in unicorns, but Willow had seen that large mole on his left butt-cheek a million times to know it was him.
The remaining photographs had seemingly caught Charlie unawares. He was mostly asleep and sprawled out naked with chocolate body paint smeared across his torso. But… what was this?
The sender had cropped herself out of this picture but, at the very edge, Willow spotted a lock of dark wavy hair. Her stomach lurched. And… oh my God… in this one Charlie was awake but not looking at the camera. Had he even known the sender was photographing him? Probably not. He was far too engrossed in what he was doing. Eyes closed. Face ecstatic as his lips kissed their way up the inside of the sender’s thigh… upon which danced a pretty butterfly tattoo.
Sixty-Two
As the Roller swung through the gates and arrived at its fairy-tale destination, Willow’s mobile buzzed with a final message:
I’m not sure I would marry him, but will you?
‘Ready, sweetheart?’ said Jerry, turning to his daughter.
Willow stared at her father with huge eyes. Ready? She felt so traumatised, she couldn’t think straight. Her brain had turned into a pressure-cooker threatening to blow up. She couldn’t eradicate the images of Charlie with this woman. Even worse, there were sickening clues to her identity, from the tantalising glimpse of wavy brown hair to THAT butterfly tattoo. Willow felt so crushed by the woman’s betrayal even the simple act of breathing was becoming an effort.
The Rolls Royce purred to a standstill. There, on the stone steps of Goldhill Grange, was Emma. Her long wavy brown hair had been threaded into a bridal up-do. The cool December breeze was tugging at the hem of her bridesmaid’s dress, but not enough to lift the skirt and reveal the butterfly tattoo on her left thigh. She was clutching her posy… along with her phone.
Willow was so numb she didn’t register that the chauffeur had opened the door for her.
‘Darling?’ Jerry prompted.
Her father was now out of the car and waiting for Willow to do likewise. She realised that shock had given her a temporary protective cocoon. She couldn’t even cry. No doubt the tears would come later. Jerry was looking at Willow curiously.
‘Come on, sweetie. It’s cold out here. Emma’s arms have goose bumps. Let’s get on with the show.’
Jerry noted his daughter’s pinched expression but deduced she was simply suffering a dose of old-fashioned nerves.
‘Ready?’ said Emma.
Willow didn’t deign to answer the question.
‘You’re holding your phone,’ she said instead.
The words came out in a flat monotone. Willow didn’t recognise her own voice.
‘Oh, yeah. I should have given it to Mum earlier, but I was taking last minute pics. Not to worry. I’ll hide it in my posy. Like this. See?’
She demonstrated, sliding the flower ball over the phone.
‘I have some great shots of you arriving. I think you’ll be really pleased with them, especially as the official photographer and video guy weren’t out here to greet you. They said they had to go inside and get in position.’
Willow didn’t reply.
Emerging from the Roller, she found herself copying Emma, tucking her own phone into the bouquet while her free hand took her father’s arm.
On autopilot, Willow allowed Jerry to lead her inside the hotel. Moving through the vast reception area with its twelve-foot-high Christmas tree, two uniformed staff guided them to the ceremony room. Every available surface was lined with flickering candles and there were enough Christmas garlands to rival Santa’s grotto. The venue looked utterly magical. It was completely at odds with Willow’s heart, which had turned into a winter wasteland.
Pausing at the entrance, Willow could see that the guests were now inside and in their seats. Many were aware the bride had arrived. Heads were turning to look at her. Admiring looks were being given.
Dust motes danced in the air, lit up by the fairy lights strung around the room. As she stood there, Willow likened the specks to suspended particles of bright glitter as they whirled around her veil. Now they were blurring with the images of THOSE sexy snaps, and suddenly the glowing sparkles dimmed from an arc of colour to a swirl of fog so that everything became grey.
Willow spotted Charlie’s boss, Drummond, in an aisle seat. She was astonished to see Ben’s ex-girlfriend sitting next to Drummond. Anna was looking very proprietorial. Good heavens, was Drummond her new man? Anna was holding her mobile. She pointed it in Willow’s direction, presumably to take a photograph. Or was she?