Forget Her Name(31)

All mine.



The reception is starting to wind down for the evening; the room is a little less crowded and my parents have already gone home, taking our wedding gifts with them for safe-keeping. Louise has called a taxi to take us to the hotel where we’re staying tonight. A little romantic interlude before we take a train up to the Lake District tomorrow, for a week at a rented cottage near the shores of Lake Windermere. I’ve been looking forward to it for ages.

I look across the room and see Dominic talking to Jasmine. It’s silly but I can’t help feeling ludicrously jealous, especially when he touches her arm, and she touches him back at once, smiling with genuine amusement. As if she is the bride, not me.

You never told me your cousin was so sexy.

Good grief.

I chug back the last of my wine and hand the empty glass to a passing waiter. I have to stop letting my imagination run away with me. Or we’re going to need marriage counselling at this rate. We haven’t even had our wedding night, and already I’m watching my husband for signs of infidelity.

Seconds later, Dominic bends to Jasmine’s ear, speaking above the loud, pumping beat of the music. I see Jasmine turn her head, staring up at him, wide-eyed.

As if he’s just told her something shocking.

‘Okay, it’s here,’ Louise says, bounding up to me, flushed and out of breath. She hands me a closed umbrella. ‘Quick, you’ll need this. It’s raining cats and dogs.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Your taxi, of course. To take you to your hotel? It’s waiting outside.’ She shakes her head, smiling. ‘Bloody hell, girl. Come on, shake a leg. How much wine have you had?’

‘Not enough,’ I mutter.

But Louise has already gone and doesn’t hear. She calls Dominic over with a frantic wave. ‘Taxi’s here. And the meter’s running.’

Dominic comes towards me and kisses my forehead. ‘Ready?’

I nod silently.

Jasmine has followed him, a look of consternation on her face. She glances at me, still frowning, then away. I get the impression she doesn’t want to talk to me. Which is odd, as she was madly talkative earlier in the evening, discussing her wild life in Birmingham and her passion for stock car racing.

What the hell did Dominic say to her?

‘I’ll grab my coat,’ Dominic says, then disappears towards the cloakrooms.

Louise runs after him. ‘Get mine too, would you?’ she calls. ‘Or I’m going to get soaked.’ Her hair is already wet, and she’s long since lost the tiara she was wearing at the ceremony. She must have been standing outside waiting for the taxi. Or popped out to talk to the driver when the cab finally arrived.

I’m left alone with Jasmine.

My cousin hesitates, then looks around at me, a question in her wide, dark eyes. But whatever she wants to know, it’s obvious she’s not going to broach the subject right now.

‘I’ve had a lovely time, Catherine,’ she says. ‘The wedding was such brilliant fun. Especially the speeches. Don’t know when I’ve laughed so much. Your dad’s sense of humour is a bit on the dry side, isn’t it?’ She pauses awkwardly. ‘Well, I hope you two have a great honeymoon up at the Lakes. I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard the countryside is beautiful. Even at this time of year.’

I can’t stay quiet any longer. ‘Jasmine, what is it?’

‘Sorry?’

‘I saw you two together.’

She looks alarmed. ‘What?’

‘Don’t bother to deny it.’ I’m breathless with panic, worrying about what’s wrong, what she’s hiding from me. I grab her hands and squeeze them. ‘Please, what’s the matter? What did Dom say to you?’

‘N-nothing,’ she stammers.

‘Tell me, for God’s sake. I have to know.’

‘It’s nothing, honestly. I got a . . . a postcard, that’s all.’

‘A postcard?’

‘I thought it was a sick joke, so I just put it in the bin. That’s what I was telling Dominic.’

A sick joke.

‘What kind of postcard?’

She shrugs. ‘It was a picture of the Alps. Ski slopes, snow, those cute wooden houses, you know.’

I do know, and I stare at her in horror.

‘It was a prank, probably. That’s what Dom said when I told him. He didn’t want me to mention it to you.’ She squirms, looking uncomfortable under my intent gaze. ‘He said you’ve had some trouble recently too. People sending you weird shit.’

She tries to pull away, but I hold her hands tight. ‘Forget all that,’ I say. ‘I need to know what was written on the postcard.’

‘Dominic said not to—’

‘For Christ’s sake, tell me!’

She is surprised by my tone. ‘It was only a few words. But look, the postmark was Westminster. So it wasn’t actually from Switzerland, you know? Like I say, most likely some sick prankster . . .’

I can’t seem to catch my breath. ‘What did it say, Jasmine?’

‘It said, “I see you, Catherine”,’ she whispers.

I see you, Catherine.

‘And the signature?’

I already know what Jasmine’s going to say. But I refuse to believe it.