Death of a Wedding Guest

by Anne Morice

  Having relieved my feelings slightly with this ultimatum, I replaced the receiver and turned to find Toby standing behind me.

  ‘I suppose you caught the gist of that?’ I asked. ‘Detestable woman! Why does she always have to make everything so complicated?’

  ‘It is the only pleasure left to her. We must be thankful she didn’t dream up something twice as difficult to comply with.’

  ‘So you think I should take her with me?’

  ‘It seems the only way and at least you can keep her within bounds. If we send anyone else she’d be sure to keep them waiting and the next thing would be that the service was held up for Irene to make her entrance. No doubt she’s already thought of that and it will be up to you to thwart her.’

  ‘How about Ellen, though? It does seem a shame that she should be put out.’

  ‘And when have you known that to happen? She’s the last one in the world to be flustered by such a trifle. Thank God, on my knees fasting, there never was a girl who less resembled her mother.’

  He was right, of course. Ellen received the news with complete serenity and when I had helped her fix her veil in place and she had reciprocated by tilting my hat one centimetre further forward over my nose, I left her sitting on her bed, reading the correspondence column of The Times, her white dress spread out around her and the bouquet of yellow and white roses at her side.

  ‘All set,’ I told Toby, descending once more to the hall. ‘See you at the barricades!’

  CHAPTER NINE

  I had timed my arrival at the Ropers’ for eleven-forty precisely, for I knew that it would be a matter of honour for Irene to keep me waiting a token five minutes and reckoned that it would be diplomatic to give her the satisfaction of believing that I was sweating it out in a fever of nervous tension.

  Phil and Alison were just setting off when I drew up, Alison wearing a dress of some hideous dark green slithery material, which was too tight for her, and a white felt helmet with a green feather stuck through it like a hatpin, and Phil sporting a pale tan suit and blue tie. It was the first time I had seen him for nearly a year and the first time ever when he had not been wearing shabby jeans and a tee shirt. The improvement was so impressive that I tactlessly remarked on it.

  ‘Give over, for goodness sake! You’re embarrassing the poor chap. He feels a right Charlie, as it is,’ Alison said, answering for him as usual.

  Phil blushed a fiery scarlet, although whether to underline her point or from fury at her making it was not clear.

  ‘Is Irene ready?’

  ‘Just about. She was feeling a bit off colour, first thing, and we had panic stations at one point because she’d lost her bag, but it turned up in the downstairs loo, so everything’s hunky-dory now. Go and give her a shout, Phil, there’s a good lad.’

  ‘I’m surprised he’s consented to come,’ I said, watching him lope away. He was a bony, ungainly young man, whose breadth had not yet caught up with his height and with a head too small for his shoulders which added to the general impression of immaturity.

  ‘I had a right old job persuading him,’ Alison admitted. ‘But I told him that anything was better than moping at home. The fact is, he’s got to face up to the situation sooner or later so he may as well jump in at the deep end. The trouble with my old Phil is he’s too inclined to bottle things up. You can see it’s getting him down though. Right off his food, too. “You won’t do any good by starving yourself, my lad,” I told him. “That never mended a broken heart.” Wouldn’t listen, of course. He’s the salt of the earth, but . . .’

  She rambled on in this strain for a while, but, like Phil, I ceased to listen, for the precious five minutes had almost run out and most of my attention was concentrated on the doorway through which he had vanished. I was debating whether to follow him when Irene emerged on to the porch, a vision of loveliness in a pink and white printed silk dress, with stand-up collar and matching wide-brimmed hat, which shaded her face in the most kindly and becoming way imaginable.

  I was mentally rehearsing a few fulsome and flattering comments, with which to boost her vanity and soothe her into an amiable humour on the drive to the church, when all the fearful anxiety which her presence had dispelled came flooding back in double strength. A shadow across the rear mirror had caused me to look up and I saw that a Panda car had stopped behind me. A plain-clothes policeman opened the passenger door and stepped out of it at the precise moment that Irene stopped her teetering progress down the path and stood aside to allow Phil to open the gate for her.

  Luckily for me, he fumbled it a bit and in the two or three seconds while he struggled with the latch I was out of the Mercedes and had covered the distance between it and the Panda car.

  ‘Good morning!’ I said, making it as brisk and businesslike as I dared. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘Would you be Mrs Irene Lewis, by any chance?’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t. Actually, my name is Price.’

  ‘Sergeant Brooks, Madam. This would be Holly Lodge?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘I understand you have a Mrs Lewis staying here?’

  ‘Yes, and I think I can guess why you want to see her, but listen, I want to ask you a big favour. Do you think you could possibly come back a little later on? Mrs Lewis’s daughter is being married at twelve o’clock. She’s come all the way from Canada specially for the occasion and we’ll only just be in time if we leave immediately.’

  ‘Oh certainly, in that case I shouldn’t wish to detain her, but this won’t take more than a minute. Or if I might just have a word and find out what time would be convenient?’

  ‘No, please!’ I entreated, throwing everything into it. ‘She’s very nervous and highly strung and she’s already been badly shaken by that awful business yesterday. I’m telling you this in confidence, but we’re all a bit worried in case she might have some kind of breakdown. This is a very emotional time for her, you see, but it will all be over by four o’clock and I guarantee to escort her back here personally as soon as her daughter and the bridegroom have left.’

  I had kept my voice down as low as possible while reeling off this farrago, for I knew that Irene would leap at the chance of describing her roadside heroism to the sympathetic young policeman, even if it meant holding up the wedding ceremony until midnight, and it may have been the breathless urgency of my tone which lent conviction to the appeal. There was a fractional hesitation and then the sergeant’s hand brushed his forehead in a kind of reflex salute, as he said,

  ‘Very good, Madam, I’ll return here at five o’clock if you think that’s best. I gather from the driver we interviewed on the spot that Mrs Lewis is unlikely to have anything material to add to his account, so there’s nothing for her to be alarmed about, but I quite understand that the circumstances are exceptional. Sorry to come barging in at a time like this, but you know how it is?’

  ‘What was all that about?’ Alison asked, hitching up her tight skirt, preparatory to crawling into the Mini.

  ‘Nothing important, I’ll tell you later. We should all make a dash for it now, or Ellen will arrive before we do. You go ahead, Phil, and then you’ll be able to take Irene in. Front pew on the left, don’t forget! It doesn’t matter about me. I can always hurtle in when I’ve parked, and sit at the back, if necessary.’

  Accustomed to being ordered about by a bossy female, he obeyed without a murmur and shot off down the road, just as the church bells pealed out their first summons. We had exactly ten minutes in hand, which was still enough, so I allowed Irene to take her time in draping herself and her clothes over the passenger seat, and to go through the routine check in the mirror behind the sun shield, only pretending to fume and fidget with impatience, so as to make it more amusing for her, since it all provided Phil with the necessary few minutes to get into position at the receiving end.

  ‘I can’t stand church bells,’ she complained petulantly as we skimmed along at a steady twenty-five miles an hour. ‘So depressing so
mehow. Toby and I were married at Caxton Hall. It tickles me to think of him putting on a show like this.’

  ‘I don’t think he had much choice.’

  ‘No, I expect those Roxburghs organised everything. Pseudo and pretentious to the last! It quite saddens me to think of a child of mine getting into the clutches of that lot!’

  ‘Why’s that, Irene? Did you know them before?’

  ‘Not him. At least, Osgood had dealings with him once over some merger or other with a Canadian company. He said Arnold was as tricky as they come. I wouldn’t know about that, but Stella and I were girls together in the old days.’

  ‘Really? I had no idea.’

  ‘We were at RADA together. Not in the same year; she’s a good bit older than me, but I knew her by sight. Well, everybody did, my dear. Not a type I admire, but striking, you know, even in those days. For all her lower-middle-class gentility, I have to confess she was definitely striking.’

  ‘And talented?’ I asked, not displeased to find some of Irene’s venom being drained off on such a distant target.

  ‘Devoid, my dear; utterly and totally devoid. She fell back on the other method, if you’ll excuse the pun. Queen of the casting couch, if you know what I mean? Still, she’s so grand these days that I’m sure she’d hate to be reminded of her unsavoury past, so I must remember to be awfully, awfully discreet. What did that policeman want, by the way?’

  This was the question I had been steeling myself for, but as the Panda car, which had trailed us for the first few hundred yards, had now turned off on to the main Dedley road, I felt safe in giving a straight answer:

  ‘As a matter of fact, Irene, he wanted to see you, or rather to find out when it would be convenient to do so.’

  ‘Me? Whatever for? What am I supposed to have done?’

  ‘Nothing, I imagine, beyond getting yourself mixed up in a motor accident. You’re a witness, in so far as you bear out Owen’s statement that the boy had been knocked down before you got there.’

  ‘Then why the hell couldn’t you have said so before and allowed me to speak to him?’ she demanded furiously.

  ‘It was hardly the moment to get embroiled in that sort of thing, was it? He’s agreed to come back this evening.’

  ‘I must say, my dear, you’ve grown into a very conceited little busybody, haven’t you? I’ll thank you to mind your own bloody business in future. I suppose your tiny success has quite gone to your head! It may surprise you to learn that I am not a complete imbecile and perfectly capable of making my own decisions.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t, but as you didn’t make any move at the time, I thought I was only doing what you’d want. You must have realised it was a police car?’

  ‘Of course I realised it was a police car. I’m not blind either; but it never crossed my mind that they’d come to see me. Naturally, when you went waltzing over to them I concluded it was some friend of your husband’s who’d brought you a message. Really, I could slay you for your bloody interference. Now I’ll have the horror of it hanging over me for the whole day, instead of being able to relax and enjoy myself.’

  The church was now in sight and I could see one or two people still going in. Phil and Alison were in position under the thatched roof over the gate and I said soothingly:

  ‘There’s absolutely no reason why you shouldn’t relax as much as you like, Irene. All you’ll be asked to do is answer a couple of simple questions, just to corroborate Owen’s statement, and that’ll be that.’

  ‘Oh, you think so, do you?’ she asked, flashing her splendid eyes at me as I drew up beside the gate. ‘Well, I’ve news for you, my child. You’re not quite so clever as you seem to believe. I have something very interesting to tell that policeman, which may surprise the lot of you. If I choose to, that is,’ she added, turning her back on me and climbing out of the car.

  CHAPTER TEN

  1

  In accordance, so I was told, with hallowed tradition, all the flowers had been provided by the bridegroom’s parents and here again the motif was monotonously yellow and white. Half a dozen experts had arrived direct from Covent Garden at eight o’clock in the morning, with two vans laden with white roses and white and yellow orchids, and had been working flat out until half-an-hour before zero hour. The result was breathtakingly beautiful and totally inappropriate, as though some multi-millionaire, cheated of his desire to hold a party in the Albert Hall, had transported the entire decor to St Mary’s Parish Church.

  None of this made more than a passing impression on me as I entered, for my principal concern was with the occupants of the two front pews, where I had the overwhelming relief of seeing Jeremy and Simon seated decorously on the right and, across the aisle from them, the brim of Irene’s pink hat bobbing about, as she chatted in animated style to the tall Prince Charming at her side, whose name was Robin Price.

  Reluctant to throw a spanner in these well-oiled works by pushing past her, still less to usurp her place of honour next to Toby, I made a detour by way of the side aisle, so as to approach from the rear, and as a result had the disagreeable shock of seeing a solitary and familiar figure crouched in one of the small pews at the back and one, moreover, whom I felt reasonably certain was present without benefit of invitation.

  There was no opportunity to pass on my misgivings to Robin because by the time I had edged in beside him the bells had grown silent as the organ tuned up for the first hymn, and the whole congregation was craning round to catch a first glimpse of the bride.

  She was followed by a page wearing the inevitable yellow trousers and white frilly shirt and by four prim-looking, matching bridesmaids of assorted ages and, as she looked everything that could possibly be desired by the most critical and sentimental wedding guest plus a bit extra which was all her own, further description would be superfluous.

  She was greeted by Jeremy, with a smile compounded of equal parts of dazzlement and awe, both of which looked genuine and Toby, having done his bit part very nicely, retreated to his place beside Irene, without giving her a glance. In fact, on looking back on it, I doubt if he ever glanced at her again from that moment until the end of her life.

  So far as I am concerned, once the cast is assembled and the action starts, the only truly gripping moment in the marriage service comes right at the beginning, when the question is thrown out as to whether anyone present knows just cause or impediment, etc. Expertly timed and delivered in an awesome enough tone, this can make for a very tense moment indeed and I have never understood why somewhere, far away in the depths of my mind, there used to lurk a tiny, nonconformist hope that someone actually would stand up and speak now.

  It had not happened to me yet and did not do so now, but what occurred next came sufficiently close to the real thing to have killed that particular tiny hope for ever. The regulation pause was nearly up and the vicar had opened his mouth to deliver the next line when there rang out from the back of the church a hoarse and lunatic shriek of laughter, such as would have curdled the blood of any Lyceum audience at the turn of the century and which had pretty much the same effect on the congregation of St Mary’s Church.

  In the appalled silence which followed almost everyone turned his head or lowered it in disgust and embarrassment, but I knew exactly where the sound had come from and who had made it and kept my eyes riveted on the three people standing below the altar.

  Ellen’s long veil and train successfully concealed any tremors which might otherwise have been visible and, after one astonished look round, Jeremy gripped her wrist and remained rigid as stone, his back squarely towards us.

  Meanwhile, there had been murmurs and scuffles behind us, punctuated by a man’s voice, slurred and protesting, and when I did turn I saw that five men were bunched up together, making a clumsy but concerted progress towards the door. One of them pulled it open and two others, each holding the arm of a third, went lurching out into the sunlight. Then the first man slammed the door behind them, letting the iron latch clang as it fel
l, advanced a few steps down the aisle and raised his hand in salute to the vicar, before he and his remaining companion returned to their seats.

  Few ushers can have been called upon to play such an active role and the Rev. Donald Atkinson’s experience was probably unique in the annals of Roakes parish history, so it was gratifying to find them all acquitting themselves with such admirable aplomb. After signalling to the organist and casting a sorrowful eye on those junior members of the choir who had succumbed to paroxysms of laughter, the vicar told us that we would now all join together in singing Psalm one hundred and thirteen, which, after an excusably ragged start, soon got into its stride, at which point I took a pen out of my bag and wrote a name on the hymn sheet, which I held up for Robin to read.

  2

  Toby had invited Robin and me to join the family party in the vestry, but as soon as he had been paired off with Stella Roxburgh and Irene had draped herself over Arnold’s arm I whispered to Robin that he should follow on his own and slid off in the opposite direction, retracing my roundabout route to the back of the church.

  One of our two remaining ushers left his seat to open the door for me, but most people were too busy gathering up their possessions and muttering to each other in decorous undertones to notice my departure.

  The other two ushers were outside in the porch, facing each other on wooden benches and, in passing, I congratulated them on their efficient chucking out performance. I did not stop to ask how the business had ended, which was probably a mistake, but I had another objective in view which at the time seemed more important.

  As I had anticipated, Owen had already brought his limousine up to the gate and was relaxing behind the wheel with a cigarette. He threw it away when he saw me and strolled round to the nearside.

  ‘Coming out now, are they?’ he enquired.

  ‘Not for another minute or two. They’ve gone to the vestry.’