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My Best Friend's Murder Page 2
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‘Thanks.’ Luckily, I wasn’t that thirsty anyway.
‘Figure I’ve got to keep him on side now that he’s going to be a permanent fixture. Speaking of which, have you guys started making plans?’
‘Iz, we’ve been engaged for less than twenty-four hours.’ I don’t mention I’ve already bought two wedding magazines.
‘It’s never too early,’ she says. ‘And I know it’s going to be tricky planning it without your mum. So if there’s anything I can do to help, I will.’
‘Thanks.’ I can feel a lump mushrooming at the back of my throat. Mum was never that convinced about Izzy. She thought our relationship had a toxic element to it (show me a teenage friendship that doesn’t), but I’m sure if she saw us now she’d be glad we’ve stayed in each other’s lives. I tuck the thought away. Thinking about Mum will only make me upset. ‘We’d better get a move on or those coffees will get cold.’
9.51 a.m.
‘Well done, you.’ Izzy is already hugging Ed by the time I reach the bandstand. She started power walking as soon as we hit the common. I lean down and scratch Missy’s long ears. She sniffs my hand to see if I’m carrying any treats then gives a disgruntled snort and lumbers off to investigate the bag of pastries. My brother, Rob, says she’s more of a portable dustbin than a dog, but I love her. I let her go and pass Tilly her sticker book. The force of her hug nearly knocks me over. I ruffle her hair and tell her it’s no big deal but really I’m chuffed.
‘Let’s have a toast.’ Rich starts handing out the plastic flutes of champagne.
‘Toast. Toast and jam and jam and toast,’ Tilly sings, the wind snatching her words away as we raise our glasses.
‘To the wonderful Bec.’ Rich inclines his glass towards me. ‘And to Ed, the man lucky enough to spend the rest of his life with her. Well done for pulling it off, mate.’
The plastic glasses snap as we tap them together. Ed clears his throat.
‘Thanks for that,’ he says. ‘But we all know I couldn’t have done it without a little help. I’d like to raise a toast to the other lovely lady in our company today. To Izzy.’
Izzy blushes and looks at the floor.
‘Yes. Thank you for introducing us.’ I nudge my glass against hers. ‘And thanks to Rich for going AWOL at that dinner so that I got the chance to be your plus one.’ I smile, remembering how Ed caught the seating plan after I nearly knocked it off its easel as soon as I arrived. ‘Basic risk assessment,’ he’d said with a chuckle, before swiping drinks off a passing waiter. I’d just had my heart broken by a sports journalist I’d been obsessing about for months but Ed made me smile. The rest, as they say, is history.
‘We wouldn’t be here without you guys.’ I move closer to Ed and he wraps an arm around me.
‘That’s not all we’ve got to thank her for.’
‘What do you mean?’
Izzy’s face starts to look a bit strained. She’s obviously worried about stealing my thunder. I smile to try and communicate that I’m more than happy to share it.
‘Well when I decided to make an honest woman of you I knew I needed a partner in crime, so I went straight to Izzy. I swore her to secrecy and she gave me all sorts of advice. She even helped choose the ring.’
Ed’s grinning like he’s won a prize but I stare at Izzy, who is still gazing intently at the floor. ‘When I told you this morning you pretended to have no idea.’
The corners of Ed’s mouth start to fold in on themselves. ‘Darling, I’m afraid I made her promise. I hope you’re not upset. I just wanted to get it right.’
‘Why don’t you help me give this a push, mate?’ Rich nudges Ed towards where Tilly’s discarded her scooter. ‘Come on, Tills, let’s see if we can really make you fly.’
Izzy waits until they’re a safe distance away then says: ‘I didn’t want to spoil it for you.’ She stares at me, eyes wide like a Disney princess. ‘Besides, I had no idea how he was going to do it or when exactly. So really it was a surprise, if you think about it.’
‘I feel like an idiot banging on like it was some massive bombshell when you knew all along.’
‘I didn’t want to spoil your moment. If you think about it, Ed put me in quite a difficult position. I could hardly say anything, could I?’
‘I guess not,’ I say doubtfully. My whole engagement now feels like a loop I was left out of.
‘I wanted to make sure you got a decent ring.’ She glances over her shoulder to check Rich is out of earshot. ‘Not a hand-me-down like mine.’
I think Izzy’s engagement ring – an antique square sapphire flanked by diamonds – is stunning, but I know she prefers her wedding and eternity bands.
‘Did I do good?’ Izzy looks like Tilly when she’s done something she’s really proud of. ‘Do you like it?’
I look at the ring on my finger. The diamond blazes back at me. I always thought that if Ed ever got round to it, he’d choose something smaller, quirkier. This is so big I’m going to struggle to use a keyboard when I go in to work on Monday.
‘I do… except…’
‘What?’
‘I keep waiting for the Titanic to call and say it wants its iceberg back.’
A cloud scuds across the sky and casts a shadow across Izzy’s face and I worry I’ve offended her. Before I can check, Rich and Ed amble back around, Tilly and Missy sandwiched between them.
‘So now Ed’s finally popped the question –’ Izzy claps her hands ‘– we want to throw you an engagement party.’
‘We can’t let you do that,’ Ed says. ‘It’s too generous.’
‘We don’t need to make a big deal of it,’ I agree. Rob’s the party animal in our family. Large rooms full of people I don’t know stress me out.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. You know I love a party. We can have it at our place,’ Izzy starts ticking things off on her fingers. ‘If we get a move on, we can get it in before Christmas. It’ll be Christmas-themed so we can save on the decorations. Oh, it’ll be so much fun. Ed, Bec, can you get me the email addresses of the people you want to invite by the end of the weekend? That way I can get cracking.’
‘You must let us cover the booze,’ Ed replies. ‘To thank you for the gesture.’
To my surprise, Izzy accepts. ‘That would be wonderful,’ she says. ‘Plus that way you can make sure you like all the stuff we serve.’
I want to say that I’ve never met a glass of wine I didn’t like – and that I don’t really want an engagement party – but Ed’s nodding.
Izzy grabs his arm. ‘Come on. It looks like it’s about to rain. We can talk about it on the way back. Guest list, band, that kind of thing. I need to head off now if I’m going to make this Beef Wellington in time.’
‘I said I’d do that.’ Rich flips Tilly’s scooter over his shoulder as if it weighs nothing. ‘I’ve only got a few pages to finish.’
‘I’ll believe it when I see it,’ Izzy dismisses him. ‘There was something else I wanted to talk to Ed about anyway.’
Ed hands me Missy’s lead. ‘I’m all ears. Bec, do you mind taking her round the bandstand one more time to make sure she’s ready to go? I don’t want her crapping in my car again.’
‘She’s only done that once,’ I say, but they’ve already started walking off. A slight sourness creeps over me as I pack up the remnants of the picnic. Ed and Izzy are laughing, heads thrown back, teeth flashing as they walk. Perfect father Rich is bringing up the rear, his whole body inclined towards Tilly so he doesn’t miss a syllable of what she’s saying. And I’m back here, crumpling pastry wrappers into an old Waitrose bag. It doesn’t feel much like an engagement celebration. Then I hear my name being called.
‘Bec.’ Izzy’s cupped her hands over her mouth and is hollering at the top of her voice. ‘Hurry up. Ed’s making all the decisions. And some of them are terrible. We need you!’
Just like that it’s as though the sun’s come out. I stuff the carrier bag in the nearest bin and set off at full pace after them, my
resentment fluttering out onto the common behind me.
Three
Saturday 15 December
6.47 p.m.
I jiggle my leg on the bed while I wait for Ed to finish getting ready. For a man with relatively little to do (shower, shit, shave), he seems to be taking an awfully long time. Izzy says Rich is the same; in the mornings she has to use the bathroom down the hall because he hogs the en-suite. Not a problem Ed and I need to solve. I look through the open bedroom door across the hall at the door to our sole bathroom. The paint at the edge of the panels is starting to flake. It’s still the bland magnolia colour it was when we bought the flat. I keep suggesting we repaint but somehow we never get round to it. Maybe now we’re engaged, we’ll move somewhere bigger. With Ed being a partner I’m sure we could do better than a cramped two-bed. Before I can start fantasizing about Clapham townhouses, Ed opens the door and steps out in a cloud of steam. With the towel tight around his waist like a mini-skirt, he looks like a modern-day Roman gladiator.
‘You know that’s the hand towel, right?’
He takes it off and whirls it around his head. He’s trying to make me laugh but my mind’s already flying ahead to tonight. I wait for him to start getting dressed then stand up and give myself a final onceover in the full-length mirror opposite the bed before it fogs up. I liked the way the navy Reiss dress hugged my hips when I bought it. Now I’m wondering if it’s too tight. Or too short. I always underestimate how smart these things tend to be. I tug at the back and wonder whether there’s time to change into something else. Not that I really have anything suitable.
‘You look gorgeous.’ It’s as if Ed read my mind. Either that or my insecurity is written across my face.
‘Really?’ My mum always used to tell me off for fishing for compliments but I could use a boost.
‘Really. You’ll be the belle of the ball.’ He leans forward and kisses me on the forehead. Then he finishes buttoning up his shirt and pushes his glasses back up his nose in a way that reminds me a bit of Clark Kent. ‘Now, are you ready?’
‘I think so.’ I take a last look in the mirror. With the help of YouTube, I’ve managed to sweep my shoulder-length brown hair into a chignon and for once my make-up looks okay. My eyeliner’s a bit wonky but I’m hoping Izzy will fix it.
I spot him tuck a piece of paper into the pocket of his jacket as he puts it on. ‘You’re not planning on making a speech, are you?’ My stomach twists at the thought. ‘Please tell me you’re not making a speech.’
‘Don’t worry. I know you hate being the centre of attention. Relax.’ Ed grabs me by the shoulders. ‘I promise I’m not making a speech about you.’
I fiddle with my handbag. Ed’s been acting ‘surprise birthday party’ funny all week. Tapping away on his phone constantly and going out of the room to answer when it rings. But if he tells me he’s not going to make a speech, I believe him.
7.18 p.m.
Like most men, the Uber driver’s idea of three minutes differs vastly from mine and he takes two wrong turnings while he’s trying to find the South Circular. I’m drumming my fingers on the dirty window by the time we finally turn onto Izzy and Rich’s road. Their house is lit up like Christmas. Izzy’s studded the tall hedges at the front with fairy lights and hung enormous red bows in every window. It might be set back from the hustle and bustle of Northcote Road, on one of Clapham’s more exclusive streets, but its festive embellishments could compete with any of the area’s bars and restaurants. As we pull up outside, the first strains of Michael Bublé’s ‘Holly Jolly Christmas’ waft down the front steps. Nobody throws a party like Izzy.
The front path is frosted with ice and I’m conscious of my heels so I totter up the front steps, gripping Ed’s arm like he’s a life raft and I’m drowning. I only let go to knock. The brass doorknocker is barely out of my hand when Izzy whips open the door. She’s wearing a pale gold, floor-length dress that can really only be described as a gown. Rich fills the doorframe behind her, looking like James Bond. He’s wearing a dinner jacket, for heaven’s sake. I tug at the material around my hips. I knew I should have gone full-length. It’s not until Ed coughs that I realize I’m standing on the doorstep with my mouth open. And it’s freezing.
‘Sorry, I was so taken aback by your gorgeousness that I forgot myself.’ I reach forward to kiss Izzy. ‘You should hire yourself out for weddings and bar mitzvahs.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Izzy air-kisses me on both cheeks. ‘You look pretty gorgeous yourself. I wish I were brave enough to get my legs out in this weather. And who is this silver fox you’ve brought with you? George Clooney, eat your heart out.’
I shoot Ed a sympathetic look. I know he’s conscious about the grey hairs peppering his sideburns. But he’s laughing along.
‘You guys are among the first to arrive, which works perfectly,’ Izzy carries on. ‘Ed, come with me and choose what we should be drinking. There’s champagne already open but I bet you can come up with something more imaginative.’
Izzy practically scoops Ed into the hall, leaving me standing on the threshold with Rich.
‘You look lovely, Bec. I’m so glad we can celebrate this with you.’ He leans down and I breathe in a waft of his aftershave. I hold the bunch of white flowers I’ve brought in front of me like a shield before he can hug me. I wonder if I’ll stop needing a minute to regulate myself around him after I’m married. I hope so.
‘Here.’ I remind myself that I should be thinking about Ed not Rich, then hand the flowers over. ‘A little thank you from us.’
‘You really shouldn’t have. This is your party.’
‘I couldn’t come empty-handed but it seemed pointless to bring more booze. I’m sorry about the colour – I know pink roses are more Izzy’s taste.’
‘These are my favourite as it goes so you can stop apologizing. Honestly, you haven’t changed. Do you remember that time when we were kids and you apologized to a paving stone that tripped you up?’ Rich cracks up.
‘I can’t believe you remember that.’ My shoulders start to loosen. ‘But that paving stone probably did deserve an apology – it was about to feel the full force of my fat arse.’
‘Moments like that you don’t forget,’ Rich shakes his head. ‘If you want a proper trip down memory lane, my mum’s coming. If you’re lucky, she’ll probably bring out pictures of the five of us in the bath together.’
‘I’m hoping Rob’ll pop along later. He’ll love that,’ I say with a dose of sarcasm. ‘I’m pleased your mum’s coming though. I was hoping to stop in and see her when she was last here but it didn’t work out.’
‘After Beef Wellington-gate, you mean.’ Rich winks. ‘Just as well you didn’t. I was supposed to set a timer on my phone but I got carried away writing. It was ruined. I was in the doghouse all afternoon. I don’t know who was more pissed off – Izzy, who’d been up since the crack of dawn making it, or Mum because she was starving. On the plus side, it did have them agreeing on something.’
‘You’re exaggerating,’ I laugh. Izzy and Jenny get on like a house on fire.
‘I promise you, I’m not. Oh and Bec? Stop putting yourself down. You didn’t have a fat arse back then and you certainly don’t have one now.’
I blush so furiously even my scalp is burning but, luckily, Izzy reappearing from downstairs saves me from having to reply.
7.31 p.m.
I’m loitering in the hall, drinking champagne when the doorbell goes again. I hear Rich’s mum’s – Jenny Waverly’s – distinctive tones through the door declaring she could murder a gin and tonic while someone else, presumably David, stamps his feet against the cold. Izzy’s patting her hair into place in the hallway mirror so I move to open the door and save her a job. She cuts in front and beats me to it.
‘Hello, darling.’ Jenny steps in and pats her on the back, while David nods a curt greeting and wanders down the hall looking for the bar.
‘I’ll have a gin and slimline,’ Jenny calls after him.
‘Isabel, the house looks gorgeous. You have been busy.’
‘It didn’t take long.’ Izzy ducks her head modestly. ‘Of course you remember my friend Bec?’
‘Remember her? I’d know her in the dark. She was getting under my feet for the best part of her formative years.’ Jenny beckons me into a warm embrace that quells the flicker of irritation I feel whenever Izzy tries to make out she knows the Waverlys better than I do.
‘Rebecca, darling, lovely to see you. I’m so thrilled about the engagement and I know your darling mummy would have been too.’
‘Thanks, Jenny.’ Normally I hate it when people reference what they think my mum would have thought about something. But with Jenny it’s different. I’m glad she’s here.
‘I mean every word.’ Jenny grips my upper arms. ‘And is your father coming tonight?’
‘The flights from Dubai are very expensive at this time of year. I did ask him but it wasn’t possible.’
Jenny’s mouth forms a moue of discontent as if she thinks my dad’s excuse – or residential status – doesn’t pass muster.
‘And tell me, Isabel, Matilda can’t be in bed already? I came early to see her.’
‘It’s past seven, Jenny. We didn’t want to disrupt her routine.’
‘If I crept in, I’m sure I wouldn’t disturb her.’
I can see Izzy smiling through gritted teeth.
‘Jenny, something about you is different,’ I chip in. ‘Have you had your hair cut?’
‘I have.’ Jenny pats the side of her silver chin-length bob. ‘I’m so glad someone noticed. That’s the problem with having sons.’
‘And did I hear you saying something about wanting a gin and tonic? What a good idea – why don’t we go downstairs and sort them out ourselves? I don’t know about you but I find every time I wait for a man to get me a drink, I practically die of thirst.’
Jenny laughs as if I’ve cracked the joke of the century and I flash Izzy a thumbs up behind her back. Perhaps tonight won’t be so nerve-wracking after all.