Page 20 of The Only Way Is Up

‘Will do, will do,’ sang Miriam. ‘I’m hoping to secure our local celebrity as a special guest, that’s bound to boost the numbers. All very exciting.’

Tom glanced awkwardly at Stella, who looked amused. ‘Reverend Mayhew, can I introduce you to another guest in the village? This is Stella Crawford, mother of our . . . of Daisy Crawford.’

Miriam’s hands flew to her face in horror. ‘Oh goodness, I’m so sorry,’ she cried. ‘I’d heard you were visiting, but I didn’t recognise you. I thought you were a member of staff.’

‘It’s fine,’ said Stella with a polite smile.

‘I was SUCH a big fan of yours,’ continued Miriam excitedly. ‘Well, of course I still am. My copy of Waste Not, Want Not is the most-used cookbook in my kitchen. When you cook for one on a stipend, you need to be frugal.’

Stella beamed, clearly thrilled at this five-star review of her work. ‘That’s so lovely to hear. Thank you.’

Miriam continued, evidently keen not to lose Stella’s attention. ‘Are you staying in the village for a while? I’d love your input on the fete.’

Stella looked momentarily wrong-footed. ‘Goodness. Well, I’m not sure how long for, but obviously I’m happy to help in any way I can while I’m here.’

‘Oh, how wonderful!’ Miriam clapped her hands. ‘Can we meet later? I’ve got lots of ideas and would love to bounce them off someone. Have a little brainstorm, you know.’

Stella nodded and smiled gamely. ‘Well, I don’t see why not. I haven’t had a chance to look round the church yet. Perhaps you’d give me a tour this afternoon, then we can chat over a sherry?’

Tom glanced at Justin and raised his eyebrows. Miriam had just delivered a masterclass in how to recruit another helper to her lost cause. But looking at Stella, he wondered if she might have just met her match.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Daisy was on her third attempt at a butternut squash risotto when her phone rang. She was tweaking the recipe, and while it might be a bit of a faff to make for teenagers, it was cheap, filling and a good, healthy vegan option. She glanced at the screen and saw Katie’s name, almost dropping the phone in the pan in her haste to answer it.

‘Hi,’ said Daisy, taking a deep breath.

‘Hey,’ replied Katie, her voice as calm and in control as always. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m fine, I think,’ replied Daisy, although she was stressed and on edge. ‘Ask me again at the end of this call. Do you have any news?’

‘I do.’ Katie paused. ‘You’re not going to like it.’

Daisy held her breath, squeezing her eyes shut. ‘Just give me the headlines – is he cheating on me?’

‘Yes,’ Katie murmured. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve had a private investigator on the case. She’s a friend, and she’s the best.’

Daisy took a deep, juddering breath. ‘Right. So, what did she find out?’

Katie sighed. ‘OK, brace yourself. Christian entertained a woman at his house in Cheshunt on Friday evening. My friend traced her car: she’s a personal trainer.’

‘How do you know they weren’t doing a training session?’

‘He had his tongue down her throat on the doorstep as she left,’ Katie said briskly. ‘They might have got hot and sweaty, but it definitely wasn’t that kind of exercise.’

‘Right.’ Daisy swallowed, tears prickling the corners of her eyes. She took a deep breath. ‘What else? There has to be something.’ She could tell from Katie’s voice.

‘He met two women in Soho on Saturday and they went to a sex club. One of those high-end places, all coked-up socialites and leather dungeons. And then . . . last night, he went to a house party.’

Daisy closed her eyes as her hand flew to her pounding chest. ‘What kind of house party?’ she asked faintly, already wishing she hadn’t.

‘A sex party,’ Katie said. ‘A swinger’s soiree, a suburban shagfest . . . call it what you like. Lots of people drinking Pornstar Martinis and fingering each other in the hot tub.’

Daisy suppressed something between a sob and a scream. ‘Where? Where was the party?’

‘In Romford.’

‘Romford?’ squealed Daisy. ‘Wait. Are you telling me that Christian went to an orgy in Essex on a Sunday night?’