Single Malt, Silver Tequila, Agave Syrup, Angostura Bitters
It took me a moment to process this information and I walked on for a few steps, hardly breathing.
I looked again. It was him. It was definitely him. It was Gabriel.
He was wearing a dark suit, a white shirt and a beautiful crimson tie just as stylish and gorgeous as I’d imagined. Our gazes locked for a moment and I felt a quite astonishing thrill of excitement run straight through me. Why and how was he here?
India had reached Jerry by this point and I had to spring into action, stopping the flower girls from trampling on the back of India’s shoes and herding them towards their mothers so that I could take India’s bouquet.
‘Dearly beloved.’
I stood in a sort of stupor behind India while the vicar went through the service.
‘Do you Jeremy St John Cholmondley Sinclair …’
Cholmondley?
Gabriel was in the church, just a few steps away from me. But what was he doing here? How did he know? How had he got here? Why was he here?
‘Do you India Mary Fisher …’
It was surreal, it was incredible, it was wonderful.
‘… to have and to hold from this day forward …’
I wanted to turn round; I wanted to look at him again to make sure he was still there, that I hadn’t imagined it. I could feel his eyes on me, I was sure of it. Why was he here?
I forced myself to concentrate; my sister was getting married. It was a special and wonderful moment.
I shouldn’t be thinking about Gabriel Frost and remembering the feel of him. That moment when I thought he needed me, that I loved him. My mind carried on recalling more and more erotic details.
I shouldn’t be standing in church remembering how Gabriel had gently bitten my neck, run his tongue over my breast, how he had tasted, smelled.
Ashamed, I looked up at the disapproving face of St John the Baptist in the stained-glass window in front of us and waited to be struck by lightning.
By now the vicar was rousing himself to a veritable pitch as he held India’s and Jerry’s hands between his.
‘Those whom God hath put together, let no man put asunder.’
There was a sudden cheer from the herd of barristers and applause echoed around the church and grew in volume as Jerry beamed down at India and kissed her.
I shouldn’t think any man would put this couple asunder; they were so perfectly, wonderfully matched. They each thought the other was wonderful despite knowing their faults and having lived together for over a year. Jerry knew India couldn’t be left alone with a box of chocolates and as he had trouble remembering his own birthday he would probably never remember hers.
One of Jerry’s friends from his chambers came forward to play something rather lovely on the piano while we went into the vestry so the newlyweds could sign the register. India was wild with happiness and couldn’t stop grinning while Jerry was obviously a bit emotional and kept dabbing his top lip with his handkerchief and saying ‘Gosh’ as though he couldn’t believe his luck.
I stood watching them as they posed for the traditional signing-the-register photographs and India looked up at me with a wicked grin.
She came over and hugged me and I congratulated her.
‘You okay?’ she said.
‘You knew he was going to be here, didn’t you?’
India laughed. ‘I told him where I was getting married and when. Then I left it up to him. Apparently he spoke to Charlie the other day, in the office.’
I remembered it now, Charlie waving me off early as he answered the phone.
‘Yes, that’s right. Yes, she does. Yes, indeed.’
Well, blow me down! Surely he hadn’t come back from America just for this?
Hang on, I had been angry with Gabriel, hadn’t I?
Should I be this pleased to see him again? No, I shouldn’t. And yet I was giddy with wanting to get back into the church, this time facing the congregation so I could see if Gabriel really was there or if I’d imagined it.
He was there.
It was true.
Jerry and India fairly skipped down the nave of the church, India waving her bouquet triumphantly above her head. Happily the two bigger flower girls had stayed with their mother as she had produced cartons of squash, and the smaller one, Maudie, was busy lying on the floor having a tantrum because she only had water. I walked out next to Mark, the best man, my arm linked through his, and Gabriel’s was the first face I saw.
Thank heavens it was raining. It meant we would have to go straight to the reception rather than stand in the churchyard having photos taken. Anyway Maudie was now red-faced and howling because she had seen the other two having crisps, so Jerry and India nipped into their posh car and were driven away.
I felt a hand on my arm, warm through my lacy sleeve, and I turned.
‘Can I give you a lift?’ Gabriel said.
I looked up at him and couldn’t think what to say. I mean not even a vague sort of hello. I was suddenly aware my mouth had dropped open and I probably looked like a complete moron.
He steered me gently out of the church and put up a huge black umbrella to shield me from the rain. Then we got into his car (dark blue Aston Martin, pale leather seats, my absolute dream car) and he started the engine.
As we waited for the other cars in front of us to move he turned to me.
‘You look wonderful,’ he said. ‘You’re even more beautiful than I remember.’
‘Oh,’ I said, wondering for a split second who else was in the car with us.
*
The Manor House was a gorgeous old place, once home to a family who had slept with the right people and fought on the winning side in the seventeenth century. Now it was a beautifully refurbished and very elegant hotel. We swished up through the gates in fine style. Gabriel dropped me by the front door and went to park the car. A line of waitresses waited in the marble-floored hallway with glasses of champagne and trays of canapés. I skirted round the nibbles, even though they did look rather spectacular, and took two glasses of champagne. I knocked one back in record time and hid the glass behind a clock on the mantelpiece before anyone noticed. I knew India and Jerry were already in the dining room because I could hear India exclaiming how lovely everything looked and Jerry laughing like a lunatic. I sipped my other glass of champagne and went in.
‘Looks absolutely fantastic,’ I said.
India span round. ‘You’ve not lost Gabriel already?’
‘No, I bloody haven’t! He’s gone to park the car.’
‘Nice surprise?’ She hunched her shoulders at me in delight, the same way she used to when she watched me open my birthday presents.
‘I think so. Yes, just a bit of a shock,’ I said.
‘Well, I got fed up with seeing you so miserable. At least this way you can talk to him and see what’s what. Doesn’t it look great in here? I mean so pretty!’
We stood side by side looking at the array of round tables covered in pale blue cloths, the silver cutlery glinting in the lights from the candelabra overhead. There were white flowers threaded with fairy lights on every table and sparkling silver confetti scattered round each place setting. It looked magical.
‘It’s wonderful,’ I said, sliding my arm through hers, ‘really beautiful.’
‘I’m so happy,’ she said, with a funny little bob of her head. ‘Everything is fabulous. I’m bubbling inside! I’m married to the most wonderful man in the world. I just want everyone to feel like this! And I want you to be this happy too.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ I said.
‘Do better than that,’ India said. ‘Ooh, look, Aslan is on the move. Gabriel’s back. Over there by the cake. My word, I suppose he’s not bad-looking, is he? Hang on, Mum’s coming over. I’ll head her off as long as I can.’
Not bad-looking? There wasn’t a woman in the place who didn’t turn and look at Gabriel as he walked across the room. In his gorgeous dark suit and with his hair shining under the lights he looked fabulous. Three waitresses nearly collided with each other in their haste to serve him and I even saw Mum and my Great-Aunt Audrey give him the once-over before India took them both away to help her with something. What the hell was he doing making a determined beeline for me?
Anyway.
He scooped up two glasses of champagne and got to my side, his movements graceful and unhurried. He held out a glass to me and I took it, wondering if I was going to last the afternoon without dropping my meal down my dress, bursting into tears or saying something embarrassing.
‘You look fabulous,’ he said with a smile at India. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Thanks,’ India said. ‘Oops, I’d better go and … you know … um, do that thing we were talking about.’
‘What thing?’ I said.
‘That thing,’ India said, hurrying off as fast as her high heels would allow.
‘Well, cheers.’ Gabriel and I clinked glasses and he took a sip of champagne.
‘I didn’t expect to see you here,’ I said. ‘India says it was her idea.’
‘It was mine actually,’ Gabriel said. ‘She just gave me enough information to track you down. I never did ask for your phone number or address, did I?’
‘No, I assumed you didn’t want them.’
‘Always a risk to assume that sort of thing, Alexa,’ he said as he bent towards me so that his breath stirred my hair. ‘I wanted them a great deal.’
His voice was low and slightly husky and I felt the most incredible clench of lust.
I was going to fall over; my legs were suddenly weak.
I gave a little whimper at the back of my throat.
He touched my arm. ‘By the way, you have no right to be more beautiful than the bride. It’s not done.’
I couldn’t speak for a moment and busied myself straightening a knife on one of the tables so I didn’t have to look at him. I wanted to be cool and sensible and not draw attention to myself. But at the same time it would have been nice to start a sophisticated and interesting conversation that would make him laugh so that other people would look over and see me with this amazing man. Then I wouldn’t be the gooseberry on the Smug Marrieds’ table as I was fully expecting to be.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see people watching us. It was only a matter of time before someone cracked, came over and asked to be introduced. From then on I would have to share Gabriel with all the other women who were probably dribbling at the sight of him.
Unfortunately it was proving very difficult to be cool and sensible because I was having the most startling flashbacks. Remembering being in bed with him, the feel of his breath on my neck, his hands on my skin. I didn’t want to introduce Gabriel Frost to anyone, or make small talk about the hotel or the flowers or the meal. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to go upstairs with him. I wanted to completely abdicate all my bridesmaid’s duties and spend the rest of the day in bed with him. Preferably in one of the fabulous, four-poster rooms with the vast en-suite bathrooms I’d seen on the hotel website. The sort of rooms that are so gorgeous you know you’ll be comfortable and have a lovely time in them. There would be beautifully co-ordinated cushions all over the place and massive tassels on the curtain tiebacks. The sort of room where you were guaranteed fantastic sex and would probably lose a dress size as you walked in through the door. One of those rooms.
He touched the small of my back with his hand and I melted towards him in a pathetically unsophisticated way. Let’s be honest, he was the sexiest, most fabulous, most gorgeous man I’d ever seen and I couldn’t wait to …
Hang on a cotton-picking moment!
There was something I was forgetting, wasn’t there? There was the shadow of Marnie Miller standing next to him with that pleased cat smile she had. I’d been furious, hadn’t I, when I saw her with him? And miserably jealous. The divorce. Her dear friend Gabriel. What was he doing here, in a small country house hotel, with me at my sister’s wedding? I mean it wasn’t as though we had royalty among the guests. I wasn’t aware India had struck a deal with Hello! magazine for the photo rights.
I stiffened my spine and steadied myself.
‘So, last time I saw you was in the papers with Marnie. Her divorce from the perfect Leo? How’s that going then?’
His face clouded. I’d said something wrong, something that had spoiled the mood between us. But I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be a fool, not again.
‘I told you I was her lawyer.’
‘And it’s all going well?’
‘It depends what you mean by well,’ Gabriel said. ‘No divorce is fun.’
No, I thought, particularly when it turns nasty.
‘So introduce us, why don’t you?’
I turned to see Lola, one of the PAs from Jerry’s work, standing with a hungry expression directed at Gabriel. She looked a strange mixture of drag queen and nun and had come to the wedding in a flowing grey and white dress accessorised with blood-red nails and lipstick.
‘Lola, this is a friend of mine: Gabriel Frost.’
Lola shook Gabriel’s hand with a white claw and manoeuvred herself in between us.
‘Oh, you’re American? I love that special relationship between our two great nations,’ she purred.
‘Well, I’m not actually American, but yes,’ he said, ‘great, isn’t it?’
‘I must introduce you to a friend of mine.’ She looked around the room. ‘Her name’s Georgia and she loves everything American.’
‘How wonderful.’ Gabriel moved smoothly around behind her and took my arm. ‘Perhaps later – we should go and give our congratulations to the groom first.’
We went over to where India and Jerry were standing by a glorious flower arrangement, accepting compliments and kisses from their guests.
India’s face lit up when she saw Gabriel.
‘All going well?’ she asked.
I interrupted quickly. ‘So, India, is there anything you need me to do?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’ She looked around vaguely. ‘Just look after Gabriel. He’s on your table, by the way, under the name Captain Hornblower.’
Jerry leaned forward and shook Gabriel’s hand.
‘So this is the famous Gabriel Frost,’ he said. ‘We meet at last!’
Oh, great.
‘Aren’t you going to introduce me?’ It was Mum, standing with her most inquisitive look on her face. ‘Is this the chap India was telling me about?’
Mum, don’t …
‘She’s been almost unbearable because of you. She thinks I don’t know but I can tell. I hope you’re going to bring a smile to her face?’
Mum, shut up …
‘I hope so too. This is a beautiful wedding,’ Gabriel said. ‘Thank you for inviting me.’
‘Oh, it’s always nice to meet Alexa’s friends.’ Mum gave him a slightly hard look. ‘We’ll have a really good chat later.’
‘I’d like that, thank you,’ Gabriel said, and mercifully Mum was dragged off to have some more photos taken.
Jerry was watching Gabriel with a rather penetrating gaze that I bet he’d perfected in court.
‘Thank you for inviting me,’ Gabriel said, shaking Jerry’s hand.
‘Our pleasure,’ Jerry said, thankfully distracted by one of his fellow barristers who was bringing him a present that was beautifully wrapped but very obviously a wheelbarrow. Why would they need that? They lived in a second-floor apartment without so much as a window box.
‘Sebby! You old git! Just what we need,’ Jerry said, obviously delighted.
‘So tell me what you’ve been doing?’ Gabriel asked, leaning closer to me than was actually necessary, but it was deliriously nice.
We had gone out of the main room into the conservatory where it was quieter and there was even more champagne.
I tried to think what I had been doing for the last few weeks. Could I make up something exciting? Bungee jumping? Being able to fold a towel into a pterodactyl?
‘Well, there’s been the wedding to organise of course. That’s taken up most of my time. There was a problem with the hydrangeas at the florist’s being pink instead of blue, which had to be sorted; bridesmaid’s dress to be bought.’
I swept a hand down my dress to indicate how successful we had been.
‘You look wonderful.’
‘I do?’ He’d already said it, but I felt like I needed the confirmation.
Gabriel nodded.
A waitress came towards us with a tray of canapés. Mushroom something. I picked one up and wondered if I could manage to eat it without dropping it down the front of my dress. Of course the only way not to do this was to eat it in one go.
‘So apart from the shopping and wedding, how are you?’ Gabriel asked again. ‘Done any Spring-Cleaning?’ He grinned down at me.
I made sort of hmm-hmming noises as I chewed frantically. I swallowed and took a gulp of champagne rather too quickly so I spluttered a bit. My word, I was excelling myself in the cool and sensible behaviour stakes.
‘Catching up on work – I’ve not really had time to do much else.’
A flake of pastry had stuck in my throat and my voice was high and squeaky.
Actually I had mislaid my seagull-decorated notebook. I thought it might still be in my suitcase along with more sugar sachets, nicked biros and free shampoo from the cabin bathroom.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Lola and Georgia edging towards us. I turned and looked at them and they stopped. Only to start moving again when I looked away. It was like a sort of Grandma’s Footsteps game for grown-ups. Outside the rain was hammering down; there was no way I could escape out there.
‘That’s a pity,’ he said. ‘I thought you might have a lot to write about.’
‘You did?’
‘You’re certainly very imaginative as I recall.’
I looked up at him and his grey eyes twinkled. I bet we were both remembering the same thing. I’d found a blindfold by the side of his bed and some … well, never mind; now that had been fun.
I stifled a giggle.
Just as Lola reached us there was the sound of a gong being struck and we were saved from her because we were all called in for the wedding breakfast. The December afternoon was dark outside now and the fairy lights on each table were sparkling. It looked wonderful.
I found my seat and gave a little excited jump inside when Gabriel took the seat next to me.
A few minutes later, at the front of the room, my father banged on the table with a spoon, calling for silence before he introduced India and Jerry and the two of them swept triumphantly into the room to loud cheers.
It was a lovely meal. India and Jerry had haggled over it for weeks. We were sharing the table with two couples from Jerry’s work who India always referred to as the Smug Marrieds. They all kept up a loud, cheerful stream of chatter, helped by the steady flow of wine.
At last I began to relax but of course the Smug Marrieds weren’t called that for nothing and, sensing some easy prey on the table, they started to tell us how they had met (Internet for one couple and blind date for the other so hardly ground-breaking), then one of them – a Very Smug Married in a tight purple satin dress that showed just how bony her chest was – turned her gimlet gaze on me.
‘So how did you two meet?’
Deadly question. Luckily Gabriel took up the challenge.
‘Drawn together by a love of literature,’ he said.
‘Rahlly? How fascinating! Do tell!’ Mrs VSM said, leaning her chin on her hand and fluttering her eyelash extensions at Gabriel.
‘I was in a high-security jail and Alexa was a prison visitor.’
Mrs VSM backed away a bit, her eyes like saucers. ‘Rahlly?’
Gabriel took pity on her. ‘No, we met on the Reine de France.’
‘The transatlantic liner,’ I added.
‘Oh yes, I always think that must be the most tedious of holidays. I had a nanny once who went on them with her boyfriend. Tattoos, wife-beater vests. It sounded ghastly.’
Mr and Mrs VSM turned to each other with knowing looks.
‘I don’t think we’ve met,’ said the man sitting next to me, holding out a hand. ‘I’m Buzz Aldrin.’
He couldn’t be. I’d seen Buzz Aldrin on TV only recently advertising porridge and he was about eighty.
‘Basil actually,’ said his wife, sensing my confusion, ‘but everyone calls him Buzz. I’m Angie. Doesn’t India look a picture?’
‘Gorgeous, so happy too.’
‘And married so young! What is she, twenty-four? Twenty-five?’
‘Twenty-six,’ I said.
‘You’ll be next then,’ Mrs VSM put in, with a knowing look.
‘You married, Gabriel?’ her husband said.
‘I’m divorced. Still looking for the right girl.’
‘Me too.’ Mr VSM guffawed, earning himself a poisonous look from his wife.
I almost stopped breathing.