?’ Her tone was mischievous. ‘I mean Josh is a bit of a catch – presumably I’m right in thinking he’s out of the frame now? Now you’re married.’ She laughed and raised her eyebrows.

‘There we go. Come on. Let’s just have one more. And smile,’ said Ryan, still snapping away. Amy’s smile was barracuda wide.

Sarah stared back at Ryan, willing him to go back to the party, but he didn’t move.

‘Are you going to come back in with everyone else, and have a dance?’ he asked Sarah. ‘Woody asked me to look for you. He’s being pestered by some mate of yours.’

‘He didn’t look like he was being pestered to me.’ Amy grinned. ‘See I told you. Anessa. It’s always the quiet ones you’ve got to watch.’

Ryan, oblivious, pressed on. ‘He wanted to know where you were. I said I’d come and find you.’

‘Can you tell him I’ll be there in just a minute,’ said Sarah, wanting to do no such thing. ‘I just need a breath of air. I’ve got a bit of a headache.’

Ryan nodded. ‘Okay, but don’t be too long. He’s getting a bit – you know – you know how he gets. You should be in there. With him.’ And then to Amy said, ‘I didn’t catch your name. Are you having a good time? It’s a great party, isn’t it?’

Amy nodded.

Sarah stared at him wondering if he had any idea what he had just said. He lifted his camera to take another shot of the two of them. Amy pouted and giggled. ‘Looking good there,’ Ryan purred.

‘So are you going to stop and have a drink with me then?’ asked Amy, indicating the cans of beers stacked up on the counter top. ‘Or are you too busy?’

‘Don’t mind if I do,’ said Ryan. ‘I just need to make sure we get lots of photos.’ He turned his attention back to Sarah. ‘You really ought to go back in there in with everyone else. Woody is getting worried.’

Woody had already coached Sarah on how important the wedding photos would be. ‘
You have to look like you mean it
,’ he’d said that morning, standing at her bedroom door. That morning and every morning for the past week. ‘
Look like you want to be there. It’s the only way it’s going to work. It’ll soon be over. I promise,’
he had said.

Sarah had been struggling to get into the wedding dress that she’d bought on Ebay. Not that it was too tight, far from it, instead it looked like she had borrowed it from a big sister. Sarah tried it on when it first arrived, and it had been fine then. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to try it on in front of the mirror – after all, it only needed to fit – except that now it didn’t. It gaped under her arms, and around the neckline, and hung like a sack over her waist and hips. There were some safety pins in the dressing table drawer and a wide gold belt that she’d taken off another dress that she hoped, fastened around her waist, might bring it in a bit.

‘Do you mind,’ she’d snapped. Woody had knocked and then immediately opened the door. He looked her up and down, his expression neutral.

Everyone at work had asked about the dress, the dress, the damned dress, as if it was the only thing that mattered.

‘Sorry. I thought you’d be ready by now. I just came to see how you were getting on. We need to be leaving in a few minutes. We’re going to get married, remember?’ he had said, with a lazy grin.

As if she could forget. She said nothing. What was there to say?

‘It’s meant to be a joke. You know, me opening the door and just walking in. It’s what married people do.’

‘I don’t care what married people do,’ she said. ‘And you know full well that this isn’t about being
married, it’s about
getting
married. Now can you get out of my bedroom and let me get ready?’ Although she was wearing a slip underneath it, Sarah held the dress tight up against her body. Cream silk armour.

‘Is that what you’re wearing?’ he asked.

‘Yes, why?’

He pursed his lips. ‘Nothing, I was just asking.’

‘It fitted when I bought it,’ she said defensively.

Woody looked her up and down and nodded. ‘I’m sure it will look better when it’s fastened. Do you want me to help you do it up? Or are you worried it might be bad luck for the groom to see the bride?’

‘How much worse can it get?’ she said grimly. ‘This really isn’t how I ever imagined my wedding day being. I’m not sure I can do this, Woody.’

His tone softened. ‘Of course you can, Sarah. It won’t be long. Let’s see what we can do with the dress, get the day over, and then we can get on with the rest of it.’

She looked up at him, until now his attitude had been cold, crisp, business-like, angry even. ‘The rest of it?’ she repeated.

He nodded. ‘The rest of our lives. Just for today,’ he said, ‘Imagine that this is what you want, that this is what you’ve been dreaming about. That this is your moment – because in so many ways it is.’

Sarah stared at him, and felt her eyes fill up with tears. ‘How can you say that?’ she muttered. ‘How can you possibly for one moment think that any of that is true?’

‘I know you don’t want to do this. I understand. Okay? Let’s just put on a good show, make it work. Please,’ he said, ‘just for today. ‘After all we’re helping each other out. And because of what you’re doing, you’ve saved Ryan and you’ve saved me.’

Sarah couldn’t help wondering if he truly meant what he was saying, and then from behind his back he produced a bunch of red roses. ‘I know they’re not much, but I picked them for you, from the garden,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think you’d have thought about a bouquet.’

He held them out towards her. They were wrapped around with cream tissue paper and raffia that had been in the kitchen drawer.

‘Hang on; let me help you sort the dress out first.’ He set the bouquet down on the dressing table. ‘Do you want to put it on inside out and I can pin up the spare material. You’ve lost a lot of weight.’