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: Chapter 9

Charlotte is already waiting for us in the Lilac Room, stood beside a table loaded with every place card. Correction – every male place card.

‘We haven’t got much time before I leave for the airport – we need to establish a list of suspects.’ She addresses us like she’s the head of MI5. ‘I’ve divided up the photos into groups: single men, married men and married men that would cross the line.’

I can’t help but notice that Ernie is in that section.

‘His wife is just as bad,’ she tells me when I voice my dismay.

‘I did dance with him rather a lot,’ I worry.

‘It’s okay, I already asked him and he told me no.’

‘You asked Marcus’s grandfather if he kissed me?’

‘We’re looking for answers here, Amy. I’ve been waiting twenty years for you to have a good premonition, I’m not going to let this man slip through our fingers now. Whoever he is.’

‘Okay,’ I gulp.

‘So. Starting with the single men.’

‘Tristan,’ says May with a mouthful of chocolate croissant. ‘She’s already bagged a date with him.’

‘Nice going,’ Charlotte says as she clears a space for likely candidates.

‘We can rule out cousin Elliot,’ I say with a shudder. ‘I know you’re related but he creeps me out.’

‘That’s okay, he creeps me out too,’ Charlotte admits.

‘I remember this cutie.’ I point to a man with mini dreadlocks. ‘I think I had a conversation with him near the toilets.’

‘He’s nineteen.’

‘Well, booze doesn’t discriminate on the basis of age.’

‘Do you want me to put Ernie back in the running?’ Charlotte raises a brow.

‘No,’ I pout.

‘What’s Jay doing in the possible group?’ May snorts.

‘You know how carried away they get with their dance routines,’ Charlotte explains. ‘I thought Jay might be a red herring kiss.’

‘Where is he anyway?’

On cue the door is flung open and in wafts a figure in a gold turban, black sunglasses and a lurid kaftan.

‘Ah, here’s Gloria Swanson now.’

Jay quickly assesses the situation and then moves his place card over. ‘I was drunk but I wasn’t that drunk.’

‘Charming!’ I mutter as he heads for the coffee.

‘No offence. Besides, it was take a ticket and get in line with you last night.’

‘What did you see?’ we clamour. ‘We need details!’

He sets down his coffee cup. ‘You mean, aside from Amy dance-flirting with every man in the place? Honestly, it was like watching J-Lo in Hustlers.’

‘Oh god!’ I groan.

‘But did you see her kiss anyone?’ May demands.

‘Well, there was this guy.’ He points to Tristan. ‘But I’m guessing you already knew that. I did walk in on you in the kitchen at one point. That must have been near the end of the night because I wanted a snack to take up to my room. And apparently you did too . . .’

‘The waiter!’ I exclaim. ‘I’d forgotten about him! Oh, he was lovely!’

‘What was his name?’ Charlotte gets out her pen. ‘I’ll call the catering agency.’

‘No idea.’ I bite my lip.

‘Well, can you describe him?’

‘He had a sort of Timothée Chalamet vibe – tall, floppy dark hair, wistful . . .’

‘And cool shoes,’ May chimes in. ‘I remember they had playing cards on them – like poker or blackjack.’

‘Yes!’ I confirm. ‘I saw that too. The design looked like something you’d replace in a tattoo parlour.’

‘Blackjack tattoo shoes,’ Charlotte adds to her notes.

‘There was this one other guy . . .’ Jay squints into the distance like a fairground psychic.

‘Yes?’

‘I think you were having some kind of argument with him.’

May and I exchange a look.

‘Can you remember who?’ Charlotte encourages him to study the faces in the photos.

‘I only saw the back of his head – I was on my way over to see if Amy was okay but then Beyonce came on so . . .’ He gives a little shrug.

‘Wait, do you mean “Crazy in Love”?’ I ask.

He nods.

‘I was definitely there for the Jay-Z break.’ That’s my party trick, doing the ‘crazy and deranged’ rap while Jay prowls around me.

‘Oh yes,’ Jay confirms. ‘I guess it wasn’t a long argument.’

‘Hmmm.’ My brow furrows. ‘You didn’t happen to see me throwing red wine on him?’

‘Are we going to have to get a bodycam for you?’

‘If only I was wearing one last night,’ I sigh.

‘You know, I did video you at one point.’ Jay reaches into the folds of his kaftan and pulls out his phone. We huddle around him but all he has to show are a million artful selfies. ‘That’s so weird, I could’ve sworn I filmed you and Gareth on the dance floor.’

‘ “Hey Ya!” ’ I gasp, feeling a rush of joy – finally something I remember! Gareth was resisting joining us on the dance floor so Charlotte got the DJ to play the one tune he can never resist – ‘Hey Ya!’ by Outkast.

We created a routine for it one lunch break in our last year of school, figuring even Gareth could manage the three hand claps, gradually building up to outstretched arms and wiggly fingers. It always cracked us up because the rest of us were giving it full-body Sixties swing and he was so stoic and upright. But last night he broke free and was really shaking it like a Polaroid picture. Everyone was screaming in delight. Except maybe Peony.

‘You know, I don’t remember seeing Gareth again after that,’ May muses.

‘Has anyone seen him since?’ I ask, feeling a little uneasy.

We look between each other but draw a blank.

‘You don’t think he went home with Peony?’

‘He would never be unfaithful to Freya!’ Charlotte splutters.

May and I exchange a look.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

‘That wasn’t a nothing look,’ she accuses.

‘Just tell her!’ Jay huffs.

‘You told Jay?’ I turn on May.

‘You know how much he loves Freya, I didn’t want him hearing through the grapevine.’

‘Hearing what?’ Charlotte demands.

‘Look, we didn’t want to say anything to spoil your day but they split up, two months ago.’

‘Who did?’

‘Gareth and Freya.’

‘They didn’t!’ She’s aghast.

‘I’m sure it’s just a temporary thing, they’ll totally sort it out,’ I try to back-pedal.

‘Of course they will!’ Charlotte instantly latches on to the hope.

‘It’s just a seven-year itch.’

‘Of course! It has been seven years, hasn’t it?’ Jay confirms.

‘Well, that explains it.’

‘Nothing to worry about.’

‘Nothing at all. I’ll just text him again. Make sure he’s okay.’

‘In the meantime, Jay – gaydar. Anyone else we can rule out?’

He dutifully studies the place card photos and then moves a number of them like he’s playing a game of chess. ‘Though two of these may not know it yet,’ he concedes.

And then the door swings open and in walks what is left of Gareth.

Gone is the pristine man we were admiring yesterday – his hair is a mess, his eyes are shadowy and I’d say he might have cut his lip shaving were it not for the uneven stubble.

‘You look like you fell down the laundry shoot,’ Jay observes.

‘And then got roughed up by a bear,’ May adds.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask, stepping closer.

He nods but even that seems to hurt his head.

‘You look really fragile.’

‘I’m fine. I just didn’t get much sleep.’

‘Miss Peony keep you up all night?’ May teases.

‘Nothing happened there. We just exchanged numbers.’

‘I thought you two would have a lot in common,’ Charlotte acknowledges. ‘Not that I was trying to fix you up because I didn’t know then . . .’ She trails off, flushing pink.

‘But you do now?’ He looks at me.

‘I’m sorry!’ I wince. ‘It came out by accident. Just a few minutes ago.’

He holds up his hands. ‘Okay, we’re not getting into this now. This looks a lot more interesting, like you’re playing a real-life game of Cluedo.’

‘That’s right,’ Jay titters. ‘We’re trying to track down Professor Plum and his lead pipe.’

I roll my eyes.

‘Amy kissed three guys but she can’t remember who,’ Charlotte clarifies.

‘Really?’ Gareth rubs his face wearily. ‘Does it matter who if they were just more bad premonitions?’

‘As a matter of fact it does, because one of them was a good premonition!’ May asserts.

This stops him in his tracks. ‘Are you serious?’

I nod.

‘Wow. That’s major. Congratulations.’

‘Thank you,’ I say, not feeling remotely celebratory.

‘We know one of them was Tristan.’ Charlotte brings him up to speed. ‘But as for the other two . . .’ She directs his attention to the cluster of ‘possibles’. ‘Do any of these faces prompt a memory?’

‘You really don’t recall anything?’ Gareth turns back to me.

‘I know it sounds bad, but the whole night is a blur – I recall glimpses of faces, snippets of conversation, flashbacks to dance moves . . .’

‘Your phone!’ Jay grabs Gareth’s arm. ‘I was videoing Amy with your phone!’

‘What?’

‘Remember you were videoing us and then “Hey Ya!” came on so we switched!’

Well, that’s one mystery solved. We cluster around Gareth and eagerly wait for him to press play.

The first few minutes show the tail end of our ‘Crazy in Love’ routine. It’s a little disappointing to see the gap between how I think I look in my head and how I actually look on screen. Though I have to say Jay is fully channelling Queen Bey.

And then we hear the opening bars to ‘Hey Ya!’, seamlessly blended by the DJ. I respond by squealing and lunging at Gareth. The phone records the floor for a second or two and then we hear Jay telling us divas to show him what we’ve got.

Apparently we have a lot to show.

Suddenly the video is interrupted by a phone call, from Freya.

We all tense and look expectantly at Gareth.

‘Just ignore it.’ He reaches over and presses decline.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to get it?’ Charlotte tries in vain to keep her voice light.

Gareth shakes his head in an emphatic no.

We go to press play but the phone rings again. It’s Freya, again.

‘It seems like it might be urgent . . .’ I venture.

‘I already know what she’s going to say.’

‘Do you?’ May challenges.

Gareth sighs and rubs his brow. ‘She’s getting married.’

‘What?’ We gasp and look between each other as if seeing our own shock mirrored back might somehow make it easier to process.

‘And before you ask, I don’t know any of the details, I just found out last night.’

Well, that explains his disarray. Obviously we were all too drunkenly oblivious to console him, whenever it was that he found out.

Charlotte looks serious. ‘I think we need to address this, while we’re all together.’

‘We really don’t. Let’s get back to the video.’

‘Don’t you want to talk about it at all?’ Jay looks forlorn.

‘Not at all,’ Gareth confirms.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I say.

‘Me too,’ May agrees.

‘We all are,’ Charlotte confirms.

He gives an awkward shrug and rewinds ten seconds in the video, forcing us to shift our focus back to last night. ‘Let’s get this mystery solved, shall we?’

Reluctantly we scan the faces, searching for clues – Peony is looking a bit peeved, as I guess I would if I was in her vegan leather shoes. Elliot is as sulky as ever, no sign of Tristan but the waiter is cheering us on.

‘Arghhh!’ We reel back in unison.

In an overzealous burst of enthusiasm I appear to have thrown my arm back and thwacked Gareth in the face with my braceletted wrist.

We replay the shock on his face, followed by the realisation that his lip is bleeding.

‘Damn! That’s straight on You’ve Been Framed.’

‘Oh my god, I did that?’ I go to touch his face but he flinches, head instinctively jerking away.

‘That’s gotta hurt,’ Jay winces.

How did I not remember this?

‘Well, I guess that’s you ruled out.’ May promptly moves his card across.

‘Unless . . .?’ Charlotte turns back to him to double-check.

He gives a terse snort. ‘I can assure you that I’m not The One.’

‘All right!’ I huff.

‘I don’t mean it like that.’ He looks rueful.

Just when I think things couldn’t get any more jangled, Marcus bursts into the room telling Charlotte she needs to stay calm.

Which can’t be good.

‘The taxi company have just cancelled our ride and they don’t have any other available drivers. We need to replace someone with a car that can take us to the airport.’

We all turn to Gareth. The only one of us with wheels.

Marcus isn’t convinced. ‘You look like you might still be over the limit . . .’

‘This isn’t booze-related.’ Gareth addresses his own face. ‘I’d be happy to take you.’

‘I don’t want to cut short your time here,’ Charlotte protests. ‘You haven’t even had breakfast.’

‘I’m not hungry, honestly. I’ll just grab my bag.’

‘At least have a coffee . . .’ Marcus offers, keen to show his appreciation. ‘No great rush now you’re saving the day.’

‘Actually, I think the sooner we leave, the better.’ Gareth heads for the door but pauses beside one of the flower chandeliers, now lowered to shoulder-height. ‘Amy, are you seeing your mum today?’

I nod.

‘Take these for her,’ he says, deftly pulling together a mix of blooms and offsetting them with wispy greenery.

‘That’s beautiful,’ I say, hurrying over to accept them and then whispering, ‘I’m just so sorry about Freya, that must have been such a shock.’

‘It was quite a night all round, wasn’t it?’ He raises a brow.

I smile. ‘It was indeed. I just hope me busting your lip didn’t mess things up with Peony.’

‘It’s fine. We’ll meet up when the surgeon has stitched me back together.’

‘Oh, don’t say that!’

He laughs but then his hand goes to his mouth. ‘I think I’d better keep my serious face on for a few days.’

‘You do that.’ I want to give him a hug but fear I’d have his eye out with a poky bit of foliage. ‘Drive safe!’

‘You too, well, not drive but you know.’

‘I know.’

As he leaves Charlotte sidles up behind me. ‘I can’t believe Freya is getting married. Who could be better than Gareth?’

‘I bet it’s her childhood sweetheart,’ I say. ‘Do you remember seeing them at that party in Sweden, there was a vibe.’ He’d spoken to her a few times in Swedish, which of course we didn’t understand, and the tone had felt a little too intimate . . .

Charlotte nods. ‘I do, but I never thought it would come to this. I thought he’d moved to Iceland?’

‘I guess there’s a lot we don’t know.’

‘I’ll see if I can fill in the blanks on the way to the airport.’

‘Or we could respect his wishes and leave him in peace?’

Charlotte gives a little snort. ‘Like any of us have ever managed to do that!’

‘Guys!’ May beckons us back to the breakfast table. ‘We’re packing a little breakfast picnic for Gareth. Which flavour croissant do you think he’d like?’

‘Almond,’ I say. ‘And switch the strawberries for figs. He loves figs.’

Jay meanwhile focusses on scribbling plant-themed jokes on the paper napkins.

‘How do succulents express their feelings?’

‘Tell us!’

‘Aloe you so much!’

We heave a collective sigh, wishing we could do more.

‘I guess it’s time to go.’ Marcus looks at his watch.

‘It is indeed.’

‘It never rains but it pours,’ May mutters as we follow the newlyweds out onto the driveway.

I put my arm around her, remembering that she too is going through the emotional ringer. She in turn reaches for Jay, who is twisting the ring that Freya gave him last Christmas. Bang goes one of his favourite friendships. But he puts on a brave face, as ever.

‘Can’t believe they’re going to South Africa. Lucky buggers.’

‘Twelve-hour flight?’ May scoffs. ‘Personally, I think we’ve got the better deal going home to bed for the rest of the day.’

‘Wish her well, May,’ I plead.

She looks up at me with teary eyes and then blows a kiss in Charlotte’s direction. ‘I hope you get to see the penguins.’

‘What?’

‘She said she wanted to see the African penguins that live on the beach near Cape Town.’

I sigh. ‘That’s not really what I meant.’

‘I know, but it’s the best I can do.’

*

‘Everyone ready?’ The stately home owner is keen to drop the last lot of stragglers at the train station.

‘My mum’s flowers!’ I exclaim. ‘I’ll be two seconds!’

Darting back to the event room, I can’t help but give the place cards one last look. I even take a few quick snaps as reminders, grouping the guys I hope are on the shortlist. And that’s when I see Gareth’s phone, forgotten on the table.

‘Nooo!’ I cry but then acknowledge that it’s not the end of the world – I can drop it round to his after I’ve seen my mum. He’ll easily be home by then. And that way I can check to see how he’s doing without feeling intrusive.

The phone rings again. I am so tempted to hear what Freya has to say. Maybe she’s come to her senses. My thumb hovers over the green button. Would it be so wrong to answer?

‘AMY!!!’

Jeez. For a small person May can sure bellow.

‘Coming!’ I yell back, placing the phone in my bag, unanswered.