Lucas is going to be in some state tomorrow. I’m not sure he knows what an Irish stag party entails. It’s a license for madness – the compulsive drinking, the pub crawls, the no-holds-barred nightclubs and… people have gone missing for days. Christ, I hope he’s safe. And that they don’t shave his head or his eyebrows or something. Thank God that’s not usually a risk with hen parties. They might be just as crazy but there’s no disrespect shown for eyebrows.

Pulling my jacket tightly across my chest, I continue my journey towards my dad’s house and think about tomorrow night. It’s my hen party, for Christ’s sake. I can’t let this detective business ruin it. Everyone is so looking forward to it… and so am I. It’s the perfect opportunity to drag my mind away from Huntley Lodge and concentrate on my wedding.

Chapter Nineteen

The tall oak trees lining both sides of my father’s street are now completely bare. The golden leaves that had gathered in bundles by the side of the road last month are all gone. As a kid I used to love playing with those leaves. The council would gather them all up into bundles in the morning so they wouldn’t block the drains and as soon as school was over, we’d jump in them, scattering and kicking them in the air.

The cold air is making its way under my coat. Winter is well and truly here. Thank God it’s dry. I look up at the blue sky dotted with white fluffy clouds and hope this is the kind of weather we’ll have next week. I never thought I’d be hoping it wouldn’t snow on my wedding day. A winter wedding had never entered my head when Faye and I imagined our big days. But back then I never thought I’d be marrying a man from Down Under whose job would determine the date. If Lucas didn’t have to be back in Australia next month we could have waited until the summer when the days would be longer, there’d be no need for heavy coats and the sun might even be shining.

I continue to walk towards my father’s house. As I pass Mrs Sweeney’s house she waves at me from her front window. I wave back, drop my head and quicken my step. I don’t want her coming out and engaging me in conversation. She’s a nice old lady but she’ll ask loads of questions about the wedding and I don’t really have the time now. I must remember to call in to her before I leave for Australia.