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Ella stayed to help Mary clean up after the reception. Henry had been whisked off by his mates, leaving Mary, her family and a select few close friends to tidy away the mess the hundred or so guests had left behind when everyone departed to prepare for the ‘after after party’.

“I did ask for a small ceremony,” Mary joked, as she surveyed the damage.

“A couple of hundred isn’t that many,” Mrs Rutherford called over from her station under a table.

“In your terms, Mum,” Mary replied, hurrying over to help her mother clear up the plates that had been discarded under the tablecloth. “In your day, you had almost five generations living in your house! Small for me is just, well, all of you.” She gestured to the few that had remained to help out. They all gave self-conscious smiles and got on with the cleaning.

“It was a lovely ceremony,” a genial, wizened face woman enveloped Mary in her wrinkled, ancient arms.

“Thank you, Mrs Hallwin,” the bride laughed, untangling herself and kissing the old lady on the cheek.

“Darling Ella! I didn’t see you earlier,” Mrs Hallwin, quickly losing interest in Mary, rushed towards Ella.

“Mrs Hallwin, always a pleasure to see you,” Ella beamed.

“Why dear, why so serious? Greet me nicely, if you please. ‘Always a pleasure to see you’, indeed. You sound like an estate agent.”

“Never change, Mrs H!” Mary’s brother, Arthur ‘Art’, called out from the other side of the half disassembled marquee.

“What do you suppose to mean by that, Master Arthur?” Mrs Hallwin scolded, but Ella caught a glimpse of a wink. Art laughed, but didn’t reply, instead making his way towards Ella.

“Hello Ella,” he grinned, taking her hand. “I was hoping to catch you before the party. Do you have a moment?”

“Pardon me, Mrs Hallwin, would you excuse us?” Without waiting for a response, Ella slipped away after Art, to the back of the marquee.

“I did see, earlier,” Art sighed.

“See what?”

“Your game of ‘tag’.” Ella began to interrupt, but Art put a finger to his lips. “Don’t try and deny it. I’ve seen him before. And I’m not stupid.”

Ella exhaled. “You don’t approve either?”

“Not in the slightest. We both know what he’s like. Mary can keep him under control in public, but so could you, when you were together. In private, however, it’s a different kettle of fish.” He adjusted his tie and ran a hand through his floppy, chestnut brown hair.

“It’s not like we can do anything. Their wedding just finished, for goodness’ sake.”
“No, I know. I just wish we could. We could at least keep an eye on them?”
“I will if you will, but we can’t be with them twenty-four seven.”

“I know that, Ella. But as much as we can, for as long as we can. Promise me. You made a promise to yourself to stop it happening, now promise me, and I’ll promise you.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I can ask of you.”

He knew, of course. Aside from Mary, Art had been her only real friend in university. He was a year into his film studies, while she was just about to start her history degree. She’d bumped into him on campus, in the museum.

“Do you know where I can find any non-breakable ancient artefacts?” he had asked upon seeing her. “You look like a history student. I’m Art, by the way.”

“Art? I’m Ella Grey. What do you mean, I look like a history student?”

“Short for Arthur, Arthur Rutherford. And are you taking history?”
“I mean, yes, but-“

“There you are then. Do you know where the non-breakable ones are or not?”
She had stood her ground:
“Depends what for. You can’t just take artefacts.”

“I’m making a film about Sparta. You know, this is Sparta and everything. I’m a film student.”

She had ended up as resident historian for Art’s film project, and they’d become firm friends. He introduced her to his sister, Mary, who was a first-year art student, specialising in sculpture.

Art was the first to know when Ella had got into a relationship with Henry. He’d been there while she obsessed for hours about him, then, when they’d broken up, he was there with ice cream and movie marathons. He had been the first person she’d called when Hailey died. He was her counsel, her advisor, her best friend, her big brother, and her confidant. He knew all about Henry.

“Thank you, Ella,” Art hugged her, bringing her back to the present day. “You know how much Mary is to me.”
“I know,” she nodded. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I hope so.”

Oh god. He was coming towards her. Ella fantasised about running, but conceded that a sudden dash for the exit wouldn’t be massively appropriate at a wedding.

“Ella, I didn’t see you behind Mary’s dress,” Henry laughed, clapping her on the back so hard she started slightly, and fought to regain her balance. “I didn’t even know you were a bridesmaid.”

“It was a last minute arrangement,” Ella shrugged, wary of enraging her best friend’s new husband.

“You’re her oldest friend, why on earth was it last minute?”

A lie would have worked. She could have escaped, having told a minor untruth to save Mary’s skin (and hers) and no one would have known. But she didn’t know what to say, and he saw through her. His eyes narrowed.

“Why wasn’t I told?”

Ella shook her head, her mouth opening and shutting like she was gasping for air as she backed slowly away. Henry followed, brushing straight past a table, knocking several lace clad chairs onto the ground, attracting the attention of several of the guests. Ella tried to keep her calm, but she’d seen a few of his rages before; they escalated quickly into a fierce, uncontrollable anger. The only person who could alleviate his fury was –

“Henry!” Ella heard Mary’s voice echo around the marquee. “Henry let’s not play tag in the marquee, we’re grownups here, aren’t we?” She smiled as she advanced towards her husband, letting out a tinkling laugh, but the meaning behind her words was clear.

“Let’s try and avoid public embarrassment at our own wedding,” Mary growled in Henry’s ear as she took his arm and led him away. Ella, determined to continue the pretence her friend had instigated, called out, “I’m tagger next time!” but the tremor in her voice was audible, and it was a feeble excuse anyway. She sunk into one of the chairs, catching her pale, arctic blue dress on a splinter of the plastic. Freeing herself tore the cloth a little, but nothing a needle and well chosen thread couldn’t fix before the ‘after after party’. The party the children wouldn’t be allowed to go to. The party she would come home drunk from, collapse on the sofa and wake up the next morning to find she had stolen a bottle of tequila from. The party to which Mary would be referencing when she’d take her aside later and gently whisper,

“Darling Ella, I’m not sure how Henry will cope if you’re there. Maybe it’s best you go home and get a good night’s sleep instead.” Ella knew it all. She knew it would happen. She wanted oblige Mary. She wanted to go home and try and forget about the events of today. But Ella also knew that, despite Mary’s initial protestations, Henry would coerce her into letting him drink. A drunk Henry could kill. Would kill. Had killed. Ella had seen it happen. She hadn’t turned him in, of course. She was still madly in love. That was the thing about Henry. He was dangerous, uncontrollable, hostile, but that made fighting for his love all the more compelling. She had broken up with him just a few days before, and it had driven him crazy. They were both crying, both still infatuated with each other, but Ella knew that she’d never be able to stay with him. The very qualities that had made her fall in love in the first place were the same that ruined it. He was furious. Devastated and furious. He had lunged at her and she ran. She knew it would happen, so she had asked Hailey to wait outside, with the engine running. She sprinted down the stairs and they’d driven off. But he came back. Two days later he used the spare key to get into the apartment Ella was sharing with Hailey, when Hailey was at work. They’d fought, and in his drunken stupor he’d pulled out a knife. He was physically stronger and bigger and she was cornered against the fridge. The sound of a key turning in the lock startled them both, and he’d thrown the knife at the intruder. Ella had rushed forward to kneel over the body. It was Hailey. Returned early with chocolate and face masks to cheer Ella up after the breakup. Henry was slumped against the wall, all the energy and anger drained from his body. He looked a lot smaller in his anguish and regret.

“Help me,” Ella had ordered as she began to drag the corpse into the apartment. Henry had remained limp on the floor, horrified by what he had done. Ella had found herself surprisingly calm and collected in the crisis, and had begun CPR, even though she knew inside that it was too late. At least she could say she’d tried. They’d hidden the body together, neither of the young adults entirely taking in the enormity of what they’d done, and were doing, and swore never to speak of it again. But now Ella knew what he was capable of under the influence of alcohol. She promised herself to do all she could to prevent anything like that ever happening again.

So that was why she would ignore Mary’s plea and go to the party tonight, and make sure that Henry didn’t drink. She felt guilty – it was his wedding day after all – but if it was his happiness on one night or someone’s life forever, she knew what she’d pick.

I hope you enjoyed Part 1 of The Misadventures of Ella Grey! Let me know how you found it in the comments below. Thank you for reading.

Ink x