Page 3 of Wedding Games
She leaned against the stone wall and closed her eyes, letting the August sun warm her face and the solid stone muffle the shrieks of laughter from inside. The past ten months had been nuts. She’d moved to a different country, fallen in love with a man who turned out to be an earl, seen a Hollywood blockbuster filmed at his castle, and watched the biggest movie star on the planet marry her future mother-in-law. And on top of all that, Zoe was a month shy of becoming the Countess of Kinloch.
‘Zoe?’
She jumped. ‘Oh my god, Rory, you scared the shit out of me! Where did you come from?’
He looked confused. ‘I’ve been calling your name as I walked up. Why are you shouting?’
‘I’m not shouting.’
He winced.
‘Am I?’
He nodded. ‘I take it Morag’s operating at top volume?’
‘Yep. I think I’d rather stand next to your chainsaw without ear-defenders for an hour than go back in.’
He looked sceptical. ‘But your mum’s fairly chill, isn’t she?’
On cue, a scream of laughter from inside cut through the kitchen windows.
‘My mum has either snorted a kilo of cocaine or had her personality genetically amplified,’ Zoe replied. ‘You remember my mum, right? Sings in the church choir? Works in a charity shop?’
Rory grinned.
‘Well,’ Zoe continued. ‘That, in there,’ she gestured to the house, ‘is a banshee crossed with a hellion. Did you get what I asked you for?’
He held up a bottle of Prosecco.
‘No, no, Jesus Christ, no. They’ve had more than enough already.’
He burst out laughing. ‘Since when did you ever hold back on drinking Prosecco?’
Zoe drew a breath, preparing to shoot his accusation down in flames, but realised she couldn’t contradict him, so she stuck her tongue out.
Rory raised his eyebrow in response and took a small box from the pocket of his shirt.
‘Is this what you need?’ he mouthed.
‘Ha-de-ha,’ she replied, taking it. She pulled out two sets of foam ear plugs and handed him a pair. ‘In five minutes you’ll thank me, I promise.’
‘Rory!’screeched Zoe’s mum, leaping to her feet. She didn’t appear to notice the dining chair clattering to the floor behind her as she lurched towards him with the haste of a peri-menopausal woman with a hot flush spying a walk-in fridge.
‘Ma favourite future son-in-law!’
Rory leaned down into her embrace. ‘Hey, Mary, how was your flight up?’
‘Och, you were so kind to buy it for me. I tell you though, it was up and down faster than a nun’s knickers. Ooh, and I had some salty nuts.’
‘Mum!’
‘Said the actress to the bishop,’ cackled Morag.
The two older women howled with laughter as Zoe caught Rory’s eye. He pointed to his ear and mouthed ‘thank you’, then glanced around the room with a look of alarm.
Zoe knew he’d been expecting other people at dinner. Morag’s boyfriend, Big Jim, was meant to be there, as well as Fiona and her husband, Duncan, with their son, Liam. Their presence was meant to dilute the combined effect of two women who had reached the age where they’d ceased to care what most people thought of them.
Mary steered Rory into a chair and Morag deposited a cote de boeuf steak on a plate in front of him.
