12
They reached the bar,which was crammed with thirsty revellers. As they edged their way to the counter, Carole shoved thoughts of Steven Weaver from her mind. She was determined to get on with enjoying this wedding reception. Now that she’d exchanged a few words with Steven, such as they were, and listened to him prattling on about himself, hopefully he’d leave her alone for the rest of the night.
“What can I get you to drink?” Carole asked Tom.
“Just a lemonade, thanks.”
Carole joined Tom in ordering the same thing. She’d had her fill of prosecco and wine, and a bit of rehydration was in order.
The next hour flew by. There was more dancing and chatter with the other guests, and then it was time for the evening buffet while the band took a break. The bride and groom cut the wedding cake to much cheering. Once everyone had topped up on food and much needed tea and coffee, the band reappeared and the dancing started again.
Tom twirled her around the dance floor, and made her laugh when her nieces appeared and insisted he perform the dance moves they’d taught him earlier. Carole enjoyed the looks on her nieces’ faces as Tom larked around for their amusement andsent them into fits of giggles by pretending to throw his back out thanks to the ludicrous routine. By the time they raced off to rejoin the other flower girls and hatch further rhythmic torture to inflict on other unsuspecting adults, Carole was helpless with laughter.
And then he made her swoon a little when he took her in his arms and danced to a sweet love song with her.
She knew he only did it because it would’ve been weird to suddenly stop dancing just because the band were playing a slow dance, but that didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy it.
In fact, she enjoyed it rather a lot.
“This is fun,” Carole said as Tom twirled her before pulling her back into his arms. “You know some decent moves.”
“Not according to your nieces,” he grinned. “They said that as far as the Grotty Grot dance is concerned, I’m hopeless.”
“The Grotty Grot dance? What on earth is that?”
“That’s the name of the dance they just made me perform. Didn’t you hear them calling it that while they were shouting instructions at me?”
“Sorry, I was too busy laughing.”
“Glad I could keep you entertained. I think they made up the whole thing just to torture me.”
Carole laughed again, amused by her evil little nieces and by Tom’s patient indulgence of the pair. Slowly, they shimmied across the dance floor to the love song. It was nice being in Tom’s arms, just dancing and enjoying herself.
She looked into his eyes, saw the humour twinkling there, and saw too the softness in his gaze as he held her close. The lovely moment, the ease of it, made her heart do a mad little flip inside her chest.
Tom really was an incredibly handsome man, Carole thought as she smiled at him. And he really knew how to wear that gorgeous suit…
Sudden movement on the other side of the room caught her eye. In one awful flash that lasted no more than a few seconds, Carole watched a sequence of events unfold that left her gasping in dismay.
Steven Weaver stood at the edge of the dance floor, swaying not to the music but on account of his drunkenness. Jilly stood beside him and the two were quite obviously exchanging harsh words as she tried to take the wine glass from him.
Steven whipped the wine glass out of her reach, but the jerky motion sent the contents of the glass sloshing over the rim. An arc of red wine shot through the air and splashed onto a woman who was dancing right beside him. She let out a shriek when the red wine hit her pale gold dress, ruining it instantly.
Realising what he’d done, Steven lurched forward, arms waving, already mumbling a drunken reply.
Which is when he tripped and stumbled and fell hard.
Luckily for Steven Weaver, there was someone there to break his fall.
Unfortunately, that person was Carole’s father, Frederick.
With Steven barrelling into him from behind, Frederick didn’t stand a chance of avoiding the collision. The full weight of the drunken man hit him in the back and sent him crashing to the floor.
Carole watched in horror as the scene played out in ugly, jerky flashes. The whole thing only took about four or five seconds, but as she shrieked at the sight of her poor father falling hard to the floor, Carole felt like it was happening in grim slow motion.
Steven let out a grunt as he landed on Frederick, and Frederick, pinned beneath him, in turn let out a howl that turned Carole’s blood to ice in her veins.
She sprinted to where the men lay tangled on the floor, with Tom running alongside her.
