The Thief of Time by John Boyne Page B

intended beginning a three month honeymoon cruise. I stood alone in the corner of the marquee, nursing a banana milk shake, having decided not to drink too much alcohol on such a special day. A friend of mine, a banker named Alex Tremsil, came up to wish me well and we were speaking animatedly of wives and responsibilities and suchlike when I noticed Charlie strolling around outside with a young girl, the daughter (I believed) of one of the Richmonds. She was about sixteen years old and bore a striking resemblance to Amelia, so striking that at first I wasn’t sure whether it was her or not. But then I looked around and saw my new sister-in-law helping herself to something off the fruit trolley and saw her waver slightly as she sat down to eat, the result of one too many glasses of champagne, I thought. I was afraid of what might happen if she saw the scene being enacted outside and wished that Constance would hurry up so that we might leave soon. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about Amelia – I did, she was an extremely pleasant, if troubled girl – but I cared about my new wife more and, hang it, our own happiness together. I didn’t want our lives to be run by Constance’s refusal to allow her sister to make her own mistakes and live with their consequences.
    I kept one eye on the chapel where my wife was changing and was shocked to see Amelia coming towards me and the view to the outside. Charlie and the girl were now engaged in a little mutual flirtation, and it was plain to see his hand caressing her cheek as she laughed at his jokes. Amelia froze when she saw it too and dropped her glass which landed softly on the grass beside her. She ran out to Charlie and, pulling her hands back to her side as she approached them, pushed the girl over with such force that the poor thing went rolling down the side of the hill a little, muddying her pale yellow dress. If it hadn’t been so ludicrous, I would have laughed. Charlie looked down at the girl and helped her up, saying something to Amelia which made her run towards him and throw her arms around his legs, a gesture which embarrassed me so much that I turned away. Before long, all our guests could hear the commotion and Charlie strolled inside, his ubiquitous smile a little forced now, as Amelia followed him in, alternating between cursing at him for a cheat and announcing how much she loved him. When she stopped, he turned and looked at her and the entire wedding party, everyone from the cheap seats to the circle to the stalls, fell silent, waiting for his response.
    â€˜Amelia,’ he said, his voice holding steady and cutting through the room, ‘go away now, you silly girl. You bore me.’
    I looked past him and saw Constance standing in the distance, also looking on in horror as Amelia turned on her heels and ran towards the cars which lined the side of the hills.
    â€˜Amelia!’ called Constance and I ran towards her.
    â€˜Leave it,’ I shouted. ‘Let her calm down. Let her be alone.’
    â€˜You saw what he did to her,’ she cried. ‘I can’t leave her when she’s in this condition. I have to go after her. She could injure herself.’
    â€˜Let
me
go then,’ I said, not releasing her arm, but she pulled away and charged after her sister instead. I turned back to the party and shrugged indifferently at my guests, as if it had just been a minor disagreement, glared at Charlie who, to his credit, stared at the ground in shame and went quickly towards the bar.
    Later, I discovered that Constance had managed to clamber into the car whose ignition Amelia was turning on and that the young girl drove erratically down the mountain at top speed. The two of them were observed shouting and trying to take the wheel from each other, before the car careered off the hillside, did a double flip, landed head first on the road beneath where my nephew Tom was standing talking to a teenage starlet and