Page 2 of Mad About You

‘Oh God – definitely,’ Harriet said. The public humiliation would surely be unbearable if everyone saw her in her finery. If they realised at the same time she realised. The Kristina who’d hired Harriet didn’t seem the type to take any disappointment well, let alone catastrophe. She was doll-tiny, with jet-black hair and a self-assured, borderline haughty demeanour. The groom had been too busy to meet Harriet during the standard planning stages, and now she was wondering if that was significant.

‘If he’s definitely,definitelynot coming back?’

Sam’s face was panic and agony. ‘He’s not.’

‘I can’t believe he’s done this to you. And to her,’ Harriet said, aware that it was a slightly odd statement given she didn’t know the tosser.I can’t believe [a total stranger] would behave this way!

She glanced at the good-natured, expectant hubbub behind them, feeling crushed on their behalf.

‘I’ll walk out with you,’ she said, and Sam noddedthank youin gratitude.

Heads down, they strode purposefully down the aisle, out into the churchyard and down the path, among the mossy gravestones. As they neared the road, Harriet saw a beribboned white Rolls-Royce slide up alongside the pavement and felt physically sick. Poor, poor Kristina.

And poor Sam. He blew his cheeks out and exhaled, windily, stuck his fingers into his wild mop of curly hair, then seemed to remember it was tamped down with gel.

‘It’s not your fault,’ Harriet said, and Sam nodded, no longer able to communicate.

‘Wish me luck,’ he said eventually, in a pinched voice, as he left Harriet’s side.

‘Good luck,’ Harriet said, quietly, though as the words hung in the air they sounded violently tasteless.

She realised she couldn’t bear to even look, to see the moment the bride crumpled, and it was clear Harriet’s contribution to the day was over. She strode briskly in the opposite direction, staring down at her cherry red Doc Marten shoes in the fallen cherry blossom on the pavement, silentlycounting the steps to busy her mind,one – two – three – four – five – si—

Harriet heard a scream rip through the air and stopped dead in her tracks, her heart pounding.

She turned to see Sam being punched square in the face by a five-foot-four-inch woman in an exquisite mermaid gown of ivory satin.

Sam reeled back, clutching a bleeding nose. The father of the bride exited the car like a gorilla escaping a safari park, and the shouting began.

1

One month later

‘Read me the menu again would you, I’ve totally forgotten what we’re having for main course,’ Jonathan said, swinging his gleaming silver Mercedes lustily around a corner, precariously close to a dry stone wall.

It always took Harriet aback that Jon’s driving was completely out of step with every other aspect of his demeanour. Put a steering wheel in his hands, and mild-mannered, cautious Jon became flamboyant, even cocky.

Harriet unlocked her phone, scrolled to the relevant page and read aloud.

‘… Aged Yorkshire venison … heritage carrot … ramson … miso cashew cream.’

‘What’s a ramson when it’s at home? And I’m pretty vague on the properties of miso cashew cream, truth be told.’

‘To think you work in the food industry.’

‘Not at the miso cashew cream end.’

Harriet prodded at the handset to google it, briefly bracing her free palm on the car door to ward off motion sickness.

‘It is abulbous perennial flowering plant in the amaryllis family. Garlicky, by the sounds of it.’

‘Good-oh. And we told them about my special condition?’

Allergic to lettuce.Harriet sometimes thought that was Jon in three words. Who on earth is allergic to lettuce? Imagine the shame at the inquest. Cause of Death: radicchio.

‘Your mum said she’d do it.’

And if she decides she didn’t say that, I have the texts as receipts.

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