A Wedding In December. Sarah Morgan

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      Katie unlocked the door of the small two-bedroom house she’d rented for the past decade and dropped her bag on the floor.

      Vicky appeared in the doorway, wearing a thick red Christmas sweater over spotted pajama bottoms. “Who are you?”

      “Very funny.” Katie slid off her coat and hung it on the peg. It had been raining nonstop for a week and London was gloomy and cheerless. Her fingers were frozen, and her hair was lank. She’d never felt less festive in her life.

      “I’m serious. I used to share this place with a friend, but I reported her missing weeks ago. The police are looking for a body.”

      “Great. If they find one, let me know. I’ll swap it for the one I’m walking around in.” Her shoulder throbbed. It kept her awake, not because of the pain, although it was painful, but because of the memories that came with it. She glanced at Vicky’s feet. “You’re wearing two pairs of socks. Did the heating break again? Please tell me we have hot water.”

      “You look like hell, Katie.”

      “Thanks a bunch.”

      “You’re at work the whole time, you hardly ever go out, and when you’re home you’re either Cactus Katie or you fall asleep in front of the TV.”

      “‘Cactus Katie’?”

      “Prickly. Dangerous to be close to.”

      “Oh. Well, if you’re planning to water me, use vodka.” She pushed her damp hair away from her face. “I admit I may be on a short fuse at times, but we have a staffing crisis.”

      “You’ve had a staffing crisis for the past few years. We used to manage to eat together at least once a week, and now I can’t even get to speak to you on the phone. I’m worried about you.”

      “Don’t be. I’m fine. Is the kettle hot? It’s cold out there. If I don’t warm up soon, I’ll be treating myself for frostbite.” She walked into the kitchen and put her phone on the table next to a take-out pizza box. “Any of that left?”

      “One slice. If I’d known you’d be home, I would have saved more for you.”

      “A slice is enough.” Katie pulled it out of the box, took one mouthful and pulled a face. “What is this?”

      “Christmas pizza.”

      “That exists?”

      “Apparently. I was trying to get in the mood.”

      “I’m not even going to ask what sort of mood. Turns out one slice is more than enough. I should warn my colleagues. It might be a new cause of death.” Katie put the half-eaten slice back in the box. She couldn’t remember when she’d last eaten a healthy meal. She should probably cook something, but by the time she arrived home she was too tired. “Sorry I haven’t been around much.” Her phone started to ring and she glanced at the screen. “How are you?”

      “Better than you.” Vicky put a cup of tea in front of her. “Aren’t you going to answer that? It’s your mum. She might want something.”

      “I know what she wants. She wants to take me to lunch and talk weddings.”

      “Weddings?”

      “Rosie is getting married at Christmas.”

      “This Christmas?”

      “Yes. In Colorado. And before you ask, no, I won’t be going home to Oxford. Somehow I have to get myself on an airplane and fly to Aspen and stop her doing something she’s going to regret forever.” She lowered her head onto her arms and closed her eyes. “It’s a long flight. At least I can sleep all the way.”

      Although these days she didn’t sleep. She collapsed into bed exhausted, but her mind refused to cooperate. Instead of shutting down it came alive, producing a slideshow of images she was trying to forget. There was no respite. She’d been on the what if and if only roundabout for so many weeks she was dizzy.

      This wasn’t like her. She had no idea how to handle it.

      “Wait. You’re intending to stop the wedding?”

      “Absolutely.” Katie lifted her head. “She’s known him for a few months, Vick.”

      “So?”

      “So I have cheese in the fridge that’s older than their relationship. What can you possibly know about someone after a few months? It takes time for a person’s worst traits to be revealed, but I intend to fast-track that part.”

      Vicky blinked. “To be clear about this—you’re going to Aspen in order to dig up dirt on the man your sister is in love with?”

      “Thinks she’s in love with. I’m glad you understand. And I won’t be digging as such. I’ll be spending time with him. I’ve had so much more experience than Rosie at seeing the bad side of people, and I’m not emotionally involved so I won’t find it hard to ask the tough questions.”

      Vicky let out a long breath. “This could be your future brother-in-law.”

      “Not unless he passes the interview process.”

      Vicky shook her head. “I’ve suspected it for a while, but this confirms it. You need help.”

      “You mean Rosie needs help. I agree. That’s why I’m doing this.”

      “No, I mean you. You’re the one who needs help.” She leaned forward. “Katie, I love you, we’ve been friends since the first day of medical school, but I’m telling you now this is not rational behavior. People don’t fly across the Atlantic to stop a wedding. Normal is going as a guest. You buy a dress. Maybe a hat. Take a gift. Throw confetti. You don’t ask tough questions of the groom and tell the bride you think she’s making a mistake.”

      “I don’t think it. She is making a mistake.”

      “If it’s a mistake, then it’s her mistake. This isn’t your responsibility, Katie, and it isn’t even your business. Do you want to know what I think? I think you should go to the wedding and relax for once. Stop trying to fix everything and everyone. Aspen is stunning. My parents took me skiing there when I was sixteen. If I had the money, I’d go again. Breathe in fresh air. Chill a little. A Christmas wedding in the snow sounds like fun.”

      Not to Katie, but nothing much seemed like fun at the moment.

      Maybe Vicky was right. Maybe she needed help. Not because of her reaction to Rosie, which seemed entirely sane to her, but because of the way she felt generally.

      Was she clinically depressed? She had no idea. These days she didn’t even have the energy to diagnose herself. “Are you not even the tiniest bit sympathetic that I have to drag myself on a fourteen-hour journey when even the halfhour commute almost finishes me off?”

      “You’re going to spend Christmas playing in the snow at a luxury mountain resort and you expect me to feel sorry for you? You’re going to have to work harder.”

      Katie СКАЧАТЬ