Court Out - By Elle Wynne Page 0,103

act together. If you’ll pardon my French, the shit is very much about to hit the fan.”

I clutch the windowsill and stare blankly out at the rolling fields. “Have, have the police arrested anyone yet? Who knows?”

“Well, from what I’ve gathered, they’re looking for certain people at the moment, Miss. They appear to have grasped the reality of the situation, if that’s what you mean.”

“Are they looking for Serena? They know she’s getting married tomorrow, right?” I exclaim.

My head is suddenly filled with visions of Eastenders-esque arrests made at the altar.

Roger sighs. “Yes, they are looking for her, but I’m afraid I don’t know what their plans are.”

“So who else knows? Alexander?” I snap, suddenly furious about the lack of belief my Head of Chambers has in me.

“Not sure Miss, I know he was about earlier, but I can’t say for sure. I have to go now, I’m sure you’ll be kept informed, whatever happens.”

He hangs up and I lean forward and try to catch my breath. Is this it? Does this mean they believe me? Is this nightmare finally about to end? I’d better call Sebastian, let him know what is going on.

As I straighten up and turn back away from the window, my heart stops. Stood in the doorway is none other than Serena. Shit. How long has she been there for? I mentally replay my conversation to see if there was anything I said that might have indicated what we were talking about. Whilst I can’t remember every word, I’m pretty sure she’d have cottoned on if she’d been there long enough. The expression on her face is one of displeasure, but given her recent mood then that’s nothing to be concerned about.

“What’s up?” I ask casually, deliberately avoiding her penetrating stare.

“What are you doing in here?” she asks, her voice steady but with a steely edge. Her blonde curls have been pulled back into a tight ponytail and she looks a lot harder than normal.

“I’ve just finished talking to the band, going through the songs like you asked,” I lie. Well, I had been doing that before speaking to Roger I rationalise.

She continues to stare at me.

“And what songs did you tell them to avoid Lauren?”

I rack my brain frantically, “Anything by the Police, I know you really can’t stand Sting, you know, just the usual.”

My voice is way too high pitched to sound plausible and I know this in one of the most implausible sentences I’ve ever constructed. Amazingly, her face appears to clear and she nods.

“Fine. Have you sorted the table plan yet? What about the church readings?” she quizzes, her eyes flitting about the room.

“All done, I just have a few-”

“What the fuck!” she yells. I literally jump half a foot in the air. “Lauren! Did you open one of the bottles of vintage Moet that we are using for the toasts?” She is pointing at the bottle of bubbly I opened to provide the Dutch courage to call Roger. Shit. Oh sod it, It’s only a bottle of fizzy wine. I decide to bite the bullet. Taking a deep breath, I answer her.

“Yes, I did. I needed something to perk me up after running around all day. I was about to bring it through,” I say, attempting and failing to look repentant. She tuts and casts a disapproving eye over my hips.

“I presumed you’d be watching the calories. I hope your dress still fits. Just make sure you don’t have any more carbs today. If we are short of fizz tomorrow, you can buy some more.”

With that she gives me a very odd look, turns on her heel and stalks out.

I take another swig of the champagne for good measure. That was either really close, or she’s on to me. I shut the door and call DC Connelly. Damn, voicemail. I leave him a garbled message asking him to call me back as a matter of urgency. I take a few deep yoga breaths and try to think about what she could have heard. I’m sure I mentioned something about the police, arrests and Serena. But surely, she’d have said something if she heard that though? All I can do for the moment is carry on regardless I guess. This champagne is not leaving my side though. I grab another bottle, just in case.

Chapter Twenty Four

The rest of the day continues with out any major catastrophes. I run around like a tipsy headless chicken, making sure that every whim of Serena’s is