“I mean, only if you want me to,” he said. “As a friend, you know...” He was blushing now, but June was too busy necking her glass of water to notice.
“Great, thanks,” she said, trying to stop her tongue from hanging out of her mouth in agony.
“I’d better get going.” Alex stood up and headed toward the door. “Careful of that beef, some bits can be quite spicy. And water won’t help; eat some rice instead.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll see you next Saturday.”
“Okay, bye.”
June slammed the door shut, ran back into the kitchen, and started shoveling rice into hermouth.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
June stood in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection. She’d bought the dress, which the lady in the shop had described as “burnt umber,” in a panicked shopping trip yesterday. It had a red and gold pattern down the front, and in the changing room June had hoped it looked classy and sophisticated. Now, in the unforgiving light of her bedroom, she realized she looked a like a tube of Rolos. She twisted her hair into a French braid and went downstairs. Alan was sitting in the hallway smirking.
“Do I look that bad? I know these shoes aren’t perfect...” She looked down at her black heels, which she’d last worn to her mum’s funeral.
Alan licked his bottom in response.
In the kitchen, June poured another glass of wine, surprised to see she’d drunk half a bottle already. Why had she said she’d go to this stupid wedding? The thought of seeing all those women from the hen do had kept her awake all night. Plus, they were bound tohave worked out by now that it was June who’d diverted the stripper, and they’d be furious about that. This was a terrible idea.
June heard the sound of a car pulling up, so she drained the last of her wine and stepped outside. Alex was standing beside the car, holding the front passenger door open. His usual T-shirt and jeans had been replaced by a smart gray suit and a bright blue tie, his messy hair brushed back. June had never seen him look so stylish, and she felt self-conscious under his gaze as she walked up the path.
“You look lovely,” Alex said as she reached the car.
June felt herself blush, and she mumbled a thank-you as she climbed into the passenger’s seat.
They drove in silence, both staring out the windscreen. June felt light-headed; why was she putting herself through this? She still hadn’t worked out what she was going to say to Marjorie and Brian. She wanted to ask Alex his opinion, but every time she glanced over at him, she felt oddly tongue-tied.
They arrived at Marjorie and Brian’s house and Alex pulled into a field signposted for parking. The guests who’d been invited for the whole day had parked their cars long ago, and the grass had been churned up into thick mud. As June got out of the car her heels sank into the ground.
“Agh, help!”
“Are you okay?” Alex rushed around to her side of the car.
“I’m sinking,” June said, feeling her shoes slipping under the mud.
“Let me help you.” Alex took her arm gently, but June was stuck fast.
“You’re going to need to pull harder,” she said, mortified.
He held her elbow and began to tug. For a moment Junewobbled, and then her feet came free with a loud squelch and she tumbled against him. Alex steadied her and then took her hand, helping June through the mud to the road. She tried not to fall over, but she was acutely aware of the tingling heat of his palm against hers. When they reached the road, she expected Alex to let go immediately, but he didn’t. June felt a flush of pleasure at the contact; then she remembered Ellie and pulled her hand away.
“Look at the state of me,” she said, looking down at her mud-stained shoes and ankles.
“Never fear—I was a Boy Scout, so I’m always prepared.” Alex pulled a white handkerchief out of his pocket with a flourish, and then to June’s horror he bent down and began to wipe the mud off her feet.
“Don’t be silly. I can do that,” she yelped, but he carried on. It felt strangely intimate to have him cleaning her feet, and June’s skin was burning.
“Well, it’s not perfect, but it’s the best I can do,” Alex said, standing up. They both surveyed her brown feet and shoes.
“Thank you,” June said, and her voice sounded strange. “Shall we go?”
Distant music floated toward them as they approached the mock-Georgian house. Matching topiary hedges lined the gravel drive, and the front door was guarded by two pillars.
“No guests inside the house.” A man in a high-viz jacket came rushing toward them. “I’m sorry, only VIP guests are allowed in there. Please go round the side instead.”
