Before she could interrupt the two men though, Faye and Tara whisked her away to the opposite side of the room, and the two men disappeared behind the throng of guests.
‘Here you go,’ Tara said, handing over a small jewellery box.
Alice craned her neck to see whether she could catch a glimpse of Ben and the stranger, but it was no use.
‘Go on, open it,’ Faye encouraged. ‘We had it specially made.’
Alice unclasped the box and lifted the lid, gasping at the olive-coloured stone hanging from the silver chain.
‘It’s peridot,’ Tara explained, ‘the birthstone for the month of August.’
‘Peridot brings its wearer success, peace and good luck,’ Faye chimed in.
‘My birthday is in June, though,’ Alice said, confused, as she lifted the stone out, reading the encryption.
‘Today is the third of August,’ Tara continued, ‘and this stone represents the birth of your union with Ben.’
Alice held the gemstone up to the light and marvelled at the luminescent green colour, with just a hint of gold. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, returning it to the box and pulling her friends closer.
Suddenly Scott burst through the crowd of guests, skidding across the floor towards them, his face drained of blood. ‘Alice, you need to come with me quickly,’ he said.
The ball of worry that had been in the pit of her stomach all day suddenly sprang back to life. ‘What is it? What’s going on?’
Scott opened his mouth to speak, but no words emerged. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her with him, pushing through the guests to where Ben was standing at the cake.
‘This must be some kind of joke,’ Ben was saying, his cheeks red with anger.
The man in the brown suit said something that Alice couldn’t hear as the DJ restarted the disco music.
‘What is it?’ Alice asked, wrapping her hands around Ben’s arm. ‘What’s going on?’
‘There’s no need for us to make a scene,’ the moustachioed man said to Ben, ignoring Alice’s appearance.
‘It’s my wedding day,’ Ben shouted back. ‘You don’t realize you’re making a huge mistake.’
The moustachioed man turned and nodded at two men standing beyond the cake. It was only when they moved closer that Alice saw what they were wearing, and realized who they were.
‘Ben, what’s going on?’ she said, the anxiety reaching her voice.
‘Ben Goodman, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Kerry Valentine. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
Murder.
The word echoed around Alice’s head as she tried to reason what the detective had said.
Ben wasn’t a violent man; didn’t they realize that? He wasn’t capable of such a heinous crime. Not Ben. Not her Ben.
Murder?
It had to be somebody’s idea of a sick joke. The kind of twisted prank that only Ben’s friends would think to play on him on such a big occasion.
‘I don’t even know who that is,’ Ben was pleading, as one of the officers in dark uniform pulled Ben’s arms away from Alice and placed cuffs around his wrists.
‘Might be best to keep quiet for now, son,’ the man in the brown suit – presumably a detective – warned.
‘I didn’t do this,’ Ben protested. ‘You’ve got it all wrong. I’m not who you think I am.’
Ben’s face was a mixture of shock and anger, and his head snapped round as he made eye contact with Alice, his eyes begging for her to make the nightmare stop.
She was frozen to the spot, studying his face for any sign as to whether he was in on the joke, and she was the intended victim. She kept expecting Dave and Johnny to appear holding a video camera to capture her shocked reaction. She’d give anything for them to deliver the punchline sooner rather than later.
With the handcuffs secure, the uniformed officer looked to the detective, who nodded, and suddenly they were escorting Ben away from her.
‘No, you have to stop,’ Alice said, taking hold of Ben’s arm again. ‘He’s not going anywhere. Not now. Not today. This is our wedding day.’
The officer was stronger than she’d anticipated, and no amount of digging her heels into the slippery dance floor would stop him achieving his objective. Alice tried to ignore the shocked faces of their friends and family as the police cut through them with Ben, and herself in tow.
Then suddenly they were marching through the hotel’s lobby as other guests gawped at the unfolding scene, Alice scrabbling to keep up with them.
‘Get Dave,’ Ben called out to her.
Alice paused momentarily. What could Dave do? He wasn’t any kind of legal professional. She picked up the pace again, following them out through the revolving doors, down the marble steps and onto the gravel, where a police van and marked car waited.
It was the stuff of nightmares, and she was beginning to question whether the perfect ceremony had all been part of a dream that had suddenly turned sour. The cool breeze blowing at her exposed shoulders, though, suggested she was very much awake. She didn’t want to think about all the gossip-mongering now underway within the hotel as the news of Ben’s arrest spread like wildfire.
‘Please stop,’ she said, hurrying after the detective. ‘Please, just wait. This is a huge mistake. You’ve got the wrong man. This is Ben Goodman. Can you just call your office and check? They’ll tell you that he couldn’t possibly have anything to do with whatever is going on.’
The detective cocked a sceptical eyebrow in her direction. ‘I’m sorry about your wedding, but I’m just doing my job.’
Alice took a breath, fighting down her anxiety and frustration. ‘Please, just tell me what it is you think he’s done. What is he supposed to have done? He’s been with me all day.’
The detective sighed, nodding for the two officers to put Ben in the back of the van. ‘Your husband has been arrested on suspicion of murdering a young woman called Kerry Valentine last week. That’s all I can say at this time.’
Alice tasted vomit in the back of her throat. ‘Who is she? We don’t know anyone by that name.’
‘I’m sorry, but I can’t say any more right now.’
‘Please,’ she reasoned, forcing eye contact. ‘There must be some kind of mistake. That man there is Ben Goodman; my husband. We have literally just got married. You must have the wrong person.’
The detective frowned at her, as he tried to get past and into the waiting patrol car. ‘There’s no mistake, we know who he is. Now, please, I need to do my job.’
The van door slammed behind them.
‘Where are you taking him?’
‘We’re taking him to the Southampton police headquarters building. It’s in the centre of the city on the Millbrook Road. You know it?’
She knew exactly where he meant – down by the docks where visiting cruise ships dropped and collected passengers. The tall building was an eyesore on one of the busiest routes in and out of the city.
‘Well,