EX Files Read online

  “What’s your real name?” said Adam, unable to take his eyes from this apparition before him. She was camp heaven.

  “Elizabeth. Boring, innit?”

  “On the contrary, it’s rather classic . . . Champagne?” Adam gestured to the waiter for two glasses. He was anxious to ply McLaren with as much drink as possible, then stand back and watch the entertainment. He had every confidence she’d be a one-woman circus. “So what do you do to earn an honest crust?” he asked, taking a glass of champagne from the waiter’s tray and passing it to her.

  “I’m a glamor model—but I only do soft porn, not the butcher’s-shop-window stuff.”

  “How reassuring.” Boy, was she going to liven things up around here. “I work for Couture magazine.” Adam lingered on the last two words and waited for her to look impressed.

  “Oh.” She looked at him blankly.

  An awkward silence descended, broken by the arrival of Alice in a marquee-sized stripy dress that showed off her broad hips. Her hair was much curlier on one side than the other, which gave the impression that she’d left her room in a hurry. “Oh dear, am I late?” She looked anxious.

  “No, you timed your arrival perfectly,” said Adam. He sneaked a sideways look at Nat whose hand was roaming up McLaren’s thigh. “I could do with some extra company.”

  Hot on her heels came Jean and Derek, who greeted Alice with a peck on each cheek. Faye had told Adam her mother and Mark’s parents had only met once before, when Jean and Derek had been in London for the weekend.

  “And how do you know Faye and Mark?” said Jean, shaking Nat’s hand.

  “Faye and I used to hang out,” he said, with a wink.

  “Sorry?” Jean looked a little distressed, thrown by this loud, uncouth man.

  “It means they went out together, dear,” murmured Derek, smiling uncertainly at Nat.

  Jean, in a pale-blue Louis Feraud suit, put on her best Hyacinth Bucket expression. “Ah, yes, this silly business of inviting exes to the wedding. Quite ridiculous, if you ask me. If you don’t like each other enough to stay together, it defeats me why you stay friends afterwards.”

  Nat nodded, and a generously gelled strand of hair flopped over his eye. “I’m as surprised as you that I was invited, particularly as I hadn’t heard from Faye for months. I think she only rustled me up because Mark was inviting a couple of his exes.”

  Adam scowled at Nat for this indiscretion, but he had returned to staring down McLaren’s cavernous cleavage and didn’t notice.

  Jean gave a “what’s a mother to do” sigh. “Kate just seemed to dump poor Mark out of the blue, after all those years together. It’s astonishing he wants her here,” she said, to no one in particular. “But I can understand why he asked poor Jenna. Such a darling girl. She was his first girlfriend, you know.”

  “Really?” Nat couldn’t have sounded more uninterested if he’d tried, but Jean plowed on regardless.

  “Yes, they were at school together and she absolutely adored him. Then he went off to university and met Kate. Simple as that. Poor Jenna was heartbroken.”

  Just as Adam was wondering whether Jean ever referred to her son’s first love without the prefix “poor,” a slightly built girl made her way into the room. She was wearing a button front floral dress, and her pale brown hair was clipped back on either side of her pale face. She personified the style that had nearly put Laura Ashley out of business.

  “Ah, there she is! How are you, dear?” said Jean, in a tone that suggested there had recently been a death in Jenna’s family.

  “Fine thanks, Mrs. Hawkins.” She smiled. “How are you?”

  “Oh, struggling along in a cruel world, dear, you know how it is,” said Jean dramatically. “This wedding has taken sooo much organizing and I’m exhausted.”

  Adam looked at Jean and felt that, far from being exhausted, there was plenty of hot air in her yet. He also noticed that Jenna looked uncomfortable in her presence and decided to rescue her.

  “Hi, I’m Adam,” he said, and smiled. “I’m a friend of Faye’s. Can I get you a drink?”

  “Just an orange juice, thanks.”

  “Orange juice?” Adam was horrified at the thought of one of the exes remaining sober. That didn’t fit into his entertainment plans at all. “What nonsense! I mean, it’s not as if any of us are driving, is it? You must have a glass of champagne.”

  Jenna flinched. “OK. It’s just that I don’t usually drink much.”

  “Don’t worry.” Adam put an arm round her shoulders and squeezed. “I’ll look after you.” He handed her a full glass and tapped his own against it. “To Faye and Mark.”

  “Yes, absolutely,” she said, taking a small sip and screwing up her eyes.

  “So, you were Mark’s childhood sweetheart?” Adam didn’t believe in wasting time when he was on a mission to gossip.

  “Well, I was his first girlfriend, if that’s what you mean.”

  “How long were you together?” He gestured for her to sit down on one of two red velvet armchairs to their right.

  Jenna smoothed her dress under her. “Um, a couple of years, about three in all.” She looked wistful. “It was all a long time ago.”

  “Yes, but I don’t think we ever forget our first love, do we?” Adam sighed ostentatiously. “Mine was a bloke called Doug. Ooh, the thought of those strong hairy forearms still makes me go weak at the knees.”

  Jenna looked perplexed, and it dawned on Adam that, despite the aquamarine suit, it hadn’t crossed her mind that he was gay.

  “Trouble was, he was an agoraphobic homosexual, which made it rather hard for him to come out of the closet.” He tittered at his joke, but Jenna’s face remained blank. He gestured to the waiter to top up their glasses. This one was going to take some defrosting.

  “Do you have a boyfriend now?” she asked seriously.

  He made a scoffing noise. “Darling, it’s been so long I’m thinking of joining a monastery. At least there’ll be some single men in it!”

  She laughed, and Adam noticed how pretty it made her look. She had distinctive dark green eyes that would have benefited from a smidgen of makeup to enhance them, and her skin had the blemish-free glow of someone who rarely ventured into the sunshine. “Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked her.

  “No. I dated someone for a while, but it ended about six months ago. Southampton isn’t exactly awash with eligible men.”

  Adam raised his eyebrows. “Believe me, dear, if it was, I’d be living there. What do you do?”

  “I’m a hairdresser.”

  “Why don’t you move to London? There are hundreds of hairdressing salons.” He was thinking of the suburbs, but didn’t say so. “If you like, I could have a little ring round for you, see what’s going.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve thought about it, but I don’t know anyone there except Mark, and he’s got his own life now. I can’t imagine Faye would want me hanging around them.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind,” said Adam, lying through his teeth to make Jenna feel better. “She’s very easygoing about things like that.”

  Jenna didn’t disguise her surprise at this remark. “Where is she, by the way?”

  “Oh, she’s always late.” Adam made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Her ancestors arrived on the Juneflower.” Someone tapped his shoulder and he turned to find Derek behind him.

  “Hello, I’ve just come over to say hello to Jenna,” he said. “You look lovely, dear.” He jerked his head to the other side of the room where the rest of the guests had gathered. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

  8:40 p.m.

  The antique phone in Faye’s room rang shrilly.

  “Where are you?” It was Adam. “Everyone’s asking.”

  Faye had been ready for a good fifteen minutes, but she was determined to be the last down to ensure a full audience for her grand entrance. She was the star of the show and she wanted to make sure no one was left in any doubt
about that.

  She smoothed down the skirt of her black Chanel shift dress and took one last look in the ornate gold-framed mirror that hung inside the wardrobe door. She had always favored a chic, understated style, and tonight was no exception. Her only jewelry was her engagement ring, and a simple string of Asprey and Garrard pearls, bought for her by Nat in a rare flash of thoughtfulness. Her black shoes had kitten heels, carefully chosen so she wouldn’t tower over her husband-to-be.

  “Go get ’em, gal,” she said aloud, grabbing her clutch bag and heading for the lift. On her way down, she checked her hair in the chrome wall and tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. After months of preparation, there were no longer any minor chores to distract her from the main event. This was it. The wedding weekend had arrived. Tomorrow, at just after five o’clock, she would be Mrs. Hawkins. She wasn’t sure if the butterflies were of excitement or apprehension.

  Outside the library she took a couple of calming deep breaths, then pushed open the double doors and stood still, smiling towards the throng. To her mild annoyance, everyone carried on talking.

  At last Mark caught sight of her. “Darling!” He rushed over and grabbed her hands. “You look fantastic!”

  “Thank you.” She beamed, and allowed him to lead her across the room to their guests.

  “Hey, everyone,” shouted Mark, and clapped his hands for attention. “The bride-to-be is here!”

  All the guests stopped their conversations and gave a ripple of applause laced with a few “oohs” and “aahs” at Faye’s appearance.

  Her smile fixed in place, she scanned the room and identified most of them. She’d never met Jenna or Kate, but recognized them from pictures in Mark’s photograph albums. Jenna had changed very little, her hair still long and brown. Kate wore the same short style, but had applied a few lighter streaks to the front. In the way that women do, she assessed Jenna as plain, but with enormous potential for improvement, while Kate was prettier, a natural-looking girl of the type that boys always fancied most at school. She looked fresh and radiant, in a pink, strappy dress and dainty sequinned shoes. Faye also noted that while Jenna was clapping enthusiastically, Kate’s hands were at her sides and she wore a thin apology for a smile.

  “Jenna, darling, lovely to meet you!” deciding to reward her for her magnanimity, Faye enveloped her in a limp, rather showy hug.

  If Jenna was surprised at the display of sisterly love, she didn’t show it. “You look absolutely beautiful,” she whispered, clearly embarrassed at being the center of attention.

  “So do you!” Faye gushed, which wasn’t strictly true: Jenna’s floral dress swamped her slim figure. Then she extended her hand to Kate. “Lovely to meet you too.”

  “Hello, Faye.” Kate’s tone was noncommittal. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.” Faye smiled at her, then turned to Mark. “Darling, would you find me a glass of champagne, please?” Mark wandered off in the direction of the waiter, and she turned back to Jenna and Kate.

  “So!” she said brightly. “It’s so great you could both make it.”

  “Glad to be here.” Kate gave a quick smile.

  “Yes, it’s lovely to see Mark looking so happy,” said Jenna, glancing at him across the room.

  Faye had arrived with certain preconceptions about Jenna and Kate, formed from what Mark had said about them. Kate, with her cool demeanor, pretty much fitted the bill, but Jenna was a surprise. Faye had expected her to be less friendly because she had assumed her to be still in love with Mark. However, Jenna seemed genuinely pleased for them both.

  Mark reappeared. “Here you go.” He handed a glass to her and grinned. “I can’t tell you how weird it feels to see my future wife chatting to two of my ex-girlfriends.”

  “Be afraid—be very afraid,” laughed Faye. “We’ve been swapping notes and the wedding’s off.”

  “Great, now I can get really pissed.” He gave her a peck on the cheek.

  Faye saw an almost indiscernible look of mild derision cross Kate’s face.

  “Is your brother here, darling?” she said, linking one arm through Mark’s and waving at her mother with her free hand.

  Mark frowned. “No.” He scanned the room to check. “He’s been flying round all over the place so I suspect he’s fallen asleep. I’ll give him a buzz in a minute, chase him up.”

  “We’d better circulate a bit,” said Faye, and smiled at Jenna and Kate. “Catch you later.”

  As they turned away, she and Mark came face-to-face with Nat. It was tricky, but Faye managed to contain her shock at the vision standing next to him.

  “Hello, bridey,” said Nat, and gave her a dry kiss on the cheek. “This is McLaren.”

  “Hello, I’ve heard soooo much about you,” the girl squawked, and pumped Faye’s hand with such enthusiasm that her corseted breasts jiggled alarmingly. “And congratulations on getting married.”

  “Thanks, lovely to see you here.”

  As Nat started to tell a story about their journey, Faye discreetly studied McLaren close-up. She was actually very pretty, but the effect was lost under the heavy orange makeup she’d caked on to her face. The telltale lumps and bumps on her skin told Faye that it had been smothered in foundation for too many years, but she had beautiful, catlike green eyes and impressively high cheekbones. Her stunning figure would have needed little air-brushing to make the front of Loaded magazine.

  She was blatantly sexual, and Faye came to the conclusion that she was undoubtedly an ideal woman for Nat. It wasn’t that he was cold, simply that he showed his affection for women through sex, and McLaren looked the type to be happy with that.

  Mark’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Darling, we should mingle a bit. There’s still a lot of people to say hello to.”

  The château had thirty rooms, and the guests invited to stay included family, a few close friends, and the exes. Faye’s family consisted of Alice, Auntie Clara, and a couple of distant cousins, but Mark’s was larger, with Jean and Derek’s brothers and sisters and their partners, plus Great-Auntie Ethel. Work colleagues and other friends were staying elsewhere and arriving for the ceremony on the day.

  “Hello, Auntie Ethel,” said Mark, tugging Faye towards a white-haired, elderly woman sitting near the door. “This is Faye.”

  “Oooh, she’s lovely,” the old lady said, her small eyes screwing up as she smiled. Her red, button-front dress gaped slightly to reveal a glimpse of voluminous bra. “Mind you, dear, I’d have had him if I were twenty years younger.” She jerked her head at Mark.

  “Sorry?” said Faye, confused.

  “Yes, you did hear her correctly,” Mark murmured. “She likes to shock, particularly when my rather censorious mother is in earshot.”

  “Ah, I see.” Faye grinned and shook Auntie Ethel’s hand. “Lovely to meet you. Are you having a nice time so far?”

  Auntie Ethel’s papery mouth turned down at the corners. “My pillows are too hard and French food always gives me terrible wind,” she said.

  “Well, we can get your pillows changed, but I’m not sure about the food,” Mark said. He turned to Faye with a twinkle in his eye. “Is there a McDonald’s near here?”

  Before she could reply, Auntie Ethel had chimed in: “That reminds me, I could do my song later,” she said, and started to hum “Old McDonald Had a Farm.”

  “I don’t think so.” An anxious-looking Jean had appeared at Mark’s side.

  “If she wants to, that’s fine,” interjected Faye, anxious to make a good first impression on her future husband’s eccentric relative.

  Mark turned to her and lowered his voice. “It’s called ‘The Cocaine Song’ and she simply uses the tune of ‘Old McDonald,’ doing a sniff-sniff here, and a sniff-sniff there.”

  Faye burst out laughing. “It’s an absolute must for after dinner. I shall introduce it personally.”

  Jean looked as though she were about to pass out. “Please, no.” She looked beseechingly at her son.
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br />   Mark gave her a wink. “Don’t worry, Mum, there’s so much going on, it’ll probably be forgotten.”

  “Aha!” Jean caught his arm. “It looks like Tony’s joined us. Let’s go and say hello.”

  Faye followed her eyes to a far corner where a tall man was standing with his back to the room, chatting with Derek and Alice. She and Mark picked their way through the guests until they were standing right behind him.

  “And here’s the happy couple!” chirruped Alice.

  Mark placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Tony, this is Faye.”

  At that moment, Derek leaned across her and gave her a fatherly kiss on each cheek. “Lovely to see you, dear.”

  As he moved aside, Faye was still smiling broadly as she looked up into the face of Mark’s brother.

  It was as if someone had punched her, sharp and hard, in the sternum. She struggled to appear calm as she felt panic rise in the pit of her stomach and threaten to explode from her chest.

  It was the man from the wine bar, whose face had been buried in her naked neither regions just seven days before.

  “Tony, this is Faye,” said Mark, beaming from ear to ear. He took a step back. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”

  Just a couple of seconds passed as they stood there, frozen, with all eyes on them. To Faye, it felt like hours, weeks, months. Her mind was racing with memories of her behavior with this man, and of the implications it might have for her wedding weekend.

  He was stony-faced. To outsiders, he probably seemed cold, but Faye could see the shock in his eyes.

  Then, his rigid expression melted into one of seeming congeniality. “A pleasure,” he muttered. There was that achingly sexy smile again, although this time it was certainly forced.

  It took Faye a couple of seconds to realize that his hand was extended towards her. Unsure what else to do, she took it. “Hello.” She noticed that his handshake was almost limp with reluctance.

  “So . . .” the word hung in the air “. . . you’re marrying my brother.”