The Wedding Countdown

by Ruth Saberton

  I take off my helmet so that I can talk to him without looking like Neil Armstrong. ‘We’re looking for somebody who might be with PoppadRUm. Is the band here?’

  He fixes me with a steely gaze. ‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss that, Miss.’

  Wish pulls off his helmet and shakes out his dark hair. ‘Come on, Sam! We’re desperate to find a young girl who may have run away to see the band.’

  ‘Mr Rahim!’ The doorman’s stony expression vanishes and is replaced by the most obsequious smile I’ve ever seen. ‘I’m sorry, Sir, I didn’t recognise you. How are you? And your family? And Miss Vane, of course.’

  ‘Very well, thanks,’ Wish says. ‘Now, I know you shouldn’t really tell me, Sam, but is the band, PoppadRUm, still here? It’s really important.’

  Sam looks over his shoulder. ‘I’m not really supposed to say but since it’s you, Mr Rahim, I don’t see it’s a problem. Friends of yours, are they?’

  ‘Something like that,’ says Wish.

  Sam lowers his voice. ‘I hate to disappoint you, Sir, but they left at seven this morning. Apparently they had a private jet to catch from Northolt. The state of them too, they must have been up partying all night long.’

  ‘No fans?’ asks Wish. ‘No girls with them?’

  Sam shakes his head. ‘It was just the band and their management. The fans left shortly afterwards. I can’t say I’m sorry to see them go, Mr Rahim; the noise was atrocious. And as for their language!’

  ‘I can imagine,’ Wish says sympathetically. ‘Thanks, Sam, you’ve been really helpful.’

  ‘It’s a pleasure to be of service, Sir,’ says Sam, touching the brim of his cap. ‘Will we be seeing you here anytime soon? Gordon Ramsay’s supposed to be opening a restaurant here next month.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it for a minute,’ smiles Wish. ‘My mother adores this Gordon. See you soon.’

  Sometimes I forget Wish isn’t just a normal guy who eats noodles, rides a motorbike and works for GupShup. It comes as a shock to remember he comes from A-list aristocracy and was born with an entire canteen of silver spoons in his mouth. How many normal people are known to the staff of a top London hotel or have parents who are on close terms with celebrity chefs? The nearest Mummy-ji has ever come to that is when she cheats by using a Loyd Grossman cook-in sauce.

  ‘Mr Rahim,’ I say. ‘Aren’t you the dark horse?’

  Wish flushes. ‘My parents go there a lot and I had my twenty-first there too, so lots of the staff know me, which was pretty lucky today.’

  I had my twenty-first in our local Indian. It’s very good actually and one of Bradford’s best-kept secrets, but it doesn’t exactly compare to a top London hotel.

  ‘So,’ continues Wish, ‘we know Fizz isn’t with the band and never was, so that rules out one line of enquiry. Where else could she have gone?’

  I was so relieved that Wacky hadn’t got his sticky paws on my sister that for a few blessed minutes my panic had subsided. But she’s still missing in a city, which suddenly seems full of murderers and rapists and muggers.

  ‘She was on about the new collection in Topshop.’

  Wish starts the bike. ‘We’re only a few minutes away from Oxford Street.’

  But after we’ve driven up and down Oxford Street for twenty minutes something happens that I never thought possible – I start to get sick of the sight of shops.

  While Wish threads in and out of the red buses and the cars I cling on to him, all thoughts of propriety long gone, and crane my neck to scan the faces in the crowd. Once I think I see Fizz, her arms full of shopping, and I yell at Wish to stop, only to discover that I’m mistaken. The disappointment is horrible and I find I’m crying inside my helmet. I hope it doesn’t fill up. I’ll drown.

  Actually I don't know what's worse, death by drowning or facing my parents’ wrath if Fizz remains AWOL.

  After another fifteen or so minutes I’m crying so hard my nose and eyelids are in danger of sealing themselves shut. I hardly notice when Wish turns off Oxford Street and stops the bike.

  He removes his helmet and twists around to pull mine off.

  ‘Oh Mills,’ Wish sighs. ‘I thought you were crying; I could feel you shaking. Please don’t. She’ll be fine, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘What if something awful has happened to her?’ I’m beyond caring he’ll see me with smeared mascara and a swollen nose. ‘I’ll never forgive myself.’

  ‘This isn’t your fault! This is Fizz’s doing. She’s seventeen, for Heaven’s sake.’

  ‘But she’s led such a sheltered life! She’s really innocent even though she pretends otherwise. She could really get herself into trouble.’

  ‘Please don’t cry.’ Wish gently wipes my tears away with a gloved thumb. ‘I can’t bear seeing you so upset. Look, it’s nearly half one and she’s clearly not here. Let’s head to the station and see if she’s there. I’m sure she will be.’

  ‘Are you?’ I stare into his eyes, seeing a small reflection of myself swimming in the inky pupils.

  ‘I’m sure,’ says Wish softly.

  His gloved hand is still on my cheek. It’s tender and comforting. I ought to tell him not to but this is a friendly gesture and I feel totally at ease. It’s nothing like when Raza sometimes gets too close.

  But then Wish and I are just friends, whereas Raza and I are moving towards marriage.

  ‘Right, helmet on.’ Wish breaks the spell and his hand leaves my cheek. I can still feel the place where his leather glove touched my skin. It’s all tingly and glowy. My fingers touch the same spot because I almost expect the skin to be hot and it’s quite a surprise to discover that, just like the rest of me, my face is icy.

  Wish revs up the bike and I ram my helmet on again. As we race towards the station I hold him tightly, telling myself firmly that it’s only for safety’s sake. But there’s something comforting about being close to Wish. It’s as though I’m absorbing through osmosis his calm certainty that Fizz will appear safe and sound, and I hold him close all the way to King’s Cross, hoping and praying with every fibre of my being that my errant sister will turn up safe and sound.

  ‘No sign of her.’ Nish looks grim when we meet up with her. ‘We’ve circled the concourse at least twenty times and she’s not here.’

  I have a horrible sensation all the blood is draining from my limbs. By the time Wish and I parked the motorbike and raced across the busy main road and into the station I’d convinced myself that Fizz would already be there, all defensive comments and teenage sulks.

  ‘What about the shops here?’ suggests Wish.

  ‘We’ve looked,’ says Roma. ‘There’s no sign of her.’

  ‘Coffee shops?’ I say. If there were straws in sight believe me I’d be clutching them.

  ‘Those too,’ Roma whispers. ‘What shall we do?’

  The concourse swells with people, some towing wheelie bags, some carrying children and others gazing rapt at the departure boards as though having a religious experience. The roar of train engines fills my ears and the smell of diesel makes my empty stomach churn.

  ‘Could she already be on the train?’ wonders Wish.

  ‘No,’ Nish says. ‘It arrived while we were here and we’ve been at the barriers ever since, so there’s no way that we’d have missed her.’

  The four of us exchange glances.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ whispers Roma.

  I have absolutely no idea. Do I send Roma home without Fizz and carry on searching? Or do I keep her with me and call home to explain the situation? The thought of how let down and worried my parents will be is enough to make me feel like diving under the nearest intercity, but it isn’t looking as though I have any choice but to tell them. With a sigh, I reach into my coat pocket and fish out my mobile.

  ‘I need to speak to Mum and Dad,’ I tell Roma, who bursts into noisy sobs. ‘I have to. We can’t pretend any longer. She’s missing.’

  ‘Who’s missing?’ asks a voice, and
Fizz peers over my shoulder. ‘God, baj, you’re not about to grass me up to the olds are you?’

  ‘Fizz!’ shrieks Roma, flinging her arms around her twin and hugging her tightly. ‘You’re safe!’

  I sag against Nish. Sure enough there’s Fizz, sipping a Starbucks as though nothing has happened.

  ‘Of course I’m safe!’ says Fizz. ‘Like, duh! Didn’t you get my note?’

  ‘You didn’t have your phone on!’

  ‘God, Mills,’ says Fizz. ‘I wish you’d chill out. You’re worse than the olds. What did you think was going to happen to me?’

  Now she’s here I’m full of emotions that fight each other with more fury than Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader. Half of me wants to fling my arms around Fizz and the other half is itching to slap her. Has she no idea of the trauma her selfish behaviour has caused?

  No, of course she hasn’t, because this is Fizz we’re talking about, the guilt equivalent of Teflon.

  ‘We were worried sick,’ I snap. ‘Wish and I have been looking for you.’

  ‘What for? I wasn’t lost. I told you in my note I’d meet you here. Why do you always make such a fuss?’

  ‘Because, teeny-weeny brain,’ I say furiously, ‘I’m supposed to be looking after you! Imagine if something had happened?’

  Fizz curls her lip. ‘I’m seventeen, for God’s sake. I think I can find my way around London. And anyway, I was perfectly safe. Raza was with me.’

  WHAT?

  ‘There he is now,’ adds Fizz, and sure enough Raza is making his way across the concourse, immaculate in his black cashmere coat and with Fizz’s bag over his shoulder. ‘Ask him if you don’t believe me.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I intend to.’

  ‘Hey, angel.’ Raza puts the bag down and gives me a winning smile. ‘God, what are you wearing?’

  ‘I’ve been out looking for my sister.’ I ignore his charming comment. ‘She says she’s been with you. What’s going on?’

  ‘Whoa!’ Raza puts his hands in the air. ‘Calm down! I’ve been with Fizz, it’s true, but only because I picked up your message and went out to search for her. And, as you can see, I’ve found the prodigal sister and brought her safely back. So don’t have a go at me.’

  ‘Really?’ Wish says. ‘Where was she, Raz?’

  Raza and Fizz glance at one another.

  ‘Where were you?’ I demand.

  ‘Mills!’ Raza’s voice is a hiss, which brings back unpleasant images from my dream. ‘Don’t hassle Fizz, she’s feeling pretty silly right now.’

  She is? I look at Fizz’s smug face and doubt this. I don’t think Fizz has ever felt silly in her life.

  ‘She went to find PoppadRUm,’ continues Raza. ‘It occurred to me that was where she might be after you upset her so much yesterday, so I drove over and, sure enough, there she was waiting to see her heroes. I persuaded her to come back with me and here she is, safe and sound.’

  ‘Is this true?’ I ask Fizz.

  ‘Yeah,’ she mutters, but won’t meet my gaze, looking instead at the toes of her new knee boots. ‘I went to see the band.’

  Why is she lying? What truly awful thing has she really done and why is Raza protecting her?

  What the Hell is going on?

  ‘Why didn’t you call?’ I ask Raza. ‘I was frantic.’

  ‘My phone’s dead. Jesus, Mills, what is this? An interrogation? You might thank me.’

  I say nothing. I don’t like liars – even when, as I’m sure is the case here, they’re lying to protect someone.

  ‘So everything’s fine,’ says Nish, little realising the concourse floor has turned to quick sand. ‘What a relief! You guys had better get on the train; it’s due to leave any minute.’

  Wish looks at me and there’s such concern on his face that I feel alarmed. We both know Raza and Fizz are lying. What I need to know is why.

  ‘Hell!’ exclaims Raza, looking at his Rolex. ‘You’ve got about two minutes! Have a safe journey, girls. It’s been fantastic to meet you. Mills,’ he adds smiling at me, ‘I’ve got to shoot; I’ve left all my briefs to do today, but I’ll see you tomorrow evening.’

  ‘Raza, I really need to talk to you.’

  ‘We will talk,’ he promises, backing away. ‘Tomorrow.’ Blowing a kiss, he vanishes into the crowd, leaving me confused and unsettled. Fizz and Roma are busy saying their goodbyes and need to rush to make the train, which means that I’ve no time to question Fizz.

  ‘Just put her on board,’ whispers Wish, ‘and get her safely home.’

  I’m not sure what he’s implying but I’m uneasy. I can’t wait to have Fizz safely back in Bradford. When the train pulls out of the station, the twins pressing their noses against the glass and mouthing ‘I love you’, it isn’t sadness I feel but an enormous sense of relief.

  ‘Let’s go for lunch.’ Nish links arms with Wish and me.

  ‘Sorry guys,’ says Wish. ‘I promised Minty I’d meet her.’ He looks ruefully at his leathers. ‘I don’t think this is quite what she had in mind though for lunch in Knightsbridge.’

  I’d forgotten all about Minty. She’d kill me if she knew I’d had my arms around her man, however innocent the reason.

  ‘Thanks for everything you’ve done, Wish, I really appreciate it.’

  ‘Anything for you, Mills,’ Wish says softly. ‘You know that.’

  And actually, I think I do.

  ‘I’m stuffed.’ Nish places her hands on her concave belly. ‘I couldn’t eat another thing.’

  ‘I’m not surprised!’ I laugh, because Nish hoovered up her own pizza and dough balls as well as half of mine, and had to be torn away from the sweet menu.

  ‘Stress makes me hungry,’ she says.

  ‘And every other emotion,’ I tease. ‘Seriously, Nish, you must have the opposite of the fat gene. It’s so unfair.’

  ‘I’ll swap my skinny body for your looks any day,’ says Nish. ‘Especially if it means I get gorgeous guys running after me. And talking of running, it was lucky Raza caught up with Fizz.’

  ‘Mmm,’ I say.

  I don’t want to discuss Raza right now. Nish is biased anyway and bound to jump to the wrong conclusion even though Raza probably has a totally innocent reason for covering up for Fizz.

  What do I mean, probably? Of course he has a good reason and he’ll tell me tomorrow, I know he will.

  ‘This is on me.’ Nish counts out some notes and places them on a saucer.

  ‘Thanks, saheli. I’ll just nip to the loo.’

  The loo is a delight and full of Molton Brown products. I experiment happily with the hand cream, check my reflection in the antique mirror and sniff the fresh flowers. No wonder Eve raves about this place; it’s certainly elegant and tasteful.

  I wander back through the restaurant, admiring the tasteful décor and the glamorous diners. I like the secluded little booths for romantic couples to dine in. The couple on my left is holding hands across the table and deep in whispered conversation, enjoying their candle-lit privacy. I feel a bit voyeuristic peering in and am just about to look away when the female diner tips back her head and laughs at something her companion has said, a deep throaty smoker’s laugh.

  I stop dead.

  Eve Daniels?

  It is! It’s the very same Eve who’s supposed to be hard at work, not being wined and dined by a man. The guy she’s with is older than Eve with a thick pelt of silver hair and deep laughter lines fanning out around his eyes. He’s really familiar looking and I know I’ve seen him somewhere before.

  Not wanting Eve to think I’m doing an Auntie Bee on her, I beat a hasty retreat. Fortunately they’re far too busy gazing into each other’s eyes to take notice of anyone else. Eve has a mystery man! Who’d have thought it? I knew the whole working at weekends thing was far too good to be true, but I’m amazed that Eve has managed to keep this a secret for so long. She normally has a bigger mouth on her than Zippy.

  Just wait till I grill you tonight, dear saheli of mine
!

  As I push open the door and join Nish outside I’m still wracking my brains to recall where I’ve seen the distinguished man before. Then it comes to me: I saw him at Wish’s birthday party. Just before I went onto the balcony with Raza I’d noticed Eve chatting to him while Nish was dancing with Jamal. Well, what a dark horse! She pulled at Wish’s party and kept it to herself.

  ‘You took your time,’ grumbles Nish.

  ‘You’ll never guess who I’ve just seen.’

  ‘Amaze me.’

  ‘Eve! And she’s with a man!’

  Nish’s eyes are saucers. ‘The sneaky cow! I knew there was no way she’d be working. Who was he?’

  ‘I don’t know. But I’ve seen him before, at Wish’s party. He’s the older guy with grey hair she was talking to.’

  ‘Yes!’ Nish punches the air. ‘I bloody knew it!’

  ‘You knew she was seeing a guy she met at the party?’

  Nish grins. ‘He’s not some guy that she met at the party, Mills, he’s some guy that she invited to the party.’

  ‘She did?’ I’m taken aback because Eve kept that quiet. ‘Who is he then?’

  ‘He,’ says Nish, her voice brimming with triumph, ‘my dear Amelia, is none other than Eve’s much maligned boss!’

  ‘Damien? But she hates him!’

  ‘Yeah right, course she does,’ Nish snorts. ‘Isn’t it obvious? They’re together and she’s been keeping it a secret, the sneaky moo!’

  As I try to get my head around this revelation I wonder whether anyone I know is telling me the truth. Raza has lied, and Fizz and now Eve. Is there anyone I can trust?

  Right now it doesn’t feel like it.

  Chapter 28

  ‘Mills,’ Raza purrs over the intercom. ‘Come up.’

  He buzzes me in and I glide upwards in the lift, checking my appearance in my powder compact just in case something disastrous has happened during the taxi ride over. Although my emotions are in turmoil I still want to look perfect for this evening.

  I’ve made a real effort to look good tonight. I’m wearing a long cream skirt teamed with a cute pink cashmere ballerina-style top by Mui Mui that I picked up in the pre-Christmas sale. I’ve also borrowed Nish’s Prada pumps and matching bag, so I’m well accessorised. I’ve pulled my hair into a chignon and my only make-up is a slick of lip gloss and a coat of mascara, so the overall effect is understated and elegant.