“We need to buy time!” Lukas hissed in my ear, pressing a cup of lukewarm sparkling wine into my hand. “If Grandma Hildegard turns up at the flat tomorrow morning and sees that Mia’s room contains nothing but law books and yours nothing but empty pizza boxes, we might as well register directly with the insolvency administrator.”
“And what’s your brilliant plan?” I asked, trying to adjust the safety pins on my back so they wouldn’t skewer me.
“Bride kidnapping!” Lukas announced, his eyes gleaming madly. “It’s an old tradition. The bride disappears, the groom has to search for her, and meanwhile everyone drinks. It keeps the relatives busy and gives us time to make the flat ‘marriage-ready’.”
Before I could protest, Lukas gave the eBay extras a signal. Malte, the ‘sad uncle’, and two other guys in black turtlenecks grabbed Mia—along with her six metres of tulle—and carried her off into the dark rear section of the warehouse with the elegance of a sack of potatoes.
“Lukas, this isn’t bride kidnapping, this looks like an art-gallery abduction!” I shouted, but he was already ignoring me and yelling to the crowd: “THE BRIDE IS GONE! WHOEVER FINDS HER GETS… UH… AN EXTRA PORTION OF URBAN TAPAS!”
The hall descended into chaos. Uncle Herbert used the “search” as an excuse to hunt for more hidden wine supplies and staggered towards the machinery room. Beate kept calling out, “Mia! Where are you, my angel?”, nearly tripping over Lohmeyer the swan.
I set off to look for her too, which was no easy task in the darkness of the hall. Rusty metal parts and empty pallets were scattered everywhere. “Mia?” I whispered into the darkness behind a massive oil tank.
“Down here, you idiot!” came a muffled voice from a pile of old tarpaulins. I pulled one aside. Mia was sitting there, completely tangled in her tulle dress. Karl-Friedrich the rat was perched on her shoulder, looking like he was thoroughly enjoying the situation.
“Lukas dumped me here and told me to stay quiet,” she hissed. “Finn, we need to get out. Grandma Hildegard is standing by the exit conducting one-on-one interviews with the extras. She just asked Malte which mine we worked in together.”
“What did he say?” “He cried and claimed the memory was too painful to talk about.”
“Good man,” I muttered. I helped Mia to her feet. “Listen, Lukas wants us to slip away unnoticed while everyone is ‘searching’, so he can tidy up the flat.”
“Unnoticed?” Mia pointed at her dress, which almost glowed in the dark and sounded like an approaching freight train when she moved. “I’m a walking neon sign for fraud!”
We crept towards the side exit, past Basti, who was currently trying to explain the meaning of the word ‘existential justification’ to Lohmeyer the swan. But just before the door, a shadow materialised in front of us.
“Sneaking away from your own wedding reception?” came Grandma Hildegard’s voice. She aimed a torch at us like a searchlight. “That’s almost as suspicious as a crate full of designer watches without serial numbers.”
“Grandma!” Mia squeaked. “We just wanted to… get some fresh air. The passion, you know… Finn needs oxygen.”
Hildegard stepped closer. “Finn needs a new jacket and a better story,” she said dryly. “But go on. I’ll entertain myself by talking to Dr von Vogelstein about his student days in Liechtenstein. He seems so… forthcoming when he’s had enough sparkling wine.”
We ran for the getaway car (Lukas’s Opel Corsa). As we drove off, I saw the fairy lights of the hall flickering in the rear-view mirror. We might have left the party, but the real interrogation was still waiting for us tomorrow, back at the flat.