The happy couple were heading for the vestry now to sign the register and the congregation prepared to listen to a cellist who had set up his instrument below the pulpit. As he began playing Clare thought the melody sounded familiar. She looked down at her order of service.

Can You Feel the Love Tonight

Elton John

‘Is this from The Lion King?’ the DCI whispered, and she nodded again. Suddenly there was movement from the front of the church and around twenty teenage girls began assembling behind the cellist.

‘Oh God,’ Clare whispered. ‘They’re going to sing.’

The DCI suppressed a smile as the girls launched into the chorus and Clare sank back in her pew. It was going to be a long day.

‘Gaby,’ the glamorous woman said, extending a hand across the table. ‘And this is Luke.’ She indicated a tall man to her left. Clare took him in. His hair was dark, swept back over his forehead, his features swarthy, and she wondered if he was Italian. Mediterranean, certainly. He was immaculately dressed in a beautifully cut suit with a high waistcoat. His tie, which seemed to be of an abstract design, was tightly knotted, a tiny jewelled tie pin catching the light as he moved. Clare felt she’d seen him before but she couldn’t place him. Gaby, on the other hand, was a face familiar to anyone who followed daytime TV – her introduction patently unnecessary. Daytime With Gaby was riding high in the ratings. She was slimmer than she looked on screen. Maybe it was true about the camera adding ten pounds. Slender features too. Her outfit, a sleeveless lemon shift dress, hung simply, accentuating her figure, and Clare involuntarily drew in her stomach as she took a seat opposite. She could see necks craning at the other tables and she wondered if Gaby was in danger of eclipsing the bride on her special day.

‘Al,’ the DCI said, adding, ‘and this is Clare.’

Gaby smiled broadly. ‘Bride or groom?’

‘Tom’s an… an old friend,’ Clare said, and Gaby nodded.

‘Gillian teaches our daughter.’ Gaby looked across to another table around which sat some of the girls who had sung in the church.

‘Lovely singing,’ Clare said, wondering if Gillian had invited all the girls’ parents, or just the glamorous, celebrity ones.

Luke Gasparini reached across the table for a bottle of wine. ‘Red, anyone?’

Clare shoved her glass across the white linen cloth in response. This reception, she decided, was not to be faced sober.