Читать книгу He Will Find You: A nail-biting and emotional psychological suspense for 2018 - Diane Jeffrey, Diane Jeffrey - Страница 18

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I wake up to the noise of an argument and the smell of toast, both coming from downstairs. I close my eyes tight, thinking I’ll go back to sleep for a few minutes, and then it hits me. It’s my wedding day! I leap out of bed so quickly that the room starts spinning. I sit back down on the bed and wait for it to stop. Grabbing my mobile from the bedside table, I turn it on. It gives the notification sound for an incoming text message. I grin like a loon when I see it’s from Alex.

Good morning, princess!

See you in church!!!

(I mean, see you in the register office.)

I love you, my Best girl.

Alexxx

My heart skips several beats. I read the text at least four times. Then, as I make my way to the bathroom, I realise his pun won’t work for much longer. I’m about to become his wife. A Riley. After today, ‘Best’ will be my maiden name.

I shower, singing Depeche Mode’s ‘Never Let Me Down Again’, which has been in my head since I listened to it yesterday on the playlist Hannah created for me. When I’m clean, I pull on my dressing gown and make my way downstairs.

The kitchen is a mess. Oscar and Archie have apparently finished eating – and quarrelling – and have left the table and their dirty plates and glasses on it. My dad and Daniel are still seated, munching toast, Jet is sitting on the floor between their chairs, looking hopefully from one to the other with his huge dark eyes, and, at the far end of the table, Julie is drinking tea while Hannah is standing behind her, drying her hair. She has cut it, too, judging from the clippings on the floor around Julie’s chair.

Alex would be appalled. He is rather OCD about tidiness, but seeing my loved ones making themselves at home in the kitchen – my kitchen – puts a huge smile on my face.

‘Good morning,’ they chorus.

‘Ready for your big day?’ my sister adds loudly to make herself heard over the hairdryer.

‘Psychologically, yes,’ I say, ‘but physically—’ I point one hand at my wet hair and the other one at my dressing gown ‘—not quite.’

Hannah grins. ‘Eat some brekky and I’ll make you beautiful when I’ve finished with Julie.’

Daniel jumps up to make a fresh pot of tea. He and Dad fuss with me, forcing me to eat even though I have butterflies and no appetite. I was worried that Daniel would judge me. After all, he and Kevin are good mates and I’m sure he had to pick up the pieces when I left. But Daniel has known me for a long time and has always treated me more like a little sister than a sister-in-law, and to my relief, he’s been very supportive. If he thinks badly of me for hurting Kevin, he doesn’t show it.

I look at Julie. She is already made up and looks radiant. Julie has fine, blonde hair, which she inherited from Dad, who was blond before he went grey and then bald. Hannah has cut Julie’s hair, which was long and a bit lank, into a sleek chin-length bob and, even with my inexpert eye, I can see that this has given Julie’s hair a lot more volume.

Hannah, who for the moment is dressed in her usual uniform of skinny jeans and a hoodie, has tamed her own stubborn hair into ringlets. I know she’ll look uncomfortable when she has to put her dress on, but for now she looks relaxed and absolutely gorgeous.

At one point, the boys appear in the doorway to show off their outfits to their parents. They’re wearing smart trousers and ironed shirts and I’m struck by how grown-up they seem.

But then Julie says, ‘Have you brushed your teeth?’

The boys look at each other, turn around and seconds later, we hear them bounding back up the stairs. We all laugh.

The girl staring back at me from the full-length mirror in my bedroom looks like my mum. Hannah has done an amazing job on my hair, and she has given me a hand with my make-up, too. For the first time ever, I love my red hair. We don’t have any waterproof mascara, which Hannah says I’ll regret as I’m bound to get emotional and cry at some stage today. She has convinced me to go for dark brown mascara instead of the green one I normally use.

It’s a bit of a squeeze putting on my ivory maternity wedding dress, my tummy a larger beach ball than I’d anticipated when I bought it. It’s supposed to be knee-length, but at the front it now comes down to mid-thigh. I have to breathe in and hold my shoulders back for Hannah to get the zip all the way up.

‘You should probably go easy on the wedding cake,’ my friend advises as I tie the silk sash loosely above my bump. I’m so nervous that I don’t think I’m going to be eating much of anything today, but I don’t say that. I just breathe out and smile at Hannah in the mirror.

I realise I’ve made Dad think of Mum, too, because when he sees me coming down the stairs, he gasps. ‘Your mum would have been so proud of you,’ he says, quickly regaining his composure.

This brings tears to my eyes. This is supposed to be the happiest day of my life, but how can it be without Mum and Louisa? My hand goes to my neck and I close my fingers around the pendant of Mum’s necklace. Reminding myself that my mascara isn’t waterproof, I blink back the tears and we make our way outside and to the bottom of the drive, where the cars that Alex booked are waiting to take us to the register office in Kendal.

The ceremony itself goes by in a bit of a blur. Alex doesn’t take his eyes off me throughout the vows. I can feel everyone else’s eyes on Alex and me from behind us. He seems to bask in the glow of all the attention, but I shut out everything so there’s only him and me.

The Superintendent Registrar conducts the ceremony with the swift aplomb of someone who has married countless couples before and has better things to do on a Saturday. Even so, he is a lot less grumpy than when we met him to give notice of our intention to marry a month ago, although I suppose if Alex had remembered to bring his divorce papers, he might have been more affable.

Sitting at the table, next to Alex, I sign the register as Kaitlyn Best. The last time I’ll use this name. Hannah is my witness and I’ve never met Alex’s witness before. He introduced himself as ‘Mike from the triathlon club’ moments before we entered the register office.

‘It’s so nice to finally meet you,’ I say now, as Alex takes his turn signing the register. He keeps his left hand on my thigh under the table as he does this. ‘It’s a shame I had to get married in order to meet Alex’s best mate!’ I’m joking, but Alex removes his hand from my leg and I wonder if I’ve offended him. I try to catch his eye, but his gaze is focused on the register we’ve just signed.

For our wedding reception, Alex has reserved a charming hotel at Ambleside with stunning views of the lake. It comprises a country B&B on one side and a historic inn on the other. Alex described it to me, but I haven’t seen it before, and as our chauffeur-driven car pulls into the car park, I take in the grounds and the building.

‘It’s perfect,’ I breathe, and Alex squeezes my hand. If he was irritated earlier, all trace of it has gone now.

The hotel is dog-friendly, which means Jet is on the guest list, much to Dad’s delight. It’s not far from Grasmere, which is convenient as my family is staying at the Old Vicarage again this evening. Alex and I will be staying here, in one of the bedrooms upstairs.

The photographer bustles about and when he’s satisfied with his work outside, we all troop through the hotel into a large reception room. I’m rather relieved to be going indoors as it’s a cool April day and my arms and legs are bare. Alex and I have to pretend to cut the cake for the final photo, and then the photographer leaves.

I look around the room. There are only a few guests. Alex has more than me, but not that many more. His mum, grandfather, aunt, uncle and cousins are there as well as some of his friends from the triathlon club.

After the food and the speeches, a local band starts playing. Alex was able to book them at short notice because he goes running with the lead singer and one of the guitarists. They’re really good, and I’m impressed. As Alex leads me onto the wooden dancefloor, everyone watches from their seats at the tables. I look around at the sea of smiling faces. All the guests look relaxed, including Alex’s mother.

Alex holds me tight as we dance to ‘All of Me’ by John Legend. It was his suggestion. I don’t particularly like the song, but he was so pleased when he came up with the idea that I didn’t have the heart to say so. And even I have to admit that with the lead singer’s voice, it sounds wonderfully romantic.

Then it is my dad’s turn to dance with me, and my face feels like it will split from grinning at Alex as he twirls his mum around. My mother-in-law has drunk several glasses of Prosecco and it seems to have agreed with her. Daniel and Julie join us on the dancefloor and out of the corner of my eye, I see one of Alex’s cousins ask Hannah to dance.

After a while, the band plays more classic rock and roll songs and I’m enjoying myself in a little group with my sister and Hannah. As one of the musicians plays the opening chords to Chuck Berry’s Johnny B. Goode on his electric guitar, Alex comes to fetch me.

‘Do you know how to rock’n’roll?’ he asks me.

‘No,’ I answer, a little nervously.

Alex shows me a few steps, but I have no sense of rhythm and I feel very self-conscious. I struggle to follow his lead. I bump into him at one point, and I hear him sigh. He gives up before the end of the song.

‘You’ve got two left feet,’ he comments, his face as impassive as his voice. ‘I’ll leave you to bop with the girls.’ He nods towards my sister and my best friend. I walk away, but I don’t feel like dancing anymore. Instead, I make my way to the toilets.

When Hannah and Julie find me, I am bawling like a baby, trying ineffectually to dab at my mascara with a piece of toilet roll. I can’t really see what I’m doing in the mirror – the dim light keeps changing from purple to green to blue.

‘What’s the matter, Kaitlyn?’ Julie asks at the same time as Hannah says, ‘What’s wrong, sweetie?’

I find myself crying loudly in my sister’s arms as Hannah rubs my back. Eventually, even though my breathing is still uneven from my crying fit, I manage to tell them what happened.

‘Oh, I’m sure he didn’t mean it,’ Hannah says, adding, ‘although that’s not a very nice thing to say, the bit about you having two left feet.’

‘Well, it’s an accurate assessment,’ my sister says jokingly. ‘You would have been in the dance-off on the very first round on Strictly.’

This makes me smile. I used to go round to Julie’s to watch Strictly Come Dancing on Saturday evenings. Kevin always hated the show and went to the pub with Daniel, but Julie and I are fans.

Hannah opens her handbag and takes out a packet of tissues. She hands me a tissue and takes out another one, which she wets under the tap and uses to wipe away the smudged brown lines running down my cheeks. ‘I knew you’d cry on your special day,’ she says.

‘You probably just got overwhelmed by all the excitement,’ Julie says and I feel myself nodding. ‘You have a wonderful husband, and you’ll have a beautiful baby,’ she continues. ‘Don’t let a throwaway comment get you down.’

‘You’re right,’ I say. It had felt disparaging, that remark about my clumsiness, but now I feel childish and silly. I’ve overreacted. And, as my sister pointed out, I’m no Ginger Rogers or Darcey Bussell.

‘It was probably the Prosecco talking,’ Hannah agrees. ‘Strange place,’ she says, changing the subject completely, for which I’m grateful. She looks around her as if seeing the room for the first time. I follow her gaze. The washbasins are built into what appears to be the outside rock face.

‘It’s very unusual,’ I say.

‘Yeah, the toilets really know how to rock,’ Julie says.

That makes all three of us laugh.

As we head back to the others, I identify the tune of ‘Hound Dog’. I cringe, hoping I won’t be called on again to demonstrate how bad I am at dancing.

But as we enter the reception room, I spot Alex dancing with Mike’s girlfriend, whose name I don’t even know. They’re the only two people on the dancefloor, and clearly, she knows how to jive or gyrate, or whatever they’re doing, as well as he does. Everyone else has their eyes riveted on them.

I study her. She has quite long, layered blonde hair, which she’s flicking about all over the place like a model from a Head & Shoulders advert as Alex guides her through her steps. In my mind, I’d like to describe her as whippet-thin, but if I’m honest with myself, I envy her for her hourglass figure, which her short blue sheath of a dress shows off to perfection. Watching her with Alex, I feel a stab of jealousy.

I scan the room for Mike. He’s sitting at a table talking to some of the other triathletes and as I catch sight of him, he throws his head back and releases a hearty guffaw, which even lifts my mood a little. If he’s not jealous, then I don’t need to be.

As the band finishes their Elvis cover, Mike and his friends start clapping, and everyone else joins in. My new husband and his dancing partner take a little bow. Then Alex comes over to me and kisses me on the lips.

‘Where have you been?’ he asks. ‘I was getting worried.’

‘I was talking to Hannah and Julie in the loos.’

‘Yeah, they’re well worth a visit,’ Hannah adds.

Alex puts his arm around me. He squeezes my shoulder a little too hard, or maybe it just seems that way. It occurs to me that he may have drunk a bit too much. Perhaps he’s using me to hold himself up after spinning around on the dancefloor. But he’s hurting me and I pull away.

After that, Alex stays glued to my side. He’s caring towards me, and charming with everyone else. But I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something else lying beneath his behaviour; that the animated expression on his face is a veneer, stretched thin and about to crack.

I can’t say exactly what gives me that impression. Maybe it’s as we sit down when I imagine I see a flash of fury in his eyes as they lock onto mine. But if there was any anger there, it’s gone in an instant and I wonder if I saw it at all.

At around midnight, Alex and I bundle the guests into taxis. As I give my dad a big hug, I notice Jet licking Alex’s hand. He snatches his hand away and wipes it on the trousers of his smart suit. Jet has a habit of licking people’s hands and he does it for all sorts of reasons – he seems to sense when you need to be comforted or pacified, and, of course, he licks Dad’s hand when he wants to remind him it’s dinnertime.

When everyone has gone, Alex grips me firmly by the wrist and leads the way upstairs to a large bedroom with a wooden floor and a four-poster bed. He lets go of me, and I sit on the bed, rubbing my wrist. At first, I think he doesn’t know his own strength. But then I see the rage in his eyes again. This time it’s etched all over his face, and he makes no effort to hide it. I remember Jet licking his hand a few minutes ago. He was trying to calm him down.

I feel the baby kick hard from inside my tummy, just once. I’m usually overjoyed when I feel our baby move, but this time it’s almost as if it’s in warning.

‘The baby has just kicked,’ I tell Alex. ‘Come over here and put your hand on my tummy.’ I hear my voice quiver, and Alex doesn’t move. His eyes are burning into me.

‘Where – is – it?’ he shouts.

‘Wh … where’s wh … what?’

‘The necklace?’

‘Is that what’s upset you? I’m so sorry, Alex. We couldn’t find it anywhere.’

‘We?’

‘Hannah and Julie helped me look for it.’ He raises his eyebrows. ‘And Daniel and the boys,’ I add, more quietly.

‘So everyone knows you’ve lost my necklace. You’ve made me into a laughing stock for your entire family.’

‘I don’t see how, Alex,’ I say. I can barely hear my own voice now. ‘If anyone looks ridiculous, it’s me.’

For a moment, he’s silent, and I think it’s over. I reach out my arms and he starts to walk towards me.

But instead of allowing me to hold him, he pushes my arms down, leans down towards me and takes hold of the pendant of my mother’s necklace.

‘So where did you get this? Did some ex-boyfriend give you this?’

‘No! Julie lent it to me.’

Alex straightens up, and as he does so, he pulls on the pendant. At the back of my neck, I feel the gold chain break, leaving the necklace in his hand.

Tears prick my eyes. Alex stares at the necklace and then at me. He looks as shocked as I am. Was that an accident? Surely, he didn’t mean to break it?

Then he about-turns purposefully, and marches towards the bathroom. I leap up and race after him. The bathroom door slams in my face as I get there.

‘Alex, that belonged to my mum,’ I shout at the closed door. ‘Alex—’ I am aware that I’m wailing now ‘—that was my mother’s necklace.’

I fall to the floor, sobbing.

I’m not sure how long I lie there, but when Alex emerges, he’s wearing only his boxer shorts. He helps me to my feet. He’s gentle now, and the expression on his face is dispassionate.

‘I’ll get it fixed,’ he says, guiding me into the bathroom.

I watch, incredulous, as he opens my washbag, squeezes toothpaste onto my toothbrush and closes my hand around the handle. I see his reflection in the mirror and, catching my eye, he gives me the ghost of a rueful smile. Then he turns and goes back into the bedroom, closing the bathroom door softly and leaving me inside.

I clean my teeth and pee. It can’t have taken me long, but when I get back into the bedroom, I can hear Alex’s light snoring. He’s curled up in bed.

I struggle out of my wedding dress, only just able to reach the zip at the back. I didn’t bring any nightclothes – this was to be our wedding night, after all. So I climb into bed in my underwear.

Alex has his back towards me. I lie on my back with my hands on my tummy feeling our baby kick, more softly this time. Tears roll down my cheeks. We’ve never gone to sleep side by side like this before. We’ve always kissed and said goodnight, even on the evenings we haven’t made love, and then we’ve fallen asleep either holding hands or with me in Alex’s arms.

I don’t dream about Louisa that night. Or about Kevin. Or anyone or anything else. I don’t sleep at all. All I can think as the tears flow out from behind my closed eyelids is that our marriage hasn’t been consummated.

In the middle of the night, I suddenly become aware of heavy breathing. I turn towards the stranger lying next to me, thinking I may have woken him up with my sobbing, but then I realise with shock that I am the one who is panting. I force myself to take deep breaths as my heartbeat races.

Although we went to bed late, the night seems long. And yet I don’t want it to end.