suppose I could try and find out who this guy is once and for all. On the one hand, the mystery would finally be solved and maybe I could meet my soulmate. On the other hand, it might all turn out to be someone’s horrible idea of a joke or he’ll be so disappointed when he sees me, warts and all, that he’ll wonder why he bothered in the first place.’
Max’s dark eyes widened with surprise and he put his arm round my shoulders.
‘That won’t happen Ava, trust me. When you and Mr Writer finally meet, he’ll be over the bloody moon with you: why wouldn’t he be? He’s obviously mad about you to have started writing to you again after all this time.’
‘Yeah but he only knows the me he’s been writing letters to. He’s probably built me up to be something I can never live up to. He presumably saw me around uni, maybe spoke to me a few times and decided he liked me so that’s why the letters started. He doesn’t actually
know
me, not like you or Gwen do. What if he gets to know me, decides I’m not what he thought I was and buggers off? After all, look what happened with Dave. I wasn’t enough for him so he left; simple as that. What’s to stop Mr Writer from thinking the same?’
I felt an odd sense of relief at airing my innermost thoughts on the Mr Writer situation. Somehow, a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. I turned my head to Max, who looked deep in thought over what he’d just heard.
He didn’t have time to answer me as we drew up to the wedding venue. For some reason, I felt a little cheated that he didn’t produce one of his rousing pep-talks.
Strings of fairy lights greeted us outside The Regency Hotel. They were wound around the metal railings of the bridge leading to the front door and across the glass-and-steel awning that spanned the entire width of the building. They looked beautiful against the indigo star-strewn sky. A slightly gaudy red velvet carpet was draped over the stairs, presumably to give the whole thing a “celebrity” feel.
Max and I approached the burly security guard, who didn’t look especially pleased to see us. After a short conversation with him and a lot of fumbling about for press passes and other identification, he agreed to let us in.
‘They’re in the Markham Suite,’ the guard grunted. ‘First door on the right as you go in.’
Max had been there before and led the way through the cream and gold hallway to a large open room on the right-hand side. I walked in and was instantly transported into a fairy tale. Large bunches of glittery silver twigs were dotted around the room, strings of white fairy lights coiled lovingly around them. A cream runner led the way to a beautiful white arch, lined with red roses. The sixty or so chairs were draped with white cotton sheets and silver ribbons were tied around them. The entire room embodied winter wonderland.
‘Wow, it’s beautiful in here,’ I breathed.
Max and I took our seats at the back of the room while guests filed in for the ceremony. As I watched an array of dresses and suits mill past me, my phone rang.
‘Hello?’ I said when I’d walked out to the hallway.
‘Ava, it’s Miranda here.’ Her voice reminded me of Amira’s; saccharine to the point of nauseating. Paddy was probably in the room.
‘What can I do for you?’ I asked, trying to keep my tone as civil as I could. I hated how she could be nice one minute and nasty the next. She was
Sleek’
s version of Jekyll and Hyde.
‘I just wanted to check you’d arrived at the ceremony OK. No hiccups, were there?’
‘None.’
‘Good, good to hear that. Listen, the agency photographer who’ll be helping you for this assignment will meet you outside in about… ooh… five minutes. He’s new and it’s his first assignment so try and make sure you’re professional when you greet him, will you?’
Miranda rang off without saying goodbye. I sighed; oh great, just perfect. It was my first shot at wedding reporting and I had
Learning to Kill: Stories