Wedding Girl (8 page)

`No,' said Milly. Òf course not.'

Àh, Andrea,' said Olivia, turning to the phone. `Yes, I got your message. And, frankly, it perturbed me.'

Milly began to tug at the plastic wrapping with shaky hands, feeling bubbles of panic rise inside her.

She didn't want to see him. She wanted to run away like a child and block him out of her mind.

`Well then, perhaps Derek will have to buy a morning suit,' Olivia was saying sharply. Àndrea, this is a society wedding. Not some dismal affair in a church hall. No, a good lounge suit certainly would not do.' She rolled her eyes at Milly. `What is it?' she mouthed, gesturing to the present.

Silently, Milly pulled out a pair of Louis Vuitton travel bags and stared at them. Another sumptuous gift. She tried to smile, tried to look pleased. But all she could think of was the thudding fear growing inside her. She didn't want to feel his scrutinizing eyes on her face again. She wanted to hide herself until she was safely married to Simon.

`Well!' said Olivia.

Ì've never seen anything like it,' said Mrs Able. `Geoffrey! Just look at that for a wedding gift. Who are they from, dear?'

Milly looked at the card. `Someone I've never even heard of.'

Òne of Harry's friends, I expect,' said Olivia, putting down the phone.

Ì've never known a wedding like this,' said Mrs Able, shaking her head. `The stories I'm going to tell when I get back home!'

Ì told you about the procession, didn't I?' said Olivia complacently going over to the Aga. `We're having an organist specially flown in from Geneva. He's the best, apparently. And three trumpeters are going to play a fanfare as Milly arrives at the church.'

À fanfare!' said Mrs Able to Milly. `You'll feel like a princess.'

`Darling, have an egg,' said Olivia.

`No thanks,' said Milly. Ì'll just have coffee.'

`Still a little fragile after last night,' said Olivia airily, cracking eggs into a pan. Ìt was a wonderful dinner, wasn't it, Milly?' She smiled at Mrs Able. Ì have to say, Harry's a wonderful host.'

Ì've heard his business dinners are quite something,' said Mrs Able.

Ì'm sure they are,' said Olivia. `But of course, it's different when it's just us.' She gave a reminiscent little smile. `We never have any of that stuffy formality we just all enjoy ourselves. We eat, we drink, we talk . . .' She glanced over at Mr and Mrs Able to make sure they were listening. Àfter all, Harry is one of our closest friends. And soon he'll be family.'

`Think of that,' said Mr Able. `Harry Pinnacle, part of your family. And you just running a bed and breakfast house.'

Àn upmarket bed and breakfast,' snapped Olivia. `There's a difference!'

`Geoff!' whispered Mrs Able crossly. `You must dine with him often,' she said quickly to Olivia. `Being such close friends.'

Òh well . . .' said Olivia in mollified tones. She waved her egg-slice vaguely in the air.

Twice, thought Milly. You've been twice.

Ìt really depends,' said Olivia, smiling kindly at Mrs Able. `We don't have any hard and fast arrangements. Sometimes he'll be out of the country for weeks then he'll come back and just want to spend a quiet few days with friends.'

`Have you visited his London home?' asked Mrs Able.

`No, I haven't,' said Olivia regretfully. `Milly has, though. And his villa in France. Haven't you, darling?'

`Yes,' said Milly tightly.

`Quite a jump for you, love,' said Mr Able. `Joining the jet set overnight.' Olivia bridled.

Ìt's hardly as though Milly comes from a deprived family,' she exclaimed. `You're used to mingling with all sorts of people, aren't you, darling? At Milly's school,' she added, giving Mr Able a satisfied glance, `there was an Arab princess. What was her name, now??

Ì've got to go,' said Milly, unable to bear any more. She stood up, leaving her coffee undrunk.

'That's right,' said Olivia. `Go and put some make-up on. You want to look your best for Alexander.'

`Yes,' said Milly faintly. She paused by the kitchen door. 'Isobel hasn't called for me this morning, has she?' she asked casually.

`No,' said Olivia. Ì expect she'll ring you later.'

At ten-forty, Alexander appeared at the door of the drawing room.

`Hi, Milly,' he said. `Sorry I'm a bit late.'

Milly felt a sickening thud of nerves, as though she were being called for an exam or the dentist.

Ìt doesn't matter,' she said, putting down the copy of Country Life she had been pretending to read.

`That's right,' said Olivia, following in behind Alexander. `By the window, do you think, Alexander, or by the piano?'

`Just where you are, I think,' said Alexander, looking critically at Milly's position on the sofa. Ì'll need to put up a couple of lights ...'

`Would anyone like a cup of coffee?' said Olivia.

Ì'll make it,' said Milly quickly and, without looking back, scuttled out of the room. On the way into the kitchen she glanced at herself in the mirror. Her skin was dry, her eyes had a frightened look in them; she looked nothing like a happy bride. Digging her nails into her palms, she forced herself to smile brightly at her reflection. Everything would be fine. If she could just force herself to act confidently, everything would be fine.

By the time she got back, the room had been transformed into a photographer's studio. A white cloth was draped on the floor and white umbrellas and light stands surrounded the sofa on which Olivia sat, smiling self-consciously at Alexander's camera.

Ì'm being your stand-in, darling!' she said brightly.

`Nervous?' said Alexander to Milly.

`Not at all,' she said coolly.

`Let me see your nails, darling,' said Olivia, standing up. Ìf we're going to see your engagement ring ...'

`They're fine,' snapped Milly, whipping her hands away from her mother's grasp. She picked her way over the white cloth, sat down on the sofa and looked up at Alexander with all the calmness she could muster.

`That's right,' said Alexander. `Now just relax. Sit back a bit. Loosen your hands.' He stared critically at her for a while. `Could you sweep your hair back, off your face?'

`That reminds me!' exclaimed Olivia. `Those photographs I was telling you about. I'll fetch them.'

'OK,' said Alexander absently. `Now, Milly, I want you to lean back a little and smile.'

Without intending to, Milly found herself obeying his commands. As she smiled, she felt her body relax; felt herself sink into the cushions of the sofa. Alexander seemed utterly preoccupied with his camera. Any suggestion that they'd met before seemed to have been forgotten. She'd been worrying over nothing, she told herself comfortably. Everything was going to be all right. She glanced at her ring, sparkling prettily on her hand, and shifted her legs slightly, to a more flattering position.

`Here we are!' said Olivia, bustling up beside Alexander with a photograph album. `These are of Isobel, just before she graduated. Now, we thought they were marvellous shots-but then, we don't have the expert's eye. What do you think?'

`Nice,' said Alexander, glancing briefly down.

`Do you really think so?' said Olivia, pleased. She flipped the page backwards. `Here she is again. And again.' She flipped the pages back further. Ànd this is one of Milly at around the same time. It must be ten years ago, now. Just look at her hair!'

`Nice,' said Alexander automatically. He turned his head to look, then, as his eyes fell on the picture of Milly, stopped still. `Wait,' he said. `Let me see that.' He took the album from Olivia, stared for a few seconds at the photograph, then looked incredulously at Milly.

`She cut all her hair off and bleached it without telling us!' Olivia was saying brightly. `She was quite a wild little thing back then! You'd never believe it, looking at her now, would you?'

`No,' said Alexander. `You'd never believe it.' He gazed down, mesmerized, at the album. `The wedding girl,' he said softly, as though to himself.

Milly felt her insides turn to ice. She stared at him helplessly, feeling sick with fright, not daring to move a muscle. He remembered. He remembered who she was. But if he would just keep his mouth shut, everything could still be all right. If he would just keep his mouth shut.

`Well,' said Alexander, finally looking up. `What a difference.' He looked at Milly with a small, amused smile and she stared back, her stomach churning.

Ìt's the hair,' said Olivia eagerly. `That's all it is. If you change your hairstyle, everything else seems to change too. You should have seen me with a beehive!'

Ì don't think it's just the hair,' said Alexander. `What do you think, Milly? Is it just the hair? Or is it something else completely?'

He met her eyes and she gazed at him in terror.

Ì don't know,' she managed eventually.

Ìt's a mystery, isn't it?' said Alexander. He gestured to the album. `There you are, ten years ago . . . and here you are, now, a different woman completely.' He paused, loading film into his camera. Ànd here I am.'

`Here's a super picture of Isobel in her school play,' said Olivia, holding the album out to Alexander. He ignored her.

`By the way, Milly,' he said conversationally. Ì never asked you. Is this your first marriage?'

Òf course it's her first marriage!' exclaimed Olivia, laughing slightly. `Does Milly look old enough to be on her second marriage?'

`You'd be surprised,' said Alexander, adjusting something on the camera. `These days.' A sudden white flash went off, and Milly flinched as though she were being attacked. Alexander looked up at her.

`Relax,' he said, and the flicker of a smile passed across his face. Ìf you can.'

`You look lovely, darling,' said Olivia, clasping her hands together.

Ì only asked,' continued Alexander, `because I seem to do a lot of second marriages these days.' He paused, and surveyed Milly over his camera. `But that's not you.'

`No,' said Milly in a strangled voice. `That's not me.'

Ìnteresting,' said Alexander.

Milly glanced at her mother apprehensively. But Olivia had on her face the same look of polite incomprehension which appeared when business guests started discussing computer software or the yen. As she caught Milly's eye she nodded and started backing deferentially away.'

Ì'll see you later, shall I?' she whispered.

`That's good,' said Alexander. `Now turn your head to the left. Lovely.' The room flashed again. In the corner the door closed softly behind Olivia.

`So, Milly,' said Alexander. `What have you done with your first husband?'

The room swam around Milly's head; every muscle in her body tightened. She stared fixedly at the camera lens without speaking.

`Loosen your hands,' instructed Alexander. `They're gripping too tightly. Try to relax.' He took another couple of shots. `Come on, Milly. What's the story?'

Ì don't know what you're talking about,' said Milly in a dry voice. Alexander laughed.

`You're going to have to do better than that.' He reached across and adjusted one of the white umbrellas.

`You know exactly what I'm talking about. And it's obvious no one knows about it except me. I'm intrigued. Try crossing your legs,' he added, looking at her through the lens. `Left hand on your knee so we can see the ring. And the other under your chin.'

The white flash went off again. Milly stared desperately ahead, trying to frame in her mind a reply, a put-down, a witty riposte. But her thoughts were inarticulate and feeble, as though her brainpower had been sapped by panic. She felt pinned to the sofa by fear, unable to do anything but follow his commands.

À first marriage isn't against the law, you know,' observed Alexander. `So what's the problem? Would your bridegroom disapprove? Or his father?' He took another few shots, then loaded a new reel of film.

Ìs that why you're keeping it secret?' He eyed her thoughtfully. Òr maybe there's a bit more to the story.' He lowered his eye to the lens. `Can you come slightly forward?'

Milly edged forward. Her stomach was tense, her skin felt prickly.

Ì've still got an old photograph of you, by the way,' said Alexander. Ìn your wedding dress, on the steps. It made a good shot. I almost framed it.'

The room flashed again. Milly felt giddy with fright. Her mind scurried back to that day in Oxford; to the crowd of tourists who had taken photographs of her and Allan on the steps, as she prinked and smiled and encouraged them. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have ...

Òf course, you look very different now,' said Alexander. Ì nearly didn't recognize you.'

Milly forced herself to look up and meet his eye.

`You didn't recognize me,' she said. A tiny note of pleading entered her voice. `You didn't recognize me.'

`Well, I don't know about that,' said Alexander, shaking his head. `Keeping secrets from your future husband, Milly. Not a good sign.' He peeled off his jersey and threw it into a corner. `Doesn't the poor guy deserve to know? Shouldn't someone tell him?'

Milly moved her lips to speak but no sound came out. She had never felt so scared in all her life.

`That's great,' said Alexander, looking into the camera again. `But try not to frown.' He looked up at her and grinned. `Think happy thoughts.'

After what seemed like hours, he came to an end.

'OK,' he said. `You can go now.' Milly got up from the sofa and stared at him speechlessly. If she appealed to him-told him everything he might relent. Or he might not. A tremor ran through her. She couldn't risk it.

`Did you want something?' said Alexander, looking up from his camera case.

`No,' said Milly. For an instant her eyes met his and a bolt of fear went through her. `Thank you,' she added.

She walked to the door as quickly as she could without looking rushed, forced herself to turn the door knob calmly, and slipped out into the hall. As the door closed behind her, she felt almost tearful with relief. But what should she do now? She closed her eyes for a second, then opened them and reached for the phone. By now she knew the number off by heart.

`Hello,' came a voice. Ìf you would like to leave a message for Isobel Havill, please speak after the tone.'