‘Gosh,’ Mum says. ‘I think that’s the oven beeping. Elizabeth, do you want to give me a hand?’
‘No, Lizzie, you stay,’ I say, wanting time alone with Mum to see what she thinks about my engagement. I follow her back into the kitchen as everyone else takes their drinks into the dining room.
‘Such wonderful news,’ Mum says, opening the oven. Heat spills into the kitchen along with the smell of roast chicken and vegetables. ‘I hope he’s a good man.’
‘He is, Mum. He’s really well respected too.’
Since my break-up with Damian five years ago, Mum and Dad have been pushing me to settle down with a husband, but I’ve never felt ready for it. I never told them what happened with Damian. That he was emotionally abusive towards me. That, despite our short time together of only ten months, it’s taken me years to be able to trust anyone again. That Seth is the first man I’ve fallen hard enough for to want to put my heart on the line again. To risk myself in that way.
Truth be told, in addition to my own relationship issues, the thought of turning into my parents gives me massive anxiety. But now that I’m with Seth, I really do feel like he’s the one. I’m even quite confident about introducing him to everyone. Thankfully, Seth is pretty good with people. He knows how to size them up and win them over. When he needs to.
‘Can you do the gravy?’ Mum asks.
As we work together, I can’t help wondering how many Sunday dinners we’ve had as a family. I also wonder what my married life will be like with Seth. Will we have kids and make our own Sunday dinner traditions? Is that what I want?
‘You okay?’ Mum asks, decanting the green beans into a serving dish.
‘Yes, fine. Just daydreaming.’
‘I haven’t heard you talk much about Seth. You’ll have to fill me and your father in on what he’s like.’ She points to the floweredPortmeirion dish. ‘Can you take the potatoes through to the dining room?’
Ten minutes later, all the food is laid out on a cream runner on top of the oval polished mahogany dining table that was the first large piece of furniture my parents bought after buying this house. The roast chicken has been placed in front of Dad, and he sits at the head of the table holding the carving knife and fork like he’s the king of the castle. Which I suppose he is.
I detect a bit of an atmosphere in the room and see that Graham and Elizabeth are both quite stony-faced. They were fine a few minutes ago, so I wonder what can have happened between then and now.
Mum notices too. She frowns at them before glancing quickly at Dad who’s now mid-carve, placing slices of chicken on each plate. ‘So,’ Mum says, turning to me. ‘Tell us about this proposal. Did he get down on one knee?’
I proceed to tell them about Seth’s helicopter proposal. Dad is quietly approving and Mum is visibly impressed, but I can tell that Elizabeth and Graham are only faking interest. Elizabeth is barely eating, while Graham angrily shoves food into his mouth. They’ve obviously had cross words about something.
I hope it isn’t anything to do with me.
Chapter Eight
NOW
I unplug the vacuum and somehow manage to wedge it back into the overcrowded hall cupboard. I’ve spent the whole morning cleaning, even though our characterful two-bedroom apartment is already spotless. It’s the only way I can think of to keep my mind occupied. To stop myself from spinning out while I wait for my parents to arrive.
I’ve managed to put off seeing them since Saturday’s disaster, but they’ve just messaged to say they’re on their way over, so I can’t get out of it – unless I refuse to answer the door. And even then, I get the feeling that Dad wouldn’t be averse to letting himself in with the spare key.
I’ve been home alone for the past couple of days while Daisy’s been at work. As a pharmacist, she puts in long, stressful hours, often seven days a week. We’ve been flatmates ever since we found ourselves back in Ringwood after uni. We started out renting a damp terraced house that we shared with two other girls. The two of us then moved to a cramped two-bedroom flat on a modern housing estate on the outskirts of town. Then, just over four years ago when our careers began taking off, we moved here to our dream flat just off the High Street.
It belongs to a friend of Daisy’s parents so the rent is far more reasonable than it should be. I absolutely fell in love with the painted beams, picture rails and sloping ceilings, the wooden sash windows and chunky radiators. I had great fun moving in and decorating. Daisy wasn’t that interested in that side of things, so I had free rein with paint colours and furniture placement, which suited us both just fine.
I was supposed to be moving out after the wedding, and Daisy’s boyfriend Martin was going to move in. That’s all been put on hold, but I know it’s not fair on Daisy, so I’m grateful to her for having me back while I sort out a new place. I don’t think I could face moving in with my parents.
Since my non-wedding on Saturday, Daisy and Laurence have been trying to get me to talk. To open up about what happened that day. But I’ve been feigning exhaustion and hiding out in my room, preferring not to engage. I know I’m going to have to face people at some point, but I’d rather do it later than sooner.
Knowing that fake Seth has my Seth’s phone makes me terrified for my fiancé’s safety. My first reaction was to call the police. But Laurence advised me that if I called them and explained that Seth is in danger, there’s a strong possibility I could be sectioned under the Mental Health Act. Because no one else believes anything’s wrong. They all think the man at the church is the real Seth. Even my parents are saying it’s him. I’m the only person who believes my Seth is missing.
So, I’m trying to figure out what to do next. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alone in my life. My thoughts are a dark, swirling, frightening mess.
I tense at the shrill buzz of the doorbell. I feel like a trapped animal going to ground. I tell myself that the sooner I see my parents, the sooner they’ll leave. I straighten up and walk across the hall to the front door where I press the buzzer. A few moments later,Dad walks in, leans down and kisses my cheek. Smart as always, he’s wearing dark jeans, loafers and a sage-green short-sleeved shirt.
‘Alice,’ he says, walking straight through to the airy living room.
Mum’s immaculate in a soft blue linen dress and open-toe espadrilles. She gives me an appraising look. ‘You look tired, darling. You should put on a little mascara and some lipstick, perk yourself up.’ She gives me a hug and a squeeze and I usher her along the hall.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ I ask.
