Letting out the Worms: Guilty or not? If not then the alternative is terrifying (Kitty Thomas Book 1 by Sue Nicholls (top e book reader TXT) 📗

was a call for friends of the groom, and neighbours milled round. Kitty scanned the area for Mick’s dark head and Maurice’s balding one.

Paul was also searching. He shouted, ‘Where’s Maurice and Mick?’

And the photographer yelled, ‘Friends of the groom. Any more friends of the groom?’

Kitty craned her neck and spotted the pair, in deep conversation among the gravestones. She ran towards them, waving her arms for their attention, and when they saw her, they stopped their conversation and headed back. The photographer looked at her watch and squinted at the sky in the dying light.

47 KITTY

In Churchills, they sipped champagne and popped elegant canapés into chattering mouths. The girl and her camera recorded shots of the cake and its slicing. The newlyweds standing shoulder to shoulder, well, hardly that, Kitty corrected herself, standing shoulder to elbow would be a more accurate description. With their hands clasped round the handle of the knife they stood among the dazzling tablecloths and the floral decorations, cheered on by their guests.

With a drink in his hand, Paul was at last more relaxed, and for once Cerys was not chiding him about his consumption.

Pushing across the room to reach them, Kitty found it hard to believe that Paul had been able to control his drinking to this degree. He was a person who, although not a nightly drinker, could easily consume five pints in a session, after which, he would become loud and embarrassing. He drank to get drunk, not to be sociable, in fact Kitty suspected that he did not much like people. Cerys must have earned his respect, for him to contemplate sobriety.

Reaching Paul, Kitty put one arm around his neck and with the other, patted his flat stomach. ‘Very dapper, Dad,’ she said, then reached over to give Cerys a peck on the cheek saying, ‘I don’t understand how you’ve got my old man to cut down his drinking but well done.’ With some effort she added, ‘You look great too, Stepmother.’

Cerys beamed at her, and Kitty moved off, relieved to have made the right noises. She looked around for a friendly face. Mick was some distance away chatting to a couple she recognised but did not know. Maurice was with Sam who, seeing her eyes on him, pointed her to a circular table where Lucas and his girl were laughing with Josh.

The girlfriend’s name was Megan. Kitty liked her straight away. There was something attractive about the way she carried herself. Lucas appeared happy, too. It had been a long time since Kitty had seen him without a crease between his eyebrows.

Sam asked Kitty what she would like to drink, and Kitty, eyeing the darkening weather, asked for a pint of bitter. With luck, it would outlast the celebrations.

Lucas took a last slug of his lager and got to his feet. ‘Dad’s gone to the kitchen. I should give him a hand.’ He touched Megan’s shoulder. ‘I won’t be too long. Don’t let this lot get you into bad habits.’

‘We’ll be as good as gold.’ Josh grinned at Megan, who, it seemed to Kitty, would not be led astray, even by George Clooney.

In a flurry of green froth, Anwen rustled into a chair beside Kitty and eyed her drink.

‘Want to try it?’ Kitty offered, and Anwen took a small sip and pulled a face. ‘That’s disgusting,’ she said, ‘Do you seriously drink it for pleasure?’

Kitty laughed. ‘It’s an acquired taste.’

Anwen folded her arms across her upholstered front. ‘You mean you have to keep drinking it until you get used to it. Why bother?’

Kitty searched for an effective answer and gave up. ‘You have a point, Anwen.’ She picked up the glass and took a small swallow. ‘You have a point and I have a pint.’

Anwen giggled. ‘You’re clever with words.’

‘Thanks. It’s something of a prerequisite for a journalist.’

‘I want to be a journalist, too.’ Anwen wriggled her bottom inside her lacy skirt and unfolded her arms. ‘We might be partners one day. Thomas and Hughes.’

‘It’s not an easy profession. You need to be self-motivated - work hard and get your own contacts.’ Kitty’s tone must have been dismissive because Anwen’s face fell. Not wishing to discourage the girl, Kitty hurried on, ‘But who can tell? If you prove yourself, I might offer you a job one day.’ She accepted a hug, hoping she was not giving the girl false hopes.

Across the room, Paul and Cerys were weaving between chairs towards the ‘top table’ so Anwen and Kitty moved to join them.

Everyone took their seats, craning to see the Best Man – and Woman; looking forward to being entertained - or to endure in silence.

But, before the speeches came the food: glossy smoked salmon roulade, crisp rack of lamb with port sauce and a dessert called Mocha Katy, which was rich and delicious. On either side of her, Kitty felt the nervousness of those waiting to make their speeches. She herself felt quite relaxed because she had only to add a few lines to Maurice’s piece. Maurice had sent back most of his food, and his dessert sat untouched on the table. Such a shame the speeches came after the food. If she got married, huh, not much chance of that, she would have hers before the food so everyone could enjoy their meal. Once again, the image of her father in a tutu rose to mind and she suppressed a snigger.

Along the table to her right, Maurice cleared his throat and struck his glass five times with a fork.

The room fell silent - everyone gazed at Maurice.

~~~

Maurice fumbled in his inside pocket for the notes he had fretted over for the past two weeks. He felt the gazes of the guests and their cheerful expectation, but he fixed his eyes on the piece of paper.

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