Page 43 of The Wedding Cake Wish
A little pang of jealousy rises up, but I whack it downagain with an imaginary mallet.
I raise my eyebrows as he comes back in and try to act cool.‘Is she okay?’
He twists his lips doubtfully. ‘Not sure. She sounded a bitdown. So I said I’d meet her for a drink later.’
‘Right. Lovely.’ I smile brightly. ‘She probably just needsto talk about Myles.’
He nods, although there’s an expression in his eyes that Ican’t quite fathom.
Is there something he’s not telling me? Has somethingalready happened between them that I don’t know about?
A feeling of nausea creeps through me. Then I check myself.It’s none of my business if Hudson and Amelia want to get to know each otherbetter...
Hudson clears his throat. ‘I’m happy to help Amelia in anyway I can. Of course I am. But...’ He breaks off and looksaway, frowning.
‘But what?’
He shakes his head. ‘It’s nothing. It’s just...itwould be kind of natural for her to start relying on me, as his twin, to fillthe gap in her life left by Myles.’
‘You think she might be doing that?’
He shrugs. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I’m just overthinkingthings.’
‘Maybe,’ I murmur, but there’s doubt in my tone. Amelia doesseem to be clinging on to Hudson like he’s some kind of life raft. And whileI’m glad she has him to provide some comfort during this terrible period in herlife, I can’t help thinking...what if their feelings, overtime, become more than just a man helping a woman through her grief? Amelia isstunning and if she were to set her cap at Hudson, he’d find her hard toresist. Any man would...
‘Hey, look at this.’
‘Sorry?’ At first, I’m still too lost in thought to realisethat Hudson is holding something up.
‘This photo was lying on Rory’s bedside table,’ he murmurs,handing it to me. ‘Isn’t that Rachel in the middle?’
I look at the photo. It’s of three young girls, all in theirteens, sitting in a row on a fallen tree trunk, laughing up at the camera.Judging by the fashions, it looks to have been snapped some time during theSeventies. I peer at it more closely. Could that be the fallen tree trunk overthe river where we had our picnic the other night? It certainly looks like it.
‘That’s a muchyoungerRachel, obviously,’ addsHudson, and I nod slowly.
‘I think itisher.’ I look closer, at the namethat’s been handwritten above the girl to Rachel’s right. ‘Steph,’ I murmur.
‘He’s written a question mark above the third girl,’ pointsout Hudson.
‘Oh, yes. But if that’s Rachel, his mum, in the middle,surelyshewould know who the other girl is? Presumably she’s a friendfrom Rachel’s younger days. Why didn’t Rory just ask her who it is?’
Hudson shrugs. ‘Perhaps he didn’t want his mum to know hehas the photo?’
‘Do you think it has something to do with his disappearance,then?’ I ask, my heart beating a little bit faster.
He nods. ‘I think it might. I think we might have beenharing along completely the wrong track in thinking Brendan Myers had somethingto do with Rory’s disappearance.’
‘Really? You think so?’ My head is spinning at this newlead.
‘There was a note next to the photo that’s interesting, tosay the least,’ adds Hudson.
He passes me the slip of paper that looks as if it’s beentorn off an old envelope. In red biro, Rory has written the name,StephanieHolbrook, and circled it many times. Underneath the name, he’s noted down:AmberleyGardens, Cotswolds, 2pm Saturday.
‘What do you think it means?’ I ask slowly.
‘I’ve no idea,’ confesses Hudson. ‘But we need to see if wecan find this Stephanie Holbrook person online.’
I fumble for my phone and key in the name, then I read thetop entry out loud: ‘Stephanie Holbrook, nineteenth-century social reformer,born in Alabama...right, not her, then.’
