TOYL

1

    ‘Em, it’s Will. Where the hell is that fiancé of yours? He didn’t turn up at the meeting place, and he’s not answering his phone.’
    Emma Holden cupped her hand over her ear, but still struggled to hear what her brother was saying over the chatter of the busy London pub. The Irish theme bar was heaving with twenty- and thirty-somethings – mostly city workers celebrating the end of the working week and the beginning of a long Bank Holiday weekend. Emma, however, was celebrating something far more important – her imminent wedding, due to take place in just over two weeks’ time. This particular place wouldn’t usually have been her first choice for a night out – it was so busy that it was difficult even to turn on the spot – but somehow it seemed perfect for a hen party.
    ‘Hang on a minute,’ she shouted into the receiver, reaching around a group of people and handing her drink to her friend Lizzy. Lizzy nodded and smiled as Emma gestured that she was going outside. ‘I’m heading outside,’ Emma shouted into the phone as she began to weave her way through the crowds. ‘Can’t hear anything in here.’
    After what seemed like a monumental effort she reached the door and exited into the night air, leaving the rest of her ten-strong hen party inside. The distinctive downtown London summer smell hit her: a mixture of fast food, beer and exhaust fumes. And for the first time that evening she felt the alcohol going to her head, somehow ushered on by the waning sunlight.
    ‘Sorry about that, Will,’ she said, stepping out onto the crowded pavement. ‘That was my fault – Lizzy persuaded the barman to turn the music up for the special occasion. Now it’s so loud my eardrums feel like they’re about to burst. I only noticed your call because I had my mobile out, showing Lizzy and the girls some photos from last week.’
    ‘Em,’ Will said, not engaging in the banter. His uncharacteristically serious tone made Emma check herself, as though he’d just issued her with an order. ‘Where’s Dan? He didn’t turn up in Covent Garden, and he’s not answering his mobile or your home phone.’
    ‘What?’
    Emma absorbed the surprise revelation as she watched a garish white stretch limo cruise past. A group of laughing girls, heads out the window, toasted passers-by with glasses full of champagne.
    ‘Yee ha, cowgirl!’ one of the girls shouted from the limo window. For a second Emma was confused, before remembering what she was wearing. The Wild West outfits had been Lizzy’s idea. And dressing up was compulsory, especially for the bride-to-be. She took off her cowgirl hat and held it under her arm.
    ‘We even came over to your flat,’ Will continued. ‘Thought he might be running late, but he’s not answering the intercom. We’re all stood outside there now, looking like right lemons. The bugger’s not gone out with you lot instead, has he?’
    ‘No.’ Emma twirled her fingers nervously through her brown, glitter-sparkled hair. ‘Last I saw of him was when I left to go out, about two hours ago. You sure you didn’t miss him in Covent Garden?’
    ‘Positive. We stuck around there for over an hour. The police were going to move us on for loitering. All we needed was a tambourine and collection basket and we’d have made a fortune.’
    ‘I don’t understand,’ she said, pacing up and down outside the pub, suddenly forgetting the party going on inside. ‘He was about to go out when I left to come here. He wouldn’t have been more than a few minutes longer.’
    ‘It’s a bloody mystery then. You don’t suppose he got cold feet, decided to head off to LA with Cameron Diaz?’
    ‘Screw you, William.’
    ‘Just joking,’ he laughed, breaking the tension. ‘The man would be a fool to turn down the chance to marry my wonderful little sister.’
    ‘That’s better.’
    ‘Seriously though, Em. What if he’s had an accident or something?’
    ‘An accident?’
    ‘He could have been in a road accident.’
    ‘Aren’t you being a bit melodramatic?’
    ‘Probably, but these things can happen. Do you know how many road accidents there are in London every day?’
    ‘Do you have to be such a pessimist?’ said Emma, watching as two police officers attempted to cajole a homeless man from the shop doorway directly opposite: a sad but familiar London sight. ‘He’s probably stuck on the tube – that’s why he can’t answer his phone. You know what the underground’s been