Page 14 of The Wedding Cake Wish
More lies!
I’ve already spent far too much, going online as soon as Igot home from work and ordering a simple but beautifully cut knee-length dressin a striking teal blue colour and some gorgeous heels to match. (But onlybecause I don’t want to show Hudson up in front of all those award-winningcreative types.)
At the door, I ask Fen if she’s met Rory’s mum.
She shakes her head. ‘Never. But Rob says she’s had a tough life.It was always her dream to go to university and study law, but for some reason,she never got to do it. By the sounds of it, being crushed by that car was justthe latest in a long line of calamities in her life.’
‘It’s lucky she has a caring son like Rory.’ I give Fen ahug. ‘We’ll find him in time for the wedding, I’m sure. He’ll probably be backtomorrow, amazed that everyone was so worried about him!’
‘I hope so. Thanks, Ruby.’
I wave her off, then I retreat to the living room and sinkonto the sofa with a worried sigh.
Some of Fen’s anxiety has rubbed off on me. If Rory’s goneoff somewhere on a whim and somehow lost his phone, he’ll arrive back to astorm of concern and he’ll wonder why everyone was so anxious.
But what if there’s more to it than that?
What was the ‘business’ he told his mum he needed to sortout? Maybe he kept his destination a secret because he didn’t want peopleknowing what he was up to?
I take in a big breath and breathe out slowly.
If Rory doesn’twantto be found, it will surely takethe powers of Sherlock Holmes himself to actually find him...
CHAPTERSIX
‘Okay, Miss Marple?’ Hudson nudges me as we walk up tothe block of flats on the Carlton Estate, built in the Sixties, where Rory’smum lives.
‘Stop calling me that.’
He grins. ‘WhatshallI call you, then? AgathaRaisin? I suppose she’s slightly more glamorous.’
I snort. ‘Just Ruby will do, thank you.’
‘Okay. Keep your wig on, Just Ruby.’
He finds the buzzer for R. Harrington, and a moment laterwe’re walking up the dingy stairwell to the second-floor flat belonging toRory’s mum, Rachel.
The smell of boiled cabbage mingles with something elsesharply unpleasant – possibly a floor-cleaning fluid because the steps, incontrast to the shabby walls, are well-worn but clean.
A well-rounded woman with blue-rimmed glasses and wiry,reddish hair tamed into a shoulder-length bob answers the door with a welcomingsmile.
‘Oh, hi, there.’ I smile back. ‘We’d like to speak to RachelHarrington?’
Beside me, Hudson nods. ‘We’re friends of Rob and Fen? Andwe’re hoping to track down Rob’s best man, Rory?’
‘Oh.’ The woman, who looks to be in her fifties, seems surprised.‘Well, you’d better come in.’
‘Who is it, Shirley?’ a voice calls.
‘Friends of Rob’s?’ Shirley replies, as she ushers us intothe small living room. ‘Rory’s friend, Rob?’
Her friend, who I assume is Rachel – Rory’s mum – is sittingin an armchair with her bandaged lower legs propped on a pouffe. She’s a smallwoman with a pale complexion and deep lines across her forehead. Once tinted,her naturally grey hair has been allowed to grow out, so that only the tips arenow auburn. She looks older than her friend – possibly in her sixties – butthat could be because of the aura of exhaustion that surrounds her.
She smiles a little nervously. ‘Rory’s not here, I’mafraid.’
‘Shall I make some tea, Rachel?’ asks the woman calledShirley.
‘Oh, well.’ Rachel frowns, as if she’s thinking about this.
