How to Find Love in a Book Shop(93)

‘Musical genius,’ said Marlowe.

‘Gifted amateur,’ contradicted Emilia. She was miles away from being as good as him or, she hated admitting it, as Delphine. But they had done a good job, and now the guests were being seated for lunch they were no longer needed.

There was a slightly awkward silence.

‘I better get back to the shop. It’s all hands on deck at the moment.’

‘Oh,’ said Marlowe, and she thought he looked a bit disappointed. Maybe he wanted to go and drown his sorrows? She couldn’t go with him, though. She felt guilty enough about swanning off. She needed to get back.

‘I’ll give you a lift.’ Marlowe offered.

‘That would be great. Thanks.’

She put her cello in the boot of Marlowe’s car and climbed in the front seat. She grabbed her sneakers and put them back on. She let her head fall back on the headrest as he drove through the lanes.

‘Are you OK?’ she asked. ‘About Delphine.’

He shrugged. ‘I will be.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

Marlowe was silent for a moment. ‘Not really, to be honest.’

‘Well,’ said Emilia. ‘You know where I am if you need me.’

Marlowe nodded. ‘Cheers.’

Of course he wouldn’t want to talk to her about it, thought Emilia. He’d probably go home and drink the rest of the whiskey she’d given him. That’s what boys did when their hearts got broken. She wasn’t going to interfere.



She was married, thought Alice, a few hours later. Her face was aching from smiling as much as her leg. She needed to sit down. And she needed the loo. She slipped away from the reception. There was a gaggle of girls smoking outside she didn’t recognise. They must be Hugh’s crowd. They were much more ritzy than her Peasebrook chums: long legs, long hair, expensive clothes and scent, blowing menthol cigarette smoke all over each other.

‘Hello!’ she said to them all, and they gathered around her in a cooing crowd, admiring her dress, telling her how lucky she was.

‘You look just amazing,’ said one, who’d introduced herself as Lulu. ‘Hugh made out it was much worse than it is.’

‘It’s fine,’ said Alice. ‘It is starting to ache a bit. I’ll probably have to sit down.’

‘Oh, I don’t mean your leg,’ said Lulu. ‘I meant your scar.’ She indicated her own face. ‘He said it was really terrible. Whoever’s done your make-up did an amazing job.’

Alice stared at her, not sure if she was hearing right. Or if anyone could be so stupid and tactless. Or that her own husband could have been so horrible behind her back. To these shallow and vacuous girls.

‘Excuse me,’ she said, and made her way to the loos.

She shut herself into a cubicle and tried not to cry. She told herself that Hugh probably hadn’t said her scar was terrible at all, that the girl had been a bit drunk and a bit tactless. She was over-sensitive, that was all. She needed to toughen up.

She could hear the clatter of high heels as the same girls clustered into the loos. She could hear Lulu’s voice above the rest.

‘Hugh said a wedding’s not a wedding without a little goodie bag,’ she said.

Alice could hear gasps of glee.

‘Oh my God – amazing!’ said another girl. ‘He is such a party animal.’

‘He says just wait for the parties he’s going to have here.’

‘Chop it out on the sink surround,’ said another. ‘I’m not snorting it off the loo seat.’

Alice stood up, rearranged her dress and came out of the cubicle. Lulu smiled at her brightly.

‘Do you want some?’ she asked. She held up a little bag of white powder.

They were too stupid and drunk to be careful, thought Alice, or to realise that she wasn’t like them. They assumed because she was marrying Hugh she would be the same as they were. She held out her hand.

‘Can I have it, please?’

Lulu blinked for a moment. ‘Sure – if you want to do the honours.’

‘Thanks.’ Alice took the bag. She looked down at it.

‘There’s loads,’ said Lulu. ‘Enough for all of us to have a good time.’ She giggled. ‘Hugh said just because he’s moving to the country doesn’t mean he’s going to turn into a bumpkin.’

Alice shut her hand around the bag. ‘Sorry, girls,’ she said. ‘But this is mine.’

Lulu was outraged. ‘You can’t just walk off with it!’

‘Watch me,’ said Alice.

She felt very calm as she walked down the steps and across the lawn back to the reception. No one dared to follow her. She could see Hugh, holding court at their table. He’d looked her in the eye and lied to her, she thought. She could almost, almost have excused the cocaine, but not the lying. You couldn’t be married to someone who was prepared to hide that kind of thing from you.

She walked over to their table. Hugh saw her and stood up with a smile.

‘My beautiful bride,’ he said.

She wasn’t going to take issue with him about what he’d said about her scar. She couldn’t be bothered.

Instead, she dangled the little bag in front of him. His face turned as white as the powder.