‘Ready to go?’ I’m keen to get this date over and done with, though a stab of guilt is urging me to play nice. I owe it to Alice to make this date go well.
We head down to the main entrance and I can’t help keeping an eye out for Alice. I should find her before we go, apologise for what I said.
‘Everything okay?’ Archie is holding the heavy wooden doors open but my feet are still planted on the plush carpet on the bottom step.
‘Yes.’ I plaster a smile on my face and, after giving the entrance hall one last search, forge ahead, following Archie down the steps to where his car – a silver, sleek number – is waiting for us on the gravel.
‘I brought it round earlier.’ Archie presses the button on his fob as he springs down the steps.
‘I assumed we’d be walking.’ I follow Archie at a much slower pace, mindful of the tripping hazard of my dress’s long skirt. ‘Alice says it’s only a few minutes’ walk away.’
‘Why walk when you can travel in style?’ Archie opens the passenger door and indicates that I should get in with an elaborate sweep of his hand. I climb in as gracefully as I can, making sure my dress doesn’t catch in the door as Archie swings it shut again.
‘Have you been down into the village?’ he asks as he slips into the seat next to me.
‘Not really. We drove through it on the way, but that’s about it, other than karaoke in the pub last night.’
‘How about we take the scenic route then?’
Archie starts the engine, pulling his seatbelt across as the car surges forward, spitting gravel as we fly towards the iron gates, the lawns and perfectly pruned rosebushes nothing but a blur as we whizz by. I’m sure I catch sight of a Tom-shaped haze as we near the gates, but I can’t be sure. I haven’t seen Tom since the rounders game this afternoon, where my team was utterly, embarrassingly, thrashed. Piers had stormed off after the game, leaving the rest of us to lug the chairs and equipment back inside.
Music blares out of the car at eardrum-splitting levels now, but luckily Archie reaches forward to turn it off before it does any real damage. We dip down the hill so fast we might as well be on a roller-coaster and I grip the dashboard accordingly.
‘Sorry.’ Archie flashes me a sheepish look as he slows at the bottom of the hill and turns into a narrow street lined with a terrace of little cottages either side. We pass the church Alice and I saw on the way in, turning into the little square with a cobbled community garden housing a concrete cross standing proud on top of a stone column in the centre.
‘That’s the war memorial.’ Archie points at the stone structure. ‘First World War. Alice’s great-great-uncle is on there. Horatio Rafferty Monroe. How’s that for a super-posh name?’
‘And what’s Archie short for? Archibald?’ I nudge him playfully with my elbow. ‘Hardly common, that one.’
He cringes as we turn on to the next stretch of the square. ‘My middle names are Diggory and Loveday.’
I can’t help it – I burst out laughing, throwing my head back as it roars out of me.
‘Holy fudge, that is posh. Were you beaten up lots as a child?’ He wouldn’t have stood a chance at the scummy state school I attended. People were subjected to daily poundings for much less. I can still hear the taunts from the playground all these years later.
‘I was thrashed relentlessly.’ Archie turns to me and rolls his eyes. ‘Mostly by Alice and Carolyn. Girls are mean.’
‘Not all girls,’ I say, lifting my chin with mock huffiness.
‘Glad to hear it.’ Archie points ahead at one of the shops. ‘That’s the toy shop Hubert came from. Or at least it used to be a toy shop. What is it now?’ He slows down as we pass. ‘Tanning shop. Not quite the same.’ He shakes his head as we speed up again, though thankfully nowhere near the roller-coaster speed we clocked up earlier. ‘I can’t believe she still has Hubert. I wonder if Carolyn still has Violet – or Violent, as I used to call her. Drove poor Carolyn mad.’ Archie chuckles at the memory. ‘Alice chose the teddy and Carolyn went for this fugly doll. She loved the gruesome little thing. It somehow ended up in the stream, face down, and Carolyn was distraught until Alice jumped in and fished it out for her. I thought it was quite heroic at the time.’
We drive through the village, passing the canal, the cricket grounds with their pretty pavilion, and lots of picturesque houses. Archie regales me with stories from his childhood – and Alice’s – until we pull up outside the restaurant, which is housed in a mock-Tudor building. Inside, the wood-panelled walls are painted a deep red and with the dark-wood furniture and low lighting the limited space seems smaller still.
‘It looks lovely and cosy,’ I say once we’re seated at our table and the waiter has taken our drinks order.
Archie smiles wryly over his open menu. ‘It looks like a Harvester.’
‘And that’s a bad thing?’ I ask and Archie laughs.
It wasn’t a joke.
‘Are you ready to order?’ the waiter asks when he eventually returns with a bottle of wine. He’s poured us each a glass before grabbing the pad and pencil from the pocket of his apron.
‘We were ready fifteen minutes ago,’ Archie says sharply, and I flinch. We have been left for a while, but still. The bloke’s just doing his job.
‘I’ll have the baked cheddar cheese soufflé starter, please.’ I smile sweetly at the waiter, who seems to be shrinking under Archie’s glare. ‘And the scampi in a basket.’
The waiter writes my order down painfully slowly, the tip of his pink tongue just visible between his lips. I hear Archie sigh. He’s drumming on the table with his fingers by the time the waiter finishes his careful note and looks at him expectantly.
‘The pâté, followed by the sirloin steak, medium rare. No tomato.’ Archie folds his menu and hands it to the waiter, who is still noting the order down. His eyes widen in panic as he sees the menu being thrust towards him. Placing the pencil between his teeth, he takes the menu and tucks it under one arm before completing his order-taking.
‘You should be nicer to the poor kid,’ I say as he scurries towards the kitchen. He’s tall and gangly and looks like he’s barely out of school. ‘Haven’t you ever had to wait tables?’
Of course not, I think as soon as the words are out of my mouth. How foolish. People with names like Archibald Diggory Loveday don’t wait tables. I doubt Archie had a part-time job to pay the bills while he was at uni.
‘Sorry. You’re right. I’ll leave him a big tip.’ Archie picks up his wine and takes a sip, his whole face screwing up as he swallows. ‘Jeez, I bet you could clean toilets with that swill.’
‘It’s not that bad,’ I say, even though I’ve already taken a sip while the waiter wrote what appeared to be an essay on his pad. The wine is awful and certainly not worth the price.
‘You’re right,’ Archie says, but he still pushes his glass away. He takes hold of my hand across the table. ‘It’s just I wanted everything to be perfect for our first date.’
I quirk an eyebrow. ‘First date?’
‘First of many, I hope.’ Archie picks up his glass of swill and raises it before taking a sip, wincing as it goes down. He’s still holding on to my hand and I’m trying to figure out how to politely move mine away when the waiter returns, clearing his throat to get our attention. His little face screws up as Archie sighs and turns towards him.
‘I’m afraid we’re all out of the sirloin steak.’ He nudges a menu towards Archie, who releases my hand so he can throw himself back in his chair.
‘Of course you are.’ Archie snatches the menu and has a quick look. ‘I’ll have the eight-ounce rump instead.’ Archie hands the menu back. ‘You do have the rump, don’t you?’
The waiter tucks the menu under his arm and nods profusely. ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah. Pretty sure we do.’
‘Pretty sure?’
He nods profusely again while backing up towards the kitchen. ‘I’ll, er, just go and check.’ He turns and scurries away while Archie shakes his
head slowly.
‘So, um, Carolyn and Piers,’ I say, determined to draw Archie’s attention away from the retreating waiter. ‘What’s the deal with them? They don’t seem very well suited.’
‘You’re joking, right?’ Archie, thankfully, peels his gaze away from the waiter. ‘They’re a perfect match.’
‘Really?’ So far, I’ve seen the opposite. Carolyn is fun and full of life, whereas her betrothed isn’t exactly a barrel of laughs. I’ve never even heard of some of the swears that left his mouth after we lost the game of rounders.
‘Absolutely. Their families are both equally as influential.’
By ‘influential’, I assume Archie means ‘loaded’, which doesn’t fill me with hope for their future. Yes, an abundance of money would be nice, but it can’t form the basis of a marriage, surely? At least not the happily-ever-after kind Alice is always banging on about.
‘Tell me more about the summers at the castle.’ I grab my glass of wine. It’s pretty vile, but it gives me something to do with my hands.
Archie has ample time to entertain me with stories of his summers with the Monroe sisters as our starters take an age to arrive. I’ve somehow worked my way through two large glasses of wine by the time my soufflé arrives and it doesn’t taste so bad any more, which is worrying.
‘How’s the pâté?’ I ask, knowing the answer when Archie looks up, his mouth a thin line as he presses his lips together. I know he’s trying – and failing – to come up with a positive answer. ‘The soufflé is delicious.’ Though this could be down to the fact I’ve been drinking paint-stripper wine.
Archie gives the pâté a go, having a couple of nibbles while I tuck into my soufflé. It takes another age before our main courses arrive and, when they do, Archie is further disappointed.
‘I asked for no tomato,’ he says as the waiter places the plate in front of him.
The waiter scratches the back of his neck. ‘Did you?’
‘Yes, I did. I hate tomatoes. Can’t stand them. I never eat tomatoes.’
‘Oh. Sorry.’ The waiter ceases his neck-scratching, his hand darting forward as he plucks the grilled tomato from Archie’s plate. ‘Better?’
Uh-oh. The brown stuff is surely about to hit the fan. I top my glass up from the bottle, draining it as I slowly slide down in my seat, preparing for the eruption.
Chapter Twenty-Five
We don’t bother staying for dessert; Archie is practically vibrating with his need to vacate the restaurant and I’m rather keen to get back to the castle and put an end to this date. I’ve tried my hardest, for Alice’s sake, but it’s been a bit of a disaster, with Archie complaining about everything. I’m beginning to agree with Tom that Archie isn’t quite as charming as everybody thinks – and I’m sure the waiter would agree with me.
I start to sober up from the copious amounts of grotty wine during the walk back, which isn’t such a good thing when you’re walking uphill. It’s quite steep and the numbing effects of the wine would be quite welcome right about now.
‘Perhaps we should have got a taxi back,’ Archie says at the midway point of the hill. We were both so eager to leave the restaurant, we didn’t think about the mechanics of getting back to the castle. Archie, having relented and helped me polish off the wine, has left his car behind in the village. Still, we’re almost there. ‘Do you think we’ll make it back for the quiz?’
The service was so slow, we’re now running late. If we’d stayed for dessert, we’d have been wandering home at midnight.
‘I’m sure we will.’ I grab hold of my side. Are you supposed to get a stitch while walking? ‘And Alice knows we’re on our way. I texted her while you were in the loos.’
Archie pulls a face. ‘Don’t remind me about that.’
I press my lips into a hard line, determined not to laugh as I remember the look on Archie’s face as he scurried back from the toilet. He’d grabbed me by the elbow and practically yanked me out of my seat.
‘We’re leaving. Right now. No, don’t you dare leave a tip!’
‘But…’ My hand paused as it rummaged in my handbag for my purse.
‘The waiter.’ Archie thrust a finger towards the gents’. ‘He’s in there. Washing his feet in the sink.’ Archie looked as though he was about to throw up. ‘He’s got his shoes and socks off and he’s got his bare feet in the sink. Can you believe it?’
‘What, both of them?’ I was trying to figure out the mechanics of that, but Archie wasn’t listening, too intent on towing me out of the restaurant.
I never did find out whether it was one foot at a time or a double whammy.
‘Is she going to make them wait for us?’ Archie asks as we puff our way up the hill.
‘I don’t know.’ I shrug. ‘Alice hasn’t replied yet.’ I hope she isn’t still upset about my ill-thought-out jesting. She must know I don’t believe for a second that she took Francelia’s necklace.
‘I hope they do wait,’ Archie says. ‘I’m pretty good at quizzes.’
‘Not to sound smug or anything, but me too.’ I let myself down during the rounders game, but the after-dinner quiz is my chance to redeem myself. I think I have quite a broad general knowledge (thanks to Great Aunt Dorothy’s love of quiz shows) and I’m confident that if any history questions come up I’ll be able to ace them.
‘Maybe we can team up.’ Archie places his arm around my shoulders. It takes every ounce of restraint not to elbow him away. ‘We can create a super team and wipe the floor with the others.’
‘You’re starting to sound like Piers.’
Archie pulls a face, which makes me laugh, even though he’s still touching me. ‘Oh, God. I hope not.’
Archie and I, already knackered from the trek up the hill, leg it down to the parlour once we reach the castle. The room has been set out to accommodate the quiz, with quizmaster Ned taking centre stage by the fireplace.
‘Most of the teams have already been established,’ Ned says as we stagger, panting, into the room. Though I’d managed to shake away Archie’s hand from my shoulder during the dash, it’s found its way back now we’re stationary again. ‘But there are a couple of spaces left. Archie, you pop over there.’ He ushers Archie in the direction of the table by the window. ‘And you can join this team right here, Emily.’ Ned pulls back the only other empty chair for me to sit on, and I’m grateful to be sitting apart from Archie, even if it means sacrificing the super-quiz team.
‘I hope you don’t mind me joining you,’ I say to my new teammates.
‘Of course we don’t.’ Carolyn beams at me. ‘The more the merrier!’
As well as Carolyn, I’ve been teamed with Piers and Tom, and I feel a little flutter of delight. This is a good team, I think, especially with Piers’ competitiveness. Poor Alice, I note, has been teamed with Francelia and a couple of ancient relatives who look ready for hot cocoa and bed rather than a test of their general knowledge, but at least she now has Archie for company.
‘You and Tom did ever so well in the treasure hunt yesterday,’ Carolyn says while we wait for Ned to pass around pens and sheets of paper to each team. ‘You make a good team, and obviously Piers and I do.’ She beams at her fiancé. ‘We can’t lose!’
I hope we don’t – who knows how Piers will react after losing twice in one day?
I look across the room at Alice, trying to get her attention so I can gauge whether or not she’s forgiven me, but she isn’t looking my way. Still, I can tell she’s uneasy about sitting with her nemesis. She looks the most uncomfortable I’ve ever seen her – and I’ve seen her curled up in a corner of the sofa during a bad bout of food poisoning, with a hot water bottle clamped to her stomach that was doing nothing to alleviate the cramps. Teaming up with Francelia, it seems, is far worse than twenty-four hours’ worth of vomming.
‘Are we ready?’ Ned has distributed all the quiz paraphernalia – with Piers taking automatic control of our answer sheet – and has resumed his place in front of the fireplace. ‘
Get those pens poised. The first round is food and drink.’
‘Yes!’ Carolyn picks up her glass of gin and tonic and gives it a little shake, jiggling the ice cubes inside. ‘This should be an easy round.’
The round isn’t the walk in the park Carolyn was expecting. She insists that Piers write down her (wrong) answers (and at one point snatches the pen off him and writes it down herself when he refuses), and when she does actually know the right answer, she’s so excited she blurts it out loud, giving the other teams a heads-up. Piers becomes angrier with each question, so that by round four (geography) he’s livid, his face almost purple. He really wants to win this quiz, but his soon-to-be bride isn’t making it an easy task.
‘Let’s take a little break here,’ Uncle Ned says once he’s asked the final geography question, and there’s a stampede towards the drinks trolley. Piers – fearing cheaters – folds up our answer sheet and pops it into the inside pocket of his jacket, completely forgetting that everybody already knows our answers due to Carolyn enthusiastically crying them out.
‘This isn’t as much fun as the Boxing Day quizzes we used to have,’ Alice says, her eyes flicking to Francelia, who’s remained in her seat while Archie fetches a drink for her.
‘Piers seems to think he’s taking part in the Fifteen to One grand final,’ I say. He’s in the corner of the room right now, giving what looks like a ticking off to Carolyn. ‘He isn’t happy, and we haven’t even marked the answer sheets yet.’
Alice nods. ‘He is pretty driven.’
‘Driven? If we lose, watch out for flying tables.’ I feel a warm glow as Alice giggles. ‘Have you forgiven me then?’
Alice tilts her head to one side. ‘Forgiven you? For what?’
My hands are wringing, as though I’m giving them a good scrub with invisible soap. ‘The, um, joke about the necklace?’
Alice tuts and gives a wave of her hand. ‘Don’t worry about it. I was being silly and too sensitive after speaking to Kevin earlier.’
The Wedding that Changed Everything Page 18
