‘Thank you,’ Annabelle said. ‘Remind me of your name again?’

‘It’s Lindsey.’ She leaned forward, her eyes wide. ‘Lindsey.’

Matt watched as Annabelle put it together. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I see.’

‘Yeah, you see. You remember me? I’m the sorry bitch you stole Matt from.’ She paused. Matt could see the conflict play out on her face, see the desire to stay cool and in control fight with the anger.

The anger won.

‘You slut,’ Lindsey said. ‘You fucking slut.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Guy said. ‘But that’s enough.’ He put his hand on Annabelle’s elbow. ‘You and Matt go elsewhere. I’ll deal with this.’

‘Who the fuck are you?’ Lindsey said, swivelling to Guy, her face livid. She was holding a bottle of Budweiser and Matt thought she might hit Guy with it.

‘I’m a friend of Matt and Annabelle. This is an important day for them and it doesn’t need to be ruined by you, or anyone else. So, if you wouldn’t mind, please leave.’

‘If you wouldn’t mind, please leave,’ Lindsey said, in a mocking tone. ‘Who invited Prince fucking Charles? Fuck you, you posh cunt.’

She looked at Matt, then Annabelle, then Guy, and then back to Matt.

‘Your turn will come,’ she said. ‘Mark my words. Your turn will come.’

A man appeared behind her. He was tall and wiry, curly brown hair poking out from under a baseball cap.

He put his hand on her shoulder; she started, then whipped around. As soon as she saw him, she started to sob.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘It’s OK. Let’s leave.’ He pulled her close to him. ‘Come on, petal,’ he said. ‘Time to go.’

He led her away from Matt. As they walked past Tessa, the man said something to her. Tessa touched him on the shoulder and gave a little shake of her head, then followed them to the door of the pub.

As they left, the man turned and stared at Matt, with an expression in his eyes that was something like hatred.

2

‘Jesus,’ Guy said. ‘That was like a medieval fairy tale. Wicked witch turning up at the feast. Who was that?’

‘An ex,’ Matt said. ‘From a long time ago.’

‘Why was she here?’ Annabelle said. ‘Who told her?’

The door of the pub opened. Tessa came in and glanced at Matt. He caught her eye and then she looked away.

‘Tessa?’ he said. ‘Did you tell her?’

‘No,’ Tessa said. ‘Not exactly.’

‘Or not at all?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘What does not exactly mean?’ Annabelle said. There was an edge in her voice. She knew Tessa had remained friends with Lindsey after Matt had broken up with her. He had told her – perhaps it was a mistake – that Tessa had tried to persuade him to reconcile with Lindsey. It had led to the first real argument he and Annabelle ever had.