by Jill Mansell
But as time went on, their paths had continued to cross. Bath wasn’t a huge city and there were only so many clubs and bars. Eighteen months after that initial sighting, Joel was leaving a pub just as Evie was on her way in and he accidentally swung the glass door shut in her face. He’d apologised profusely, made sure she was OK and insisted on taking the blame even though it had been as much her fault as his.
Which had been nice.
Then, a couple of years later, she had been jostled carrying a couple of drinks across a crowded bar and accidentally spilled one of them down the back of Joel’s shirt.
This time it had definitely been her fault and she had been the one to apologise but he’d been lovely about it, assuring her it didn’t matter a bit.
Another year or so after that, a friend of hers had started seeing a friend of Joel’s and their social circles had begun to intersect, then merge. He finally learned her name and treated her as a girl-who-was-a-friend. It felt fantastic, despite the fact that she’d far rather have been his girlfriend in the proper sense.
But Evie kept her true feelings hidden. That was her secret and hers alone. Joel was still out of her league. At least he wasn’t breaking her heart and leaving her in bits, like he was doing to the stream of pretty girls who passed through his life and did get involved with him.
And ended up regretting it.
Then an astonishing thing happened. At the age of twenty-nine Joel fell in love with an older woman who did the unthinkable and turned the tables on him in a spectacular fashion, losing interest and returning to her older richer lover.
Joel was devastated and hopelessly unprepared. For the first time in his entire charmed life he learned how it felt to be rejected. Many sniggered and revelled in his downfall but Evie’s heart went out to him. Joel repaid her sympathy by confiding in her and sharing his pain.
A fortnight later they ended up in bed together. It was a toss-up which of them was more surprised. But Joel told her he loved her, that he was turning over a new leaf, that she was the one for him. He was done with drama and high-maintenance females. It was time for a change.
Time for a change for him, a dream come true for Evie. They became a couple and miraculously turned out to be better suited than either of them had thought. Their different characters complemented each other. Evie wasn’t temperamental, attention-seeking and overly dramatic. In short, she wasn’t hard work and Joel truly appreciated that. Their affection for each other was genuine.
And when he introduced her to his family, her joy was complete.
Ray and Bonnie were the most fabulous parents anyone could wish for, warm and welcoming and wonderful in every way. Meeting them had felt like skulking outside in the cold for years, then finally being invited into a gorgeous house with a fire roaring in the grate. For Evie it had been love at first sight. What more could she want?
And then, unbelievably, it got better.
Having made his money in London’s square mile and worked his socks off for twenty-five years, Ray had decided life was too short not to enjoy the rest of it. Upon moving the family down to Bath, he had set up MadAboutParties, a company providing party goods and fancy dress items to buy or hire. With Ray and Bonnie at the helm, the business thrived and expanded. Then three years ago, a vacancy had arisen at just the right time. Evie, working as a secretary for a husband and wife team of relationship counsellors, discovered her bosses were about to divorce each other. The atmosphere in the office grew icier and more uncomfortable by the day. When Bonnie said, ‘Sweetheart, why don’t you come and work for us?’ Evie had jumped at the chance.
And thanked her lucky stars ever since. She truly loved her new job, helping in all aspects of running the business, both in the shop itself and on the internet. Working with Ray and Bonnie had been a joy from day one.
The bedroom door swung open and Bonnie came in, a tray in her hands and a red rose held between her teeth.
‘Right.’ She laid the tray across Evie’s lap, took a bottle of water out of her cardigan pocket, filled a narrow vase with the contents and placed the rose in it. ‘Ta dah! Now, you enjoy your breakfast while we run you a lovely bath. What time’s Kirsty getting here?’
‘Ten fifteen.’ Fabulously inept when it came to hair and make-up, Bonnie had hired a professional for the occasion; having Kirsty turn up to make the three of them look amazing was her treat.
For the next hour Evie relaxed, ate her breakfast, watched a bit of enjoyably trashy morning TV then had a long hot bath. This week she’d been staying here at the house, having given up her flatshare in Batheaston. Tonight she and Joel were booked into the Royal Crescent Hotel, then tomorrow she’d be moving into Joel’s super-smart flat in Bannerdown. But Bonnie had insisted she spend the last few days of singledom with them and she’d been happy to do so.
Another tap on the door. Marina, wrapped in a towelling robe after her own shower, said, ‘Do I put my bridesmaid’s dress on now, or is that supposed to happen after we’ve been tarted up?’
Evie hesitated; this wasn’t her field of expertise either. But the one thing she didn’t want happening was eye shadow or lipstick being spilled on their beautiful dresses. She said, ‘Let’s put them on afterwards. Keep them nice.’
‘You’re right.’ Marina grimaced at the cherry jam stain on the lapel of her robe. ‘We don’t want to mess anything up.’
By ten fifteen the three of them were gathered expectantly in the living room in their dressing gowns, waiting for Kirsty to arrive.
‘Ha, look at you.’ Having helped himself to a glass of cava, Ray eyed them cheerily from the doorway. ‘See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.’
‘Dad.’ Marina pulled a face at him. ‘Bugger off.’
He beamed. ‘Well, I must say, that make-up girl was worth every penny. You all look sensational, like a bunch of beauty queens.’
‘You should be a stand-up comedian.’ Bonnie beckoned him over and took a sip from his glass.
‘Kirsty’s late,’ said Evie. ‘She should be here by now.’
‘It’s the traffic. She’s just been a bit held up. Don’t you worry.’ Bonnie’s tone was unruffled. ‘She’ll be on her way.’
By ten twenty they were still waiting.
At ten twenty-five, Evie reached for her phone and called Kirsty’s number. ‘It’s gone straight to the answering service.’
Ray said helpfully, ‘That’s because she’s on a plane to Hong Kong.’
‘Will you stop it?’ Bonnie gave him a playful swipe with the Radio Times. ‘Darling, it’s all right.’ She turned to Evie. ‘It means she can’t answer because she’s in the car on the way here.’
Bonnie’s voice was so lovely and soothing. Evie forced herself to relax. But surely if Kirsty was held up in traffic she could make a quick call to let them know?
At ten thirty she tried again. Still no reply. Evie left a message asking her to call back at once.
OK, by ten forty there had still been no word and it no longer mattered why. In just over an hour they had to leave for the church.
‘Right then, no problem.’ A born non-panicker, Bonnie clapped her hands and said gaily, ‘It doesn’t matter a bit! We’ll just do it ourselves!’
Evie couldn’t help herself; she loved Bonnie dearly but her heart still sank. Bonnie’s idea of glamour was keeping her fine blond hair out of her eyes with a stretchy Alice band and treating her mouth to a good old crayoning with lipstick. For extra-special occasions she might even dab on some powder-blue eye shadow and spit on the block of mascara that Marina complained was older than she was.
But since they didn’t have any choice, they set to work with what little they had. Everyone pitched in. None of them knew how to create ringlets with hair-straighteners but Bonnie found a clip on YouTube showing how it was done.
Ray went next door and returned with the set of unused heated rollers eighty-year-old Elsie had been given last Christmas by her well-meaning but useless son.
Marina filled
the plastic plant-sprayer from the kitchen tap and sprayed everyone’s hair with water. Between them they blow-dried each other’s hair and did their best to pin and spray the styles into place. It was safe to say they looked nothing like they had last week after the dress rehearsal, when Kirsty had woven her magic. When they were done, they looked like the before in a before-and-after makeover.
‘Girls, you look sensational!’ They didn’t, but Ray was doing his best to keep the mood upbeat.
‘Right, make-up now.’ Having raced upstairs, Bonnie was back with her ancient eye shadow and mascara. ‘If anyone wants to borrow mine, just help yourselves!’
It was eleven twenty; the hair had taken a while. Most of Evie’s toiletries were at Joel’s flat but she had a small cosmetics bag containing the basics. Hurriedly she attempted to reproduce the effect Kirsty had achieved last week. Where was the blusher stuff supposed to go anyway? She’d never got to grips with blusher. And now her hands were shaking, she was starting to really panic . . . this was her wedding day and she was supposed to be looking wonderful . . . what was everyone going to think when she turned up with—
‘Ow! OW!’ The mascara wand had jabbed into her eye, which promptly started streaming. Oh God, why had she tried to separate her eyelashes? She should have just left them in clumps.
‘OK, sweetheart, here you go.’ Ray came to the rescue with a sheet of waterlogged kitchen towel. ‘Don’t you worry, it’ll all be fine.’
‘You know what?’ Having made a brave but misguided attempt at eyeliner, Marina put down the mirror she’d been peering into. ‘I look like Lily Savage the morning after a party. I’m better off with no make-up at all.’
‘I’m starting to worry about Kirsty now.’ Bonnie was gamely squeezing lipgloss from a tube on to her mouth, flinching at the unfamiliar gloopy texture. ‘Do you think she’s had an accident?’
Evie had given up trying to imagine what might have happened to Kirsty. Her right eye was now bloodshot and painful, she was still in her dressing gown and they had to leave the house in ten minutes.
Avoiding the sticky lipgloss, Ray gave his wife an affectionate kiss on the cheek. ‘You all look so perfect already, she probably decided she didn’t need to turn up.’
Twelve minutes later they were dressed and ready to go. At least, as ready as they’d ever be. Despite her own panic, Evie found herself reassured by the Barbers’ refusal to get upset. A more image-conscious family might have had a nervous breakdown but they were still laughing and joking, making the best of a situation that really wasn’t the end of the world.
And now the limo was waiting on the driveway to deliver them to the church.
‘Come here.’ Ray, in his morning suit, held out his arms. ‘You all look absolutely beautiful. I’m so proud of you.’
He hugged each of them in turn then ushered them to the front door, breaking into song as they headed over to the sleek silver Bentley. ‘Off we go, mind your skirts, girls . . . Get us to the church on time . . .’
It no longer mattered but Evie still needed to know. Sliding her phone out of her white silk bag – she’d have to remember to turn it off for the service – she gave Kirsty’s number one last try.
Astonishingly, this time the call was answered.
‘Right. Hello.’ It was Kirsty’s voice, sounding oddly jerky. ‘Sorry I couldn’t make it.’
‘Oh my God, we thought you’d had an accident!’ The chatter in the back of the limo abruptly stopped so everyone else could listen. Evie said, ‘Are you all right? What happened? Your phone was switched off! Why didn’t you call?’
There was a strange buzzy silence. At last Kirsty said stiffly, ‘I’m all right. So who did your hair and make-up?’
Who did she think had done it, Vidal Sassoon? ‘We did it ourselves.’
‘But you said you were rubbish at all that sort of thing.’
‘We are rubbish.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘So you keep saying.’ Evie’s voice rose in frustration. ‘But you still haven’t said why you didn’t turn up!’
‘Sshh,’ murmured Bonnie, taking her hand and giving it a reassuring pat. ‘It doesn’t matter now.’
Her words drowned out Kirsty’s reply but something, some sixth sense, told Evie it did matter.
‘Sorry, I missed that.’ She pressed the phone harder against her ear.
But all she could hear now was the sound of sobbing. At the other end of the line, Kirsty was crying and gulping for breath.
‘Say it again.’ Evie’s stomach clenched with fear and premonition. ‘Say it.’
‘I can’t tell you.’ Between sobs, Kirsty hiccupped, ‘You’ll have to ask your p-precious boyfriend, OK? Just ask Joel why I didn’t turn up. He can probably hazard a guess.’
The call ended. Kirsty had severed the connection. As if from a great distance, Evie heard Bonnie say, ‘Darling, what’s going on?’
‘Can we stop the car? I feel sick.’
The limousine purred to a halt and Evie stumbled out, waving the rest of them back. ‘Don’t come with me . . . please, just give me a minute.’
At the side of the road she turned away so they couldn’t see her face. She wasn’t going to be sick, she was just struggling to work out what to do next. Joel had first mentioned Kirsty’s name a couple of months ago; she was someone he’d come into contact with through the bar he drank in across the road from his offices. Upon hearing about his forthcoming wedding, she had told him she was a hair and make-up artist looking to expand her client base. Did Joel happen to know anyone who might be interested in a free session? Touched by her generous offer, Joel had suggested his mother, and Kirsty had duly come to the house the following week. The results had been impressive; she undoubtedly knew her stuff. She’d been helpful and friendly too. Delighted with her makeover, Bonnie had promptly booked Kirsty for this morning so they could all look dazzling on the big day.
Evie wrapped her arms tightly around herself and concentrated on taking deep breaths. A car shot past and she glimpsed smiling faces through the windows, strangers wondering why a bride in a full-length wedding dress would be standing on the grass verge behind a gleaming limo.
Why indeed? Kirsty was a pretty little thing in her mid-twenties. During their practice run she’d been chatty towards Bonnie and Marina, quieter with her. Evie hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, had simply assumed Kirsty was concentrating harder because she was the bride.
Then again, being gullible and not paying attention to small signs was something she’d grown good at. Turning the other cheek without even consciously realising this was what she was doing was practically her speciality.
But seriously, there were limits. Even for her.
God, look at me, I’m shaking . . .
‘Are you alright, darling? Do you want some more tissues?’
Poor Bonnie, poor Ray. Did they suspect what had happened?
And what might be about to happen?
‘I’m OK. No, I don’t need any tissues.’ Lifting the hem of her dress, Evie made her way over to the beribboned limo and climbed back in. ‘Let’s go.’
Everyone was waiting inside the church apart from Nick, who was Joel’s best man, and the photographer.
‘Actually, could you not do that?’ Evie raised a hand to shield her face, fending off the photographer as he tried to snap her emerging from the car. ‘Nick, where’s Joel?’
Nick was grinning. ‘He’s waiting for you! You’re late. He’ll be starting to panic and think you’ve done a bunk.’
‘I wouldn’t do that. But I need to talk to him. Look, could you please stop it?’ The photographer was having another go with his camera. ‘I don’t want any pictures taken.’ Evie turned her attention back to Nick. ‘Just get Joel out here, OK? Now.’
If she’d had any doubts before, they were decimated the moment Joel appeared on the steps of the church wearing his innocent face.
That handsome innocent face with the fractionally raised eyebr
ows, signalling utter bafflement, because what could possibly be wrong?
And that was the giveaway, because it was just that little bit overdone. And because she knew him well enough to be able to glimpse that faint shadow of panic in his beautiful eyes.
‘Evie? Are you OK? What’s going on?’
‘Why don’t you tell me?’ Evie watched and waited and saw the unmistakable flicker of guilt. Oh yes, he knew.
‘Sweetheart, come on. We’re getting married, everyone’s in there waiting for us . . .’ He tried to reach out to her and Evie took a step back.
‘Did she call you?’
‘Who?’
The fear was clearly visible now. This wasn’t fair on his family, out of the car now and lingering awkwardly a discreet distance away. But what else could she do? Go ahead with the wedding, simply because everyone was assembled here in their best clothes and the reception had been paid for? Should she ignore what had happened and marry Joel anyway, just because she loved his parents and sister so much?
‘You’ve been seeing Kirsty.’ Evie heard the words coming out of her mouth as if someone else were saying them. ‘Just be a man and admit it. She phoned me.’
Joel lifted his gaze heavenwards and for a moment she thought he was going to cry. He did love her, she knew that. In his own way. But Joel was a charmer, feckless and fun-loving; he fell into situations, couldn’t help himself. He found it almost impossible to say no, whether to the offer of another biscuit, another drink or another party.
Or another girl.
‘What did she say to you?’
Evie shrugged. ‘It wasn’t always easy to tell. She was crying so much. Enough to get the gist, though.’
