‘Your phone? I think it’s ringing?’
‘Oh, yes. Yes, thanks.’
Feeling foolish for being caught staring at Theo’s muscular forearms, Lexie delved into her handbag for her mobile. She checked the screen, already reaching for her notepad in case she forgot the details when she returned to the office – or, more accurately, the smallest room in the flat above Freya’s bridal boutique.
‘Oh, it’s Freya!’
‘What’s she ringing you for? Talk about lazy! She’s just across the lawn!’
Lexie rolled her eyes at Jasper. ‘Hey, Freya.’
‘Hi Lexie. Sorry to bother you, but have I left my dressmaking bag in the orangery?’
Lexie glanced over to the table next to the door and sure enough there was the Cath Kidston bag her friend used to store the cornucopia of essentials a busy wedding dress designer couldn’t live without; from the standard needle, thread and safety pins, to the more elaborate reels of ivory silk ribbon, knicker elastic and pinking shears, not to mention a tiny travel iron, a staple gun and tubes of superglue.
‘Yes, it’s here. I’ll bring it over.’
‘Thanks, and could you see if you can round up Rachel while you’re at it? She hasn’t turned up for her fitting, her phone seems to be switched off, and Zara is about to have a meltdown.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll find her. Remind me which room you’re in?’
‘The Chandler Suite. Thanks, Lexie, you’re an angel.’
‘No problem. Actually, I need to have a word with Rachel, too, about her chief bridesmaid duties. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was avoiding me. See you in a couple of minutes.’
Lexie grabbed Freya’s bag, swung it over her shoulder and headed for the door.
‘Hang on, I’ll come with you,’ said Theo, ditching his napkin-folding duties and rushing to join her, limping slightly as though he’d been sitting for too long and his leg had gone to sleep.
‘There’s no way Freya will let you set one toe into that room, you know!’
‘Hey, I was just offering my services to locate the errant chief bridesmaid!’
‘Oh, okay, thanks.’
‘Although if she had any sense at all, she’ll be plotting her getaway from all this mayhem.’
Lexie ignored him, waved goodbye to a smirking Jasper and, making sure that Theo was a couple of paces in front of her, picked her way along the gravelled pathway from the orangery to the impressive oak front door of the manor house, her stiletto heels sinking into the ground and causing her to walk like a demented duck.
‘Where do you think we should start our search?’ asked Theo, scouring the wood-panelled foyer for signs of Rachel. ‘What about the bar?’
‘I don’t think she’ll be in there – or at least I hope she won’t! Zara has imposed a strict no-alcohol policy until after the wedding ceremony.’
‘Harsh.’
Lexie tried not to smile at his expression of sympathy for the contingent of guests who had unwittingly arrived early, hoping to indulge in a few glasses of the locally produced Tarquin’s Cornish gin or the Moonshine whiskey or even the Camel Valley white wine.
‘Let’s try the Denman Suite.’
She led the way down the carpeted hallway and when they stepped into the sumptuous room, her lips curled into a broad smile. The perfectly proportioned space, named after the manor’s original owner, had been decorated in blue, white and gold, with carved cornices and ceiling rose, and Louis XIV-inspired furniture. She loved the two full-height windows looking out over the manicured lawns, framed with the last of the season’s daffodils and overlooked by a brigade of palm trees.
Palm trees! In England!
In fact, as Lexie allowed her gaze to rest on the strip of blue on the far horizon, she could have been looking at a photograph in a holiday brochure advertising a sojourn in the Caribbean or the Mediterranean. With some reluctance, she dragged her eyes from the view and performed a quick scan of the room, indignation tickling at her chest that Rachel had chosen to indulge in an afternoon of relaxation rather than responsibilities. Didn’t she realise how stressed out Zara was?
‘No sign of her in here!’
‘Okay, why don’t you wait in the bar while I go and give Freya her dressmaking bag?’
The expression of delight that stalked across Theo’s face caused Lexie to smile as she followed him out of the room and headed for the Chandler Suite. She pushed open the double doors, but before she could step inside, she saw her friend hurrying down the corridor towards her.
‘Sorry, Lex. The receptionist said there was a call for me on the hotel phone in the lobby, but when I got there… Aaaargh! Oh my God! Aaaargh!’
Lexie stared at Freya whose hand had flown to her mouth, her face the colour of overworked pastry, and a spasm of pure panic shot through her chest.
‘What’s the matter? What’s… Oh my God! Noooo!’
Both women stood motionless in the doorway, their gaze fixed on Rachel’s sunshine yellow bridesmaid’s dress hanging from a padded coat hanger next to Zara’s wedding gown, its crystals sparkling beneath the impressive chandelier. For a moment, Lexie couldn’t accept what her eyes were telling her to believe, but as her brain reconnected to its modem and reality kicked in, there was no doubt about it.
‘Is that… is that… blood?’
Chapter Four
Silence hung in the air.
Then, in unison, Lexie and Freya dashed forward to inspect the damage.
‘What in God’s name…’
With infinite care, Freya lifted up the flimsy chiffon overskirt of Rachel’s bridesmaid’s dress and squinted at the crimson-coloured stain that spread the full width of the pleated bodice and spilled down the front of the dress, turning the bright yellow fabric into a sickly shade of orange. Of course, now that Lexie was up close, she could see it wasn’t blood.
‘What… what is it?’ she asked, her heart hammering against her ribcage so hard that her breath came out in spurts.
‘I could be wrong, but I think… I think it’s tomato sauce.’
‘Oh my God, are you serious?’
Lexie leaned forward and sniffed. Sure enough, there was the tell-tale aroma of sweetness and vinegar. She cast a glance around the suite, expecting to see a maniac peering from behind the French tapestry screen, armed with a bottle of ketchup aimed in their direction, but the room was empty.
‘But how…’
She felt Freya sway against her and clicked into supportive mode. She linked her friend’s arm and guided her towards the brocade chaise longue next to the French windows, one of which was slightly ajar and letting in a welcome breeze.
‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m… yes, I’m fine. Thanks, Lex. Do you… do you think this could possibly be some kind of an accident?’
The wavering in her friend’s voice caused Lexie’s heart to contract. She grabbed Freya’s hand, lacing her fingers through hers, and gave them a squeeze of reassurance. For some reason she didn’t seem to be able to wrench her eyes away from Rachel’s bridesmaid’s dress, shocked by the incongruity of seeing something so clean and pure and exquisitely tailored sporting such an ugly stain.