Party Girl at Heart

by Karen Elaine Campbell

  He steeled himself to accept the inevitable; he’d lost her for a second time. Whether the baby was his or not, he didn’t know, only Lolly could answer that question, but until she did, he’d have to stand by and watch and wait for the truth to be unveiled, but while there was still a slim chance that they’d conceived a baby between them, he had to hold himself together and wait for her memory to fully return.

  Crystal watched Lolly make a bee-line for their pew. She walked surely and confidently, never wavering, while behind her, Verity entered the church, sidling in through the door and standing right beside Phil, shoulder to shoulder. The two of them blocked the doorway completely.

  What was she doing here? Crystal nudged Jazz in the ribs with her elbow and inclined her head in the direction of the entrance.

  The word he used was base, and certainly had no place in a church.

  The guests were getting restless in their seats, it was almost time for the bride to arrive, where was she? Was she on her way? Would she be the customary five minutes late?

  Hetty had seen Verity too. She flashed an enquiring glance in Crystal’s direction. Crystal shrugged helplessly in response, as Bertie slid out of the other end of the pew. Olivia didn’t break eye contact; she walked right up to him at the edge of the nave and dissolved into his open arms.

  Jazz looked from Verity to Olivia and back to Verity again. What had got into these women today? He could just guess what Imogen would do if Verity tried to pull a stunt like that one here, in front of the assembled congregation. He drilled her with a glance and willed her to behave herself.

  Further back in the church, Giles distanced himself from Imogen and slid out of the end of their pew, surreptitiously trying to work his way through the final few people still milling about in the aisle, heading for his lover. Half-sister of his wife.

  Without a word he took Verity by the hand and escorted her outside.

  As Giles firmly propelled Verity out through the doorway behind them, Phil finally found the strength to move. He walked two steps forward to the side of the church set aside for guests of the bride and managed to fit himself in on the end of a pew, right beside his father-in-law. “Maurice, Jean,” he acknowledged politely.

  Maurice held out his hand. “Looks like your young lady has deserted you,” he commented kindly, as Phil placed his own palm in his father-in-law’s grasp. “You deserve better, m’lad,” Maurice observed as he pumped Phil’s hand soundly.

  Phil’s eyebrows hit is hairline, what should he say to that?

  “We’re not blind, Jean and I,” his father-in-law added in hushed tones.

  When Phil gawped back at him, stunned, he continued, “Amanda has finally come clean, and revealed all. She waited until we were out of the country, you know, not that we would have caused a fuss, but she made sure that we couldn’t do anything about it, before she made her announcement. Typical Amanda,” he prevaricated, then, at Phil’s blank stare, “I take it that you haven’t seen the front page of any of the UK papers yet today then?”

  “Enlighten me,” Phil growled, as he turned his back so that he couldn’t see Lolly snogging Bertie, at the front of the church.

  “It’s messy, very messy,” his father-in-law murmured sadly. “That doll she’s been shacked up with, did you know she’s British?”

  Phil coughed, embarrassed.

  “Come on now, son, the time for ‘fairy stories’ has passed. We’ve known for quite some time, the wife and I, we just didn’t quite know how to broach the subject with you, my dear boy. You’ve been more than decent where our girl is concerned, and we’re indebted to you, for all that you’ve done to keep her reputation safe. Looks like Amanda’s decided to come clean now, of her own free will.” The old man stared down at the order of service and rustled the pages as he chose his words carefully. “Lydia, the young lady’s name is. The one that Amanda as chosen to be her ‘life partner’ as they call these things now, they are in love, so the newspaper says anyhow. She’s one of Saskia’s backing singers. You must know her?”

  Phil glanced slowly around the church, she wasn’t here, that was something he supposed, and then he shook his head in despair. She couldn’t help it, could she? Saskia just couldn’t resist making the headlines, pulling strings, even on her own wedding day. She’d promised Jeremy, no publicity, and she’d kept her word to the letter, but he just couldn’t see how else this news had been ‘leaked’.

  As to the man in front of him, he had no argument with Amanda’s parents; they’d always been straight and above-board with him. They were nice folk, and caring people, he knew that they’d find the right words to build bridges with their daughter, when the time came.

  “Yes, I know Lydia,” he replied quietly. “She cost me my relationship with Crystal,” he confirmed, without malice. “I was out of town, down in Florida trying to smooth over their clandestine relationship when the news of my ‘affair’ with Crystal hit the big screen.” He smoothed down his hair. “By the time that I flew back in, the damage had been done.”

  Maurice nodded. “Amanda was working on a drugs-related case at the time, wasn’t she? Nasty business, a very unsavoury character, by all accounts.”

  Phil nodded. “Their lawyer had done his home-work; he tried to discredit Amanda by bringing personal information out into the open. By the time that I’d reinforced her story and shored up our marriage in the eyes of the world, Crystal had seen the worst of the media furore on TV.” He hung his head. “It was a bad time.”

  Maurice put one big meaty fist on his shoulder and patted it gently for a big man. “Thank-you, son, you’ve been a good husband to my daughter,” he said, then, “that’s her, isn’t it? Blondie, down the front of the aisle, the groom’s sister? I recognised her when we came in.”

  Phil nodded. “It was over a long time ago now,” he replied, as the knife twisted in his guts. You couldn’t call one passionate interlude a couple of months ago a relationship, he knew that. He lowered his head; he didn’t want to see Olivia tucked up next to Bertie in the same pew, right beside Crystal, either. He’d made rather a mess of things, in one way or another.

  The organist began to belt out the ‘Bridal March’ on the trusty old organ and all heads swivelled in unison towards the church doorway. Reg slipped in, one step ahead of the bride, mopping his brow with a crisp white handkerchief and plonked himself down next to Phil on the end of the row.

  “Nearly didn’t make it, the car wouldn’t start,” he said. “Saskia was having a fit,” he started to laugh quietly, the relieved titillation of a man who’d sailed close to the wind. “I told her that it’s customary for the bride to arrive at the church late in England, but she were not ’aving any of it,” he laughed. He held out a hand that was visibly shaking and nodded towards the groom at the head of the aisle. “He’s a braver man than me,” he quipped. “She’s one hell of a handful, he’s going to have an interesting future with that one,” he confided.

  Phil smirked and raised an eyebrow, glad it hadn’t been him on the end of Saskia’s ire. “Don’t you worry about him, he’s Crystal’s twin, he’s got twice the balls of both of us,” he muttered, “and plenty of practice in dealing with the female of the species. They’re well suited, I reckon.” He glanced around. “Where’s Carrie?” he whispered.

  “Down the pub, if she’s got any sense, and I wouldn’t blame her if she were, neither,” Reg chuckled.

  As the bride began her walk, serenely down the aisle, Carrie scuttled in behind her, her eyes automatically searching around for Phil. He was sitting in between Reg and Amanda’s dad. That wasn’t right. Where was Lolly? She raised an eyebrow as their gazes locked.

  He shrugged a shoulder in response and moved a few inches along the pew, nudging Reg to move along a bit, making room for her to squeeze in, if she wanted to. He’d needed a friend and confidante these past few weeks, and Carrie had been available, willing and eager. He knew that he’d been taking advantage of her generous nature, but she was a caring sort
and offered herself freely. He gave a small satisfied smile, he wasn’t sure if it was the church, her flame red hair, or the excitement of the occasion, but he had a feeling that he’d met his match at last.

  Reg allowed himself one swift glance around the crowded church, as he moved to accommodate Carrie between himself and Phil, searching the faces in the church as he did so. His eyes met and held Imogen’s troubled gaze. He winked, and she smiled. He patted his pocket.

  She inclined her head, acknowledging his silent message, he’d read her text then. A small smile played around the edges of her lips as the bride took her first step along the aisle. It had been a traumatic day, one way or the other, but she had a feeling that she’d come out of the whole situation smelling of roses. The tears had been engineered purely to satisfy her brother and she’d not really intended Giles to take all the responsibility, but he’d been on a roll when he had finally decided to ‘confess’ all and he’d not really been in a listening kind of a mood. Jazz had immediately assumed her innocence and had moved swiftly to her defence, and so somehow the moment had passed, and she had stayed silent. It was what she called a fortuitous result.

  Reg straightened his tie and pulled his shoulders back smartly, he needed to have words with that lady later. He had a serious question for her.

  As the bridal march faded to a close and a hush descended over the church, Peter coughed once to clear his throat. He’d been watching the faces of the congregation from the security of the vestry whilst they’d been going about their business, and he wondered fleetingly how long this particular marriage would last.

  He muttered a silent prayer to the Almighty on behalf of the bride and groom and glanced out of the window, to be confronted by a spectacular view of Giles snogging a woman who was definitely not his wife outside on the lawn. His eyes roamed back to the cuckolded wife to discover her blatantly making puppy dog eyes at Reg from the pub. He swallowed hard, that was one clandestine encounter that the gossips had missed then, he wondered uneasily what else was about to unfold.

  “Dearly beloved,” he began, musing silently that weddings always brought out the best and the worst behaviour among his congregation, as he glanced down the length of the nave towards the verger who was frantically trying to catch his attention.

  In the seat behind Jazz, Milo pulled back the band on his sling shot and aimed for Great Aunt Margaret’s hat. Peter stifled a smirk.

  “We are gathered here today,” he continued, as the younger brother popped up from behind a pew at the back of the church and expertly hit the knob on the one and only fire extinguisher, before anyone could stop him.

  Amid acres of fluffy white foam spewing forth from the fire extinguisher and the flash and crash of the press pack as they finally breached the front door in the absence of the verger and lit up the church with their recording equipment, Peter remained stolid and calm.

  The bride posed happily for photos, throughout the whole ceremony, declaring loudly that she had no idea how the press had discovered her whereabouts. The groom looked resigned to his fate.

  Great Aunt Margaret caught Milo and threatened to paddle his backside with one of her thick satin slippers, unless he sat down and behaved himself, ‘right now’.

  Just one more day in the life of a country vicar, Peter decided later, as he changed out of his surplice and shrugged into his one ‘good’ suit, ready to help the verger lock up and follow the other guests on to the reception. He reached for his clerical collar out of habit and then stopped to rummage around in the dresser drawer. Mary had purchased a tie for him to wear to the party today. It nestled protectively in a shiny black box wrapped in tissue paper, expensive and foreign. He opened the lid and stared hard at the flame red silk tie that his wife had selected, should he wear it or not? It wasn’t really protocol for him to attend the wedding, guest or not, without his usual badge of office.

  While he stood there battling with indecision he smiled wryly. The guy who’d parachuted in to propose to Crystal on the front steps of the church had caused quite a stir, he reflected, such a bold and romantic deed. Weddings were a time for gallant gestures he decided, as he made a snap decision and removed the frivolous item from its equally foolish box.

  He bit the end of his tongue as he attempted to bring order to the unfamiliar fabric, struggling to remember how the blessed thing worked. Jazz had been quite right to bop the chap on the nose though, in full view of the whole congregation, he decided as he made a second attempt to knot the contrary slip of fabric, finally reverting to an old fashioned half Windsor knot, universally favoured by schoolboys of his generation.

  As he closed the vicarage door behind him he plucked a late summer rose from the bush beside the front door and with an uncommon flourish, he tucked the perfect bloom through his buttonhole. He was officially ‘off duty’ now and merely another one of the guests, just for the next few hours, until another of his parishioners called upon him again. As he mounted his bike and pedalled furiously up the hill to catch up with the last of the stragglers, he considered the day’s events, thus far: if it wasn’t one twin causing a commotion it was the other, he mused, but he’d not want to be in Jazz’s shoes in the morning. As the son of prominent high-court Judge, now deceased, and head of several mega-corporations, to be caught brawling on the front lawn of the church in the middle of a show-biz wedding, Mr Silver’s behaviour was bound to cause a bit of a stir. The shot of him dumping the hapless chap in the duck pond at the end of their altercation was bound to make good copy.

  Despite the Verger’s best efforts; it looked like the press pack had secured themselves an eye-popping headline, after all.