Page 4 of Pucking the Team

You don’t know me, but I’ve also been cheated on. Being the last to know sucks, but I thought it best for you to find out before there was a ring on your finger.

I frowned. It was obviously someone who’d been at the rehearsal, but didn’t I know everyone there? There had been a Women’s Institute meeting going on at the same time, in the back room, so maybe it was just a busybody who had seen Steven and Cheryl? But then how did she have my number?

Quickly, I typed again.

Please, tell me who you are. And when did you take these photographs?

I sent the message.

Nothing pinged back.

With a sigh, I fired off a message to my Aunt Mary. She would be frantic sitting in the pews and she didn’t deserve that. She’d always been so good to me. A surrogate mother since I was seventeen.

I’m sorry. I can’t marry him. He’s a cheat and a liar and I’ve just found out.

A message came straight through.Pippa! Where are you?

I’m driving away from church. I’m okay, but I won’t be walking down the aisle. Please tell everyone I am sorry. Except for Steven. Tell him I know what’s he been doing with Cheryl and I’m sorry I ever thought he was the one.

A few moments later, Aunt Mary replied.

I am shocked but in full agreement, you can’t marry a cheat. I will let everyone know and tell S what I think of him. C too, come to that. Let me know where you are and I will come to you. I love you. Be strong.

I closed my eyes and sighed, almost feeling her love wrap around me. At least I had one person in my corner.

A message pinged from Trevor, my agent. He was no doubt dressed in his finest Gucci pinstripe suit decorated with a flamboyant exotic-flower buttonhole.

Sweet pea. Where are you? What is happening? The church is awash with gossip and rumors. It is crazy in here!

My eyes stung and then filled. Tears welled and overspilled, streaming down my cheeks. I dashed at them and tried to reply. But my vision was blurred and my nose also dripping.

Three more messages came through. Rapid succession. Then three more. Another five. My phone was alive. Frustrated, I hit silence and slipped it away. I couldn’t deal with other people right now. Heck, I could barely deal with myself. Rational thought was hard, so was breathing come to think of it.

I suppose rain on your wedding day, as the saying goes, really was bad luck. And me, I’d got it in bucketfuls.

Chapter Two

The traffic was slow going toward Heathrow, the heavy rain and spray on the roads making everyone more cautious. We snaked onto the motorway, weaving between coaches, big trucks, and past a long row of orange traffic cones that cut three lanes down to two.

I spotted a sign for Heathrow; we were still ten miles away.

“Miss Pippa,” the driver said. “I am sorry but I am short on time. I can’t be late for my next bride, it simply isn’t fair on her.”

“I…I don’t know what to do?” I’d removed my veil and was rubbing my forehead. A stinking headache was encroaching. “It’s just I…”

“I can drop you at the next roadside service station. You’ll be able to get a cab from there to the airport, or a bus even.”

“Okay. Thanks. Whatever you need to do.”

“I can give you some cab numbers if there are no Ubers.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll figure it out. Thank you, though.”

A mini-van went past, the occupants staring in at me. They were all smiles and waves, obviously excited to see a bride.

I turned the other way. I wasn’t a bride. I was a scorned woman. A fool. A woman who no longer had a best friend.

The driver pulled into the service stop which provided fuel and food to weary travelers. He went past the truck park, maneuvered around a couple of long white coaches, and stopped near the entrance to the food court.