Court Out

Chapter Twenty Two





Nothing has happened. Nothing has changed. There hasn’t been any ‘breaking news’ to reveal the plot to frame me, no-one has been arrested, no apologies have been made. It’s been eight days since I gave all of the evidence to DC Connelly and there has been nothing. I must have tried to call him at least a hundred times now, but he is unreachable. Personally, I think he is avoiding me.

I push the button on the treadmill and feel my legs burn as I sprint through the last kilometer of my run, using my anger to push me through the pain.

I’m so frustrated. I’m not naive, but I had expected something to happen quicker than this. I’ve been avoiding Serena, dodging her phone calls and making excuses as to why I can’t see her. I don’t think she has any idea whatsoever as to why I’ve been acting as I have, but from the amount of abusive voice and text messages she is sending me, she is clearly not happy.

Today is Friday and the wedding is tomorrow. Today we are going to the venue to do a final walkthrough and check that Serena is happy with the layout of the rooms. I have tried everything I can think of to get out of this, but according to Sebastian, she has made it clear that she will be seeing me this afternoon and will not be attending without me. I can see why I’m expected to be there, but I’m just so tired of all the facade that nothing is wrong.

I’ve gone from shock, to being upset about her betrayal, but now I’m just plain furious. How dare she? The rest of them didn’t know me, they were just acting to further their best interests, be it professional or personal. This is much, much worse. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to look at her without spilling what I know she’s done.

I finish my workout and head to the changing rooms. I’m not going to have time to get ready at home, so I’ve bought my outfit here. My hard work and discipline regarding my diet has paid off and I think I’m probably just back to my pre-disaster size. Whilst I have woken up many times and thought that the best way forwards would have been something fat and calorie laden, I know that it only makes me more unhappy. I slip into a pair of beige wide-legged trousers and a floaty blue and green top and risk a smile at my reflection in the large mirror.

A woman wearing what would normally be sold as a flannel saunters past, seemingly oblivious that she is baring her nether regions to the occupants of the changing room. As I do a double take at her confidence, I realise that this is someone I know. Someone I could really do with speaking to. Someone I’d much rather speak to when they were dressed, but needs must.

“Lucinda!” I exclaim, trying to sound upbeat and perky.

She stops, and turns to face me. I try to keep my gaze focused firmly on her face. “Oh, hi Lauren. I heard that you were practically a recluse now,” she says, her voice thick with fake concern.

I force myself to laugh. “Oh, you know how it is! Anyway, enough about me, how are you?” I learned a long time ago that the quickest way to distract Lucinda is to get her onto her favourite subject, herself.

“Oh, fabulous as always,” she pouts, entirely focused on her reflection. “Just getting in a few pre-wedding workouts. Not that I need them, but they can’t hurt.” She flexes her arm experimentally and the small scrap of cloth standing between her and complete nudity slips slightly. I take a step backwards.

“Wedding?” I venture. She looks at me as if I have just grown a second head. “God Lauren, I heard you’d lost the plot, but I didn’t think it’d be this bad. My. Wedding. To. Andrew. I know I haven’t invited you, but we thought, in the circumstances, that you would totally ruin things.”

I decide to ignore this.

“So you are still getting married then?” I blurt out, before I can help it. With some considerable effort she pulls her gaze from the mirror and looks at me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snaps. She is looking at me with a guarded expression and I sense that she thinks I know something I’m not supposed to. I decide to gamble and go for broke. I place a hand on her bare shoulder and try to look sympathetic.

“Well, you know, after what happened with Andrew and Serena I did wonder...” I venture. For a terrible moment, she looks like she is going to cry. God, I hope she knows. I wait for her to speak.

“That whore,” she finally spits. “Andrew told me how she came on to him when he was drunk. He felt sorry for her, so kissed her. Then, she had the gall to practically stalk him! I saw the vile messages she sent him!”

I exhale. “So that’s how you found out then? The texts?”

“He would have told me!” she defensively replies.

“Of course! Of course,” I reassure her. “Have they seen each other since?”

“As if!” she scoffs. “I forgave him but he’d already made it perfectly clear to me that he wanted nothing more to do with that tramp.”

I’m struggling with an internal dilemma. On one hand, I owe Lucinda no favours. She has been nothing but a complete bitch to me. On the other, does she really deserve to be planning a wedding to a complete shit? She’s going to find out soon anyway. Hopefully. I can’t tell her the truth, but maybe there is something I can do to soften the blow.

“Lucinda, this may not make sense now, but remember when we were at Bar School we were always told to have confidence in our intelligence?”

She’s looking at me like her earlier suspicions about me being certifiable were correct.

“Well” I continue “I’ve always interpreted that as go with your gut feeling. If something seems wrong, it normally is.”

I pick up my bag and walk out of the changing room, resisting the temptation to look behind me. She may not want to see what is right in front of her, but she’ll have to soon.