Chapter 14
TEN YEARS AGO…
‘They’re doing what?’ Hannah was staring at Sophie.
‘Going to a degustation.’
‘You mean one of those foodie things where you go to some swanky restaurant and have a dinner that’s made up of umpteen tiny courses with matching wines?’
‘Yep. This one’s in Notting Hill and the restaurant has three Michelin stars.
They’ll get things like a saucer-sized plate with a skid mark of some kind of glaze and a bite-sized piece of something special, like hand-dived scallops, possibly decorated with a little samphire branch.
And something weird for a dessert course like wasabi ice cream.
’ Sophie rolled her eyes. ‘There’s always some kind of foam somewhere, too. ’
‘What kind of a stag do is that? Why can’t the boys have a rave in Ibiza or a strip club or chain Tom to a lamppost wearing nothing but his undies?’
‘This group is mostly friends from chef school and the restaurants Tom’s been working in since he and Luc got back from France. But can you imagine Tom wanting any of that kind of nonsense, anyway?’
‘No.’ Hannah sighed. ‘He’s got positively middle-aged ever since you two got engaged.
You’ll probably spend your honeymoon house hunting online for the perfect bungalow, in the best school zone for the beautiful two point five children you’re going to raise.
With a garden big enough for one of those floofy designer dogs, of course. ’
‘An oodle?’ Sophie was smiling now. ‘I love oodles. A labradoodle would be cool. No… I think I want a Bordoodle. That’s a cross between a Border collie and a poodle.’
Her smile faded a little too quickly, however. Was she the reason that Tom had been reining in his adventurous and sometimes mischievous streak? Did he know that the thing she loved the most about him was that he made her feel so safe?
The wildest thing he’d done recently was finding a racetrack where he’d been able to unleash the power of his pride and joy – that cobalt blue performance car his father had given him as a wedding gift.
He hadn’t quite reached the two hundred miles per hour it was capable of but Sophie had still only been able to watch from the grandstand through the cracks in her fingers.
The thrill of it had been enough for him to be glowing, however, when she went to find him leaning against the car at the end of the ride.
‘You’ll have to come with me next time, babe. Unbelievable…’ He’d shaken his head. ‘Better than sex.’
Because it was dangerous enough for one wrong move to mean that you could die?
Could sex ever really compete with that kind of adrenaline rush?
Sophie knew, deep down, that it could but she was even more sure that no one in their right mind would go hunting for it.
It was mad enough to be driving as if you wanted to break the sound barrier.
She snapped back to what Hannah was saying.
‘What?’
Hannah laughed. ‘I just wanted to check that you were actually listening to me. And no, there won’t be any male strippers turning up.’ She was still smiling. ‘I can’t guarantee there won’t be a few orders for Sex on the Beach at our cocktail bar, mind you.’
Sophie shook her head. ‘You’re incorrigible, you know that?’
‘That’s why you love me.’
‘And you promise there’s no stripper going to turn up in a policeman’s uniform to handcuff me to a chair?’
‘I promise.’ But Hannah pursed her lips. ‘I might save that idea for my hen do, though.’
‘And no tee shirts with embarrassing slogans?’ Sophie persisted. ‘Or silly veils?’
Hannah threw her arms around Sophie. ‘As if I’d make you do something as undignified as that. We’re going full nightclub glam, remember? Sparkles and sequins.’
* * *
Sophie couldn’t refuse to wear the discreet tiara that only added an extra bit of sparkle to her silver dress that shimmered from the hundreds of sequins attached to the fabric like fish scales.
There were cocktails and delicious canapes in the club’s private events room. Strawberry daiquiris and espresso martinis to start with until the evening had gone on long enough for the music to get louder and the dancing more enthusiastic.
At one point, Sophie went to get a glass of water and catch her breath and took the opportunity to text Tom under the table.
Your sister is shouting an order for sex on the beach
A laughing emoji came back fast enough to suggest that Tom hadn’t let go of his phone since their last stolen communication.
Hope you’re having as much fun as she is.
I’d rather be out with you. How good is your dinner?
So far, my favourite was the heritage tomatoes with burrata espuma and basil oil. Think mega-posh insalata caprese. You’d love it.
I want to be in Italy already. On our honeymoon.
Me too.
I can’t wait for tomorrow.
Me too. Love you.
Sophie was adding heart emojis to her echo of his words when the phone was snatched from her hands.
‘Oh, my God, Soph – you’re texting Tom? No!’ She held the device too high for Sophie to grab it back and finish sending her message. ‘You have to come and dance. This is your party.’
Her unsent text was still on her screen when Hannah finally gave her back the phone as the evening was winding down just after midnight. It was high time they went home to rest before the big day tomorrow.
She hit the arrow but blinked a moment later as a red exclamation mark appeared, along with the notification that the message was undeliverable.
Sophie frowned. ‘Why isn’t my text going through?’
‘Tom probably forgot to charge his phone and it’s died. Or maybe he turned it off.’
‘He wouldn’t do that,’ Sophie said quietly.
She wasn’t about to try and identify the unpleasant sensation that shimmied down her spine. She just knew the party was most definitely over. It was past time to go home.
It was Hannah’s phone that rang as they climbed into the black cab. She was staring at Sophie as she listened to the call and, watching the colour drain from Hannah’s face, Sophie had to acknowledge what that strange sensation had been.
A premonition.
Fear.
Hannah leaned forward to tap on the partition screen protecting the driver.
‘Change of plan,’ she called when he slid the little window open. ‘We need to go to St Mary’s Hospital. As fast as you can, please.’
Her voice was only a whisper as she sat back and reached for Sophie’s hand. ‘It’s Tom and Luc,’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘There’s been some kind of accident…’
The chill that started in her neck didn’t simply skitter down the surface of her back this time.
It was heading straight for her bones and she knew what this was because she’d felt it before.
She knew what was coming and she almost welcomed how overwhelming it was because it was the only possible protection she could find.
The numbing effect was wrapping itself around her.
It muted every sense. She barely heard the siren of an ambulance that streaked past them going towards the hospital that everybody knew was one of the major trauma centres in London.
The crowded waiting room and the corridors, deeper into the emergency department, were no more than a blur of faceless people and machines being wheeled past. She didn’t register the sharp smell of antiseptic or the metallic notes of spilt blood.
Even the words being spoken by the doctors were almost incomprehensible.
‘Catastrophic injuries…’
‘I’m so sorry for your loss…’
‘You can have as much time alone with him as you need…’
The slivers of pain that managed to slice through the numbness were the memories that Sophie would keep forever.
The fading warmth that was still in Tom’s skin as she lifted his hand to press her lips and then her cheek to it.
The softly smoky smell of his aftershave.
The horror of finding that every sequin on her dress was like a miniature mirror.
A thousand tiny imprints of Tom’s face that had somehow escaped any major injury. Images that were obliterated as they moved when she had to drag in a new breath and then the shiny surfaces could only reflect the bright red of the blood that had soaked through the sheet covering his chest.
Blood that was still on her clothes and hands when she was finally able to shut the world away only to be faced with the blinding cleanliness of the white dress hanging on the back of her bedroom door.
She could still hear the raw grief in Hannah’s voice as she screamed at Luc.
‘You’d been drinking? But you were driving the car?’
And his words that were so lacking in expression they were robotic.
‘Yes. I was driving the car.’