Digging Deeper (25 page)

“You were kidnapped?” Kirsten’s eyes opened wide.

Being arrested felt like that, Flick thought, and it was about time someone felt sorry for her. “They didn’t let me go until ten thirty.”

“Why did they let you go?” Josh asked.

“I told them what they wanted to know. I rang Beck and left a message. I tried here but no one picked up.”

Josh and Kirsten kept their eyes down. Flick guessed what they’d been up to.

“What did they want?” Josh asked. “Did they…did…?”

“They didn’t hurt me. They just wanted to talk to me. They asked me questions about people I used to know. Some bad people.” The people at Grinstead’s were bad. This was easier than Flick thought.

“Tell me you went to the police,” Kirsten said.

“I told the police everything.”

“So what’s the problem with Beck?” Josh asked.

“He doesn’t believe me. I’ve tried to apologize but he doesn’t want to know.” Before they could say anything she added, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m tired. As far as I’m concerned it’s over. It never started.” Flick slunk off to her room feeling a little guilty about her not-altogether-true cover story.

———

Willow finished the call and went into the living room where Giles and Beck sat watching paint dry. No, not quite, Willow thought—two fat men playing darts.

“That was Kirsten on the phone.”

“Yep,” Giles muttered.

“She wanted to know if Flick could come to my hen party.”

Giles looked up. “What a bloody nerve. Of course she can’t.”

Willow noticed Beck’s gaze remained on the television.

“She’s bad news,” Giles said. “Beck had a lucky escape. You don’t want someone like her on your hen night. You don’t even know her that well.”

Willow didn’t like being suspicious. She wanted to trust Giles. She didn’t want to be the jealous type, but wanting didn’t make things so. Why was he so anti-Flick? Willow had been there when he’d confronted his father about her, and Henry had laughed before he’d grown angry. He’d denied there was anything between them other than friendship. Giles said he believed Henry, so why was he protesting so much?

“Why are you so against her?” Willow asked. “You made a mistake. Henry explained everything. I don’t understand. It wasn’t you she stood up. It was Beck.” Beck didn’t respond. Willow sighed and then added, “Wasn’t it?”

Giles got to his feet and put his arms around her. “Sweetie pie.”

Willow’s lips quivered.

“There is nothing going on between Flick and me. The woman is crazy. She flirts like mad. Maybe she knew I was nearby when she was with my father and she wanted me to think they were having an affair. Maybe that lunge she made for me at the dinner party and the fact that I was a little slow to avoid her lips, made her think there was something between us. There isn’t. Now she makes up some fantastic story about being kidnapped and expects to be believed. The truth is she’s so loopy she probably forgot Beck had arranged to go round.”

“Maybe she told the truth,” Willow said in a quiet voice. “Kirsten and Josh believe her about last night. Flick’s spoken to the police.”

Naked women playing darts or even football couldn’t have held more interest than Willow at that moment. Both men stared at her.

Beck had paled. “What are you talking about? The police? What happened?”

“Kirsten doesn’t know much,” Willow said. “Flick won’t talk about it.”

They waited. Willow knew if a guy had said that to them, they would probably have expected no more information and turned back to the TV, but now they expected her to tell them everything.

“Kirsten said two men abducted Flick from outside Yorkshire Television Center and took her to Headingley. They asked her questions about some people she used to know. They didn’t hurt her but they dumped her afterwards and she had to walk back to her car. She told the police everything. That’s all I know so it’s no use looking at me like that.”

“Beck’s still better off without her,” Giles said. “And so are you. I can’t begin to imagine what she’d get up to on your hen night.”

Willow chose her words with care. “I think Flick would be fun.”

Giles glared at her and mouthed a curse. Willow felt her stomach turn into a hard lump. Maybe Giles intended to see Flick the night of her hen party. Maybe Flick had told the truth all along and it was Giles who’d lied.

“She’s trouble, sweetheart,” Giles said.

“Maybe it isn’t Flick who’s the trouble at all,” Willow muttered. She’d send a text message to Kirsten and tell her Flick could come on the hen night because she’d decided while she could see her, Giles was safe.

Beck felt like he had early onset dementia. Flick hadn’t lied. She’d actually been abducted and when she’d told him, he’d walked away. How about instead of believing the worst about her, he did the opposite and trusted her? Giles had got pissed and leaped on her, she and Henry were nothing more than friends, and she hadn’t stood him up, she’d been kidnapped. It wasn’t that difficult to believe, she had the craziest life of anyone he’d ever met. She’d tried to talk to him and he’d refused to listen. Beck groaned.

It also hadn’t escaped Beck’s attention that Giles kept lying to Willow about the kiss. Did Giles have a grudge against Flick because she’d rejected him? Or was he plotting to get X off his list before he was married? One thing Beck was sure of—he wanted to believe Flick.

Flick wondered how she’d let herself get talked into this. Well, she knew exactly how. When Kirsten told her Willow wanted her to come on the hen night to make up for not believing her about Giles and Henry, Flick had wavered. When Kirsten said Beck would drive them in the minivan and that he felt terrible because he hadn’t trusted her, the wavering slowed. When Flick realized she wouldn’t actually have to ski and she could ask Beck to go for a drink so they could talk, the wavering stopped.

Only now she wondered if they’d both been set up because Willow had done a good imitation of Jack Frost when she and Kirsten had climbed in the van. Flick sat directly behind Beck who’d not said a word the whole journey, apart from “hello” when he’d collected her and Kirsten, and another “hello” when he picked up the others. Flick went off the idea of risking more rejection and decided she’d have to ski. Only as she’d listened to the three bridesmaids talking about their last trip to Lech, she’d grown more and more nervous. Apparently, watching other people fall over was the highlight of the day.

“Can you ski, Flick?” Willow asked, her coolness unmistakable.

“Not very well,” she said. Like not at all.

“You’ll be fine. It’s easy.”

Since from that moment Willow sounded friendlier, Flick suspected she’d been penciled in as the evening’s entertainment.

Beck had been struck dumb by the turns the conversation had taken. From talking about pistes in Lech and ski instructors’ bums, the brides-trolls had moved on to being pissed in Lech and scoring each instructor’s bratwurst on rather too many levels for Beck’s liking. He wondered if they remembered there was a man with them. He didn’t need to hear that sort of detail. From bratwurst their minds had inexplicably warped into a discussion over what they’d like in their coffins when they were dead. He’d never understand how women’s minds worked.

“My teddy bear, Edward,” Willow said. “I’ve had him since I was a baby and he’s always been there for me. I’d still like to sleep with him only I can’t.”

“Why? Does Giles object?” Kirsten teased.

“His head’s full of sawdust and he leaks.”

“Sounds just like Giles,” Flick muttered.

Beck stifled a laugh.

“Well, I’d like to be wearing my Prada outfit,” said Airy. “I saved so long to buy it, I want to get my money’s worth.”

“Louis Vuitton bag. Ditto,” from Fairy. “I don’t want my sister to get her mitts on it.”

“Jimmy Choo shoes,” from Mary. “All five pairs in case heaven doesn’t stock them.”

“My mobile phone, just in case,” said Kirsten. “And a spare battery and I don’t want to be cremated.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Mary agreed.

“What about you, Flick,” Airy asked.

“A hunky man, just in case,” Flick said in a low voice.

Everyone but Willow and Beck laughed.

He pulled up at the entrance of Xscape to drop them off. A group rushed toward Willow as she got out of the van and showered her in pink confetti. Flick hung back clutching a plastic supermarket bag in her arms. She looked so sad and lost and un-Flick-like that Beck wanted to sweep her into his arms and drag her to safety. Instead, he drove off. He watched through his side mirror and saw her gaze after the van as he pulled away. Beck’s heart lurched. He went around in a circle and drove back into the car park. What the hell was he playing at?

Flick’s depression deepened when she realized how much it was all going to cost. She had nowhere near enough cash.

Kirsten elbowed her away from the group. “I’m paying,” she whispered. “It’s my treat.”

“You can’t pay for me.”

“No arguments. I’m sorry I’ve not been there for you lately. If bribery is what it takes to get you to smile again then that’s the way it’s going to be.”

When the bridesmaids and Willow emerged from the changing cubicles in ski pants and matching jackets, they looked like four different flavored ice pops. The rest of the hen party were also attired in appropriate gear. Flick wore pink chinos and a thin pale green shirt.

Kirsten winced. “Flick, let me hire you a ski suit. You’re going to be too cold.”

“No need. It won’t be that bad. I’ve got gloves and I’ve brought my sweater.”

Of course she never thought it would see the light of day, but she’d wanted to make it look as though she intended to ski. She pulled a large hand-knitted sweater out of her bag, made by her mother for her father. The first and last. There was a large horse’s head on the front and a lopsided horse’s bum on the back with a little plaited tail that swung free. Flick held it up to show Kirsten before dropping it on to the seat beside her.

“That’s revolting,” Kirsten said.

“I know but it’s warm.” Flick pushed her foot part way into one of the ski boots where it came to a mysterious halt. “And remember, I’m not going to be the one wearing the hat made of inflated condoms. I think I heard Willow say last bridesmaid on the slope wears it first.”

Kirsten paled.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll catch up.” Flick waved her away and breathed a sigh of relief when they’d all disappeared. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Kirsten had already forked out a fortune, she’d have dumped the gear and gone for drink. Once they were back in Leeds, she’d head home. Willow didn’t want her around and Flick had no intention of spoiling her hen night. She pulled and twisted the million clips on the boot and finally wrestled her foot back to freedom, groaning as she flexed her toes.

She turned to the teenager behind the counter. “Can you give me a hand?”

Five minutes later, Flick had her feet tightly encased in lumps of lead and was staggering toward the snow like Frankenstein. When she’d first picked up her skis they sat neatly together but within two steps they’d squirmed apart. Flick lifted them over her shoulder and in a fast scissor action almost decapitated the woman standing behind. She heard the squeal of alarm, turned to apologize and just missed the woman’s companion. More apologies but no more turning. Flick set off again with her poles trailing behind her.

Beck sat upstairs in the window seat of the café overlooking the slope. He was cross with himself for not having made a way to speak to Flick because that had been the point of driving them. He couldn’t see her skiing, but it was impossible to miss Willow, who wore a flashing tiara, mini veil and a dazzling smile. She glided without effort down the hill somewhat belying the large L for learner plate stuck to her back. After a moment, he spotted stormy-faced Kirsten who appeared to be wearing a large hat made from different colored balloons. No, not balloons. Beck smiled. He watched as she performed a series of elegant parallel turns to reach the bottom of the slope. Still no sign of Little Miss Trouble.

Flick eyed the ski pull from a respectable distance, in other words from next to the exit. There looked nothing to it but experience had taught her that as far as she was concerned, what might appear simple would be devilishly tricky. As far as she could make out, she had to slide forward to the line, reach behind, grab the pole, push the round rubber plate between her legs and let it drag her up the slope.

She shuffled forward at a slug’s pace, missed the first pole when she leaned too far forwards and promptly fell over. The second pole hit her on the head as she struggled to her feet. The third she caught but it slipped out of her grasp and the one coming after smacked her in the face. The attendant finally shut off the motor.

Behind her she heard sounds of people getting impatient, people sniggering, people wincing. No way would the fifth pole escape, only once she had it in her grasp she forgot how she was supposed to get it between her legs and managed to tangle it in her sweater. Someone yelled instructions but she was too traumatized to take in what they were saying and clutched the rubber plate in her arms, letting it haul her up the hill.

By the time she approached the top, Flick was exhausted by the strain of remaining upright with her arms at full stretch. Desperate not to fall, she ignored the shouts of the attendant and kept her eyes down. By the time Flick registered she had to let go, she and the pole were entwined together and she slid straight into a mound of snow.

It took a few moments for the attendant to dig her out. Flick burned with embarrassment as she tried to avoid those coming up behind. She slid one ski forward, then the other and moved several inches backward. She tried again, less ambitious with the distance and shuffled her way to the middle of the slope. Slow was good because it delayed what Flick feared would be the fast part.

When she’d stood at the bottom, the incline looked gentle, no more than a snowy hillock. Now it had taken on the proportions of a sheer ice face, sister of Everest. Only pride stopped her taking off her skis and walking to safety. She could see Kirsten on her way down again, and Willow and her friends waiting at the bottom of the other button pull.