PART TWENTY-NINE: THE FINALE (PART ONE)
Sunday 18th January - The Wedding
As the sun rose over the buildings and streets of Edinburgh, encased in a silvery white sheet of freshly fallen snow, Jac Naylor stretched and climbed delicately out of her bed. It still seemed to be relatively early and the sun's rays appeared weak and feeble as they shone through the gap in the blinds. Jac opened her eyes but her vision was blurred and her head was spinning in the way it does when one has only just woken. She looked over at the empty section of bed where Jonny had slept the other night; she knew what his traditions meant to him but there was still a tiny part of Jac that had hoped she would wake up beside her fiancé. Fiancé. That was a peculiar word, Jac thought as she tiptoed over to the bathroom, taking care not to wake Hollie. She stepped inside, closing the door with a gentle click behind her.
After her brief but necessary shower, Jac stood and stared at her pale cheekbones in the mirror, her towel wrapped up like a turban around her sodden hair. It didn't seem quite real that by the evening she would officially be a married woman. Of course she was still going to be Jac Naylor, that would never change and as she had pointed out to Jonny in the, rather heated discussion over it, Jac Maconie really didn't work at all. Jonny had tried to persuade her as best he could but in the end he had conceded defeat, on the condition that he didn't have to change his name to Naylor.
Jac almost cracked a smile. She picked up her toothbrush from the small jar on top of the sink and poured a copious amount of toothpaste on to the bristles. As she turned the cold tap and watched the water swirling down into the plug hole there was a sudden knock at the door.
"Hang on!" Jac called through a mouth of toothpaste. She quickly finished the tedious task and spat the remainder into the sink. Wiping her mouth with a tissue, Jac ran to the door just as the visitor knocked again. "I'm coming!" Jac pulled open the front door, breathlessly and staring up into Sacha's face, she suddenly realised that she was still in her night clothes.
"Thought I'd just pop in and see you before the big event," said Sacha who was already dressed in his dark grey tux and sporting a black bow tie. Jac ushered him into the room, instructing Sacha to keep the noise as low as possible. There was the tiniest of gurgles from Hollie's cot; Jac instinctively looked over to her daughter but the little girl just rolled over and continued sleeping. She looked so peaceful.
"What time is it?" Jac asked, staring out of the window at the now blazing daylight. Sacha checked his watch.
"About half ten," Sacha told her. Jac's eyes widened in shock.
"Are you saying I've only got four hours before I have to be walking down that aisle?"
"Plenty of time," said Sacha, trying to reassure her. Jac was not, however reassured by that in the slightest. Waves of panic began to wash over her and she was hyperventilating.
"I was meant to be having my hair done at ten," said Jac in horror. "Why didn't anyone wake me?" Sacha did his best to calm her.
"It's okay Jac, it's okay. Mo's bringing the stylist with her at eleven. We'll get you to the church on time," Sacha said in his jovial manner.
"If you're going to sing, I may throw up," Jac gave him a watery smile but it was enough for Sacha. She sat down at the dresser and began to apply her makeup. "Have you heard any more about Karen?" Jac asked over the sound of her hairdryer. Her voice was hollow; the news of Karen's murder had reached them late the previous night and the atmosphere in the hotel was still melancholic. Sacha sighed deeply; it had come as a great shock to him and he still couldn't believe how anyone could have had the audacity to do something as mindbogglingly terrible as that to her.
"There was something on the radio this morning," replied Sacha. "Police are appealing for anybody with information to come forward, the usual stuff." Jac flicked the switch on the dryer and laid it aside.
"Someone forced their way into her home," Jac said as she began to straighten her hair. "They were probably waiting for her when she came back after her shift," Sacha bit his tongue uncomfortably, listening to Jac as she aired her thoughts out loud. "Waiting for her and when they got their chance, they attacked and left her to rot. Do you know what I think, Sacha?" The sudden question caught Sacha off guard and it took him a few moments to gather his wits and reply.
"Probably not."
"I'd bet you anything it was a patient."
"Come on Jac, you don't really think a-"
"Honestly Sacha, you know as well as I do that there are some right nutters out there and they're violent and yes, capable of that. I'd definitely put a bet on the culprit being a patient that she somehow pissed off or maybe they just didn't like her choice in hats." Sacha couldn't think of anything to say to this, so her just laughed instead. Jac was right; patients were known for their unpredictability.
"Shall we talk about something else?" Jac nodded, moving on to the next stage in her mission to make herself look as good as possible for the wedding. "There's something I need to tell you." Jac looked round at Sacha, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "I don't want everybody knowing so can we just keep this between ourselves?"
"You can trust me, what are you going on about Sacha?" Sacha paused, struggling to find the right words to explain his predicament. He wasn't sure why he was going to tell Jac but there was something at the back of his mind. Something that made him want to unload all of his secrets before the day was out. Evidently something on his face had given away how he was feeling for he suddenly noticed that Jac was staring directly at him, her eyes lined with worry. "Sacha what is it?" He hadn't realised how soft Jac's voice could be before now. It was the sort of voice you could listen to all day long and never grow tired of, eloquent and cultured.
"It's nothing," Sacha said; it wasn't the right time to tell her. "I'll tell you after the reception."
"Okay," said Jac doubtfully. She knew Sacha would tell her in his own time but she cared a great deal about the bumbling surgeon and she worried for his wellbeing. Sacha made to walk back towards the main door.
"I should get going," he mumbled. "Pick you up at half one." Jac nodded, smiling as Sacha retreated from the room. She could hear his footsteps walking hurriedly along the corridor outside until they disappeared down the spiral staircase and she couldn't hear anything any more.
The mood in Ash's office was a sombre one. He was sitting at his desk, staring down at the mountain of forms and other paperwork whilst Charlie Fairhead stood in solemn conversation with Detective Inspector Yates. Every few moments, Ash would be called upon to impart his role in the events of Karen's death but he mostly observed in silence. Yates was a tall, stocky man with impressively broad shoulders and a crewcut head of hair. There were patches over his forearms exposed by his wearing of a short-sleeved shirt. His chin was obscured by two-day stubble and Ash couldn't help noticing how cold his blue eyes were. There was no feeling in them; Ash felt uneasy and he quickly looked back down at the topmost form.
"Who found Ms. Bradbury?" Yates asked in his gravelly voice.
"Er that would be two of our paramedics, Jeff Collier and Kathleen Dixon," replied Charlie. Yates scribbled the names down into his notepad, muttering aloud.
"Where might I find them?" Yates jumped as Ash tore a form vigorously and threw it into the recycling basket beside him.
"The ambulance bay, it's not far from here," Charlie started to explain but Yates informed him that he already knew where the ambulance bay was. "Oh right, sometimes people do get a little confused," clarified Charlie.
"Confusion is not on my schedule," replied Yates. Ash rolled his eyes behind them. "So Mr. Ashford," Yates rounded on Ash.
"Can I help you?" asked Ash, blinking. "It's just that I do have rather a lot of paperwork to get through today."
"This will only take a second," Yates told him smugly.
"Best get it over with Ash," Charlie told him, patting his friend on the back. Ash nodded, relenting. Yates flipped his notebook onto a new page and held his pencil between his thumb and forefinger, ready to scribble at a moment's notice.
"Right, Mr. Ashford, can you tell me where you were between the hours of ten and six yesterday?"
"On shift," Ash replied.
"Can anyone vouch for that?"
"Yes," interrupted Charlie before Ash could answer. "Ash was in the department all day. What line of inquiry is this?"
"Just doing my job," replied Yates with a shrug. His reputation often preceded him wherever he went and Detective Inspector Alistair Yates was not popular among his colleagues at Holby South. His methods were unusual but no one could ever deny that he got the job done. A growing concern, however was his tendency to launch wild accusations at those he interviewed but when questioned over it, Yates would stare at them with his unfeeling eyes and reel out some spiel about it being a necessary pursuit of inquiry. Even so, his methods had not gone unnoticed and despite his long service, Yates had never been able to rise higher than DI. This was a fact that still dealt a bitter blow to him whenever it was brought up. "You were the Consultant treating Ms. Bradbury, am I correct?"
"You're correct."
"What state would you say Ms. Bradbury was in when she arrived into your care?" Ash watched as Yates scribbled something in his notebook.
"She wasn't good," Ash started to explain. "She'd gone into VF, that's ventricular fibrillation and we had to restore her heart into a normal rhythm."
"I see," Yates muttered, making yet another brief note. "And how long after she was brought in, did Ms. Bradbury die?" Yates considered this carefully, thinking back to what time it had been when Jeff and Dixie brought her in. He counted the hours on his fingertips.
"I suppose it must have been two or three hours," Ash said, looking up at Yates. "We managed to get her back several times but her injuries were too severe and she suffered a catastrophic cardiac arrest."
"When did you pronounce the time of death?" Charlie whispered in Yates' ear and the Detective Inspector wrote down the time. "Was Ms. Bradbury seeing anybody recently? Had she brought a new man round, that sort of thing?" Ash shook his head.
"Not that I know of," he explained. He looked over at Charlie but the nurse just shrugged his shoulders.
"What about her relationship with patients?"
"She was good at her job," Ash told him. "Bloody good in fact."
"Is there anyone who might hold a grudge against Ms. Bradbury?" Ash and Charlie both thought about this but they concluded that they knew of no one who might harbour any kind of grudge against her. "No tensions in working relationships?"
"She was a popular member of staff," Charlie said firmly. "No one here is capable of that."
"Hmm," Yates said. He was not convinced by the familiar 'popularity' schtick. "Well I had better continue with my inquiries, I think I'll talk to this Jeff Collier," Yates was talking to himself more than anyone else as he flipped his notebook shut. He thanked Ash and Charlie for their time and marched out of the office. Charlie looked down at Ash.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine Charlie," Ash said, his chest heaving up and down. "That man just gets under my skin."
"I know," Charlie said and he shivered deliberately. "Bleurgh. I'd hate to work under him."
"Did you get much sleep?" Ash asked.
"Me? Not a wink."
"Me neither," they both sighed.
It was nearly half past two and the small church had begun to fill up rapidly, the pews filled with rows and rows of expectant guests, most of which were members of Jonny's family as well family and friends of their friends and friends of their friends' friends and so on until the church had almost reached full capacity. Jonny took his place, with Ethan standing beside him and a hushed silence fell about the church, broken only by an outburst of excited mutterings from certain members of the crowd.
"Five minutes," Ethan whispered to Jonny. They both began to grow extremely tense and Jonny could feel his knees knocking together. "Good luck."
"Nothing prepares you for this," Jonny whispered back. "I've been calm all the way through the engagement and now looking at me, quaking like a wee boy."
"Just so long as you don't throw up on her, you'll be fine," said Ethan.
"Yeah that's actually not very helpful thanks," Jonny muttered. He checked the time. "This is the longest five minutes of my entire life." Ethan said nothing, his eyes fixed upon the double doors at the front of the church. "Have you got the rings?" Jonny asked, struck by a sudden thought. Ethan slipped his hand in his pocket and felt around for the rings. There was a brief moment of panic in his eyes but his fingers soon came into contact with the rings and he sighed with relief.
"I've got them," he told Jonny. Jonny was about to say something else when the doors swung open and, standing at the top of the aisle, he could see Jac.
"She looks absolutely beautiful," Jonny mouthed to Ethan. Ethan, however was too stunned to answer and he simply stared in wonder as Jac began to walk down the aisle, her arm linked with Sacha's and her bridal gown flowing behind her. Jac's hair was held up and tied into a luxuries bun and her features sparkled in the light of the church as though she was giving off a kind of glow.
Once Jac had taken her place opposite Jonny, the priest stepped forward and began the service.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to witness the union of these two people in the eyes of God, in holy matrimony, and to celebrate with them as they solidify their love for the future." Jac reached out for Jonny's left hand and Jonny took hold of her right hand.
"This is it," Jonny told her. Jac smiled, daring not to speak. She felt as if she would throw up all over the church if she so much as opened her mouth. Her heart was beating faster than it had ever done before, a rapid drumbeat that built up quicker and quicker until it couldn't possibly go any faster. Jac soaked in the weight of expectation of everyone her and this did little to calm her nerves, only Sacha seemed to offer any sense of tranquility.
"If anyone knows of any lawful impediment why these people should not be joined in marriage, may they speak now or forever hold their peace." The church was silent and it soon became clear that no one had any reason to stop the wedding. Sacha kept checking behind him but no one came running through those doors. The priest smiled toothily and continued the service. They proceeded through the vows with ease, although Jac stumbled a bit over one or two of them. There was a minor kerfuffle when Ethan managed to get one of the rings stuck in the fabric of his jacket pocket. "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." Jac and leant forwards into each other and their lips locked together in a long and passionate kiss.
The church erupted into raucous rounds of applause filled with whistles and cheers. Sacha beamed with pride, tears streamed down Mo, Jasmine and Charlie's faces and Cal gave the loudest and most enthusiastic cheer of anybody. As Jac and Jonny made their way down the aisle, Connie clapped Jac on the back and said:
"Well done Naylor." Jac grinned. She was married now and everything was going to be all right. Elliot appeared beside her. He passed Hollie over for Connie to hold.
"I just wanted to offer you my sincerest congratulations," he told them. "I'm so happy for you both." Elliot hugged Jac and then Jonny in turn.
They headed out into the bright afternoon sunshine; Jac held the bouquet in one hand, her other hand was clutched in Jonny's, and the watching crowd waited with baited breath for her to throw the flowers into the air. They were sprinkled with confetti by Cal and Charlie and the sheer joviality of the occasion was infectious. Everywhere Jac looked she could see tears of joy streaming down people's faces and she soon realised that she was crying just as hard as the emotion swept over her. It was a dream, Jac told herself. It had to be a dream; the best dream she had ever had and she would wake up the next morning to find it all back to normal. But it wasn't a dream. It was very much real life and Jac felt overwhelmed as people continued to march up to them in their droves to wish them both a hearty congratulations. She was too struck by it all to answer and so it was Jonny who did most of the talking.
"Come on Naylor," Mo called out to them. "Throw the bouquet, we're all waiting here!" Jac let go of Jonny's hand and prepared to throw the bouquet as hard as she could into the air.
"One," Jac swung the bouquet but did not let go. The crowd gasped and then laughed as they realised Jac had only been teasing them. "Two," she swung the bouquet higher but still she did not let go. Jac grinned, enjoying the spell she had the crowd under. They all looked just about ready to burst from anticipation as Jac cried: "Three," and released the bouquet into the sky. It soared through the air and there was a frantic scrambling as they all moved forward, desperate to be the one who caught the flowers. Mo reached out and grabbed at the air but it was Jasmine who proved victorious, leaping higher than she had ever leapt before and clutching the flowers by the bottom of their stalks. Jac and Jonny turned back to look at each other, both were laughing, both were happy.
"Your car awaits," announced Mo, parting the crowd so that the couple could see the luxurious white vehicle that had just pulled up outside the church. Jac led Jonny by the arm through the crowd to the car. Their ears ringing from the deafening cheers all around them.
Jeff slammed his locker shut angrily. His knuckles stung but he didn't care as he glared at his own reflection in the metal. It felt like Polly all over again and Jeff was tired of being powerless to prevent these things from happening.
"Do you want a cup of tea or something?" Detective Inspector Yates droned, watching Jeff with his eyes narrowed so tightly that they were barely even open at all.
"No I do not want!" Jeff began a little more aggressively than he had intended. He stopped to catch his breath. "I don't want a cup of tea thank you," he finished. His outburst, however had not been overlooked by the DI who made a careful note of it in his leather notebook.
"Shall we step into the office?" Jeff nodded and led the way. "Is Kathleen Dixon around?" Yates asked as he followed Jeff into the main office. Jeff shook his head.
"Dixie's on a shout," he explained. "She could be back any time but I wouldn't like to say, d'you know what I mean?" Yates nodded, smiling briskly.
"Oh yes of course, of course. Work has to come first," he conceded.
"I'm glad you see it that way," Jeff replied, offering Yates a seat. Yates took the seat obligingly and placed his notebook on the table in front of him. Jeff watched him curiously, he wasn't quite sure what to make of the Detective just yet.
"I know this is difficult," Yates started to say but he was distracted by Jeff's erratic fidgeting. "Aren't you going to sit?"
"Nah, I prefer to stand," Jeff told him.
"Ah, right. Okay then. As I was saying," Yates began again. "I know this is an extremely delicate situation but I just need to go over a few of the details with you, if that's okay?" Jeff nodded to show that it was; he was doing his level-best to keep a lid on his temper. He got the feeling that lashing out at this man would be a mistake he would almost certainly have to pay for.
Yates was silent for a moment as he glanced through his notebook, looking over the information he had gained from Charlie and Ash that morning. He gazed up at Jeff and then began to write copiously. Jeff eyed him; his brow was sweating and his heart thumped loudly. He wonder what Yates was writing and whether or not he was making a deduction about him. After a while, Yates laid down his pencil and cleared his throat.
"You and Kathleen Dixon were the first to discover Ms. Bradbury, correct?"
"Yes, I don't know. I think so," Jeff said, tensing in the glare of Yates' blue eyes. "Yes, we were." He didn't know what had made him almost fall to pieces like that; it made him feel uneasy and Jeff knew that, no matter how good Yates might be at his job, he didn't trust him.
"I looked at the records, you were both off shift when you found her and there's no evidence of you being called to be there," said Yates, staring directly at Jeff until the paramedic felt himself backing away slightly. "So my question is this: Why were you there?" Jeff frowned. He knew that whatever he said would no doubt be twisted into something vastly unrecognisable from the truth.
"Charlie Fairhead asked us to take a look," said Jeff after a brief consideration. Yates made a noise that sounded halfway between a thoughtful 'hmm' and a snort of derision.
"Why was that?" Yates asked, making a fresh note. Jeff leaned over to see what he was writing, but Yates moved his hand across so that it was obscured by the shadow. "Why did Mr. Fairhead want you to check on her? You were off shift, the whereabouts of hospital staff is not your concern, I would have thought." Jeff scowled.
"Charlie asked us to do him a favour because we were off shift. You may not understand this but round here, we're a team and we stick together." Jeff's temper was raging inside him and he gripped the sideboard behind him to stop himself from punching Yates.
"Do you know why Charlie was concerned about Ms. Bradbury's whereabouts?"
"Err yeah, I do as it happens. Karen hadn't shown up for her shift and-"
"Missing a shift is hardly unusual is it?" Yates said, cutting across Jeff mid-sentence.
"Karen never missed a shift. Ever. I'm not exaggerating here," said Jeff. "She was Mrs. Punctuality." Yates' lips thinned as he scribbled yet another note down.
"What did you discover when you arrived at the house?" He asked when he had finished writing. Jeff looked down at the floor, deep in thought.
"From the outside everything seemed normal," Jeff said at last. Yates opened his mouth to speak but then seemed to think better of it and crossed his arms, waiting for Jeff to continue. "It soon became apparent that something was up, like it didn't feel right."
"What did you do?"
"I picked up a stone and broke in."
"Are paramedics allowed to force entry?" Yates asked, frowning.
"Yes when the situation calls for it." Yates closed his notebook with a snap and rose to his feet.
"Thank you for your time Mr. Collier, I'll be in touch." Jeff didn't reply. "I'll see myself out."
Joseph watched as the wedding guests continued to pile into the hotel for the reception. He still clutched the address Sacha had given him in his hand although it had become crinkled and faded in the time that had passed. It had taken a lot for Joseph to decide not to go to the actual wedding ceremony and he had come very close to bursting through the church doors. Yet when it had come down to it, Joseph found that he did not have the heart to interrupt Jac's wedding, no matter how important what he had to say was. This was Jac's special day, a day that she had craved for so long.
"Oi watch it!" Joseph looked around as someone wearing a black hoodie brushed past him, carrying what looked like a particularly heavy bag. He glanced angrily after the retreating figure but he quickly regained his composure and tried to forget about it. It was probably just a guest arriving to stay, Joseph thought. Even so, the man had seemed to be in an awful hurry and there had been noticeable panic in his voice when he'd spoken. Joseph shrugged it off. There was no use dwelling on it, everyone had bad days and there were far more vital things to think about: Such as, whether or not he was going to be able to pluck up the courage to go inside and see Jac.
Joseph took a step forwards gingerly; his heart leapt. He was an inch closer to the door. That had to be an achievement in itself. He took another step. He kept walking forward until he found himself in the entrance lobby of the hotel. He sidled up to the reception desk.
"Excuse me, I was looking for the wedding reception. I was told it was here," said Joseph uncertainly. The receptionist looked up from her computer screen, giving Joseph an eyeful of her round overlarge earrings.
"It's just through those doors over there," the receptionist explained, pointing with a pink-nailed finger.
"Thank you," Joseph said, taking a deep breath before he walked over to the reception. The receptionist tutted behind him and returned to the game she was playing on the computer.
"Bollocks," the receptionist exclaimed a little louder than she had intended but in fairness she had just died in the game for the tenth time in a row.
Simon smirked as he looked all around the hotel kitchen. He couldn't believe he'd managed to wing his way onto the kitchen staff. He didn't have to do much either, they had plenty of waiters and chefs. All Simon had to do was clean up any messes and make sure everything was shipshape. Other than that, he had free reign to continue with the finer parts of his scheme. There had been a brief moment where he had thought he would be caught outside the hotel but the man he had bumped into didn't seem to have paid him much attention.
"Are you deaf mate?" Simon looked around to see the head chef hollering at him. "Clear that fucking mess up!" Simon gave the head chef an obedient smile and went to collect the dustpan and brush from Eric who had used it last. As he bent down to scoop up the mess of salmon and broccoli, Simon scowled.
"I can't wait to see your face," he murmured to himself. Just at that moment there was a loud clattering and Simon looked up to see a saucepan facedown by Eric's feet.
"Are you a fucking useless shit or what?" Within seconds the head chef was standing in front of Eric, berating him as loud as he could.
"My finger slipped," Eric replied in his thick Glaswegian accent.
"Clear it up but I kick you out," the head chef replied and stomped away to bully somebody else.
The kitchen was becoming increasingly hectic and in the commotion caused by pots, pans and trays being unceremoniously thrown to the floor, stepped in or dropped, Simon quietly slipped into the side room where his bag had been stashed. No one saw him.
Ethan sat down to tumultuous applause as he concluded his best man speech. Even Cal looked impressed and a huge weight was lifted from Ethan's mind.
"You did well," Jonny said, clapping Ethan on the back. "Although I wasn't quite sure about some of the jokes."
"I made them up as I was going along," Ethan admitted.
"Well people seemed to enjoy them, so well done." Jonny turned to look at his wife but Jac's face had turned the whitest of whites. "Jac are you okay?" Jac didn't answer. Jonny nudged her gently. "Jac?"
"Jac," Jonny glanced around and his eyes met with Joseph's. Although they had never met, Jonny knew the legendary cardiothoracic registrar by sight and he was definitely not pleased to see him standing there before them. Joseph seemed to look straight through him, however and it was this blatant disregard that enraged Jonny further. "Jac?" Joseph said again, but it was more of a question this time. Jac still did not answer.
"She doesn't want you here," Jonny said. Ethan stared at them, unaware of the history. "I think you should leave."
"I'm not here to take your wife from you," Joseph explained. "I just need to talk to Jac." At this, Jac finally spoke.
"Why." It wasn't a question. It was just a quiet, helpless plea.
Charlie ran into Ash's office, exclaiming out loud. He was followed closely by Yates whose lips remained tightly shut. Ash looked up in surprise at them. It took a lot to get Charlie this active and by the presence of Yates, Ash determined that some kind of breakthrough must have happened.
"We've just checked over the CCTV," Charlie explained. Ash stared at him questioningly. "It shows a man following Karen to her car."
"Is there a clear shot of the man?" Asked Ash. Yates nodded.
"We've run the image through our networks and we're fairly positive that this man is Simon Burrows." Ash frowned, the name seemed familiar to him. It soon became clear when Charlie explained everything he knew of the man to Yates.
"Do we know where he might be now?" Yates asked. Charlie shook his head.
"He could be anywhere."
"We'll double the search, contact all local police authorities, send out a nationwide hunt." The three men piled out of the office. "I'll let you know as soon as there's any information," Yates told them as he walked away.
"Do you think they'll find him?" Charlie thought about this. He didn't want to give anyone false hope but at the same time it was the first piece of good news that had come since it all began.
"I hope so," he said at last.
Jac and Joseph stepped into a private room; Jac's face was contorted with rage and Joseph knew that he deserved it.
"What the hell Joseph? What the hell?" Joseph cleared his throat but before he could speak, Jac raged at him again. "I'm married! Did you think you could just show up here out of the blue and I would run off with you again?"
"Jac listen to me, you have to let me explain," Joseph pleaded. "I'm not here to take you back, you've moved on with your life and I'm glad that you're happy." Jac slammed her hand on to the door.
"Yes, I am happy!" She paused, allowing her words to sink in. "And that's what you couldn't stand isn't it Joseph? You couldn't stand that I have made something of my life without you!" She seethed with fury and the glint in her eyes was such that it would have made a stronger man than Joseph quiver in its wake.
"You have to listen to me," Joseph pleaded again. Jac rounded on him.
"I don't have to listen to anything you say! You lost that right when you walked away from me." Joseph said nothing, after all, Jac did have a point. There wasn't a day went by that Joseph didn't bitterly regret having to leave Jac behind.
"Jac, please. I just want to talk. Can we not be civil?" Jac was about to retaliate when she caught the look in Joseph's eyes. Her anger seemed to melt away and it was as if she had been transported back to the last time she had laid eyes on her ex. She twisted the wedding ring on her finger absentmindedly.
"Okay Joseph, you win. We can talk."
Simon had waited until he was alone in the kitchen with the head chef. He knew he had only a few minutes to carry out his plan before the others returned. Simon felt his hands curling around the handle of a white hot frying pan. The head chef's back was facing him and when he didn't react to Simon's movement, Simon took his chance and swung the pan as hard as he could at the old man's head. The crunch was both sickening and satisfying as Simon watched him fall to the floor, dead.
Simon picked up the jerry can he had hidden under the counter and began to pour petrol all over the kitchen floor and over the sides. He drenched the gas cookers and canisters in it and, out of spite, poured some over the head chef's lifeless body. When the jerry can was empty, Simon tossed it aside with a loud clatter and reached into his pocket for his matches. His heart was racing and part of him tried to hold back but it was too late. He had gone too far this time. He turned on the gas to maximum and basked in the low hiss that filled the air.
"It's not fair Joseph," Jac said quietly. "You can't just show up here like this." Joseph sighed.
"I didn't know what else to do," Joseph admitted. "I just had to see you." Jac walked over to him and held his hand, squeezing his fingers between hers.
"You shouldn't have come here." They gazed up into each other's eyes and for a moment it looked as if their old passions had been reignited. The door opened behind them and they broke apart quickly.
"Sorry," said Sacha. "I just wanted to explain," Jac looked at him, her eyes widening in surprise.
"Explain what exactly?" Sacha took a deep breath.
"I told Joseph where to find you." The colour drained from Jac's face and Sacha recoiled at the look of betrayal in Jac's eyes. She was standing directly in front of him now.
"I trusted you," Jac whispered.
"I know and I'm sorry, I was trying to do the best thing for both of you. You have to believe that Jac." Jac shook her head slowly, tears ringing in her eyes.
"Just stop it Sacha. Just stop it." Sacha wanted to explain, to tell her that it wasn't how it seemed but when he opened his mouth, no words came out and his heart continued to shrivel up inside him. "I trusted you," Jac said again and with a single movement, she slapped Sacha across the cheek. The injury stung but Sacha did not react.
"I'm sorry." Jac's anger flared up inside her again.
"You're sorry?" She slapped him again, this time across the other cheek. "Sorry isn't good enough!" She kept hitting him. "You've ruined everything Sacha! I thought I had it all sorted but you had to bring him here, you had to drag up the past!"
"Jac," Joseph began but she ignored him. She stopped hitting Sacha and drew away from him, her face lined with mascara.
"I can't even look at you any more," she said in a low whisper. "You went behind my back. You should have asked me. Just go, Sacha. I want you to go." Sacha looked from Jac to Joseph, his face crestfallen and a terrible pain building in his heart.
"Jac…" Jac was forcing herself not to look at him but he knew she was crying.
"Go," Jac said again. Sacha felt as if his soul had been torn into a thousand pieces and it seemed as if there would never be any way of repairing the mess he had caused. Joseph was silent; he hadn't stepped up to defend him but Sacha didn't blame him. It wasn't Joseph's fault. Sacha walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. His hands trembled on the door handle and he hoped that no one would see the emotion in his expression.
Simon struck the match, admiring the yellow flame with a sadistic grin on his face before dropping it on to the trail of petrol. He pushed back through the doors before the flaming trail could ignite the gas. He intended to die tonight but now wasn't the time for that. He pulled the petrol-stained hoodie over his head and and threw it on to the floor. Simon was safely away from the kitchen now and it filled him with glee to think of the crackling flames burning there, licking around the corpse of the head chef. He had deserved to die, Simon thought. It was somehow right that the sanctimonious bastard had been the first to go. He wouldn't be the last either.
None of the wedding guests seemed to have any idea of what was going on, they just danced or talked and ate. It surprised him how easy it was for him to mingle among the guests without anyone questioning who he was. They were probably sloshed. Simon laughed as he picked up a glass of wine from a tray left on a table. He downed it and smirked. The fireworks would soon be beginning. Perhaps he could give it a little helping hand, Simon thought as he approached the long flowing curtains at the back of the vast room and whilst everyone's heads were turned the other way, he struck a fresh match and dropped it at the curtain's hem.
Sacha made his way along the corridor towards the lobby in silence. He had mumbled an apology to Jonny before leaving but he couldn't spend another minute in that room. His insides felt as if they had been taken out of him, scrambled around and stuffed unceremoniously back into his stomach. His heart was in his mouth.
"Can you smell burning?" Cal asked, sniffing the air. Mo screwed up her nose and the aroma of smoke filled her sinuses. "We need to warn everyone," Cal muttered. But before they could say anything there was a screech of terror behind them and they turned to see a wall of flame where the curtains had been. Guests were running everywhere, knocking into tables and each other. Panic had descended and it was fast becoming total chaos.
"We need to call the fire brigade," Mo hissed at Cal but as Cal opened his mouth to reply he found himself being thrown away from Mo by the rampaging crowd. Tables were being upturned and the flames were licking across the domed ceiling towards the magnificent chandelier in the centre. Cal was drawing near to the kitchen now and he could see the black smoke floating up underneath the thick wooden doors. His heart dropped through the pit of his stomach and he began to back away.
"Keep away from the kitchen!" Cal yelled but it was too late. He could only cry out in horror as one of the waiters wrenched open the door and the whole building exploded in fire and debris. The force of the explosion threw Cal backwards. He fell, hitting his head hard on one of the upturned table legs and the last thing he saw before he lost consciousness were the charred remains of the waiter.
"What was that?" The sound of the explosion had been muffled but Jac and Joseph could smell the smoke and feel the heat of the flames from where they stood. Jac tried the door but something had fallen in front of it and it was stuck fast. "We're trapped," Jac said as she turned back to face Joseph. They fell silent, trying to listen for the sound of anybody nearby but all they could hear were bloodcurdling screams. Joseph clenched his hands into fists; his heart was pounding but he didn't want Jac to see that he was afraid. Jac could see right through him, however and as they listened to the flames drawing closer outside, she grabbed him and pulled his body closer to hers.
"They'll find us," Joseph whispered. "I'm sure they'll find us." Jac knew he was trying to reassure her but she had no answer to give.
The chandelier, enveloped in bright flames, creaked suddenly and Cal looked up at the ceiling. His expression was pained and he could barely see through the splitting headache he had received from smacking the table leg. He didn't know how long he had been out for and nobody seemed to have noticed him lying there. It hardly mattered, the only exit had collapsed in on itself and they were all trapped together. The chandelier gave another threatening creak…
TO BE CONCLUDED
