“About a year,” Riz answered. Was I imagining it, or was Simon staring straight at me? Wait, a year. That meant …
“Yeah, we had a brief break-up over Christmas, but Simon came pounding on my door to win me back,” Riz said, continuing his explanation.
“We didn’t even know you were seeing anyone!” Odette said.
“Sorry, you broke up at Christmas?” I asked.
“Uh, yeah,” Riz said falteringly. “I was working too much; Simon was working too much.” He gave me a look. Simon, however, was definitely not looking in my direction.
Oh, Christ.
“And when did you get back together?” Sonia said, as if this was the most natural question in the world.
“It was sadly after Simon’s friend Arabella died. I understand you all knew her, too? Yeah, what was it you said, sweetheart? That ‘life was too short for regrets’?”
“Something like that,” Simon said stiffly.
Oh my God. I was a whore. I was everything I’d broken up with Ollie because of. I was a homewrecking slut.
“Sorry to intrude, but I couldn’t help but overhear, Riz, are you getting married?”
Everyone looked to me as Suzy Rabbit appeared at my shoulder.
“Yes, I am. Everyone, this is Sooz. She may be a filthy radical centrist, but she’s also a dear friend,” Riz told us.
She shook everyone’s hands and then hugged Riz and Simon.
A man came up and stood next to me. Apparently, we were attracting all sorts. “He’s getting hitched? Damn,that’s a good backstory. But to a man, that might cancel out any goodwill from that around here.”
I looked at the man and then looked again. “Oh.”
He was a tall Black man who appeared to be somewhere in his late thirties but was probably well into his forties. He was dressed in a nice suit and even nicer shoes, and held all the easy charm that Marina Holt did not.
“Errol Mottley,” he said, holding out his hand to me. “Suzy’s campaign manager.”
I shook his hand. “Arden Forrest, local swing voter.”
“Oh, I think that’s a lie.”
“Sorry?” I asked.
He laughed. “I don’t mean to offend, but I think Mr Patel can safely count on your vote. C’mon, you’re clearly one of those London types who’ve moved down to the countryside.”
“I’m not sure if I should be offended.”
“I mean no offence,” he said, holding up his hands. “Just stating the obvious.”
“Is that so? And what about you – that suit tells me you stepped off the train from London about fifteen minutes before this kicked off and you’re racing back to the station now.”
Errol laughed – it was a nice sound – but shook his head. “I’m based in Bristol; I manage our campaigns here in the South West.”
I nodded. “Right, right, I stand corrected.”
A photographer from the local paper called out to the candidates, and both Suzy and Riz made their apologies to join the others. Riz gave Simon a kiss before he was dragged back by an anxious Marina. Errol nodded towards the assembling potential-MPs. “I need to babysit; she only photographs well from her right. A pleasure to meet you, Arden. Hopefully, I’ll see more of you on the campaign trail.” He left to join Suzy, and I felt myself flush.
Nigella and Sonia were preoccupied with Odette, who was convinced the baby was kicking. Simon took his opportunity while they were busy and grabbed my elbow. “Can I have a word outside?”
“You’re not giving me much of an option.”
