‘It might be nothing.’
‘Steve, just tell me.’
‘I saw him coming out of the pub the other day with Ferdie.’
‘Which pub, was it Mickey Macs? I mean, you know, they’re friends, always have been. He goes in there sometimes – just for a coffee, though.’
‘It wasn’t Mickey Macs,’ said Steve. ‘It was one of the ones behind the old housing estate – you know, where we’ve been doing that kitchen. The sort of place you wouldn’t think you’d see him. Sort of place you’d only go into if you wanted a drink.’
Indy slumped back against the pillows. Steve wrapped himself around her.
‘Honey, it might be nothing,’ he said. ‘He might have been meeting some of his old friends, that’s all.’
‘Or he might have been drinking,’ she said. ‘You know Dad – in times of stress, he goes straight to the old problems.’
‘He’s not gambling anymore, though,’ Steve said hopefully.
‘We don’t know that,’ she said, sighing. ‘It’s all connected, Steve, the whole thing. The gambling, the drinking. Mum would not marry him if she thought he was drinking again, because that will lead to the gambling and they’ve already lost everything. They can’t afford to do it again.’
‘We don’t know for definite.’
‘True,’ said Indy.
But she did know for definite. If Stu Robicheaux had been seen coming out of a less-than-savoury pub just days before his wedding, it was unlikely to be a social call. Far more likely to be a few swift scopes with some old mates in a place where he didn’t think he’d be seen.
‘Was it just the two of them?’
‘Him and Ferdie,’ replied her husband.
‘That bloody Ferdie,’ said Indy.
‘It’s not Ferdie’s fault,’ said Steve.
‘I know, I know. You don’t need to sound judgemental.’
‘I’m not being judgemental,’ he said, holding up his hands. ‘You know how fond I am of your father. But I saw what all this did before. I had a front-row seat, Indy. He doesn’t need help – he can drive himself to drink quite happily with no help from anyone.’
‘I know,’ she said quietly, ‘I know. Sorry for biting your head off. Should I tell her?’
There was a pause. ‘Maybe talk to your dad first, check it out before we say anything.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Indy. ‘But he’d lie. Why did he have to go and do it now?’
‘He’s getting married,’ said Steve. ‘Marriage is stressful for some people.’
‘Why did he ask my mum again, then?’
Steve shrugged. ‘People are mysterious, darling.’
‘True.’
They lay there pondering the mystery of people until they finally gave up all thoughts of going back to sleep. Steve got up to make green tea for Indy and coffee for himself. Indy lay in bed. Over in one corner hanging on the wardrobe door, wrapped carefully with tissue paper because the girls kept going over and petting it, was her bridesmaid’s dress. She really wanted to wear it. But not, not if wearing it meant she was participating in some big fake plot against her mother. Not then. Her mother had been through enough.
Eden drove up the winding drive to the Sorrento Hotel. It looked magnificent in the early morning sunshine when, with a slightly cool eye, all the flaws were hidden. Sunshine hid an awful lot of stuff like the falling-off plaster and the fact that the beautiful Georgian windows had missing bits of wood on the sashes. Beside her sat Indy, leaning back with her eyes closed. Today was one of Indy’s days off. But because poor Vonnie had actually hurt her back making endless cream flowers for the wedding, Indy and Eden had been pressed into service to bring them up to the hotel and finish the decorating. Then, they were racing off to look at the flowers.
‘We’re probably the two worst people to be doing this,’ Eden remarked as she pulled to a halt and reached blindly with her left hand for the flat white she’d insisted on getting.
‘Are we?’ said Indy.
