‘Are you with the bride or the groom?’
‘Neither, I’m afraid,’ Mills turned to the man sitting beside her. It was the first time he had spoken. ‘I’m with the best man.’
He was playing nervously with his napkin and looking down at the table. ‘Ah.’
The elderly woman sitting next to him, who was dressed entirely in purple, continued the monologue concerning her health. But every now and then, Mills was aware of him staring at her.
She ate in silence. The old gentleman to her right was very deaf and her earlier efforts to converse were abandoned at the soup stage.
‘Do you work for the police as well then?’ The shy man was looking at her expectantly.
‘No, not exactly...’
‘A pity, I thought you might. But your boyfriend, he must be a friend of the groom. He’s in the police, then?’
He’s probably younger than he looks, Mills thought. It was the baldness and the fact his suit was too big for him.
‘Not exactly. He’s a forensic archaeologist.’ Mills took another gulp of the sweet
wine and tried to relax. The waiters had cleared the main course and were serving
dessert. Once again she was left to consume her crème caramel self-