Wedding Girl by Madeleine Wickham Read Free Book Online Page B

self-conscious. Physical contact between herself and James had, over the last few years, become something which only happened in front of other people.
    Now she felt awkward, standing this close to him without an audience; without a reason. She looked at him, hoping he would help her out, but his face was blank; she couldn't read it. Eventually she leaned forward, flushing slightly, and gave him a peck on the cheek then immediately stepped backwards and took a gulp of champagne.
    `Where's Milly?' said James in an expressionless voice.
    `She's popped off to make a telephone call.'
    Olivia watched as James helped himself to a glass of champagne and took a deep swig. He walked over to the sofa and sat down, stretching his legs out comfortably in front of him. Olivia gazed down at his head. His dark hair was damp from the snow but neatly combed, and she found herself running her eyes idly along his side parting. Then, as he turned his head, she quickly looked away.
    `So,' she began then stopped and took a sip of champagne. She wandered over to the window, pulled open the heavy brocade curtain and looked out into the snowy night. She could barely remember the last time she'd been alone in a room with James; certainly couldn't recall the last time they'd talked together naturally. Topics of conversation passed through her mind like shrinkwrapped food on a conveyor belt, each as unappealing and difficult to get into as the next. If she told James the latest piece of Bath gossip, she would have to begin by reminding him who all the main characters were. If she told him about the wedding shoe fiasco, she would first have to explain the difference between duchesse satin and slub silk. Nothing she could think of to say seemed quite worth the effort of starting.
    Once, long ago, their conversation had flowed like a seamless length of ribbon. James had listened to her stories in geniune amusement; she'd laughed at his dry wit. They'd entertained each other, had fun together. But these days all his jokes seemed tinged with a bitterness she didn't understand, and a tense boredom crept over his face as soon as she began to speak.
    So they remained in silence, until finally the door opened and Milly came in. She gave James a brief, strained smile.
    `Hello, Daddy,' she said. `You made it.'
    `Did you get through to Isobel?' said Olivia.
    `No,' said Milly shortly. Ì don't know what she can be doing. I had to leave another message.' Her eye fell on the tray. Òh good. I could do with a drink.'
    She took a glass of champagne and raised it. `Cheers.'
    `Cheers!' echoed Olivia.
    `Your good health, my darling,' said James. All three drank; there was a little silence.
    `Did I interrupt something?' said Milly.
    `No,' said Olivia. `You didn't interrupt anything.'
    `Good,' said Milly without really listening, and walked over to the fire, hoping no one would talk to her.
    For the third time, she'd got through to Isobel's message machine. As she'd heard the tinny tones she'd felt a spurt of anger, an irrational conviction that Isobel was there and just wasn't answering. She'd left a brief message, then remained staring at the phone for a few minutes, biting her lip, hoping desperately that Isobel would call back. Isobel was the only one she could talk to-the only one who would listen calmly; who would think of a solution rather than lecturing.
    But the phone had remained silent. Isobel hadn't called back. Now Milly's hand tightened around her champagne glass. She couldn't stand this niggling, secret panic. On the way over to Pinnacle Hall she'd sat silently in the car, gathering reassuring thoughts around herself like sandbags. Alexander would never remember, she'd told herself again and again. It had been a two-minute encounter, ten years ago.
    He couldn't possibly remember that. And even if he did, he wouldn't say anything about it. He would just keep quiet and get on with his job. Civilized people didn't deliberately cause trouble.
    `Milly?' Simon's