“I’d like us all to take a minute of silence to send thoughts and prayers to Jed,” Guy was saying. “For those who aren’t religious, please take this time to reflect, and if you know Jed personally, focus on those moments where you saw him at his best.”
A reporter tried to ask something else, but Guy had called time on questions. It was quite masterful, actually. He had a knack for handling the press. His authoritative nature and well-cut suits were beginning to make me look forward to that date we had scheduled. I found myself picturing a life as a political spouse. Would I be more of a Cherie Blair or a latter-day Bill Clinton? I caught Guy’s eye before we both lowered our heads in solemnity, and he gave me what can only be described as a look of pure lust. He winked and licked his lips. I felt filthy knowing a man had given me those eyes in a public place. In front of a church, no less. A part of me was horrified I’d basically eye-fucked a Tory in public as well.
As the moment of silence began, I could feel my cheeks flushing. Archie and Luca leaned in between me and Nigella and one of the boys casually took my hand and held it as they copied all the adults in silence.
It was a nice feeling, being given a seven-year-old’s trust in a moment of reflection. I just wish I wasn’t having impure thoughts about a man they called “Uncle Guy” while it was happening.
There was the normal rustling and coughing as the minute progressed. Someone’s phone beeped, and there was another rustle as they quickly reached to turn it off. A muttered “Sorry.”
Then a second phone went off.
“People have no respect,” Margo said.
Another phone. Then another. By now, people were looking up.
Then my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I heard Nigella’s phone too.
The sound was near constant.
I looked up and saw Guy, Riz, and Simon all pulling their phones out as well.
One by one, people around me started to gasp, to go bug-eyed, and form Os with their mouths in shock.
Then a flurry of journalists began to press forward. To Guy, who stood in front of them, with his face completely drained of all colour. He seemed frozen.
“What’s happening?” I asked.
Nigella turned to me, her phone in her hand, her face mirroring Guy’s. On it, she had an email open. It showed a picture of – oh dear – a naked man taken on what looked to be an old-fashioned digital camera. I squinted to get a better look. He was young and attractive. It was Guy.
Chapter 7
I’d never actually seen anyone flee before. But that’s what Guy did. And to their credit, Simon and Riz stood in as he hot-footed it off with his campaign team to take the barrage of questions from the reporters.
Riz did his best, but there was no way he could handle that. His own campaign manager came over to shut it down as quickly as she could. A particularly eager journalist tried to shove a mic in Riz’s face and found a red-haired Scotsman less than politely removing it from their hand and handing it to a cameraman with a deep growl.
It was the most menacing act I’d ever seen, and the reporter shrank back like they’d seen their own death.
“We should leave. Boys! Home! Now!” Nigella called before I even had a chance to answer.
Archie and Luca knew when to whine and when to do exactly what their mother ordered. They raced after her. It was only when I felt myself being dragged along that I realised I was still being held by one of them.
Kenny bounded along beside us with a confused look on his face as we left the melee.
“I need to get to Lady F and try and do some damage control,” Nigella said as we ran to her house. “Christ, this is bad. She can’t find out about this kind of thing from the papers. Guy will need all the help he can get.”
Nigella had worked in PR for a large chunk of her pre-twins career and probably knew what she was talking about.
We reached her gate. “What can I do?” I asked. I could help. I had no idea how. Make tea?
Nigella’s eyebrows raised. “Oh, Arden. Darling. No, you need to get the hell out of dodge. Like, now.”
“What?” I was confused. No one even knew I’d been asked out by Guy …
Nigella saw my expression and took her phone out again and scrolled down, hiding the screen from the prying eyes of children. There wasn’t one photo of Guy but dozens. And he wasn’t alone. She scrolled down to an image and held it up for me to see. In the photo, a handsome young Guy was naked, looking at the camera, with a … oh shit … an even more handsome and young man next to him. Also fully naked. His dark brown hair and square jaw accentuated in the soft light. Tarquin.
“Those reporters are about to click who that is and beat a path to your door. If I were you, I’d get out of the village tonight. Do you have somewhere you can go? If not, I have a friend with a house near the coast, I can see if she—”
