WE SAT DOWN to eat at twenty-five minutes to nine, by which time the young had finally arrived from the pub, and Amanda and Darren had also appeared from whatever they had been doing together upstairs.
Amanda was in a new white dress that, in my opinion, was much too short. She was also wearing a pair of sharply pointed white shoes with five-inch-high stiletto heels, on which she was having difficulty standing up straight. To top off her ensemble, she had a white silk scarf tied tightly around her neck.
Darren, meanwhile, was slightly less flamboyant in an ill-fitting dinner suit plus a bright scarlet bow tie.
But at least they were here and almost respectable.
The marquee looked wonderful. The four long tables were candlelit, and all the wineglasses were arranged in straight lines, at least to start with. And at the far end there was a black-and-white-checked dance floor under a starlight canopy attached to the tent roof.
I was placed at the end of my table, facing inwards towards the dance floor.
“It all looks lovely,” said the woman on my left. “You’ve done it so well.”
“Thank you, Victoria. But that’s down to Georgina. I’ve been at the races all day.”
“Of course you have,” she said, laughing and laying a hand on my arm. “Well done with that too. Brian and I watched the race. And it was so exciting to see you interviewed on the television afterwards.”
Victoria and Brian Perry were our immediate neighbours on one side. He was a long-retired naval commander who now mostly busied himself with his garden while she arranged the flowers in the church every Sunday, and not much went on in the village without both of them knowing about it—and telling everyone else. It was that sort of place. Even the monthly village magazine was called The Gossip.
But they had both been very kind to Georgina and me when we had first arrived with two tiny children, ages one and three.
My mother and father had both died in a Thames boating accident when I’d still been a teenager, and Georgina’s folks lived north of Leeds, so Brian and Victoria had stepped in to be like an extra set of grandparents to our little ones and would often babysit at a moment’s notice, even overnight.
How angelic our kids were back then, I thought.
Clearly much had changed in the meantime.
The catering staff expertly served the first course—warm smoked trout with a dill sauce—and there was the reassuring sound of clinking cutlery and quiet murmurings as people ate. Even the young seemed to be behaving themselves—at least so far.
I reached forward for my glass of wine but opted to take the water instead. I didn’t want to get drunk. Not yet, anyway. I had a speech to make. After that—well—we’d see.
“So what will Potassium do now?” Victoria asked me. “Will he race again?”
“Oh yes, I hope so,” I said. “A few more times this year, provided he stays fit and well. The owning syndicate members would expect it. But we’re still to decide exactly where. Today showed that a mile and a half is his absolute limit in distance, so that will rule out the St Leger or the Melbourne Cup.”
The Derby course had been remeasured in 2017 and found to be six yards longer than a mile and a half—and those extra six yards had almost been Potassium’s undoing. The St Leger is run over two furlongs more, making it the longest of the five annual three-year-old “Classic” races, while the Melbourne Cup—The Race That Stops the Nation—is the world’s richest two-mile handicap. I’d always wanted to have a runner in the Melbourne Cup, but it wouldn’t be Potassium.
Between the starter and main courses, I took the opportunity to walk up and down the tables, speaking to our guests. All of them, bar none, congratulated me on the Derby win, and the youngsters’ tables set up a chant of “Potassium, Potassium” that everyone joined in with.
I stood tall and took in the accolade, waving my thanks.
It had been a truly fairy-tale day. And this evening, my family and our best friends were gathered together for the celebrations—Georgina’s and my wedding anniversary, our children’s birthdays, and of course the Derby win. I’d even managed to have the magnificent solid-silver round Derby trophy placed on a display table on the edge of the dance floor.
What could be better?
“Enjoying yourself, Dad?” James said, coming up to me with a can of lager in his hand.
“What do you think?” I replied with a grin. “But don’t get too drunk. You’ve got a speech to make later, remember.”
We had agreed that all four of us would say a few words after dinner before the dancing started. We had decided against having a live band, opting instead for a DJ who could play dance music suitable for all ages, and I now strode over to where he had set up his lights and sound equipment, at the far end.
“Did you bring the wireless microphone we discussed?” I asked him. “For the speeches.”
“Sure. I have two of them, just in case. And both have new batteries.” He pointed to where they lay on the table to one side. “Just push the ‘on’ button on the bottom of either, and you’ll be connected directly through all my speakers.”
“Great. Thanks.”
I wandered over to where Georgina was sitting at the end of her table, deep in conversation with those on either side.
“Well, my darling wife,” I said to her, stroking her bare shoulders in a seductive manner, “can you remember what we were doing at this precise moment on our wedding night twenty-five years ago today?”
She was silent for a few seconds, thinking.
“We were sitting on the hard shoulder of the M6, waiting for the recovery truck to arrive after your bloody car broke down.”
I laughed. “Exactly! What happy days, eh?”
“If you say so,” Georgina said without much humour in her voice.
Did I say so?
Yes, I did.
The first ten to fifteen years of our marriage had certainly been extremely happy, blissful even, as we had started our family and moved into this house, and as my syndicate company had grown and grown, and with it the reputation of Victrix Racing as a serious player in the bloodstock industry.
After a couple of years here, the struggle to meet the monthly mortgage interest payments had begun to ease as the business had flourished, and family life in the Newton household had been really good.
One of the reasons we had bought this house was because it came with a small paddock behind it, together with a wooden building comprising three stables and a tack room, so we quickly acquired a couple of ponies for the children to learn to ride.
Both Georgina and I came from horsey families, and we had met at Haydock Park races, where I had been representing my unwell boss, the trainer of a horse that was owned by Georgina’s parents. We had been introduced in the parade ring, stood side by side on the grandstand as the horse won the race, and had gone out to dinner afterwards to celebrate. We had then spent the night together in passionate ecstasy and had hardly slept apart ever since, even for one night.
However, over time, I suspect that all marriages evolve and change, and it would certainly be fair to say that ours was no longer as close and loving as it had once been. In fact, I couldn’t remember when we had last had sex. Probably not since when we’d snuck away to Portugal for a weekend last August, some ten months ago. And it was safe to say that our sex then hadn’t been an unqualified success. More of a frustrating disaster.
It was because Georgina seemed to have lost all interest in that department.
Not that either of us seemed determined to move on separately. I think we had become very used to our lives together, and it suited us both, although we no longer did those little things that were once so much a part of our romance, like one of us waving as the other drove away, even for a short trip to the post office or the local shop.
I went back to my seat at the far end of my table.
“All good?” Victoria asked as I sat down.
“All perfect,” I replied with a smile. Well—almost.
I hadn’t actually seen Amanda to tell her to keep moderately sober for her speech, but what trouble could she get into surrounded by her best friends?
Lots of trouble, I thought. Especially when drinking was involved!
The main course was fillet of beef, served sliced on wooden boards placed on the tables so people could help themselves, along with roasted new potatoes, cauliflower cheese, snow peas, and individual bowls of green salad with a balsamic dressing.
If we had known that this would turn out to be the hottest day of the year so far, we might have gone for something a bit more summery—and maybe a bit cheaper—but the beginning of June in southern England had a habit of being rather cool, especially in the evenings.
And the beef was excellent—tender and tasty.
Victoria on my left had plumped for the vegetarian option, a sliced roasted loaf of lentils, chestnut mushrooms, and cheese.
“Good?” I asked.
“Delicious,” she replied.
A dessert of Eton mess followed, and everyone seemed happy and full.
I leaned back in my chair, contented. All that painstaking preparation of the seating plan had come to fruition, with animated conversations taking place all along each of the tables. Even the young were chatting away, with smiles and laughter to the fore.
I pulled the notes for my speech out of my jacket pocket, to have one last quick look through before I started. Mostly the notes were about how wonderful my wife and children were, even if they weren’t always. But it’s what people want to hear on such an occasion. I would, of course, also mention my other great love—Potassium. How could I not, on today of all days?
“All set?” I asked Georgina, going over to her. “You’re up first, then James, followed by Amanda, with me at the end.”
“Are the others ready?” she asked.
“I’ll check.”
James was ready, but I couldn’t see Amanda anywhere. I walked over to her table.
“Where’s Amanda?” I asked her friends.
All I received were shrugs and shaken heads.
I looked around for Darren, but there was also no sign of him.
“Maybe she’s in the loo,” one of her girlfriends said. “I’ll go and check.”
Dammit, I thought. Stupid girl. She knew perfectly well when the speeches were going to start.
I went back to Georgina.
“I can’t find Amanda. One of her friends has gone to check in the loo. But Darren’s not here either.”
“Are they in the house?”
“They’d better not be.”
We had decided that, after everyone had arrived and moved through into the garden, we would lock the house to keep people in the marquee. Consequently, we had hired a toilet trailer, with very smart ladies’ and gents’ loos, which was positioned outside, close to the far end, behind the DJ.
I walked over to the house, but the door in from the terrace was still locked. There were lights on inside, but I could see no one in there, so I went around to the toilet trailer and met Amanda’s girlfriend coming the other way.
“No sign of her in there,” she said.
“Okay. Thanks for looking.”
“But I found this on the ground outside.”
She was holding the white silk scarf Amanda had been wearing around her neck. I took it from the friend with increasing concern, and went back into the marquee to Amanda’s table.
“Does anyone know where Amanda is?” I asked loudly of those sitting at the table. “We have found her scarf.” I held it up. “And where is Darren?”
I’d bloody murder the two of them if they’d gone back to the pub.
“Darren’s there,” one of the girls said, pointing.
He was coming back into the Marquee from the garden. I went over to him. “Where’s Amanda?” I demanded.
“I’ve no idea,” he replied. “I’ve been outside looking for her.”
We went back to her table.
“Who else is not here?” I asked.
They all looked to their left and right.
“No one else missing,” said the girl who’d been to look for Amanda in the loo. “I’ll call her.” She lifted her phone.
Amanda’s phone wouldn’t ring if she were in the Red Lion, because of the lack of signal. But would she really have gone there on her own when all her friends were here?
However, her phone did ring. We all heard it, and as one, our eyes swivelled towards it lying under a napkin at her place at the table.
For the first time, I was becoming more than slightly worried. Amanda’s mobile phone was like an extension of her left hand. She never normally went anywhere without it, not even to the toilet. Was she ill? Or maybe blind drunk?
By now, everyone else was beginning to sense that something was amiss.
Georgina came up to me. “What’s wrong?”
“We can’t find Amanda,” I replied.
“Is she in the toilet?”
“We’ve tried there, and we found her scarf on the ground outside. Darren says he doesn’t know where she is—that’s if he’s telling us the truth.”
“What are you implying?” Georgina asked with concern.
“Nothing. But I don’t trust that boy. I never believe a single word he says.”
Georgina looked at me. “Perhaps she’s gone into the house.”
“The terrace door is still locked. I have the key with me.”
“But she has her own front-door key. She could have just walked round and gone in there.”
I thought it unlikely Amanda would have had her front-door key with her at the party, but nevertheless, I took the terrace-door key from my jacket pocket and gave it to Georgina. “You go and check the house. If she’s not there, I’ll organise a search of the garden. She’s probably just had a skinful and fallen over somewhere, but she might have hurt herself.”
Or be unconscious from drink, I thought.
Georgina now looked worried, and she hurried off towards the house.
I went over and picked up one of the DJ’s microphones and pushed the ‘on’ button.
“Turn it up,” I said to him. “Ladies and gentlemen.” My voice boomed out of the speaker system at maximum volume. “Sorry about the delay in getting the speeches underway. We seem to have mislaid our daughter.” I paused. “Amanda, if you can hear this, please come back to the marquee as quickly as you can.”
Everyone fell silent and began staring at the two entrances, one towards the house and the toilet trailer, the other towards the garden, but Amanda did not materialise through either.
Georgina reappeared from the house, shaking her head.
“Could we please organise a search of the garden?” I said through the speakers. “I am sure she’s fine, but she may have fallen and injured herself or become ill. If you feel able, could you please fan out and look for her?”
James took control of his friends and was barking orders about where each of them should go.
I looked at my watch. It was five to ten. The sun had been down for more than half an hour but there should still be enough light left in the late-evening western sky for people to see. In addition, we had some candle lanterns positioned at various strategic points, such as on either side of the steps down from the terrace and on the route to the loos.
All but a few went out into the garden while I stayed inside.
I used my mobile phone to call the village pub.
“The Red Lion.”
“Jack, it’s Chester again. Is Amanda in the pub?”
“I haven’t seen her since earlier this afternoon. Not since you called before. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, fine, I think. But we can’t find her. If she turns up, could you call me on this number?”
“Will do.”
He disconnected.
Where the hell was she?
People slowly started returning to the marquee from their searches, and there were no jubilant shouts of discovery from anywhere.
Darren wandered in, and I went over to him.
“Look here, Darren,” I said, “if you know where Amanda is, tell me right now.”
“I don’t,” he replied, spreading his palms out wide. “We had a bit of a row, and she went off in tears, but that was ages ago.”
“What did you row about?”
I could tell that he didn’t want to tell me.
“Come on,” I insisted. “What did you and Amanda row about?”
“She was paying more attention to the boy on the other side of her than she was to me.”
“You stupid bastard.” I said it with feeling.
Georgina came across to stand by me. She was now in tears.
“I’m going to call the police,” I said.