Wedding Night (16 page)

“Over here! Me! I need to speak to you!” I wait for him to cross, then approach him, brandishing my bouquet. “I’m Fliss Graveney. We spoke yesterday? Lottie’s sister?”

“Ah.” His face clears briefly, then it’s back to the cheery, wedding-day scowl. “I suppose you’re heading there now?”

I’d forgotten about the ridiculous movie-trailer voice. Although somehow it sounds less ridiculous when it’s not a disembodied voice coming down a phone line. It matches his face. Dark and kind of intense.

“Well,
actually
 …” I can’t help sounding complacent. “I’m not heading there, because it’s off.”

He stares at me in shock. “What do you mean?”

“It’s off. For now,” I add. “Lottie’s gone to postpone the wedding.”

“Why?” he demands. He’s so bloody
suspicious
.

“So she can make sure Ben’s fortune is invested in a way that makes it easy to plunder,” I say with a shrug. “Obviously.”

Lorcan’s face flickers with amusement. “OK. I deserved that. What’s going on? Why is she postponing?”

“I talked her out of it,” I say proudly. “I know my sister, and I know the power of suggestion. After our little chat, she
wants a romantic wedding in a small stone church in the country. That’s why she’s postponing. My reasoning is: if they delay, at least it gives them a chance to see if they’re right for each other.”

“Well, thank God for that.” Lorcan breathes out and runs a hand through his hair. Finally his hackles are coming down; finally his brow is starting to relax. “Ben is in no place to be getting married right now. It was nuts.”

“Ridiculous,” I agree.

“Insane.”

“Stupidest idea ever. No, I take that back.” I glance down at myself. “Putting me in a purple bridesmaid’s dress was the stupidest idea ever.”

“I think you look very nice.” Another flicker of amusement passes across his face. He glances at his watch. “What should I do? I’m supposed to be meeting Ben at the registry office by now.”

“I think we should stay away.”

“Agreed.”

There’s a pause. This is weird, standing on a street corner, all dressed up with no wedding to go to. I finger my bouquet awkwardly and wonder if I should throw it in the bin. It seems wrong somehow.

“Do you feel like a drink?” says Lorcan abruptly. “I feel like a drink.”

“I feel like about six drinks,” I counter. “It takes it out of you, talking someone out of a wedding.”

“OK. Let’s do it.”

A man of swift decisions. I like that. He’s already ushering me down a side street, toward a bar with a striped canopy and French-looking tables and chairs.

“Hey, I assume your sister
did
call it off?” Lorcan stops
dead in the doorway. “We’re not going to get an irate text saying,
Where the hell are you?
”

“Nothing from Lottie.” I check my phone. “She was pretty determined to cancel. I’m sure she did.”

“Nothing from Ben either.” Lorcan’s looking at his BlackBerry. “I think we’re in the clear.” He ushers me to a corner table and opens the drinks menu. “You want a glass of wine?”

“I want a large gin and tonic.”

“You earned it.” He gives that flicker of a smile again. “I’ll join you.”

He orders the drinks, switches off his phone, and slips it into his pocket. A man who puts away his phone. I like that too.

“So, why is it a bad time for Ben to be getting married?” I ask. “In fact, who
is
this Ben? Fill me in.”

“Ben.” Lorcan’s face twists wryly as though he doesn’t know where to start. “Ben, Ben, Ben.” There’s a long pause. Has he forgotten what his best friend is like? “He’s … bright. Inventive. He has a lot going for him.”

He sounds so strained and unconvincing, I stare at him. “Do you realize you sounded as if you were saying, ‘He’s an ax murderer.’ ”

“I did not.” Lorcan looks caught out.

“You did. I’ve never seen anyone look so negative while they’re trying to big up their friend.” I put on a funereal voice. “ ‘He’s bright. He’s inventive. He kills people in their sleep. In inventive ways.’ ”

“Jesus! Are you always this—” Lorcan breaks off and sighs. “OK. I suppose I’m trying to protect him. He’s in a difficult place, Ben. His father died. The company has an uncertain future, and he needs to decide which direction it’s going
in. He’s a natural gambler but he lacks judgment. It’s difficult for him. He’s having a bit of an early midlife crisis, I guess.”

An
early midlife crisis
? Oh, perfect. Just what Lottie needs.

“Not husband material, then?” I say, and Lorcan snorts.

“Maybe one day. When he’s got his shit together. Last month he was buying a cabin in Montana. Then he was going to buy a boat, sail in races. Before that, he was all about investing in vintage motorbikes. Next week it’ll be some other craze. My guess is he won’t stay married five minutes. I’m afraid your sister will be the casualty.”

My heart is sinking, fast. “Well, thank God it’s off.”

“You did a good thing.” He nods. “Not least because we need Ben around. He can’t go AWOL again.”

I screw up my eyes. “What do you mean, ‘AWOL again’?”

Lorcan sighs. “He did it once before. When his father became ill. Disappeared for ten days. There was a hell of a fuss. We got the police involved, everything. Then he reappeared. No apologies, no explanations. To this day I don’t know where he got to.”

The drinks arrive and Lorcan raises his glass. “Cheers. To canceled weddings.”

“Canceled weddings.” I lift my own glass and take a delicious gulp of gin and tonic, then return to the subject of Ben. “So, why is he having a midlife crisis?”

Lorcan hesitates, as though he doesn’t want to break his friend’s confidence.

“Come on,” I prod. “I’m nearly related to him, after all.”

“I suppose so.” He shrugs. “I’ve known Ben since I was thirteen. We were at school together. My own parents are expats in Singapore and I don’t have any other family. I went to stay with Ben a couple of times in the holidays and I became
close to the whole family. Ben’s dad and I share a love of hiking.
Shared
, I should say.” He pauses, fingers clasped gently round his glass. “Ben never came hiking with us. Not interested. And he never wanted to know about the family firm either. He saw it as this massive pressure. Everyone expected he’d join his father as soon as he left school, but it was the last thing he wanted to do.”

“So how come
you
work for them?”

“I joined a few years ago.” Lorcan gives an odd little half smile. “I was going through some … personal stuff. I wanted to get out of London, so I went to stay with Ben’s dad, up in Staffordshire. At first I was just planning to spend a few days there, go on some hikes, clear my head. But I started getting involved with the company. Never left.”

“Staffordshire?” I say in surprise. “But don’t you live in London?”

“We have offices in London, of course.” He shrugs. “I commute between the two, but I prefer being up there. It’s a beautiful setting. The paper mills are set in a country estate. The offices are in the main house, the family home. It’s Grade One listed. Did you see that BBC series
Highton Hall
?” he adds. “Well, that’s us. They shot there for eight weeks. Little money-spinner for us.”

“
Highton Hall
?” I stare at him. “Wow. That place is beautiful. And massive!”

Lorcan nods. “Lots of workers live in cottages on the estate. We do guided tours of the house, the mills, the woodland, we have local conservation projects.… It’s kind of special.” His eyes have lit up.

“Right.” I’m digesting all this. “So you started working for the company—but Ben wasn’t interested?”

“Not until his dad became ill and he had to face the fact
he was going to inherit this thing,” says Lorcan bluntly. “Before that, he did everything he could to avoid it. He trained as an actor, he tried out stand-up comedy—”

“It
was
him!” I put my gin and tonic glass down with a tiny crash. “I Googled him and all I could find were stand-up comedy reviews. Terrible ones. Was he that bad?”

Lorcan stirs his glass, his attention fixed on the remaining ice cubes.

“You can tell me.” I lower my voice. “Between us. Was he embarrassing?”

Lorcan isn’t answering. Well, of course he isn’t. He doesn’t want to dis his best friend. I respect that.

“All right,” I say after a moment’s thought. “Just answer me one thing. When I meet him, is he going to tell me jokes and I have to pretend they’re funny?”

“Watch out if he starts a riff on jeans.” At last Lorcan looks up, his mouth twitching. “And laugh. He’ll be upset if you don’t.”

“Jeans.” I make a mental note. “OK. Thanks for the warning. Is there
anything
positive to say about this guy?”

“Oh.” Lorcan seems shocked. “Of course! When Ben’s on form, believe me, there’s no one you’d rather spend the evening with. He’s charming. He’s funny. I can understand why your sister would have fallen for him. When you meet him, you’ll understand too.”

I take another gulp of my drink. I’m slowly starting to relax. “Well, maybe he’ll become my brother-in-law. But at least it won’t happen today. Job done.”

“I’ll talk to Ben later.” Lorcan nods. “Make sure he doesn’t get any stupid ideas.”

At once I feel a tweak of irritation. I just said “Job done,” didn’t I?

“You don’t have to talk to Ben,” I say politely. “I’ve already sorted it. There’s no way Lottie will get married in a hurry now. I’d leave it.”

“It can’t hurt.” He looks unmoved. “Just to hammer the point home.”

“Yes, it can!” I plonk my drink down. “Don’t do any hammering! I’ve spent half an hour making Lottie think that pulling out of the wedding was
her
idea. I was subtle. I was careful. I didn’t go rushing in like a … a hammerer.”

His face doesn’t shift a millimeter. He’s clearly a control freak. But so am I. And this is my sister.

“
Don’t
talk to Ben,” I command him. “Leave it. Less is more.”

There’s a pause—then Lorcan shrugs and drains his drink, without answering. I’m guessing he knows I’m right but doesn’t want to admit it. I finish my gin and tonic too, then wait a beat, almost holding my breath. I’m hoping he suggests another drink, I realize. I only have an empty house to go to. No work. No plans. And the truth is, I
like
sitting here, sparring with this slightly too intense, slightly bad-tempered man.

“Another?” He looks up and meets my eye, and I feel things shift between us a little. The first drink was like a coda to the whole affair. It was resolution. It was just being polite.

This is more than polite.

“Yes, let’s.”

“Same again?”

I nod and watch as he summons the waiter and orders. Nice hands. Good strong jaw. Unhurried, laconic mannerisms. He’s a lot more appealing than his webpage gives away.

“Your website photo is terrible,” I say abruptly, as the waiter disappears. “Really bad. Did you know that?”

“Wow.” Lorcan raises his eyebrows, looking taken aback. “You’re direct. Lucky I’m not vain.”

“It’s not about vanity.” I shake my head. “It’s not that you’re better-looking in the flesh. It’s that your
personality
is better. I’m looking at you and I’m seeing a guy who makes time for people. A guy who puts away his phone. Who listens. You’re charming. In a way.”

“In a
way
?” He gives an incredulous laugh.

“But your photo doesn’t say that.” I ignore him. “In your photo, you’re scowling. You’re giving out the message:
Who the hell are you? What are you looking at? I haven’t got time for this
.”

“You got all that from one website photo?”

“I’m guessing you gave the photographer about five minutes and grumbled the whole time and checked your BlackBerry between every shot. Bad move.”

Lorcan seems a bit speechless, and I wonder if I’ve gone too far.

OK, of
course
I’ve gone too far. I don’t even know the guy and I’m critiquing his photo.

“Sorry,” I backpedal. “I can be … blunt.”

“No kidding.”

“Feel free to be blunt back.” I meet his eyes. “I won’t be offended.”

“Fair enough,” says Lorcan without missing a beat. “That bridesmaid’s dress is terrible on you.”

In spite of myself, I feel a flicker of hurt. I didn’t think it was
that
bad.

“Earlier on, you said it looked very nice,” I retaliate.

“I was lying. You look like a fruit pastille.”

I guess I asked for it.

“Well, OK. Maybe I do look like a fruit pastille.” I can’t
resist making a little extra dig. “But at least I don’t have a picture of myself looking like a fruit pastille on my website.”

The waiter puts down two more gin and tonics, and I pick mine up, feeling a bit fired up after our exchange. I’m also wondering how we’ve got so far off topic. Maybe we should get back to the subject in hand.

“Did you hear about Lottie and Ben’s no-sex policy, by the way?” I say. “How ridiculous is that?”

“Ben mentioned something. I thought he was joking.”

“It’s no joke. They’re waiting till the wedding night.” I shake my head. “If you want my opinion, it’s
irresponsible
to get married to someone without sleeping with them. It’s asking for trouble!”

“Interesting idea.” Lorcan shrugs. “Old-fashioned.”

I take a deep gulp. I’m feeling a need to off-load my thoughts on the subject, and I can’t exactly sound off to Noah.

“If you want my theory”—I lean forward—“it’s skewed their judgment. The whole thing is about sex. Lottie’s lost in a cloud of lust. The longer she waits, the less she can think straight. I mean, I get it. I’m sure he’s very hot and she’s longing to roll around with him. But does she have to
marry
him?”

“It’s cockeyed.” Lorcan nods.

“That’s what I said! They should just go to bed. Spend a week in bed. A month if they want to! Have a good time.
Then
see if they still want to marry each other.” I take another massive gulp of my drink. “I mean, you don’t need to sign your life away just to have sex—” I break off as a thought suddenly occurs to me. “Are you married?”