Val McDermid - The Vanishing Point

I called the driver and told him to be outside in five minutes. I sidled along the banquette next to Scarlett and leaned over to mutter in her ear. ‘I think you’re about to turn into a pumpkin. I’ve ordered the car.’

She turned and kissed my cheek. ‘I love you, Steph,’ she said. ‘Come on then. Since my husband’s neither use nor ornament, you’d better keep me company.’

‘I wasn’t planning . . .’

‘Aw, come on, Steph, it’s my wedding night and I can’t even get pissed. The least you can do is come home and have a laugh with me.’ She pulled a pitiful face and whimpered like a puppy.

And so Scarlett ended up sneaking out of her own wedding reception with her ghost. We giggled all the way back to Essex, cheerfully ripping into the wedding guests, their outfits and the more outlandish bits of behaviour on display. But by the time we got back to the hacienda, Scarlett was definitely running out of steam. She could barely get out of the back of the limo, and under the security lights she looked drawn and frail. She threw her arm round my waist for support and together we hobbled inside. I tried to get her to go straight to bed, but she just groaned and subsided on to one of the sofas. ‘I need to get out of this bloody frock,’ she complained. ‘But I can’t be arsed.’

I went off to the kitchen to make tea. When I returned, she’d crawled out of the confines of her dress and was half-sitting, half-lying on the sofa in a sheer silk slip, the kettle drum of her belly tight against the material. ‘What a day,’ she sighed. She held her left hand up to the light and admired the big chunk of gold on her ring finger. ‘Mrs Patel.’ She sniggered. ‘They’d love that back in Holbeck.’

‘Holbeck?’

‘Leeds’ answer to the Lost Continent. Where I grew up. Where half the population are British Asian and the other half think the BNP are too bloody left-wing. You know what, I think I’m going to stick to my own name.’

‘Did you miss your family?’

‘Nope,’ she said. ‘Did I tell you, my mum tried to get in touch? The publicity must have penetrated her drunken haze. Either that or my sister put her up to it. Thinking there was maybe an earner in it for them. Luckily, the only number she’s got for me is Georgie. When push comes to shove, there’s nothing like having the posh gits on your side. They totally know how to put the fear of God up the lower orders. He menaced the living shit out of her. Told her he’d set the five-oh on her and all sorts. So she backed off. And I’m not sorry. I’d have spent the whole bloody day wondering when it was all going to go off.’

I yawned. ‘Fair enough.’ I stood up. ‘And now I’m heading for home.’

‘Aw no, Steph,’ Scarlett protested, pushing herself upright. ‘You can’t leave me all alone on my wedding night. That would be so wrong.’

I laughed. ‘Can you imagine what the red-tops would make of that? “Scarlett Harlot spends wedding night with ghost.” No, I’d better get back.’

‘No, seriously, Steph. I don’t want to be alone in the house tonight.’ All at once, the frivolity had dissipated. Scarlett was deadly serious. ‘I feel like shit and I don’t want to be alone.’

I could see she wasn’t joking. I didn’t want to be stranded out in the wilds of Essex, but I didn’t want to let her down either. Typical of that useless wanker Joshu, leaving her on her tod on her wedding night because he was too busy playing the big-time DJ with his mates. ‘I’ll tell the car to go, then,’ I said with as good grace as I could muster.

We parted for the night almost as soon as I returned, Scarlett plodding wearily up the stairs while I headed down the hall to the guest rooms by the pool area. The room I chose was already made up, as immaculate and impersonal as a hotel room, save for the large fluffy chimpanzee perched on the pillow. I wondered if that was Scarlett’s inspired choice or something that had been left behind by the previous owner. In the chest of drawers, as promised, there was a folded stack of unisex nightshirts. The bathroom cabinet held sealed packets of toothbrushes, disposable razors and condoms. Expensive toiletries lined the shelf in the shower cubicle. Given the paucity of Scarlett’s experience, I suspected George had given instructions to Carla or the cleaning service.

I barely had the energy to undress and clean my teeth. Next day, I had the wedding chapter to write. The very thought of it was enough to drain the last drops of energy from my weary body. I swear I was asleep before I closed my eyes.

13

It was the sudden bright light that woke me from the depths of sleep. Blinking, I cried out as I pushed myself upright. ‘Sorry,’ Scarlett gasped. ‘But I think the baby’s coming.’ She was leaning in the doorway clutching her bump and sweating like a field hand in high summer. ‘I woke up all wet,’ she said. ‘My waters broke. And I keep getting these contractions.’

I jumped up and ran to her. I put my shoulder under her arm and guided her to the bed. ‘Lie down,’ I said. All I knew about giving birth was what I’d learned from film and TV over the years. Right then, it did not feel anywhere near enough. ‘How often are you having the contractions?’

‘I don’t fucking know,’ she yelled, doubling over in pain and groaning through clenched teeth. It seemed to last for ever, but according to my watch it was only about twenty seconds. After it passed, she visibly relaxed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked up at me, piteous as a frightened child. ‘It fucking hurts, Steph.’

‘How long has this been going on?’ I asked.

‘When we were at the hotel, my tummy started to feel a bit crampy. Like when you’ve got trapped wind, you know? I thought it was because I’d eaten too much crap. I’ve had indigestion for about six weeks. I thought it was the same kind of thing. But this isn’t wind, Steph.’ She breathed heavily.

‘Are you booked in at a local hospital?’ I asked.

‘Course not. I’m booked into St Mary’s, Paddington. Where Princess Diana had her boys.’

I couldn’t help giggling. ‘You are such a pro, Scarlett. Always an eye on the headlines.’

‘What? You think I did this because it’s what brainless bimbos do? Think again.’ She groaned. ‘I figure they wouldn’t have let Diana go anywhere except the best. That’s why I chose it. Because if anything goes wrong, that’s where I want to be.’

‘So who do I call?’

‘There’s a Louis Vuitton holdall in the bottom of the walk-in wardrobe in my bedroom. Bring it down, would you? There’s a folder in it with all the details. Arrgh!’ This time she yelled like a wounded pirate. According to my watch, it had been a fraction under three minutes since the previous contraction. That didn’t sound good to me.

Fifteen minutes later, I was reversing out of the garage in Joshu’s ridiculous Golf. When I’d explained the situation to the duty midwife, she’d told me to bring Scarlett in straight away. I tried to get a limo, but the company Scarlett used had nobody available for at least an hour. I didn’t want to call a cab because that would have been like direct-dialling the red-tops. I tried Joshu, but his phone went straight to voicemail. So it was down to me. Three in the morning, there wouldn’t be much traffic. And I’d stopped drinking around six hours earlier. I’d probably be OK. But there was no way Scarlett would be OK in the little bucket seat of her car.

I wasn’t paying much attention to the speed limit, which was pretty dim, given what I was driving. I’d barely hit the A13 when my rearview mirror lit up with flashing blue lights. To tell you the truth, I was actually quite relieved. Scarlett’s contractions seemed to be coming closer together and with more intensity. I was starting to feel a bit worried.