Beauty and the Bridesmaid

Chapter Two

“How did it go?” Anna asks as soon as I walk through the door to our flat. She’s wearing a slinky black dress and strappy court heels, a sure sign that a man has something to do with her forgetting our arrangement.

I glare at her. “What happened to you phoning me?”

“Well I did try to.” She tucks a strand of red hair behind her ear and bites her bottom lip anxiously. “But it might have a little bit later than I’d said and I got the engaged tone.”

There’s two empty wine glasses sitting on the glass coffee table in front of Anna, so she’s obviously had her Mr Distraction round here. I almost expect some male model named Andre to strut into our living room.

“It was bloody awful if you must know,” I say, kicking off my boots and joining her on the grey two-seater couch. “You didn’t tell me he’d be so boring.”

“Are you not seeing him again then?”

I shoot her a look of disdain. “Of course I’m not. Anyway, the feeling seemed pretty mutual.”

Anna shrugs, having no qualms that her matchmaking attempt didn’t go so well. “Who were you on the phone to then when I called you?”

“Lela.”

“Lela?” Anna wrinkles her brow, trying to recall where she’s heard the name before. “Oh, your best friend from school, right?”

“Yep,” I reply. “I thought she was still living in York but it turns out she’s back in Wakefield. And she’s getting married.”

“Who’d marry her?” Anna has been my flatmate for almost two years now and has only met Lela once, but let’s just say they’re very different people.

“I need you to look something up for me. You’ve got a Facebook account, haven’t you?”

Anna nods slowly, wondering where I’m going with this.

“I bet Lela has too. Can you search for her or something and see if it says anything about her fiancé?”

“Why? Do you think she’s making it up?” Anna’s blue eyes widen at the prospect.

“Just do it.”

She loads the Facebook app on her iPhone and I tell her Lela’s full name to type into the search bar. A few seconds later, Lela Danielle Henry’s profile is displayed on the screen.

Her profile picture is an old one of her at our Sixth Form prom, taken about five years ago. I expected it to be one of those self-taken pictures of her and her fiancé with their lips locked together in romantic black and white or maybe sepia.

Anna scrolls down the page and finds the section that lists her relationship status. And there it is. The bit that says she’s engaged. The link to another profile. Her fiancé. Ash Holden. My ex.

“Well there you go. She can’t be making it up.” Anna clicks on the link and I instantly feel sick as his picture loads up. It’s not a do-it-yourself kissing snap, it’s a professional looking photo of him and Lela looking all loved-up together.

“What an idiot this Ash guy must be,” Anna deduces. “How do you suppose she met him?”

Ash and I broke up when I got a place at a university in Leeds and he wanted to go somewhere further away. All the way to Reading, in fact. This was five years ago and I haven’t seen him since. Well, not to talk to anyway. I did once briefly see him and his mates down the pub when I was in there with Anna. This explains why Anna has no idea who he is.

“Through me,” I answer. “I introduced them.”

“But I thought you didn’t know him,” Anna says, squinting at his image on the screen.