‘Well, as to that, he might not actually be missing them,’ I say, remembering the recent conversation with the actor. ‘I think Noah’s sister’s family are coming over early to get into the spirit of things so to speak, so you might have a few more guests than you bargained for.’
‘The more the merrier,’ Aunt Flo replies breezily, ‘It’ll make the whole murder thing more interesting, and get everyone in the mood for the wedding’
I’m about to ask how solving a murder is likely to help everyone get in the right kind of mood for a wedding, when all of a sudden my attention is diverted as I spot the Admiral skulking in the street below my window. Only half listening to my aunt’s plans, I open the balcony door and lean out to see what the old bugger’s up to. I can’t hear his words, but he’s definitely talking to someone and as he steps into the road, that someone comes into view. He’s wearing a dog collar and I wonder if this is the elusive chaplain. As he turns round, I draw in my breath. The man seems ancient. He’s thin, stooped, and looks as though a gust of wind would blow him over.
And I feel as though I’ve seen him somewhere before.
~*~
Jason Buchannan was on his way to a meeting at The Ministry of Defence’s main building in the heart of London. He should have been spending his time on the train reading up on the forthcoming brief and making the necessary notes.
Instead, the documents lay unopened in front of him while he doodled on a blank piece of paper, his mind completely elsewhere. He was well aware that Kit Davies was dominating far more of his thoughts than was sensible, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.
It had been so long since he’d had a proper relationship, spending years avoiding any kind of emotional contact. There had been plenty of women more than happy to share his bed, and he made sure to stay well away from any woman who was likely to be more than a passing fling.
After Laura, his life had been completely dominated by work, and up until now, he’d been content to leave it that way.
But since Kit had unexpectedly appeared on his doorstep at Bloodstone Tower, nothing had been the same. The emptiness he’d closeted away so carefully, now threatened to rise up and choke him. The stupid thing was she didn’t even like him.
The mechanical tones of the train’s speaker system signalled their imminent arrival at Paddington Station. Sighing, he gathered together the unread papers and put them back into his briefcase, then shrugging on his greatcoat, made his way to the nearest door. He was completely unaware of the impressive figure he cut in his naval uniform as he strode up towards the concourse at Paddington.
Maybe he should offer to take Kit out for dinner. The upcoming media circus would provide a good excuse. Once the whole thing was over, he knew he’d stand no chance of getting her to see his good side. He chuckled mirthlessly at that thought. Most people would declare categorically that Jason Buchannan didn’t have a good side – he’d been described as a hard ruthless bastard on more than one occasion.
As he handed over his ticket to the guard, and headed out towards the taxi rank, he made an effort to drag his thoughts back to the upcoming meeting. Joining the queue, he checked his mobile phone to see if there were any messages from his PA, and settled down to wait. He knew from experience that getting frustrated with London cab drivers was a futile exercise – the only thing that ever came out of it was high blood pressure.
As the queue crept forward agonizingly slowly, he filled in the time by scrolling down his messages. Suddenly, to his left, he heard his name being called in a breathless but familiar voice. Lifting his head with a slight frown, he looked directly into the eyes of the woman he hadn’t seen in over eighteen years, the woman who had broken his heart.
~*~
We’re cosily ensconced in the drawing room of Noah and Tory’s house watching the rain beating a tattoo on the large bi-fold doors, which under more clement conditions provide the most stunning view of the River Dart and the open sea. Now, the downpour is obscuring all but the edge of the patio, creating the impression that we’re adrift in a timeless dimension. I share my whimsical notion with Freddy as we wait for Tory to bring in our picnic lunch, but I should have known better. All I receive in return is a loud snort.
‘You have no romance in your soul,’ I mutter sourly in answer, ‘God knows how you got involved in the creative arts.’
‘I’m a bloody good shag darling, surely you knew that?’
I look up, interested despite myself. I never did know how Freddy got his current job. I open my mouth to ask the question but the irritating man drags his index finger across his closed lips before saying dramatically, ‘My lips are forever sealed.’
‘FREDDY.’ The demanding voice of our hostess puts an end to the conversation before I can use my womanly guile to get him to spill the beans. To be fair, Freddy’s not really susceptible to womanly anything, but as I may have previously mentioned, keeping secrets is not really his strong point.
‘Coming sweetie.’ I can’t help but notice his eagerness to put an end to the conversation, and I make a mental note to bring it up later when we haven’t got bridesmaid stuff to sort out.
A minute or so later, Freddy emerges from the kitchen with a tray nearly as big as he is. ‘Bloody hell,’ he puffs, staggering towards the coffee table, ‘How long are you expecting this to take?’ Hard at his heels is Dotty, as always on the trail of her next snack.
‘We could be here sometime,’ our hostess retorts, following him in with plates, napkins and cutlery, and anyway, I wanted to do something nice for you both. I’m well aware that I.. err…’ She pauses, grimacing as she tries to find the right words.
‘Well,’ she finally continues quietly, ‘It has to be said that I’ve err been a trifle difficult of late.’
Of course Freddy who’s about as tactful as a sledgehammer, deposits his load, and, collapsing onto the sofa, declares that dealing with her over the last few weeks has been akin to working with a bomb disposal unit – we’re never quite sure when she’s likely to go off.
Tory opens her mouth to respond, then closes it firmly with a wounded sigh, refusing to rise to the bait. I look at her admiringly. She does martyrdom very well, but to be fair it doesn’t usually last. Deciding a change of subject is in order before she gives in and they start bickering in earnest, I lean forward and help myself to a warm slice of salmon en croute – God I love Marks and Spencer.
‘So okay, long overdue, but what is the bridesmaid - aka me – going to wear?’
‘I’m hoping there are going to be two of you,’ Tory murmurs, helping herself to some pie. ‘Noah’s niece Madison is coming up to eight. His sister Kim says she thinks her daughter would love to be a bridesmaid.
‘Of course, you’ll be my maid of honour Kit,’ she adds hastily, and I wonder when she decided I’m so sensitive that I might actually be jealous of an eight year old. Hormones…
‘Excellent,’ I respond enthusiastically to head that particular worry off at the pass. ‘So what colour are we going for? I’m happy to wear any colour except mauve. I really don’t look good in mauve.’
‘Well as we’re pulling the big guns out with the Christmassy theme, I thought we’d go for red velvet – sort of like Vera Ellen in White Christmas, you know the one? Do you think that would be a bit tacky?’ Her voice is tentatively excited and I know she’s hoping I’ll agree with her. And you know what, I don’t care if it is a bit tacky – this is Hollywood baby.
‘I love it,’ I reply warmly, ‘You think we’re going to be able to get something like that made before the deadline?’
‘We’ll just ask Noah,’ the three of us shout together before falling about giggling.
‘Of course we’re going to need Madison’s measurements pretty sharpish,’ I say when we’re back to serious.
‘Kim’s emailing them to me as we speak.’ Tory’s face is flushed and her eyes are shining. I grin at her. It’s so good to see her looking like her old self.
‘Okay, so what
about me peeps?’ Freddy says leaning forward excitedly, ‘I’m sure I could do a mean Bing Crosby.’ We both look over at him, wordlessly. The thought of Freddy in red velvet and a white fur hat rendering both of us speechless. ‘What?’ he asks crossly when we start giggling again...
Two hours later I think we’ve nailed it. Red velvet, fitted to the waist with a white faux fur trim. Mine will be slightly off the shoulder and Madison’s will have a collar. Of course Dotty will be there too - an additional doggy bridesmaid, complete with her very own red satin bow. I predict it will last half an hour before she manages to get it off…
We’ve managed to persuade Freddy that red velvet for him is not the way forward, at which point Tory moans that she hasn’t even thought about what the groom and the best man are going to wear.
‘Who is Noah’s best man anyway?’ I ask while we’re on the subject. I can honestly say, it’s never occurred to me to ask before. Some wedding planner I am.
‘A chap called Ethan Sullivan, he’s a singer.’ Tory murmurs absently, frantically googling morning suits. She’s staring down at her iPad so doesn’t realize for a few seconds that we’ve gone completely silent. ‘What?’ she asks finally, looking up at our identical stupefied expressions.
‘I can’t believe you never thought to mention this before,’ Freddy eventually manages to splutter. ‘Are you serious? Ethan Sullivan – the Ethan Sullivan is Noah’s best man?’
‘Yes he is. He and Noah have been friends for donkey’s years apparently. I thought I’d told you.’
We both shake our heads simultaneously, still seriously lost for words. Ethan Sullivan is the lead singer of Chemistry, one of the most famous bands in the world. Tall, blond, with a body to die for, and a reputation of being a notorious womanizer, his exploits off the stage make as many appearances in the gossip columns as his antics on stage.
Suddenly it all clicks in to place. OMG, Tory is going to have Chemistry playing at her wedding. I feel quite faint and put it down to the central heating Tory’s got cranked right up.
In a frenzy of excitement, Freddy jumps up and grabs the remnants of the French stick to use as an impromptu microphone before launching into I Want You Now, the band’s most recent hit.
Now Freddy has all the components to be a fabulous singer - except the voice. He actually sounds like he’s being strangled to death. Dotty enthusiastically adds to the mayhem by dancing around his legs barking. After an excruciating thirty seconds, I can’t stand it any longer, and jumping up, I rugby tackle him to the sofa armed with a pillow to smother the awful racket.
‘Don’t give up the day job,’ I laugh when he finally waves his hand in surrender from under the cushion.
‘I think you might have broken my nose,’ Freddy groans when he eventually manages to sit up.
‘Good,’ I answer bluntly, throwing the pillow back into the corner of the sofa. ‘You’re much too pretty anyway. And if it isn’t broken, I swear to God I’ll definitely do the deed properly if you so much as even hint at the idea of a duet with Ethan Sullivan during the wedding.’
‘You never know, it might go viral, make me famous,’ answers Freddy, tentatively pushing at the fleshy part of his nose
‘Yep, and for all the wrong reasons. Tory’s drunken rendition of How Can I Live Without You during this year’s Dartmouth Regatta is still doing the rounds on YouTube. Last I looked, it was up to five million hits.’
‘That’s probably because Noah keeps sharing it with everyone,’ Tory butts in indignantly, ‘He says he’s never laughed so much in his life. I really don’t know why I’m marrying the insensitive bastard.’
‘Because you love me sweetheart.’ Noah’s deep voice comes unexpectedly from the doorway causing Dotty to jump up with a fresh round of barking, before dashing over to her second favourite person.
After bending down to give her a fuss, Noah continues into the room. ‘What was that god-awful noise I heard as I came in?’ he asks sitting next to Tory and pulling her to him in a hug.
Tory snuggles into him with a sigh and I look over at them enviously. It’s so obvious that Noah absolutely adores my best friend, and she’s just as besotted. I wish I could find someone to love me as much.
Without warning, Jason Buchannan’s face pops into my head. What would it be like to be loved passionately by a man like the Captain? Instinctively I know he’s an all or nothing kind of guy, and I give an involuntary shiver as I remember the look in his eyes as he stared at me over the dinner table.
Fortunately, before I descend too far into the realms of fantasy, Freddy interrupts my reverie by deciding to take the stage. Jumping up, he poses dramatically, and points accusingly in Noah’s direction.
‘Aha, Noah Westbrook, Dartmouth’s most beloved son, you dare flounce in here as though you have not most vilely withheld from us your closest - nay your bosom - companions, information of such import that it is uncertain as to whether we will be able to find it in our brave though wounded hearts to ever forgive you? Forsooth, you are indeed a cruel and pitiless ally. How could you not tell us your best man is the world famous bard Ethan Sullivan?’
Noah looks at him, eyebrows raised for a second, then grins, playing along. ‘How could I dare to entrust such a secret with someone who’s as loose lipped as a brothel keeper’s morals?’
There’s a silence as Freddy tries to think of a suitable comeback, then he collapses in defeat, saying, ‘Not fair, you got that from the Admiral.’
Noah laughs saying, ‘Are you kidding? I write them all down – you should try it yourself sometime.’
‘We’ve been sorting out bridesmaids,’ I cut in, putting an end to the banter after looking at Tory’s anxious face, ‘But we’ve just realized that we haven’t given a thought to what you or your best man are going to wear.’
‘Or the usher,’ Freddy pipes up helpfully.
‘Well I was thinking that as your old man’s gonna be in his uniform, how about if me, Ethan and Freddy do the whole black tie thing? In fact we could extend it to all the male guests.’ He grins enthusiastically. ‘I’ve always wanted to play James Bond.’
Tory smiles in relief. ‘That’s a great idea, I love it,’ she enthuses, throwing her arms around his neck.
‘Can we leave all that to you and Freddy then?’ I ask, equally relieved to pass over that particular problem.
‘Yep, we’ll get on to it. How about it Freddy, you up to making me look like the next double o seven?’
Freddy’s face lights up, but before he can frame a suitable reply, I lean forward to warn him, ‘No red velvet.’ Freddy frowns in disappointment before giving in with a sigh.
‘Have you spoken to Kim?’ Tory asks Noah, deciding that a change of subject is in order. ‘Are they coming for Thanksgiving?’
‘I don’t think so honey. Ben’s folks can’t make it over for the wedding, and as they’re not gonna see their grandchildren over Christmas, Kim said it’s only fair they get to spend Thanksgiving with the kids.’
Tory glances up at Noah as he’s speaking. I know she’s trying to gauge whether or not he’s upset at the thought of not spending such a traditional American holiday with his family. Last year he was away filming. When she questions him softly, he responds by touching her face gently, murmuring, ‘You’re my family Tory – you and our baby. My home is wherever you are.’
As he speaks, I feel tears unexpectedly gather in the corners of my eyes. I feel like I’m intruding on a very private moment. I glance over at Freddy, expecting some caustic remark, but instead his face is serious, almost wistful, and it occurs to me that I’m not the only one who longs for the kind of relationship that Tory has.
I suddenly remember my last conversation with Aunt Flo, and her intention of inviting her editor to the murder mystery night so that he can meet Freddy. There and then, I decide that I’m going to do my damndest to get my second best friend fixed up. I ignore the small voice in the back of my head asking, ‘What about me?’ Instead, I ask my friends if they�
��ve received their invitations.
Both Tory and Freddy got theirs in the post yesterday, but as he’s only just returned, Noah doesn’t know anything about it. Enthusiastically we all fill him in on what’s expected.
I explain that we’ll be given our parts once Aunt Flo has received all the RSVPs. ‘I know it’s a bit of a busman’s holiday for you Noah,’ I grimace slightly, ‘But I promise it’s good fun. And, just in case you’re too good, the rest of us amateurs will do our best to beat the thespian out of you.’
‘Sounds great,’ Noah laughs, ‘Kim will be gutted to miss it.’
We finish the rest of the indoor picnic as the rain continues to beat on the windows, and Noah does his best to give us all some impromptu acting lessons. Eventually, however, after deciding the awful weather is probably in for the night, I reluctantly make a move to go.
‘Come on Freddy, time to brave the elements before it gets too dark to see and we end up in the river.’ Grumbling, Freddy follows me through to the hall and five minutes later I’m driving carefully down the winding lane towards the Lower Ferry.
‘You okay?’ I murmur eventually as Freddy’ sits uncharacteristically silent. The brief glimpse of his face earlier has opened up a whole new side to my gay friend and I feel humbled and chastened, determined to amend my former opinion of him. ‘What are you thinking about?’ I continue softly.
There’s a short pause and my heart goes out to him. I know he’s trying to find the words to say how he feels. ‘It’s okay,’ I murmur, patting his knee with my free hand. ‘I understand. Sometimes it’s difficult to put things into words.’
He looks over at me gratefully before letting out the loudest, longest fart I have ever heard. As I scramble to unwind the windows, he mutters, ‘Thank God for that, I’ve been holding that in since the scotch eggs.
Chapter Eight
Although the wind and rain continued to rage into the small hours, the only signs of the night’s stormy weather this morning are the multitude of damp leaves littering the pavement. The sun is casting a welcome watery light overhead as I hurry through the College gates to meet with our special effects experts.
All For Victory: A Romantic Comedy (The Dartmouth Diaries Book 3) Page 7
