Court Out (31 page)

I look at my former best friend and plaster on what I hope is a vaguely convincing smile.

“Hi Serena! The venue looks gorgeous, you must be so excited!”

She gives me a long, cold look. I’m suddenly struck by the realisation that I don’t recognise the woman standing in front of me.

“Where have you been? I’ve had so much to do over the last few weeks and you totally ditched me!”

“It may have escaped your attention Serena, but I have had rather a lot to deal with lately,” I say bluntly. This is going to be much harder than I thought. If I wasn’t looking for it, I’d have missed the flash of something resembling triumph in her eyes.

“Fine, well you’re here now. I need you to go speak to the idiots in the kitchen and sort out the timings for the courses tomorrow, do me a seating chart then call up the band to run through the songs that they are not, under any circumstances, allowed to play. This is a sophisticated, elegant affair and I need the music to reflect that!” she snaps.

Without complaint, I nod and turn away from her. It’s going to be a busy afternoon but hopefully I won’t have to see much of her.

I spend a happy half an hour on the phone to the band leader telling him that Serena’s favourite song is ‘Agadoo’ and that they must, must play all of the dance classics, such as ‘YMCA’, the ‘Birdie Song’ and ‘Oops up side your head’. The thought of everyone doing the dance to the latter really tickles me as I imagine everyone sat on the floor, legs akimbo rocking backwards and forwards. As I hang up I feel a pang of guilt for my actions; I know that the band will get an almighty bollocking for this, but it’ll soon be traced back to me. Hopefully by this time tomorrow Serena will have chilled out enough to think it’s funny. This thought stops me in my tracks as I realise that whilst her inner Bridezilla may disappear, the evil bitch that tried to ruin my life will remain. Whatever happens, I really have lost my best friend.

I toy with the idea of spending the rest of the day changing details of the wedding to really annoy her. I’m so close to speaking to the organist and asking him to substitute ‘Pachelbel's Canon’ for something more fitting, like ‘Devil Woman’ for Serena’s entrance but just manage to stop myself; tomorrow is going to be enough of a massive farce without my interference.

My mobile phone vibrates in my pocket and I take it out to see who is trying to get hold of me. It’s a text message from Cassie:

‘Are you ok? The police have just been in Chambers!’

Intrigued, I instantly call her back, but am dismayed when I am connected to her voicemail. I hang up, desperate to know what she means. Of course I immediately think it’s to do with the information I gave them, but knowing my luck they’ve come to re-arrest and charge me.

I pace up and down the long room and wonder what to do. Could I try and call someone else from work? I grab a bottle of champagne that is resting in a crate on top of a grand piano and hurriedly remove the cork. Forgoing the need for a glass I take a few huge gulps, barely pausing for air and trying not to notice that it is luke warm. Slightly fortified I scroll through my contacts and press ‘dial’ before I have time to mentally talk myself out of it. After a couple of rings, I’m connected.

“Yes?” barks the familiar voice of my senior clerk.

“Roger?” I venture, “It’s Lauren.”

There is silence on the end of the line and I quickly check the display to make sure that I haven’t accidentally put myself on ‘mute.’ I can hear a raspy breathing coming from his end. After what seems to be an age, he speaks.

“Ah, yes. I was wondering how long it would take Miss.”

“Don’t even start with that. You know I’m persona
non grata
in Chambers. It’s not like I can pop in for a friendly chat!”

He makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a chuckle. “Not what I meant Miss. Not what I meant at all.”

It takes a few seconds for this to sink in.

“You mean?” I try, my brain working at a speed of knots.

“Yes Miss. It would seem that the police have finally got their act together. If you’ll pardon my French, the shit is very much about to hit the fan.”

I clutch the windowsill and stare blankly out at the rolling fields. “Have, have the police arrested anyone yet? Who knows?”

“Well, from what I’ve gathered, they’re looking for certain people at the moment, Miss. They appear to have grasped the reality of the situation, if that’s what you mean.”

“Are they looking for Serena? They know she’s getting married tomorrow, right?” I exclaim.

 My head is suddenly filled with visions of Eastenders-esque arrests made at the altar.

Roger sighs. “Yes, they are looking for her, but I’m afraid I don’t know what their plans are.”

“So who else knows? Alexander?” I snap, suddenly furious about the lack of belief my Head of Chambers has in me.

“Not sure Miss, I know he was about earlier, but I can’t say for sure. I have to go now, I’m sure you’ll be kept informed, whatever happens.”

He hangs up and I lean forward and try to catch my breath. Is this it? Does this mean they believe me? Is this nightmare finally about to end? I’d better call Sebastian, let him know what is going on.

As I straighten up and turn back away from the window, my heart stops. Stood in the doorway is none other than Serena. Shit. How long has she been there for? I mentally replay my conversation to see if there was anything I said that might have indicated what we were talking about. Whilst I can’t remember every word, I’m pretty sure she’d have cottoned on if she’d been there long enough. The expression on her face is one of displeasure, but given her recent mood then that’s nothing to be concerned about.

“What’s up?” I ask casually, deliberately avoiding her penetrating stare.

“What are you doing in here?” she asks, her voice steady but with a steely edge. Her blonde curls have been pulled back into a tight ponytail and she looks a lot harder than normal.

“I’ve just finished talking to the band, going through the songs like you asked,” I lie. Well, I had been doing that before speaking to Roger I rationalise.

She continues to stare at me.

“And what songs did you tell them to avoid Lauren?”

I rack my brain frantically, “Anything by the Police, I know you really can’t stand Sting, you know, just the usual.”

My voice is way too high pitched to sound plausible and I know this in one of the most implausible sentences I’ve ever constructed. Amazingly, her face appears to clear and she nods.

“Fine. Have you sorted the table plan yet? What about the church readings?” she quizzes, her eyes flitting about the room.

“All done, I just have a few-”

“What the fuck!” she yells. I literally jump half a foot in the air. “Lauren! Did you open one of the bottles of vintage Moet that we are using for the toasts?” She is pointing at the bottle of bubbly I opened to provide the Dutch courage to call Roger. Shit. Oh sod it, It’s only a bottle of fizzy wine. I decide to bite the bullet. Taking a deep breath, I answer her.

“Yes, I did. I needed something to perk me up after running around all day. I was about to bring it through,” I say, attempting and failing to look repentant. She tuts and casts a disapproving eye over my hips.

“I presumed you’d be watching the calories. I hope your dress still fits. Just make sure you don’t have any more carbs today. If we are short of fizz tomorrow, you can buy some more.”

With that she gives me a very odd look, turns on her heel and stalks out.

I take another swig of the champagne for good measure. That was either really close, or she’s on to me. I shut the door and call DC Connelly. Damn, voicemail. I leave him a garbled message asking him to call me back as a matter of urgency. I take a few deep yoga breaths and try to think about what she could have heard. I’m sure I mentioned something about the police, arrests and Serena. But surely, she’d have said something if she heard that though? All I can do for the moment is carry on regardless I guess. This champagne is not leaving my side though. I grab another bottle, just in case.

Chapter Twenty Four

The rest of the day continues with out any major catastrophes. I run around like a tipsy headless chicken, making sure that every whim of Serena’s is catered to. Despite my initial thoughts that the suggestions she had for her big day would be way over the top, the venue looks beautiful.

My room is huge, with a large carved ash four poster bed, adorned with luxurious bed linen and bountiful fluffy pillows. I’ve already raided the complimentary stash of goodies in the bathroom and had a long soak in the freestanding tub.

I wish Sebastian were here. I’ve resisted the temptation to call him for fear of being overheard again. He’s spending the night with Ewan and the rest of the boys to make sure that he gets to the wedding in one piece tomorrow. I have no idea what Sebastian is going to say to him, if anything about Serena.

It’s one of those great hypothetical questions, isn’t it? I mean, if you knew that your friend was going to marry someone who had been involved in a heady physical and emotional relationship with someone, would you tell them? Is it any of your business? Would they shoot the messenger?

I always thought I knew the answer, but now, I really don’t know what to do. Of course, that situation doesn’t incorporate the fact that your best friend has been doing other, criminal acts with the man, but the basics are there.

I’ve cried off attending the rehearsal dinner downstairs, on the basis that I don’t want to run the risk of eating too much. Serena seemed content with the excuse for my absence and again gave my waistline a rather smug glance. She’s promised to pop in later so we can do some ‘girlie stuff’ before going to bed. I’d much rather sit and eat one of the many bowls of pot pourri dotted around the room, but I think I’m stuck with it.

The banging on my bedroom door comes just after 10. I unlock and open the heavy wooden door and am greeted by the sight of a clearly inebriated Serena. She pushes past me and sits heavily in the middle of the bed. I grab the television remote and tune in to a channel showing a film that I hope will distract her. It takes me a moment to realise that I’ve tuned into the adult channel. Serena doesn’t seem to have noticed and we sit in silence for a few moments, watching the synchronised bobbing bottoms before she turns round to face me.

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” she slurs.

Despite everything, this was not what I was expecting.

“What do you mean? About what?” I ask, somewhat shrilly.

“Marrying Ewan. I mean, he loves me and everything and he’s nice to me, but is this it? Can I really be with just him for the rest of my life?”

She looks at me expectantly. “Well?”

“Well, tomorrow you are going to have to say your vows to him and really mean them. If you can do that, then you should marry him. If you can’t, then no, you really shouldn’t.” I don’t know where this amazing pearl of wisdom has come from, but it actually makes a lot of sense.

Serena tries and fails to process this. “Yeah, but I want to get married, I like the security of a relationship. Would it be so terrible if I got married just for the perks?”

Despite everything, I’m already speaking words of reason to her.

“Erm, yes! Serena, if you are having totally acceptable pre-wedding jitters then that is one thing. If you have no intention of being a good wife to Ewan for the rest of your life, then that’s something else altogether!”

She sighs. I can practically see what is going through her head. She’s wondering whether to tell me about her dalliance with Rivers. I decide to try and push it. For once I can be devil’s advocate.

“So, I saw Lucinda this morning” I start.

Serena sits bolt upright and looks at me with a deep frown. “Really? Did she say if she was still coming?” she asks, chewing on her bottom lip.

“Coming? Coming where?” I stupidly reply.

“To the wedding, of course!” she responds.

Wait a minute.

“Serena, please tell me you didn’t invite Rivers to the wedding?” I beg, already knowing the answer. A defensive mask settles on her face.

“Yes, I did. What of it?” she snaps.

I decide to skate around the issue.

“Well, it’s just that you and Lucinda are hardly best friends are you? Anyway, she didn’t mention it. She did mention her own wedding though.” I say, not able to resist.

Serena’s frown has deepened and she has screwed the duvet up between her fists. She looks like she’s struggling with something. It takes a moment before she replies.

“Yes, well I doubt if that’ll ever happen. Now I’d better get to bed.”

With that, she gets to her feet with remarkable agility for someone with that level of sobriety and leaves the room without a backwards glance.

I text Sebastian, bidding him goodnight and letting him know what I heard from Roger. He replies within seconds. It would seem that Ewan is experiencing his own wedding nerves, but that’s probably due to Serena’s behaviour, not any other women he’s debating leaving her for.

I relax on the bed and debate whether to crack open some Pringles from the mini-bar but decide against it. It really would be terrible if, along with all the other guaranteed drama tomorrow, my dress bursts open at the seams. Aside from the excesses of champagne today, the diet has really been a success. I haven’t actually seen the bridesmaids dress since we first picked it out. Serena has it with her in her room. I did ask to try it on earlier, but apparently it was with the seamstress who was doing a last minute alteration to the hem.

It’s actually a pretty nice dress. Floor length lilac silk, with one shoulder and some draping around the waist.  It’s technically simple, but strangely flattering. I’ve got some gorgeous silver Gina platforms to wear with it and my diamond solitaire earrings that my parents bought me for my 21st.

 Serena’s sister Dianne and Ewan’s sister, Marsha are the other bridesmaids and she has a couple of flower girls too. The hair and makeup people will be here pretty much at the crack of dawn so I really should be trying to get my beauty sleep.