Chapter NINETEEN
Ever since my sister-in-law, Chantelle, found out that Mick had changed his will in favour of Sylvia, she’s been talking about it non-stop, obsessed with the idea of losing the inheritance she’d been expecting.
She’s been trying to get Rob and me annoyed about it as well, but she’s completely wasting her time.
To our minds – and James’s mind as well – it was entirely understandable that Mick should want to make sure Sylvia was well provided for if he happened to pre-decease her.
As we waited anxiously for news, a group of us wandered into the kitchen and found Fiona making tea, so I offered to help.
Then Chantelle burst into the kitchen and slumped down at the table with the other girls. She was now moaning about having a crushing headache, apparently completely oblivious of the fact that poor Sylvia was upstairs possibly fighting for her life. She could be so self-centred, my sister-in-law! I couldn’t imagine how James, who was actually really lovely, could possibly put up with her when she was like this . . .
‘Why not have some hair of the dog?’
suggested Lottie, holding up the bottle of wine she was pouring into several glasses.
‘Nice idea. But not that awful wine.’
Chantelle pulled a disgusted face.
‘It tastes worse than vinegar. But then I suppose my palette is more finely tuned than most.’
We grinned at each other as she scraped back her chair and wandered over to the counter where the booze was.
‘Maybe a sneaky little gin and tonic?’
she mused.
I’d just picked up Mick’s mug of tea and a plate of biscuits when there was an unearthly shriek behind me. The mug wobbled in my hand with fright and hot tea slopped over my hand. I set the mug down quickly and turned, and Chantelle was standing there, her mouth open in horror, pointing at something.
‘What the hell’s wrong now?’
demanded Maddy crossly.
‘Don’t they have the type of gin you usually drink?’
‘The wedding cake,’
Chantelle whispered. ‘Look!’
With a shaking hand, she pointed.
My eyes widened. I’d been too busy making the tea and worrying about Sylvia to notice the wedding cake on the work top, sitting there in all its three-tiered glory.
The cake had been slashed through the middle with a meat cleaver and blood was dripping down the sides.
‘How the hell did that happen?’
Chantelle shuddered.
‘Oh, my God. I want to go home. This place is too spooky for words!’
‘What?’
Lottie stood up to look.
‘No, that’s not real. I made the wedding cake and I just got it out to show Joyce and Evelyn.’
Chantelle was still looking horrified.
‘Well, someone or something has taken an axe to it!’
‘No, no. Don’t worry, Chantelle. It’s actually a plastic meat cleaver and red icing for the blood.’
Chantelle turned to Lottie and I could see the cogs slowly whirring as she processed this.
Then her face fell. She gave a juicy curse and gripped her stomach.
‘Oh, my God, I’m going to be sick,’
she muttered, and charged for the door.
I was trying hard to feel sympathy for her. It was horrible being hungover. But one look at Maddy and the others, and I couldn’t help it.
It was probably down to the release of the tension we’d been feeling.
But we all burst out laughing . . .
*****
Most of the guests had gravitated back to the dining room now, so Maddy and I joined them, along with Lottie, Katja and Fiona. And after a while, the main course was brought in by Joyce and Evelyn – a beef goulash with polenta and pumpkin.
I managed to eat a little but when it came to the caramel apple pies for dessert, although they looked delicious, I really couldn’t manage any. The mood was sombre with Sylvia so ill upstairs. Everyone’s appetite seemed to have disappeared.
Celia, who was sitting next to me, put her fork down.
‘I really can’t face food right now,’
she admitted to me with a sad shake of her head.
‘I think I’ll go upstairs and see how Sylvia’s doing.’
I smiled and nodded.
‘I just keep wishing the paramedics would arrive.’
She sighed in agreement, pressed my hand and stood up. Mark, who was sitting opposite and chatting to Sarah Frobisher, looked up immediately and I noticed he followed Celia’s progress to the door.
I smiled to myself. It was rumoured that Celia and Mark had been in love, many years ago, when they were much younger, but life had split them apart.
Could the feelings still be there?
Celia