“I … ” Clemency looks helplessly at me. “Um … I didn’t know … ”
“There’s always something!” Lucinda is almost talking to herself. “Always something else to think about. It’s endless. However much I run myself into the ground, it goes on and on and on—>”
“Look, shall I do the cars?” I say hastily. “I’m sure I can sort them.”
“Would you?” Lucinda seems to wake up. “Could you do that? It’s just, there’s only one of me, you know, and I have spent the entire week working on details, all for your wedding, Poppy.”
She looks so stressed out, I feel a pang of guilt.
“Yes! No problem. I’ll go on yellow pages or something.”
“How’s your hair coming along, Poppy?” Lucinda suddenly focuses on my head, and I silently will my hair to grow another centimeter, very quickly.
“Not bad! I’m sure it will go in the chignon. Definitely.” I try to sound more positive than I feel.
Lucinda has told me about a hundred times how shortsighted and foolish it was to cut my hair to above the shoulder when I was about to become engaged.33 She also told me at the wedding-dress shop that with my pale skin,34 a white dress would never work and I should wear lime green. For my wedding. Luckily the wedding-dress-shop owner chimed in and said Lucinda was speaking nonsense: My dark hair and eyes would set off the white beautifully. So I chose to believe her instead.
The G&T arrives and Lucinda takes a deep slug. I take another sip of tepid black tea. Poor old Clemency hasn’t got anything, but she looks like she’s trying to blend into her chair and not attract any attention at all.
“And … you were going to find out about confetti?” I add cautiously. “But I can do that too,” I backtrack quickly at Lucinda’s expression. “I’ll phone the vicar.”
“Great!” Lucinda breathes out sharply. “I’d appreciate that! Because there is only one of me and I can only be in one place at once—” She breaks off abruptly as her gaze alights on my hand. “Where’s your ring, Poppy? Oh my God, haven’t you found it yet?”
As she lifts her eyes, she looks so thunderstruck, I start to feel sick again.
“Not yet. But it’ll turn up soon. I’m sure it will. The hotel staff are all looking—”
“And you haven’t told Magnus?”
“I will!” I swallow hard. “Soon.”
“But isn’t it a really important family piece?” Lucinda’s hazel eyes are wide. “Won’t they be livid?”
Is she trying to give me a nervous breakdown?
My phone buzzes and I grab it, grateful for the distraction. Magnus has just sent me a text which dashes my secret hope that his parents would suddenly catch gastric flu and have to cancel:
Dinner at 8, whole family here, can’t wait to see you!
“Is that your new phone?” Lucinda frowns critically at it. “Did you get my forwarded texts?”
“Yes, thanks.” I nod. Only about thirty-five of them, all clogging up my in-box. When she heard I’d lost my phone, Lucinda insisted on forwarding all her recent texts to me, just so I didn’t “drop the ball.” To be fair, it was quite a good idea. I got Magnus to forward all his most recent messages too, and the girls at work.
Ned Murdoch, whoever he is, has also finally contacted Sam. I’ve been looking out for that email all day. I glance at it distractedly, but it doesn’t seem particularly earth-shattering to me. Re: Ellerton’s bid. Sam, hi. A few points. You’ll see from the attachment, blah blah blah.
Anyway, I’d better send it on straightaway. I press forward and make sure it’s gone through. Then I type a quick reply to Magnus, my fingers fumbling with nerves.
Great! Can’t wait to see your parents!!!! So exciting!!!! PS: Could we meet outside first? Something I want to talk about. Just a really tiny thing. Xxxxxxxxx
22 OK, it wasn’t a couple of texts. It was about seven. But I only pressed send on five of them.
23 Poirot would probably have worked it out already.
24 There are only three of us, and we’ve known each other for yonks. So occasionally we lurch off onto other areas like our boyfriends and the Zara sale.
25 Or, rather, her dad did. He already owns a string of photocopy shops.
26 She also completely ignores all the poor women with twisted ankles. If you’re a girl, never do the marathon with Annalise on duty.
27 It was an emergency, in my defense. Natasha had split up with her boyfriend. And it’s not like the patient could see what I was doing. But, yes, I know it was wrong.
