Page 73 of Lie For Me

‘It was just a kiss, Luce,’ he said. ‘I think it would have looked odd to refuse, don’t you think?’

Jack’s voice was relaxed, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

‘Of course,’ Lucy said, her stomach turning over.

Her legs seemed to have forgotten which side of her body they belonged to and were shambling along, threatening to turn an ankle in the grass.

‘You okay?’ Jack asked, reaching a hand out for hers.

‘Yes, fine!’

Once more, the shrill voice sounded, and she snatched her hand back. She cleared her throat and tried to speak more quietly.

‘All’s well.’

She quickened her pace, trying to put some distance between herself and the scene of that kiss.

Over her shoulder, she called, ‘Let’s eat!’

23

Lucy’s legs conveyed her without further stumbles to the door of the marquee, where a cluster of people at the entrance were being directed to their seats by the shy waiter with the train-track braces. He saw Lucy at the same moment that she spotted him and his face flamed.

‘Oh, heavenly fucking saints preserve me,’ Lucy muttered, and spun round to find another way in only to cannon back into Jack.

‘Can’t go that way,’ she hissed, trying to shove him backwards. ‘It’s that waiter from last night.’

Jack peered down the queue and burst out laughing.

‘Luce, we can’t avoid him all day. And I’m sure,’ he said, pulling her by the wrist back into the queue, ‘he’s seen worse.’

Lucy had a flashback to the kiss last night, to Jack’s hands on her bottom, her hands pulling him closer. She wondered how much further they would have gone if someone hadn’t interrupted them and felt her cheeks flame.

‘I’m not sure about that,’ she muttered, trying to hide behind Jack.

‘Brazen it out,’ Jack said. ‘Nothing we can do about it. I think he’s more embarrassed than we are.’

‘Than you are,’ Lucy corrected him. ‘I’m not used to getting felt up in dark hotel corners.’

‘Could’ve fooled me,’ came the reply, as they shuffled forwards in the queue.

There was just one couple in front of them now.

Lucy chose the only reasonable course of action, per Jack’s advice. She tipped her chin up and adopted her most haughty expression. When they reached the front, the young man looked everywhere but at them and had lost the power of speech.

Helping him out, Jack announced, ‘Good afternoon, we’re Lucy Carmell and Jack Bryant.’

The boy studied the chart, swallowed twice, and in a voice so quiet Jack had to lean in to hear him, explained where their table was.

‘Great, thank you,’ Jack said and moved off.

Lucy, nose in the air, said in her haughtiest Lady of the Manor voice, ‘Thank you, young man, very good,’ and scuttled after Jack as fast as her uncoordinated legs would carry her.

They shimmied between the tables in the huge marquee. Guests milled about, squinting at place settings for their names, grabbing passing waiting staff to ask for water. Great swags of lavender fabric adorned the roof, intertwined with fairy lights. Floral centrepieces squatted on every table - white roses, lavender, peonies and stocks with swirls of lavender ribbon. The sweet, cloying smell of the flowers as they sweated in the heat wafted under Lucy’s nose as they navigated the table layout. Lavender-coloured helium balloons rose from the middle of the flowers, and clumps of lavender and silver confetti were scattered on every available surface.

‘What’s your mother’s favourite colour?’ Jack asked over his shoulder as they sashayed their way through the tables.

Lucy, still in haughty mode, retorted, ‘Don’t be rude’, and poked him in the back.

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