Death of a Wedding Guest

by Anne Morice

  ‘Well, it must be nice in a way to be a member of such a united family. Does your sister look like you, or like Jeremy?’

  ‘Which one? I’ve been blessed with three, you know. Caroline’s a bit like me, poor dear; the other two take after my mother.’

  ‘And will they all be with you this evening?’

  ‘You bet! All booted and spurred, and I’ll tell you something else to make your flesh creep.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I have a nasty feeling that my mother will expect me and Jeremy and our captive brother-in-law, who can never have known what he was getting into, to go sneaking off after dinner on some drunken revelry à la stag. Not that she approves of heavy drinking in the normal way, you understand?’

  ‘All part of the conventional pre-wedding scene?’

  ‘I say! Jolly quick off the mark, aren’t you? That’s the ticket, and a fairly macabre one too, I might add, since none of us is particularly keen on pubs and I doubt if Stadhampton has much else to offer in the way of night life.’

  ‘No, but even the pubs close at ten-thirty, so you won’t have to spin out your debauchery.’

  ‘Good thinking, Tessa! I may call you Tessa, may I not? I positively feel I’ve known you for ages. And, between you and me, it may not be such a bad idea to leave the family festive board fairly early.’

  ‘Really? Why’s that?’

  Feeling that he had known me for ages, Simon barely hesitated before replying,

  ‘The fact is, there was someone at the reception desk when we came out just now. The parents don’t even know her by sight, having exhibited the coldest of shoulders, but I met her once or twice in the period when she was hanging around Jeremy and it gave me quite a frisson. Up to no good, I said to myself.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be referring to a tall and statuesque blonde, by any chance?’

  ‘There now! Nothing much gets past you, does it? Comes of being married to a detective, I dare say. Yes, that’s the one all right, good old Imogen. They didn’t have a room for her at the Swan, as it happens, but I doubt if a little hitch like that would deter her. She’ll find somewhere to doss down, you may be sure, and I expect you agree that it might be a good idea to fling a cordon round old Jeremy for the next twelve hours or so, lest we find ourselves going forward, shoulder to shoulder, straight up the creek.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  1

  Probably the most burning question of the hour before any marriage ceremony is the one relating to the weather and, despite some gloomy forecasts on the previous day, Saturday, May 26th dawned soft and shining, with a sunlit haze partially veiling the yellow and white marquee, and the birds singing out their promise of ideal conditions to come.

  By nine o’clock the mist had melted, the promise had been fulfilled and the caterers’ men were whistling a merry tune as they unloaded their wares from a lorry parked on the common. None of this, however, was any consolation to me at all when word filtered through that we were short of a bridegroom.

  Naturally it was Alison who fired the first shot in this round, and never had anyone taken aim more gleefully, although, by a merciful providence, missing her target by several inches.

  Her call came through soon after nine, which was unlucky timing from her point of view, because Ellen had asked not to be disturbed before ten and, in a strange reversal of roles, Mrs Parkes was busy doling out tea and biscuits to the caterers. It would not have occurred to Toby to answer the telephone if he had been alone with it on a desert island, which left only myself and, by putting on the performance of a lifetime, I managed to take her down a notch or two with a fine display of nonchalance, even if not wholly convincing her that young men who vanished without a trace on the eve of their weddings were two a penny in smart society.

  Having spiked these guns for the nonce, I sped forth in search of the best man and suffered another minor heart attack when it transpired that the spare room was empty. However, there was no question about his bed having been slept in and two minutes later I ran him to earth in the dining room. He was wearing a dressing gown over pyjamas and was wolfing down his cornflakes, apparently without a care in the world.

  ‘When did you last see your brother?’ I demanded, ignoring his breezy salutation.

  ‘You should only ask that question when you’re wearing your blue silk knee breeches and long golden curls,’ he replied reprovingly, and then added, ‘Last night when he dropped me off here. Why?’

  ‘The time being?’

  ‘About eleven, give or take. You were right about the pubs. You didn’t hear me come in? That was because I crept upstairs as quiet as a tight little mouse.’

  ‘What did Jeremy do after that?’

  ‘Snuggled into bed like me, I suppose. What else?’

  ‘Did he actually tell you he was going to do that?’

  ‘I don’t know that he did. There wouldn’t have been any reason to. We passed the house on the way here and he pointed it out to me, so he can hardly have got lost.’

  ‘Nevertheless, he did get lost.’

  ‘I wish you’d elucidate, Madam.’

  ‘He either lost his way to the Ropers, or he never intended to go there, but either way he didn’t turn up. Alison rang five minutes ago to report. They all went to bed early too, because Irene was tired out by her journey and Jeremy had his own key. Phil sat up working for a while in his room and as there was still no sign of Jeremy when he packed it in at around midnight he assumed he was having a night on the Stadhampton tiles. That’s all he knew until his mother called him half an hour ago and they discovered the other bed hadn’t been slept in. What construction are we to put on that?’

  ‘I’m baffled, frankly.’

  ‘He couldn’t have changed his mind and spent the night at the hotel?’

  ‘Rather eccentric, wouldn’t you say, since your friends were expecting him? I suppose it has to be the answer, though, and I must regretfully assume that the poor old boy has gone out of his mind. I will not make any secret of the fact that the principal reason for getting Ellen to fix us up in lodgings with the local gentry was to place ourselves outside the maternal net on this of all days. My mother means well, but in jollifications of this nature she is apt to take on the characteristics of an over-protective steamroller.’

  ‘You wouldn’t feel inclined to ring her up now and see if Jeremy is there?’

  ‘With respect, I think that’s a poisonous idea. If he is there, she’ll get him to the church on time, so we need have no worries on that score; whereas, if he’s not, she’ll go rather noisily off her head.’

  ‘In addition to which, there could be another explanation, couldn’t there?’

  ‘Which hovers between us like a menacing cloud. I agree, but, in that case, least said soonest mended, perhaps?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know,’ I confessed. ‘You appear to be taking it all very calmly, but how can we be sure that he intends to come back? Do you realise that in precisely half-an-hour I have to call Ellen and start helping her to dress? Not a very enviable task, considering that the bridegroom may even now be on his way to Majorca with his ex-mistress.’

  Simon shook his head. ‘Most improbable. In the first place, having once got shot of her, nothing on earth would induce him to go back. In the second, he happens to be potty about Ellen and asks nothing more than to cleave only unto her.’

  ‘I just hope you’re right, that’s all.’

  ‘You may depend upon it. Providing he’s alive, he’ll be waiting at the church when Ellen floats in, come hell or high water.’

  ‘None of which helps to solve the problem of what he’s up to at this moment.’

  ‘Oh, he may have some final little bachelor business to settle, who can say? He can be very cagey at times, just like my father. He has his own way of going about things and he doesn’t always choose to tell us what they are.’

  ‘So your advice would be to sit tight, say nothing and keep our fingers crossed?’

  ‘I
should think that would do nicely, so far as you are concerned, but personally I have a more active role in mind. I can at least plug up one hole. What’s your friend’s name? Hooper?’

  ‘Roper. Alison Roper. What will you say to her?’

  ‘Oh, I shall concoct some little tale while I make my toilette,’ Simon said, tightening his dressing gown cord in the manner of one literally girding up his loins. ‘Something about Jeremy having mislaid his key during last night’s rough and tumble, and of fearing to disturb them and so on and so forth.’

  ‘Well, we don’t stand on ceremony, you know. You are not required to dress before using the telephone.’

  ‘Telephoning doesn’t come into it; I mean to hasten there in person. In that way, I shall be on the spot when Jeremy returns and we can avoid the embarrassment of conflicting explanations. Also, if I mooch about, getting under Mrs Roper’s feet and offering to help her with little jobs around the house, I may conceivably impede her from spreading the story round the entire neighbourhood, which is the first essential. So be of good cheer and let us go forward together, undismayed.’

  ‘Smart thinking!’ I told him. ‘And I owe you an apology.’

  ‘For what, Madam?’

  ‘Yesterday I put you down as one of those flighty types who would either lose the ring or turn up at the wrong church, but I take it all back. I really do think you’re probably the best man for the job.’

  2

  The front door was open as Simon and I bustled through the hall on our separate errands, and a dreamy, ethereal figure, with long flaxen hair flowing over a white candlewick dressing-gown, came wafting in from the garden.

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ I demanded, coming to a dead stop.

  ‘Walking on the common.’

  ‘In your dressing gown?’

  ‘Why not? I’m perfectly decent, aren’t I?’ she enquired, glancing down at her knees to verify the fact.

  ‘Perfectly decent and ever so stunning,’ Simon told her. ‘All the same, I’m bound to feel thankful that my mother wasn’t here to see.’

  ‘I thought you meant to sleep until ten?’ I said.

  ‘I know, but I woke up, you see, and it was such a heavenly blissful morning that I was inspired to take a last nostalgic stroll. It reminded me of all the walks we used to have on the common when I was a child, and before you married Robin, and it was all so sad and beautiful that I began to cry. So there I was, sitting on that huge enormous tree trunk we used to call Arthur’s throne, crying away like mad.’

  ‘You don’t look as though you’ve been crying,’ I informed her. ‘You look rather cheerful.’

  ‘Oh, I am, because the most extraordinary and miraculous thing happened. There I was, all alone and wallowing in sentiment, when along came Jeremy.’

  ‘You don’t say!’

  ‘Yes, I do, and so then of course I stopped crying and everything was all right again. Can you imagine anything more romantic?’

  ‘What was Jeremy doing on the common at that hour? Had he been out all night?’

  ‘No, of course not, what a daft idea! He was like me, he woke early and thought it would be fun to go for a walk. Wasn’t it super that we should both have had the same idea? You see, Jez was quite right about us! I suppose you couldn’t be twenty angels, Tess, and rustle up some breakfast? All this exercise and emotion has given me a furious appetite.’

  She had floated across to the staircase by this time and I said casually,

  ‘I’ll apply myself to it right away. Did Jeremy tell you how long he’d been out when you met him?’

  ‘No, but it must have been quite a while because he’d already been to the garage.’

  ‘Garage? What garage?’

  ‘There is only one, isn’t there? It’s called Fairman’s, but it belongs to Owen’s brother. You know, up by the Bricklayers’ Arms.’

  ‘What did he want to go there for?’

  ‘To get his car fixed. Why else would one go to a garage? I hope you haven’t forgotten that I’m starving?’

  ‘Yes, all right, but you see, Ellen, Alison rang up just now and she was in a bit of a tizz at finding Jeremy had already gone out when she went to call him. Simon and I have been wondering about it.’

  ‘Oh, she is a fusspot, that Alison! No wonder it gets Phil down sometimes. Anyway, you can all stop worrying now because what happened was that Jeremy woke up early, just like me, and decided to go for a walk. Well, for one thing, Phil was snoring like a bull, so there wasn’t a chance of going to sleep again. So he flung on some clothes and went downstairs.’

  ‘Yes, but how did Fairman’s garage creep into the script?’

  ‘I’m coming to that. You see, his first idea was to go for a drive, but when he took his car out he was disturbed to find that it had had a nasty biff.’

  ‘Oh really? What kind of biff?’

  ‘Like someone must have backed into him when they were parking. The bumper was bent and one of the headlights was on the skew.’

  ‘When did all that happen?’

  ‘No knowing, but he thinks it can only have been when it was outside the hotel during dinner. Anyway, it can’t have happened later than that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because Phil had very sweetly told him to put it away in the garage. The forecast had said rain and Phil said it wouldn’t matter nearly so much if his own car got wet; but the point is that Jeremy was terribly put out when he saw the damage because we’ve got to drive over to Newhaven this evening and put it on the ferry and it would be rather shaming if the headlight fell off before we’d even got half way there. So he had the bright idea of taking it up to Fairman’s and getting them to work on it. Luckily, they open at eight and there was no problem at all. They’ve promised to fix it and deliver it back to him by eleven. Plenty of time for you both to get to the church,’ she added, smiling at Simon, who was looking curiously thoughtful, ‘And now, if the inquisition is over, could I remind you that people are supposed to be humoured on their wedding day and the thing to humour me most at this moment would be a whacking great plate of sausages and bacon.’

  ‘What do you make of that?’ I asked Simon when Ellen had drifted away upstairs and out of sight.

  ‘I think it will do very nicely,’ he replied. ‘Very nicely indeed. I’m surprised I didn’t think of it myself.’

  ‘Was there anything wrong with the headlamp when you drove up here last night?’

  ‘Well, I couldn’t readily swear that I was in a fit state to notice. Besides, what’s the odds? The great thing is that he’s safely back in harbour and not for us to hazard a guess about any rough passages he may have encountered on the way. Just for once, I fancy the idea of leaving every stone in place and going forward together with our blinkers on.’

  Nevertheless, some nagging doubts still lingered and, to my surprise, as I stood turning sausages over in a pan and thoughts in my mind, the most obstinate of these was in a sense the most trivial. With the best will in the world, I could not associate Jeremy with the kind of considerate young man who, having risen early to go for a drive in the country, would then spare the time to remake his bed so meticulously that to all appearances it had never been slept in.

  3

  The only minor turbulence to shatter the calm of the next two hours centred on the problem of who was to convey Simon from our house to the Ropers’, where he was to present himself and take charge of the bridegroom on the stroke of eleven. I was unable to leave Ellen at this crucial stage, Toby flatly refused to go, for fear of running into Irene, and Simon was unwilling to incur the ribaldry of the local populace by making the journey on foot, rigged out in striped trousers, morning coat and grey top hat. The solution was eventually provided, with breathtaking simplicity, by Ellen. She advised us to tell the garage to deliver Jeremy’s car to us, instead of to its owner. It arrived punctually at ten to eleven, looking as sleek and unscathed as the day it had left the showroom.

  It had been arranged that Owe
n should collect Ellen and Toby exactly one hour later, in his most sedate and sober limousine, and that I should go ahead in Toby’s old Mercedes, thus enabling me to remain at my post until the last possible moment; but no programme, however carefully conceived, could be proof against Irene’s whims and Simon had not long left us when Alison rang up to report on a new setback. No power on earth, it transpired, would induce Irene to drive to the church in Phil’s car.

  It was a measure of the astonishing entente between the two ladies that Alison took even this aspersion in her stride.

  ‘One does see her point,’ she told me. ‘Dear old Phil’s had a jolly good bash at smartening it up and I must say it looks a treat, but these Minis are a bit tricky to get in and out of, and one couldn’t call it the most dignified way for the bride’s mother to arrive. That’s what she is, you know, even though everyone but me seems to have forgotten it, and I do think that Toby should have made proper provision for her.’

  Personally, I could not see how it could possibly matter to anyone, except Irene herself, if she travelled to the church in a handcart but, recognising that I should only waste more time by expressing this view, I said,

  ‘All the same, it’s rather late to do anything about it now. You could try ringing Stadhampton for a taxi, but I doubt if you’d get one at such short notice, this being Saturday. Have you any other suggestions?’

  ‘Well, don’t be a clot, lass! You’ve got the Mercedes, haven’t you? What’s to stop you coming round this way and collecting her yourself?’

  ‘Only that I’d promised to stay with Ellen until the bitter end.’

  ‘Can’t see what difference five minutes would make.’

  ‘You know it would take longer than that, Alison. Oh well, never mind, we’ll manage somehow. Just tell Irene to be ready by a quarter to twelve, or else. If she isn’t, she can walk.’