Til Death Do Us Part. Stephen Edger
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They might claim innocence, but it’s like a sixth sense, isn’t it? Are you friends of the couple, then?’ His cheeks suddenly reddened. ‘Heavens, have I spoken out of turn? You’re not related to one of them, are you?’
‘Sort of, but I won’t take offence.’
His cheeks were now glowing. ‘You’ll have to forgive me, I’m always putting my foot in it. Please accept my apologies.’
‘It’s fine,’ she said as casually as her bubbling anger would allow.
If the hotel staff were gossiping about the incident, it was possible the story could leak to the press, and the last thing she and Ben needed was their privacy to be trampled on, particularly as the police still hadn’t officially ruled Ben out of their inquiry.
‘Are you related to the bride or groom?’ the stranger pressed.
‘Bride,’ she said, still not prepared to tell him it was her horrid nightmare he’d just described.
‘How’s she coping? Have they said if or when the husband will be released from prison?’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said abruptly, ‘but I’d rather not talk about it. I think they should just be left to their privacy.’
‘Of course, of course, and far be it for me to be a spreader of idle gossip. Have you known them long?’
The couple in front moved on and the woman behind the counter thanked Alice for her patience and asked how she could help.
‘I’d like to check out please,’ Alice said absently, sliding the key across the desk.
‘You are checking out of the honeymoon suite?’ the receptionist asked.
Alice’s cheeks burned as she nodded, refusing to meet the eye of the suited man who could overhear the entire conversation.
‘How was the wedding? Did everything go as well as you hoped?’
Alice wasn’t ready to even try and answer that question, and simply nodded. ‘It’s a lovely venue.’
‘Was the catering and organization up to scratch?’
Clearly the receptionist hadn’t been working yesterday, and had yet to hear the gossip. Either that or she was doing an incredible job of playing dumb.
‘It was all fine. I’m sorry, can we hurry this up? My husband is waiting for me.’
‘Certainly, madam,’ the receptionist said, standing. ‘I’ll just go and get your receipt and you should be good to go.’ With that she disappeared into the small office behind her.
Alice could see the man straining to make eye contact with her, but she refused to acknowledge him.
He slid a business card across the desk towards her. ‘If you’d like to tell your side of the story, I’m sure we can make it worth your while. Right now, you’ll probably want to throw the offer back in my face, but think about it over the next day or so.’
She looked down at the card for ‘Liam O’Neill, Freelance Journalist’, and felt bile building in the back of her throat. So that’s why he was so interested in the details of the big day. Alice left the card where it was.
‘People will want to hear your story, Alice. I’m sorry if I misled you to begin with. You should know that I’m on your side with this. I don’t really think you knew what your husband was capable of, but to learn about what he’d done on your wedding day, it beggars belief.’ He paused, allowing her to process. ‘The story will get out, as these things do. It’s up to you whether people hear your side of it, or an amalgamation of other eye witness accounts and suppositions. Think about it.’
‘Here’s your receipt,’ the receptionist said, offering the sheet of paper to Alice.
‘All checked out?’ Ben’s voice suddenly said over her shoulder.
Turning, Alice was relieved to see him, and reached for his hand, pulling him closer.
‘Is everything okay?’ he asked. ‘You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.’
She turned back to point out the grubby little journalist, but saw that he had scarpered.
‘It’s nothing,’ she said. ‘Is the car all packed?’
‘Yep, and I even stopped by to speak to your mum, just to reassure her that I’m sorting everything. She wasn’t happy, but she listened to what I had to say. I suggested she come round tonight, unless you’ve changed your mind about the flights.’
The thought of escaping people like Liam O’Neill suddenly sounded very appealing, but then how would it look if she left Ben to face the music alone?
‘Let’s just go home, I’ve got a pounding headache. I feel like everyone is watching us, and I’d rather be somewhere alone.’
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her outside to where the taxi was waiting. Dave, Scott and Abdul were the only guests gathered to wish the bride and groom on their way.
Taking one final look at the venue that had promised so much joy and happiness, Alice wondered whether they had seen the last of Liam O’Neill, or whether he would just be the first in a long line of people wanting a piece of their lives.
Silence descended on the car journey through the New Forest, passing wild ponies, donkeys, and tourists making the most of the luscious summer heat. Families sat on picnic blankets, enjoying good food and conversation, while children hunted for frogs and fairies in the undergrowth. The scene was picture-perfect, and Alice couldn’t help but imagine the day when she and Ben would load the car with their own children and head out into the wilds of the countryside.
Despite patches of heavy traffic, they made it back to the village of Chilworth, a stone’s throw from the end of the M3 motorway, inside thirty minutes. A blue saloon car parked in front of the gates to the property greeted them as they turned onto their road. It had no formal markings, but even Alice could tell what profession its driver had.
‘Let’s just keep driving,’ Alice suggested. ‘Let’s not let them ruin another day.’ She meant every word. They could drive past the house and head to her mother’s or one of their friends’ houses – anywhere to keep the wolves at bay for a while longer.
Ben shook his head. ‘We can’t run forever.’ With that he pressed the remote control to open the automatic gates, instructing the taxi driver to go past the blue saloon and continue up the driveway.
To their right, the large house stood in all its glory, the view from the road blocked by the high fence and bushes, looking magnificent and modern as the sun reflected off the large windows. Despite the proximity to the motorway, only the slightest hum of traffic carried on the wind. To the left of the main building stood the brick enclosure housing the near‑Olympic‑size swimming pool and hot tub; to the right, the double garage containing her Audi and his Mercedes. Their bedroom was the largest in the centre of the first floor, with two smaller rooms each side; a sixth bedroom was downstairs towards the rear of the property.
Ben and the driver were first out of the car, and as the bags were removed from the boot, the blue saloon pulled up alongside them. Ben paid the driver and thanked him, waiting until the taxi was through the gates before closing them once more with the remote control.
He turned to Alice and whispered, ‘Why don’t you head inside, and leave me to deal with whoever this is?’
Alice pulled her handbag over her shoulder like a sash. ‘We’ll do this together. We’ll show them we’re united.’
The two plainclothes detectives exited the blue car, lifting their identification into the air.
The woman spoke first.