“Fine.”
Flick slipped out of the tent, now teeming with the well-dressed and well-heeled. No sign of Beck but she did catch sight of someone she hadn’t expected to see. Her former boss at Grinstead’s, Gordon Lowe, headed for a table at the other end of the marquee. He didn’t see her. Flick felt the gloom descend. She stepped out of the marquee and although the sun still shone, for her the light had been snuffed out. She’d half-joked to Henry about running away. Maybe she should give it serious consideration. If she had money she could go to Greece and find work in a taverna or go to Italy and work on an archaeological dig. Beck would come and find her. Yeah, right.
Flick sighed. Just as she and Beck looked as though they might get somewhere, her past was going to rear up and bite them. Maybe she should try and talk to Gordon, only it wasn’t fair to do it today. Talking of biting, there was a ton of food a few feet away, but Flick suspected the moment she sank her teeth into a bread roll, Celia would materialize in front of her. Flick could hear one hundred and sixty-eight people chomping and slurping their way through a banquet. Torture. She could hear Gertrude eating and drinking which was worse than torture.
Beck had Celia one side of him and a brides-troll on the other. He couldn’t remember which one she was. If he was ever again asked to be someone’s best man, he’d think of the bridesmaids and say no. As far as Beck was concerned one was more than enough. Four was truly terrifying.
“Do you ride,” the fluff asked.
“No,” Beck said and tried to sound interested when she launched into a description of her horse.
The sooner this was over, the sooner he’d have Flick in his arms.
The monitor around Flick’s neck crackled continuously. She could hear Gertrude talking, though it wasn’t distinct above the general buzz of conversation, strains of Vivaldi and continual chinking of glasses. She wanted to hear Beck’s speech so once it went quiet she’d slip back into the marquee. Gertrude mumbled something about cake and there was a roar of noise. Flick licked her lips. She would love a slice of wedding cake.
Gertrude coughed. And coughed. Flick hoped she’d shut up for the speeches. It took a moment before it sank in that this was more than “Give me some attention”. She raced inside and pushed her way though the people who’d gathered to watch the cake cutting to find Gertrude red-faced and gasping for breath. Flick wasted no time. She hoisted Gertrude to her feet, turned her around and brought her hands up under her diaphragm. After two thrusts, a piece of food shot out 245
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of her mouth to hit Celia on the back of the neck. Flick lowered a trembling Gertrude into her chair and stroked her hand. She hoped she hadn’t hurt her, though knowing her luck she’d probably broken her ribs. As she bent to ask Gertrude if she was all right, Celia grabbed Flick’s arm and dragged her out of the marquee.
“What on earth do you think you are doing, throwing food around? This is a wedding, not a school canteen.”
“Gertrude was—”
Celia smacked her so hard across the face it made her eyes water. Flick gaped at her.
“Get out of here. You’re dressed like a cheap whore and you behave like one. I don’t care what arrangements you’ve come to with my husband. I never want to see you near him again. And you can stop looking at this necklace. You might have found it but it belongs to me.”
“Flick found it?” asked Henry, who had come up behind his wife. “Celia, you told me Paris had dug it up.”
“Did I?”
“Why’s your face red, Flick?” Henry asked.
“Hot,” she said.
“On one side? That looks like a hand print.”
Flick pressed her lips together.
“Celia, I can only hope that you’ve come out here to thank Flick,” Henry said.
“What?”
“Gertrude was choking on a grape. Flick saved her life. She did the Heimlich maneuver.”
Celia whimpered.
“Quick thinking, Flick. Well done,” Henry said. “Now give me the necklace, Celia.”
He held out his hand and waited. Celia unfastened it and handed it to him. Henry gave it to Flick. “A token of our thanks and apologies for the slap.”
“Henry, have you lost your senses? That necklace is worth thousands.” Celia glared at him.
“And how much do you value your mother’s life? Some of us no longer have our mothers and we’d do anything for that not to be the case.”
He glanced at Flick and smiled.
“Are you sleeping with her, Henry? Is that what this is about? Our son’s wedding and your whore—”
He spun back to face her. “No, I’m not. She’s done nothing to deserve being spoken to like that. But my God, if I were thirty years younger, I might not be able to resist her.”
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Flick slipped away. They were tuning up into an ear-blasting concerto of a row and she’d had enough. She didn’t want to be the cause of problems between them. She went back into the marquee and keeping low, worked her way around the side until she reached Willow.
“Psst.” Flick touched her shoulder. “Hey, you look fabulous. A midsummer night’s dream. Oberon would have difficulty keeping his hands off you.”
“Yeah, he is,” Willow smiled, glancing at Giles who held her hand.
“I’ve got a present for you,” Flick said. “Hold out your unattached hand.” She pressed the necklace into Willow’s fingers.
“What’s this?”
“Family heirloom I dug up. Henry gave it me but you should have it.”
“Is it real?” Willow gasped.
“Probably. Willow, did you invite that guy over there with the orange bowtie?”
Willow peered across. “I don’t recognize him. Who is he?”
“Gordon Lowe.”
“Oh, yes. He’s some relative of my mother. Compiling the guest list was like walking on a tightrope. Invite this one and I had to invite these other two. Offend this one and I’ll be cursed for all eternity. I’ve been very careful today not to prick my finger. I couldn’t invite you but I had to invite Gordon Lowe who’s a complete stranger. How do you know him?”
“I used to work for him.”
Flick backed away as she saw Henry and Celia returning. She’d intended to shuffle down a few more yards and speak to Beck but when she saw Celia’s pale face, Flick left the marquee. She listened to Beck’s speech from the doorway and smiled when she heard people laughing. There was a loud round of applause when he finished. Flick was wondering if she dare slip in and grab a piece of cake when she saw Gordon walking toward her.
“Felicity?”
She straightened up. “Hello, Gordon.”
“I thought it was you I saw earlier. What are you doing here?”
“I’m looking after the groom’s Grandma.” Flick tried to hide the cardboard watch on her chest.
“So is that full-time?” he asked.
“No, I’m studying for a PhD in molecular biology,” Flick snapped back and then wished she hadn’t. “What about you? I hear you’re no longer arse-licking at Grinstead’s.”
“I left them five months ago. I’m working for a private health care trust now. I was surprised about what happened.”
“So was I. Well, I’ll get a chance to tell my side in court.”
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“What do you mean?”
“Grinstead’s were hardly likely to ignore the fact that they thought I’d stolen a hundred and eighty thousand pounds from them.”
“I thought they got the money back?”
“Only forty thousand.”
“Gordon, what are you doing out here? Come and dance.”
A brown-haired woman in a red dress slunk up to them and slotted her arm through Gordon’s. Sally Greene, the graduate trainee taken on the year before her.
“Hello, Sally,” Flick said. “You’re looking well.” She’d been positively anorexic when F
lick had worked at Grinstead’s. Now her figure had filled out and she looked almost voluptuous. The two of them had never hit it off. Flick was an instant hit at Grinstead’s and Sally had resented her.
How much? Flick’s heart began to beat faster.
“Gordon, what’s she doing here?” Sally asked in a shrill voice. “I know what she’s trying to do. Wheedle her way back into your life. You’re making a fool of yourself, Felicity. Look at you. What are you supposed to be, a nurse? Everyone knows you’re a thief and a cheat.”
Flick felt as though a bucket of cold water had been dumped on her head.
“Sally, leave it.” Gordon took hold of Sally’s arm. “This is not the time or the place.”
“What are you talking about?” Flick said. “Back into his life? When was I ever in his life?”
“Are you all right?” Beck came up behind her and put his arm around her waist.
“Come on,” Gordon said and yanked Sally back to the marquee.
“What was that about?” Beck asked.
Flick shivered and he pulled her into his arms.
“Dance with me,” he whispered.
Flick pressed her face into his shoulder and slid her arms around him. He held her tight and they swayed to the music emanating from the marquee. The appearance of Gordon had upset her. A further reminder she had to sort out the mess she was in.
“I wish you’d been sitting alongside me, wearing a lovely dress,” Beck said.
“What, like Kirsten’s?”
She felt him shake as he laughed. “No, not like Kirsten’s. I’ve been stuck in that marquee thinking about you, wishing you were with me. Celia treats you like shit. If I didn’t have an obligation to Giles, I’d whisk you out of here. I want to take you to a place where you can dress up and be the princess you are.”
Flick smiled. “You think I’m a princess?”
“You must be if I’m Prince Charming.”
She rolled her eyes.
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“Are you going to tell me what all that was about? Why did those two upset you?”
Giles tapped Beck on the shoulder. His father stood behind him. “The bridesmaids are looking for you. You need to hide in a better place than this.”
Beck squeezed Flick’s shoulder. “Well?”
“Leave it,” Flick mumbled.
“What’s the matter?” Henry asked and turned to Beck. “Have you upset her?”
“Not me. The couple who were just talking to her,” Beck said.
“My former boss at Grinstead’s, Gordon Lowe, and his girlfriend who for some strange reason seems to think I’m trying to worm my way into his life.”
“What’s her name?” Henry asked.
“Sally Greene.”
“I thought I recognized her.” Henry nodded. “She won the lottery. She backed out of the purchase of a modest terrace in Menston and suddenly produced a large deposit for a luxury flat in Ilkley.”
“She told everyone her Grandma had died.” Flick perked up. “Can you remember how much she put down and when?”
“Not offhand. But it was a lot. Why?”
Wheels turned and cogs clicked in Flick’s head. “Was that about the same time that I was accused of stealing?”
The three men exchanged glances.
“This is what we’re going to do,” said Beck. He turned to Flick, “And I want you to do nothing.”
Flick was thrilled they were trying to help her, though she didn’t know what they’d achieve. Beck had made her promise not to speak to Sally or Gordon. She huffed. Anyone would think things went wrong when she got involved. Flick sat on an empty beer barrel outside the wedding marquee and came up with a plan of her own. It involved a ladder, an open window, Beck’s bed and a nurse’s outfit, so she thought it would work. She grinned and stood up.
“You’ve done as you were told.” Beck sounded far too surprised.
“Go away. I’m dancing with the invisible man,” Flick said and put her arms around an imaginary body. “He tells me he’s ugly but I’m desperate.”
“Is he enjoying himself?”
“I’m not sure. I keep stepping on his feet and have to grab hold of him so I don’t fall over.”
“Which part of him are you grabbing?” Beck asked with a smile. He ducked under her arm, killing her imaginary partner with a twist of his hands around an imaginary neck.
“Anything I can get my fingers on.”
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“Like to try that with me?”
Flick kissed him. Beck’s arms wrapped around her body and pulled her close. It was several moments before the pair came up for air.
“Hold out your hand,” Beck said.
He put a set of keys on her palm.
“I planned to use the ladder.”
“Don’t you dare. You can keep on the nurse’s outfit. I want to take it off.”
Flick smiled.
“As soon as Giles and Willow have been whisked away, I’ll be all yours.”
“I’m supposed to be driving Josh and Kirsten back to Timble.”
“They can get a taxi or sleep in the spare bedroom.”
“I don’t have my toothbrush.”
“Borrow mine.”
“I don’t have any underwear for tomorrow.”
“Good.” Beck grinned. “Now stop making excuses. After we’ve finished dancing, I want you to drape yourself over my bed and try not to fall asleep. I’ll be there as soon as I can. And I mean what I said about the nurse’s outfit. Leave it on.”
* * * * *
Giles was exhausted. He thought weddings were supposed to be fun. Well, it had been fun but tiring. He’d had to be nice to relatives he didn’t like and some he didn’t even know. The food looked great but he’d hardly eaten more than a couple of mouthfuls. His mother had thrown a hissy fit over something to do with his father, Flick and that necklace. But Willow looked like a dream. By the time Beck had told them all what they had to do, Giles’ hope of an imminent departure to the four-poster bed in their wedding night hotel had dwindled to nothing. Sherlock “Beck” Holmes had given them all roles in the drama to come and Willow bounced with excitement. Her breasts were wobbling. Giles wanted to bury his face in them.
“Giles, are you listening?” Willow asked.
“Of course, sweetie pie.”
“Gordon’s got a new watch, a Rolex,” Willow said. “He’s taking Sally to Jamaica in November—all inclusive at a posh resort. She’s paying.”
“Your turn, Giles,” Beck said. “Go get her.”
Giles nodded. He let Willow pull him across the dancefloor. Willow grabbed Gordon’s arm and put her mouth to his ear. “Like to dance with the bride?”
As Willow whisked Gordon away, Giles persuaded Sally to go outside for a breath of fresh air.
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“We’ve been lucky with the weather,” Giles said.
“Yes.”
Giles opened his mouth and shut it. He couldn’t flirt anymore. What was wrong with him?
“How long have you known Gordon?” he asked.
“Two years.”
“Wedding bells on the horizon?”
Sally blushed. “Well, we’ve not been going out together for two years but we’ve known each other that long.”
“Nice chap, Gordon.” Giles had never met him before. He could be an axe murderer. “Seems very…” he struggled, “solid and dependable. Nice chap.”
“Too nice sometimes,” Sally said.
Giles had an inkling of hope he could achieve something. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing.”
Damn. Only married a few hours and he’d lost his touch. “I like Gordon’s watch. Wouldn’t mind one like that myself.” He pulled down his sleeve to hide the fact that he had a better one.
“I bought it for him.”
“Really? I wish Willow would buy one for me. You must have a good job. Wh
at do you do?”
“I work in the accounts department of a medical equipment company.”
“Accounting must be so interesting.” He’d lost it, Giles thought in dismay. He was boring.
“It’s okay.”
“You must be really good at mathematics,” Giles tried again.
“Not bad.”
“I like your dress. It looks very…stylish.” He wanted to say sexy but it wasn’t and he couldn’t force the word out. What the hell had happened to him in church?
“Thanks. It’s a Missoni.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Giles saw Willow leading Gordon in their direction. He had to time this perfectly. He was good at timing. Share dealing was all about timing.
“Grinstead’s must pay well,” Giles said. “Expensive watch and designer clothes. Or did you win the lottery?” He put a laugh into his tone.
“I wish. No, I have money of my own. My grandma died.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Giles said, thinking it was the best news he’d heard since Willow had said “yes”.
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Beck waited for Kirsten to whisk Gordon away for the dance he’d promised, Willow escaped back to Giles and then Beck had his little accident. His beer went all over Sally’s dress.
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry. Let me clean that off for you.”
“This is silk,” Sally wailed.
“I’m so clumsy.” Beck looked contrite. “I’ll pay for it to be cleaned. I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going. My bloody girlfriend has just dumped me. What timing. I really thought Flick loved me.”
“Flick?”
“You know her?” Beck hoped his hours of rehearsals for Death of a Salesman in high school would at last prove useful.
“I used to work with her,” Sally said.
“You’re a friend of Flick’s? She’s never mentioned you.”
“I don’t suppose she would. She wasn’t a friend. You know she was sacked for stealing.”
“She told me she didn’t do it.”
Sally snorted.
Not attractive, Beck thought.
“The money was found in her bank account. She’s a thief in more ways than one.”
“Sounds like you’re talking about more than money,” Beck said.
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