It's Now Or Never
Jill Steeples
Do not miss the new romantic and heart-warming story from bestselling author Jill Steeples, perfect for fans of Lucy Diamond, Sophie Kinsella and Fiona Gibson‘For Jen Faraday - Not to be opened, in any circumstances, until April 2016’When smooth-talking Alex Fellows tells Jen Faraday he can predict her future – and leaves a note with the bartender for her to collect in one year’s time – she thinks it’s just a line. After all, how can a man she’s known for only one night see what her future holds? Or maybe it’s not too hard. Recently her life has been a series of things she hasn’t done. She didn’t go to college – family trouble. She didn’t get married – dumped. And she hasn’t yet handed in her notice at work – too scared! If she had to predict her own future, would it be ‘More of the same’?Or maybe not. After all, she’s just had a passionate one-night stand with a man who is rich and ridiculously good looking and totally not her type. That was unexpected. And she is going to resign from her job… Things are already changing. Whatever that prediction says – and how Jen wishes she knew - perhaps this year is the year she takes control of her destiny!Praise for Jill Steeples'Let’s Call The Whole Thing Off by Jill Steeples is a well written and easy to like book.If you are looking for a chick lit with a twist then give this one a read.' - HarlequinJunkie'So gripping, vivid, enjoyable and fascinating!!!' - Sky's Book Corner on Let's Call the Whole Thing Off'It was a thoroughly enjoyable read that kept you wanting more.' - A Book and Tea on Let's Call the Whole Thing Off'Jill is a great writer, she knows how to tell a story. I can’t wait to read more of Jill Steeples.' - Dreaming with Open Eyes
‘For Jen Faraday - Not to be opened, in any circumstances, until April 2016’
When smooth-talking Alex Fellows tells Jen Faraday he can predict her future – and leaves a note with the bartender for her to collect in one year’s time – she thinks it’s just a line. After all, how can a man she’s known for only one night see what her future holds? Or maybe it’s not too hard. Recently her life has been a series of things she hasn’t done. She didn’t go to college – family trouble. She didn’t get married – dumped. And she hasn’t yet handed in her notice at work – too scared! If she had to predict her own future, would it be ‘More of the same’?
Or maybe not. After all, she’s just had a passionate one-night stand with a man who is rich and ridiculously good-looking and totally not her type. That was unexpected. And she is going to resign from her job… Things are already changing. Whatever that prediction says – and how Jen wishes she knew – perhaps this year is the year she takes control of her destiny!
Also by Jill Steeples (#ulink_ba72d10b-d1c4-5566-91e4-3877eabace32)
Desperately Seeking Heaven
Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off
Hopelessly Devoted to You
Praise for JILL STEEPLES (#ulink_1f92e661-bebc-5651-8278-91bf57f1b80d)
‘Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off by Jill Steeples is a well written and easy to like book. If you are looking for a chick lit with a twist then give this one a read.’ Harlequin Junkie
**
‘So gripping, vivid, enjoyable and fascinating!!!’ Sky’s Book Corner on Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off
**
‘It was a thoroughly enjoyable read that kept you wanting more.’ A Book and Tea on Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off
**
‘Jill is a great writer, she knows how to tell a story. I can’t wait to read more of Jill Steeples.’ Dreaming with Open Eyes
**
‘If I had to sum this book up in three words, they would be Romantic, Marvellous and Amazing.’ 23reviewstreet on Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off* (#ulink_c5c8b6e9-9ce7-5658-8f85-9e73a45fba3e)
**
‘A truly magical novel’ – Chick Lit Reviews and News on Desperately Seeking Heaven
**
‘A very cute book! It was fun, funny, and endearing and also heart-wrenching at times.’ Book Binge on Desperately Seeking Heaven
**
‘A cute and easy read’ This Chick Reads on Desperately Seeking Heaven
* (#ulink_87412713-d8aa-5f02-b094-1cb3298ea569)Amazon reader reviews
It’s Now or Never
Jill Steeples
Copyright (#ulink_5e2cf4d0-61fe-5b31-b876-808b8d4f5703)
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2015
Copyright © Jill Steeples 2015
Jill Steeples asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
E-book Edition © June 2015 ISBN: 9781474035545
Version date: 2018-07-23
JILL STEEPLES lives in a small market town in Bedfordshire with her husband and two children.
From an early age she fell in love with the fabulously funny romances of Jilly Cooper, and vowed, one day, she would have a go at writing one of her own.
Jill loves writing short stories, particularly those with a twist in the tail, and her work has appeared in popular women’s magazines around the world and in a number of charity anthologies.
It’s Now or Never is her fourth novel.
To all my lovely readers and friends who have read and enjoyed my books, a very big thank you! Your support is appreciated much more than you can ever know.
A special thank you to my brilliant editor, Victoria Oundjian, for her infinite patience and guidance, and to the rest of the fabulous HQ Digital team for all their hard work and dedication.
Finally, and always, a big thank you to my lovely family for their continued understanding, love and support in the face of extreme hardship - no socks, no food and no attention - love you all! xx
For my mum
Contents
Cover (#u40f1ab2d-7496-5132-a776-50d319e13da7)
Blurb (#ue8b0c032-379d-543d-a372-ab08f2f478c2)
Book List (#ud16cd1d7-c3c4-5d6f-adb7-01a473183d7b)
Praise (#u75849a7c-a0ea-502c-acf7-a09f3d5b583a)
Title Page (#u2c122259-15d3-549b-9103-6193f9699559)
Copyright (#u5cde1377-8c11-5a5f-8a1b-89112b95e97d)
Author Bio (#uc4e2e7c4-d366-5eb3-86a6-4d213c63f426)
Acknowledgement (#udb33db67-64d0-54e3-a074-7899c0163f49)
Dedication (#u275e1df1-0f60-5fd1-8a42-e7925e8d4b80)
Prologue (#ud4ad44d0-abcc-57cf-b0ea-1588272af213)
Chapter One (#u1031fe85-1283-55a8-a30f-676b2c97e764)
Chapter Two (#u5c2184ab-873c-5cf9-8fa6-90f593eaf48a)
Chapter Three (#uf6c43c95-5f5c-55f1-9571-4f74cd87c210)
Chapter Four (#u1d654b0c-019b-52c8-a9c6-0978e2d30ba3)
Chapter Five (#u8a6a8772-c8b8-5cb4-9805-b03e8028d223)
Chapter Six (#u46bbb1fd-c540-567d-b974-fd62b3981869)
Chapter Seven (#u0aded271-2e77-51a4-a838-53caaeab15a6)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Endpages (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#ulink_5e93b646-754c-51cc-90b4-7a90e8bb737c)
I suppose I was curious about that damned letter. Who wouldn’t be? It was addressed to me, after all, and it was meant to hold all the secrets to my dazzling future. In that situation I’d defy anyone not to want to know what was held within that envelope. Part of me saw it as an elaborate joke and I wondered if that was what the funny gorgeous stranger had intended, but there was also a small part of me that couldn’t help thinking that he might know something I didn’t. Wouldn’t that be cool? To think my whole life was known to someone else but not to me?
The thing was, I’d managed to catch a few tantalising snippets which had only stirred my interest more, but as I’d craned my head to read further, the ‘all-knowing one’ had pulled an arm around the sheet of paper as he wrote, blocking my view to what he was furiously scribbling down.
You think that’s mad?
pretty momentous
mind-blowing to say the least.
secrets … hidden
Forever.
… not only me involved
stalkerish
at my side
tomorrow …
Stalkerish? What the hell! And tomorrow? Well today was tomorrow, if you get my drift, and that letter had my name written all over it – so where was the problem?
In the late morning chill of an April morning, the wine bar looked far less salubrious than it had the previous evening. There was an air of neglect and disappointment about the place as though it was carefully nurturing its own hangover, a bit like me, but I wasn’t worried about that. There was only one thing on my mind and that was getting my hands on that letter.
Through the tinted windows, my hands held up to the glass, I saw a young woman in black trousers, black top and white apron behind the bar, wiping down tops and polishing glasses. I took the opportunity, pushing through the door with my shoulder.
‘Sorry, we’re not actually open yet.’ The woman turned, glancing at her watch. ‘If you could come back in half an hour we should be ready for you.’
She probably thought I had a drink problem, it was only ten-thirty in the morning.
‘Oh no, I don’t want a drink. It’s just that I was in here last night and I left something behind.’
‘Ah okay. What was it? I’ll take a look for you.’
‘It was an envelope with my name on it. Jen Faraday. The guy I was with left it behind the bar for me.’
Her eyebrows flickered at me doubtfully before she wandered off, straight to the till, where she retrieved the envelope from the small gap down the side and waved it in the air.
‘This is it, isn’t it,’ she said, still holding it aloft.
‘Yes, thank you.’
I held out my hand to take it off her, but she snatched it away, a triumphant smile on her face.
‘I’m really sorry, but I can’t give it to you. It says quite clearly on here, “not to be opened until April 2016”. That’s a year away. Sorry,’ she said, far too delightedly for her own good.
‘Yes, but it is actually my envelope, for me,’ I said, getting irritated now by her unwavering presence between me and the letter. ‘Could I just have it please?’
‘No.’
‘Right.’ I leant over and snatched it out of her hands – quick as a ninja warrior, she snatched it right back again. For a moment there I thought about tackling her, grappling her to the floor, and reclaiming what was rightfully mine, but I was worried about being arrested and ending up in a prison cell for common assault. Besides, weighing up the situation, she seemed so much more agile and fitter than me and I had a suspicion I would be the one to come off worse in any wrestling competition.
‘Right,’ I said again, with authority this time. ‘Just to let you know, I will be speaking to your manager about this.’
‘I am the manager.’
‘Right. Well that’s fine. Absolutely fine.’
I turned on my tail and marched out that wine bar, determined never to set foot in there again. Well not for another year at least. That’s if I hadn’t forgotten all about that wretched letter by then.
Chapter One (#ulink_a30f96b0-fddf-58af-aa62-a91f3ee27acd)
‘You’re what?’
‘I know! It’s all a bit mad. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind actually. Everything’s happened so quickly, but I wanted you to be the first to know.’
Woah! Hang on a minute here. This couldn’t be so. Some things in life are taken as a given and right at the top of the list of given things was, numero uno:
I, Jen Faraday, would be the first to marry out of me and my best friend Angie, because I am the marrying type. And Angie is not. And I’d been in a nine-year relationship with my long-term boyfriend, who was the reliable steady type, and with whom I’d visited bridal fairs and drawn up invitation lists and decided on a colour scheme. Coral and mint, in case you’re interested. Angie wasn’t even in a relationship because she’d ditched her on-off totally unreliable scumbag of a boyfriend because of his wayward tendencies.
Admittedly, there had been a slight hitch to my plans when my reliable steady boyfriend had shown a bit of uncharacteristic get-up-and-go and had… got up and gone, deciding that he didn’t want to get married after all. Well not to me at least. He convinced me it was a mutual decision, but on reflection I think it was more mutual on his part than on my own. Within three months he’d met someone new, married her and now they were expecting their first baby together. Who doesn’t love a happy ending?
‘It’s Tom actually. We’re back together.’ Angie did have the good grace to look sheepish as she imparted this bit of earth-shattering news. ‘We’re going to make a go of it.’
‘Tom? Scumbag, grotbag Tom? But you said…’
‘I know what I said, but he’s changed, honestly he has. And please don’t call him that, Jen. Not any more. The break up was the best thing that could ever have happened to us. It’s made us realise how we feel about each other. We want to spend the rest of our lives together.’
‘Blimey.’
A tiny part of me died inside. No, scrub that. A huge part of me died. Angie was my partner in crime, my soul sister on the singles dating scene. How would I ever cope in those murky waters without her?
‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’ I protested. ‘I’d hate to think you were making a mistake. You were doing so well, Angie, getting over Tom. Why go back? Isn’t that what you’re always telling me? That I need to look forward and not dwell on the past?’
‘That’s the whole point, Jen. I’m not going backwards. I’m moving forwards with Tom. A new promise, a new life together. Besides, this is different. We’re very much in love.’
Eugh! I resisted the urge to throw up over the carpet. The only thing stopping me was the fact that it was my carpet and I’d be the one to have to clean up the mess.
Love? Ha! I thought I knew what love was until Paul had pulled the rug from beneath my feet. And if I could get it quite so wrong after nine years, how would I ever be able to know how to get it right again? Against all the odds Angie had managed it and now, without so much as a backwards glance, she was leaving me behind, floundering all alone in a lonely single wilderness. Every part of my life had hit the buffers. I’d come to a shuddering halt with a neon ‘No Way Out’ sign flashing in front of me, while everyone around me was moving forward with their lives, going off in exciting new directions.
Panic constricted my throat.
‘Wait for me,’ I wanted to shout. The life train was about to leave the station and I hadn’t even bought my ticket yet.
I consumed a sigh. To be honest, it wasn’t only Angie’s unexpected imminent departure over to the other side that was depressing me. For months now I’d been fighting the feeling that I’d stepped into a gooey patch of quagmire on the way to my full and exciting life and somehow I’d got stuck, knee-high in a puddle that I had little hope of pulling my feet out of.
My love life was non-existent, I’d been stuck in the same job for years and I’d suddenly realised that all those things I was going to do when I was a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old straight out of school just hadn’t happened. I hadn’t gone to university, I hadn’t travelled the world, I hadn’t had a mad and passionate affair with a gorgeous older man and I hadn’t even been sky-diving or skinny-dipping in an azure-blue sea. The list of things I hadn’t done yet was endless.
It didn’t help that Gramps was acting like a lovestruck teenager. When your elderly granddad was seeing more action than you were then something was definitely wrong. Honestly, it was ridiculous. Only the other day I’d popped round to see him and found him up in the spare bedroom, surrounded by cardboard boxes and black bags.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I only came up here to find my best shirt. The one with the double cuffs. I’m off to a tea dance this afternoon with the lovely Marcia.’ He adopted a dancing hold and gave a twirl around the spare bedroom, a bloom to his cheeks. ‘But then I got distracted by all this mess. I think this room is well overdue a clear out, don’t you? Maybe I’ll give it a fresh lick of paint too.’
I grunted my reply. Marcia was bossy and brash, wore over-bright orange lipstick and heels I suspected were far too high for a woman of her age. I didn’t know what Gramps saw in her.
I cast a gaze over the room with its daisy sprig wallpaper and soft yellow curtains. I’d slept in this room hundreds of times over the years, as a child and then as a teenager, and even now occasionally at Christmas and Easter – the room’s cosy familiarity was always fondly reassuring. Why mess with things now?
‘Aren’t those Nan’s old knitting magazines?’ I said, noticing the pile by the doorway.
‘Yes, they’re no good here just gathering dust, are they? And unless you have any plans to take up knitting in the near future I can’t see any reason to keep them.’
‘Oh…’ I looked at Gramps, his shirt hanging expectantly on the door frame with its promise of tango nights full of love and passion, and I felt a pang of sadness for my nan. What would she have to say? She wouldn’t be happy about those magazines. Or Marcia. To be sure.
‘It’s up to you,’ I said, forcing a smile. ‘Throw them away if you want to.’
‘What I did find though,’ he said, looking at me with a pensive smile on his lips, ‘was this.’ He picked up a book of poetry from the bookcase in the corner and pulled out a piece of paper. ‘It’s a copy of that letter from your mum. You know, the one she left for you in with her personal bits and pieces.’
‘Really? I didn’t realise you had a copy too. Mine’s at home. In a shoebox on the top of the wardrobe.’
I’d read it once on the day of her funeral, over eight years ago now, and then consigned it to its current resting place. Funny, I found it hard to recall what was in that letter now.
‘I think she wanted me to have a copy just in case you lost yours or decided to throw it away. Do you want it?’ he asked, holding the folded up piece of paper towards me. I took it from his hands and opened it up, the vivid reminder of my mum’s distinctive handwriting pulling at my heartstrings.
I plopped down on the single bed and paused for a moment or two, turning the letter over in my hands. I took a deep breath and began to read.
My dearest darling Jennifer
This is undoubtedly the hardest letter I will ever have to write, but I wanted to leave you with something, just a brief note, that hopefully will bring you some comfort in the coming months and years. Hopefully when you come to read it you will hear my voice as if I’m standing in the same room as you because I honestly believe I will never be that far away. Funny really because now I’ve picked up the pen I’m not sure what it is I want to say, only that you mustn’t feel sad or scared because now I’ve come to terms with what is happening, what is my fate, I’m feeling neither of those things.
What I must say is that you are the most amazing, beautiful and special daughter and I feel so lucky and privileged to have had you in my life. You are very much loved by me and, of course, Nan and Gramps, and you can never know how much joy and pleasure you’ve brought and will continue to bring to our family.
I’m sad, of course, that I won’t be around to see you blossom into the amazing young woman you are destined to be. I mean, you already are that woman, but I know there’s so much more to come from you and you have a dazzling future ahead of you.
What possible advice can I have to give you? Only to be brave and to live your life to the full and take all the opportunities you are given. It’s true, life is short, so we need to make the most of every minute we have here. I know I’ve passed my ‘worry’ gene on to you and I apologise for that! Possibly that’s one of my only regrets, spending too much time worrying about things that never happened. I wish I’d been braver, bolder, taken more chances, laughed more, loved more, got drunk more, eaten that extra slice of pizza and had the big wedge of chocolate brownie for pudding instead of being ‘good’ and I so wish I hadn’t worried so much about what other people thought about me. It really doesn’t matter! If you can, lovely Jen, send that pesky ‘worry’ gene packing and grab hold of your life by the scruff of its neck.
You still have the time Jen, to do all those things you want to do. Basically all I would say is get out there and enjoy yourself. Don’t sweat the small stuff, and the big stuff, well, I have a sneaky suspicion that looks after itself anyway.
I have a feeling that in ten years from now you’ll be in a great place. I can only imagine what terrific things the future holds for you: a fulfilling career, a home by the sea or perhaps a city apartment, a gorgeous husband (or not – I couldn’t really recommend marriage, but I know lots of people speak very highly of the institution), six beautiful children (I can definitely recommend having children – I only wish I’d had more so you’d have some siblings to share your future with), a golden labrador (ah, that could be my other regret, never getting the dog). Anyway, who knows? It might be none of those things; you might want to take a vow of silence and commit your life to God. Whatever it is, I don’t care, darling. I just want you to be happy in whatever it is you choose to do. If you can promise me one thing, it would be that!
I love you very much sweetheart, today, tomorrow and always, and you’ll always be here in my heart.
Keep an eye out for your Nan and Gramps, as they will you, I know.
Love Mum xxx
PS. Chuck out those scales! Now, do it now! Don’t waste another moment worrying about how much you weigh. Another half a stone or two isn’t going to kill you. You’re beautiful as you are. Remember that. Chin up, head held high and embrace your inner gorgeousness. Lord knows, you’ve got plenty to call on. Lots of love, darling. Mum xxx
I tipped my head back to look at the ceiling, the memories rushing back. Mum was right. I could hear her voice clearly, as if she’d just made an unscheduled visit from high up above and had wafted down into the spare bedroom. I could see her big wide smile, the way her bright blue eyes lit up her face and could feel her warm breath against my cheek, the warm, caressive tones to her voice echoing around the little room.
What would I say to her if she was here now?
‘Oh hi, Mum! That letter you wrote to me, the one about being brave and bold, and living life to the full. Yep, really good advice, only I haven’t actually done anything about it yet. I was just going to get round to it soon.’
Would she still think I was an amazing young woman or would she feel disappointed that I hadn’t taken my chances? I blinked away a rogue tear that threatened to fall and folded up the letter again in my lap.
‘You all right, love?’
‘Yep, I’m absolutely fine!’ I looked up at Gramps and smiled, my gaze travelling around the little room. I batted away the pang of nostalgia stirring in my stomach. Like me, this room was stuck in a time warp. We were both in desperate need of an overhaul.
A sense of urgency consumed me. I wanted to be that woman Mum was so certain I was destined to be. What the hell was I waiting for?
‘Come on Jen,’ I could hear Mum whispering in my ear, ‘It’s now or never!’
Chapter Two (#ulink_8d2610df-0c18-55a4-8afb-d7da88345df2)
‘Can I have a minute please, Matt?’
‘Yeah sure, go through to the office. I’ll grab us a coffee.’
In fairness, I had actually tried to hand in my notice to Matt on three separate occasions already this year. My resignation letter had been growing worn and tatty in my pocket for some time now, but each time I tried to do the deed my attempts were thwarted by one thing or another.
So it shouldn’t have been any surprise to me that it was a full twenty minutes later before Matt backed his way through the door, juggling two mugs of coffee in his hands. Matt was a very hands-on boss. If there was a problem then he would be there sorting it out. He much preferred to be outside, more often than not zooming up and down the yard on a fork-lift truck, but he was just as happy to be on the shop floor lending a hand at the tills chatting away cheerily to the customers.
‘Sorry about that, I got waylaid!’ He had a big apologetic smile on his face. He shoved a couple of cardboard boxes away with his foot and with difficulty found a rare empty spot on his messy desk to place the brimming mugs, sending a whole heap of paperwork scattering to the floor in the process. I smiled and leant down to collect the papers, returning them to his desk.
‘Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll pick them up later.’ He sat down in his leather swivel chair and gave a little side-to-side jiggle. ‘So what was it you wanted to speak to me about then?’
‘Well…’
I wondered if I wasn’t about to make the biggest mistake of my life. Matt was much more than a boss to me. Over the years he’d been a mentor, a funny and supportive colleague, and always a friend.
Today he was wearing the Browns standard issue green polo shirt, the same one that all the employees wore, with brown khaki waterproof trousers and big black boots. It only occurred to me now that with his tall, broad build and his well-defined physique, out of all the workforce, Matt probably suited the company uniform best of all. To be honest, with my mid-brown hair (mousy to anyone being unkind) and pale skin (pasty, to the unkind lady over there) it had never really done me any favours.
In comparison, it did Matt many favours. I wondered for the first time if he hadn’t chosen the earthy colours of the corporate identity to complement the warm brown of his eyes and the chestnut hue of his unruly curly hair. His strong, defined forearms were a deep golden brown, testament to the number of hours he spent outdoors, where he could always be found lending a hand to any department where there might be a shortfall of labour that day. You rarely saw Matt suited and booted or sitting behind his desk, come to that. Which probably explained the mess…
‘The thing is, Matt…’ I faltered. Why was I suddenly distracted by the colour of his eyes? It wasn’t too late to change my mind, to come up with an excuse for why I needed to talk to him.
‘The thing is, Matt. I wanted to give you this.’ Boldly, I handed over the envelope with my letter of resignation inside. Too late for backing out now.
He looked askance, at me and then at the envelope.
‘What is it?’
‘I’m really sorry, but I’ve decided it’s time for me to move on. It’s my resignation,’ I added, in case he was in any doubt.
He fell silent, looking at the paper in his hands, his eyes scanning the words, before he looked across at me again.
‘What? Why? You can’t leave! I won’t allow it. You’re my right-hand man, Jen. A central player in the Browns team. Why would you want to leave?’
I squirmed in my seat, my hands clasped together tightly in my lap. That was a good question. It would have been so much easier if I could have told him that I had a brilliant new job to go to, or that I was going off to university to study something unfathomable or I was rushing off to marry my soulmate and we were going to sail around the world together, but I had no such excuses.
‘Well, you know when I joined Browns it was only ever intended to be a temporary summer job. That was nine years ago now.’
‘Yes, and look at you now, Jen! You’re part of the Browns family.’
What is it they say about the best laid plans? It was my first job after finishing my A-levels, a way to earn some extra cash before going off to university in the September, but when Mum fell ill everything changed. There was no way I was going to leave her and move three hundred miles to the other end of country. A gap year spent working at the garden centre and nursing Mum back to health would have been the perfect compromise, but it wasn’t as straightforward as that. Mum’s illness was long and drawn-out and when she died two years’ later my desire to go to uni died with her. In the long and dark days following her death, my job had been a lifeline; it gave me something to wake up for in the mornings, a comforting routine that brought an element of normality to my life. Matt had been instrumental in offering me that small sense of hope.
Since then I’d worked in every department there was; from serving in the restaurant, to working outside caring for the plants, to sourcing items for the gift store, which had become my permanent role over the last couple of years.
‘But if I don’t leave now, I might never leave. I might spend the rest of my life here, picking up my pension when I’m a very old lady.’
Matt grunted.
‘And would that be such a bad thing?’
I laughed. Obviously it wouldn’t seem that way to Matt. This was his life. He’d been brought up in the business, it was all he’d ever known. The success of the store today was down hugely to Matt’s hard work and commitment and he could be proud of that, but to me it was ultimately just a job.
‘I’m sorry, Matt. I promise you it’s nothing personal. It’s just something I feel I need to do right now.
‘Well, I can’t say I’m not saddened by this news. Is there nothing I can do to make you change your mind? If it’s a case of more money then you know that wouldn’t be a problem.’
‘No, it’s not about the money or even the job. I’ve loved working here, you know that, and I’ve made so many good friends. It’s just the right time for me to move on.’
‘What will you do?’
‘I’ve got lots of plans. I’ve been writing some articles for the gardening magazines. I’d like to devote more time to that if I can. I was also thinking about setting up my own blog, gardening hints and ideas for a new generation. Young single people or elderly people living alone, newly married couples, people who don’t have much outdoor space, but who still want to find a way to bring some greenery, a touch of the outdoors, into their lives.’
‘Sounds great.’
‘I’ve also been thinking about developing a range of savoury jams and chutneys. Similar to those we’re already selling in the food store, but maybe experimenting with some different variations.’
‘Really? I didn’t know you were a cook.’
‘I’m not. I might need to learn.’
Matt raised his eyebrows and smiled at me, as though he thought I might be mad. The same thought had actually occurred to me.
‘I’ll have to sign up to a temp agency to see me over for a few months while I settle on what to do, but I think it will be good for me. You have to remember, I’ve only ever worked here. I don’t know what’s it like to work for another company.’
‘Not as good as working for Browns, that’s for sure,’ said Matt, a rueful smile on his lips.
I wondered if that might be true; that I might never find such a friendly and interesting company to work for, but it was too late for those kind of worries now. I’d done it! After all the prevaricating, I’d finally handed my notice in and taken the first small step on my way to a brand new exciting chapter in my life.
Chapter Three (#ulink_60b579d8-58bd-5e21-a7c2-4cc0b43d4ff0)
Ms Angela Peters
and
Mr Tom Sidney Cooper
request the pleasure of your company
at their marriage
on Saturday 19th April
at 1.30 pm
at Casterton Registry Office, Bucks
followed by lunch at Chez Michel
‘Jen, over here!’
I walked up the stone steps of the town hall – one arm held against my forehead blocking out the warm rays of the sun – just managing to make out the small huddle of people congregating outside the doors.
‘Look at you,’ I said, my gaze alighting on Angie when I reached the top of the steps. She was wearing a simple cream linen shift dress with a scalloped collar and hemline, and a matching pashmina wrapped around her shoulders. Her strawberry blonde hair was tied in a French plaint at the back of the head. ‘You look absolutely stunning,’ I whispered in her ear as she grabbed me for a hug. Beautiful, radiant and utterly feminine too. Almost unrecognisable from the Angie I knew and loved, who spent most of her time in cargo trousers, crop tops and Doc Martens.
‘Hi Tom, lovely to see you!’ I said, turning to the groom, trying to sound as though I meant it while the words ‘scumbag, grotbag’ played over in my head. ‘Congratulations!’
‘Thanks, Jen. Yeah, who’d have thought it, eh? It’s been a while.’
Maybe I imagined the awkwardness as he leant in to give me a chaste kiss on the cheek or perhaps it was just because I hadn’t seen him since they’d got back together again. He looked much more handsome in his sleek grey suit than I remembered him to be. Clutching Angie’s hand, looking fondly into her eyes, he looked every inch the devoted husband-to-be. If Angie had found it in her heart to forgive Tom, then maybe I should do the same too.
Be gone with you, scumbag, grotbag and all the other uncharitable names I had for Tom. I allowed my remaining reservations about him and this whirlwind marriage to flutter off in the light spring breeze. This was their special day and, as Angie’s best friend, I was determined to celebrate it with them.
Putting all negative thoughts out of my head I wandered off and said my hellos to some of the other guests and chatted briefly with Angie’s mum and dad, before Angie grabbed me by the arm and led me away.
‘Let me introduce you to Alex. I don’t think you two have met before, have you? Alex and Tom used to work in the city together. Alex, this is my very best friend in the whole wide world, Jen.’
She’d brought me to a standstill in front of the man who was clearly auditioning for the part of most gorgeous wedding guest. In my opinion, without even seeing all the other guests, he’d won the part hands down. I looked up at him and smiled.
‘Delighted to meet you, Jen,’ he said, lifting up my hand and depositing the lightest of kisses on my fingertips in a gesture so gallant and ridiculously over-the-top it made my toes curl.
There’s something about a man in a navy blue suit and a crisp double cuffed white shirt that does funny things to my insides. Don’t ask me why, but it’s always been that way. Added to that the fact that this particular man was over six foot tall with dark hair and warm sparkling eyes and it made for an intriguing combination. As his lips met my fingers I caught the faintest smell of sun-drenched orange groves and I tried to ignore the flip of anticipation that turned in my stomach.
‘I understand you’ll be my partner in crime today?’
‘Excuse me?’ I hadn’t been listening to his words, I’d been too busy taking a surreptitious inhalation trying to recapture the essence of that delicious scent.
‘You’re the other witness, right? Is it your first time too?’
‘Oh yes, my first time,’ I said, concentrating now on his lips, which on close inspection were full and wide and really rather lovely.
Angie had left us alone, giving my hand a gentle squeeze as she went off to greet a couple of new arrivals and I noticed those lips were now twisting in amusement.
‘And do you have the slightest idea what we have to do?’
‘Absolutely no idea whatsoever.’
‘Brilliant, let’s go and do it together then,’ he said, grabbing my hand and leading me inside.
Smiling, I wandered with him into the registry office and we stood to the side of the bride and groom, who seemed oblivious to anything else but each other. Tom tidied Angie’s hair away from her face and whispered something into her ear which made her laugh, happiness radiating from every inch of her being.
Looking around the oak-panelled room, waiting for the registrar to start the proceedings, my eyes landed on the ring of flowers on the desk, and my breath caught at the back of my throat at the enormity of the situation. My best friend, the girl at school who was once named the least likely to get married, was doing exactly that (before me even, which was still a bit of a sore point) and things would never be the same again. It was the end of an era and the start of a brand new one and there was still a tiny part of me that felt hugely unsettled by that fact.
I clasped my hands in front of me letting the words of the registrar, a kindly middle-aged woman, wash over me. The legal formalities were all wrapped up within a matter of minutes. Tom and Angie signed the register, before Alex and I were invited to do the same, adding our names in black ink at the bottom of the page. Signed, sealed, delivered. As easily as that.
***
After some photos, taken by Tom’s brother on the steps of the town hall and on the bridge overlooking the river, our small party took the short walk to the restaurant where we were greeted by Michel, the owner of the establishment, with welcoming glasses of champagne.
‘Can you believe it?’ Angie, already drunk on happiness, radiance and excitement, steered me into a quiet nook of the room. ‘I’m a married woman at last. Who’d have thought it?’ She waved her wedding band in front of my nose.
‘Congratulations, darling. I am so happy for you. And no, I still can’t quite believe it!’ I lifted up her hand to examine her finger just to make sure. ‘Really though, I hope you and Tom have a long and happy married life together filled with love and laughter.’
‘Squeee!’ Angie hugged me so tightly I thought I might faint. ‘We will, Jen. We will.’ She released me from her bear hold and slipped an arm around my waist.
‘You do realise that this changes nothing between us. Obviously I’ll now have to be made an honorary member of the Single Girls’ Club but I still intend to attend our meetings in an advisory capacity only, you understand.’
‘I should hope so too.’
‘Oh yes, our Tuesday nights are going to remain a permanent fixture on my calendar, don’t you worry. I’m going to be coming round to yours and scanning those dating websites with you and I’m not going to stop until we find your Mr Right. Of course, being a married woman, I’m an expert in these matters now and so will expect to find you the perfect man in next to no time.’
‘You reckon, do you?’
‘Absolutely. There’s no question of doubt in my mind.’
We laughed, but I knew it was never going to happen. Giggling at dating profiles had been a blast when we’d both been in the same position, single girls looking for love, but doing it on my own with Angie acting as my chaperone smacked of desperation. And I wasn’t desperate. Absolutely not. Besides, I was quite capable of finding my own romantic hero if I wanted one. I certainly didn’t need anyone’s help on that front.
‘So what do you think of Alex then?’ she whispered in my ear.
I span around just to make sure he wasn’t in the vicinity and his eyes locked on to mine from across the other side of the room, where he was chatting with Tom, as if he knew we were talking about him. He raised his glass of champagne to the air and hooked me with a smile.
‘Well, he seems lovely. Charming and, well, just delightful really.’ I don’t know if it was the effects of the champagne which was being topped up to the brim of my glass faster than I could drink the stuff or whether it was the emotion of the occasion, but I was already feeling lightheaded and we hadn’t even sat down to eat yet.
‘Ha ha, listen to you, acting all coy and “oh yes, he’s delightful.” I’ve seen the way you look at him. You fancy the pants off him, don’t you?’
‘He’s very attractive, I admit, but I’m just appreciating the beauty of a man who is clearly a fine specimen of his breed.’
‘Is that right?’ Angie’s mouth quirked in disbelief. ‘In all seriousness though, he is lovely. Totally charming, but let me just give you a word of advice. If you thought Tom was a player then Alex is in another league all together. He’s a love ‘em and leave ‘em type of guy and I think he’s left plenty behind in his past. I’ve lost count of the number of girlfriends he’s had since I’ve known Tom and none of them have lasted past the three month stage. If you want to keep your heart intact, then honestly, Jen, don’t even go there.’
Okay, so it seemed that the lovely Alex was a scumbag/grotbag out of the same mould as his friend Tom. It didn’t surprise me in the slightest, but then I was a woman of the world and I could certainly handle the likes of Alex whatever-his-name-was. It would need more than a few appreciative glances and a couple of glasses of champagne to get past my exacting standards, I can tell you.
‘That’s very interesting to have the lowdown on Alex’s love life, thank you, but you have absolutely no need to worry on that score. He is so not my type. All that smooth polished sophistication leaves me totally cold. Besides, I could never go out with a guy who was so much better looking than me.’
We giggled and for a moment it was as if we were back at my flat together sharing our dating woes. She took my face in her hands and kissed me on the lips.
‘Listen I ought to go and mingle, but I just want to say thank you for everything you’ve done for me. You’ve been a complete star!’
‘What have I done? I haven’t done anything.’
‘Oh, but you have, Jen. You’ve done everything. You’re the best friend I could ever ask for. You’ve always been there for me and are totally supportive and you’ve never told me I’m doing the wrong thing in marrying Tom. A couple of people have, you know. Oh, and back there, you were absolutely the perfect witness to my marriage. I mean you watched and witnessed the whole thing with… with aplomb.’
I burst out laughing.
‘Well, it was a very difficult job, I have to tell you.’
‘Honestly, I mean it. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.’
I could see tears of happiness and joy brimming in her eyes.
‘Go on,’ I said, shooing her away before we both collapsed in an emotional heap. ‘Go and see to your guests. Oh, and thank you for the warning,’ I said, looking over in Alex’s direction. ‘I’ll be sure to steer well clear.’
Chapter Four (#ulink_f5f9c1ab-1401-52c3-8f0e-33addf7dbe21)
It might have been easy to heed Angie’s advice if it hadn’t been such a small and intimate wedding, but there were only about eighteen of us in total and as luck would have it Alex and I were placed next to each other at the lunch table.
Still there were worse problems to have than having to be wedged up against a good-looking, sweet smelling man at a wedding reception and to be honest I was quite enjoying Alex’s attentiveness. He pulled out my chair, filled my water glass, flapped my napkin with a flourish in the air before laying it on my lap and generally went out of his way to make me feel completely at ease. I wasn’t quite sure why Angie had gone to such lengths to warn me off him – after all, it wasn’t as if I’d be likely to see him again after today.
‘So,’ he said, leaning into my side, his breath warm against my cheek, taunting me with his citrus loveliness again, ‘how long do you give them?’
‘Sorry?’ I said, uncertain I’d heard him correctly.
‘Angie and Tom,’ he whispered. ‘How long do you think it will last?’
I looked over my shoulder to see if Tom’s Nana Gladys who was sitting on the other side of me had heard Alex’s impertinent question but she was deep in conversation with her sister. Thank goodness! I turned back to Alex who looked as though he was actually waiting for some kind of sensible answer.
‘I honestly can’t believe you said that! That’s a terrible question to ask. The ink’s barely dry on their marriage certificate and already you’re questioning how long they’ll be together. That’s so disrespectful. Can’t you just let them have their special day and be happy for them?’
‘Oh, I am happy for them. Really I am. And I hope it works out, but, you know, you can’t help wondering these things, can you?’
‘I haven’t even given it a thought,’ I said, taking a restorative sip of water from my glass. Well actually I had given it more than a second thought, but I would never admit that to anyone else, especially someone I’d only just met. I quickly reassessed my opinion of Alex.
‘Maybe it’s just me then.’ He shrugged, his mouth twisting in a way that might have been charming if I wasn’t quite so irritated with him.
‘Yes, I think it might be. I mean why would you think something like that on a day like today?’
‘Well you have to admit it’s a bit of a lottery, getting married.’
In profile, Alex’s strong jawline and defined cheekbones lent him an air of superiority that might have been intimidating if it wasn’t for the amused knowing smile that seemed to hover permanently at his lips. His eyes flickered with amusement too, particularly when he focused his gaze on me, and I wasn’t sure if he was genuinely worried about the newlyweds’ future or if he was being deliberately provocative. Maybe he knew something I didn’t know. After all, he was Tom’s best friend.
‘Hmm, well in that case we have to hope that Tom and Angie have picked out the winning ticket.’
At the other end of the table Angie’s father stood up and proposed a toast to the bride and groom.
‘To Tom and Angie!’ We all stood up and raised our glasses to the happy couple. Angie and I exchanged a look, one that said ‘Ilove you, best friend’, and I hoped with every fibre in my being that she really had found her happy ending. Then I chinked glasses with Alex, my gaze lingering on his face a moment too long, distracted by the colour of his eyes which earlier I could have sworn were a dark blue, but now looked to be a greeny-grey hue.
‘Sure, but you have to be realistic about these things,’ he said, once we were sat down again. ‘You only need to look at the divorce figures to know that a lot of marriages will be doomed to failure.’
Distracting eyes or not, he was spoiling my mood. This was a celebration for heaven’s sake. I’d put my concerns away for the day. Why couldn’t he? The champagne was flowing nicely and the waiting staff had just delivered the most delicious looking slice of smoked salmon and prawn terrine to my place which was making my mouth water. I couldn’t wait to tuck in.
‘You are clearly not a romantic, Alex, I can tell,’ I said, hoping that would put an end to that particular line of conversation. I picked up my knife and fork and looked around me to see if it was okay to start. Nothing was going to spoil my appetite today.
He laughed, a warm slow chuckle that caused me to pause, fork in air, for a moment; I hated to admit it but the sound was so intoxicating it warmed my insides.
‘Quite the opposite. I am a complete romantic. That’s why I would only get married if I knew for certain that I’d want to spend the rest of my life with that person.’
‘What?’ I gave him my best, most withering look. ‘Doesn’t everyone think like that when they are about to get married?’ This man was talking complete and utter rubbish. ‘I can’t believe anyone goes into a marriage thinking it’s not going to work.’
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he said, giving me a sideways glance and the benefit of that lazy smile again. I was wondering now if his eyes were more a hazelly brown colour. ‘Still doesn’t explain why so many marriages fail though.’
‘Who knows, but we shouldn’t be talking about such things today.’ I reprimanded him lightly with a tap on his arm and he looked down at his suit where I’d touched him, as if I’d actually hurt him, and he raised an eyebrow at me with an amused expression on his face.
‘Okay, well let me tell you about my gran and granddad. They met when she was sixteen and he was seventeen. Her father, who was very strict and a bit of a bully from what I’ve heard, tried to stop her from seeing him, so do you know what they did?’
I shook my head.
‘They ran away to Gretna Green and got married. They’d only known each other for three weeks. Now is that romantic enough for you?’
‘Oh gosh, that is romantic,’ I said with a heartfelt sigh. ‘Can you imagine? And did they have a long and happy marriage?’
‘They’ve just celebrated their diamond wedding anniversary. We had a big party for them the other week.’
‘That’s so lovely,’ I said, and for a moment I felt a pang of regret for my nan, who wasn’t around any more to enjoy those type of celebrations with Gramps. They’d missed out on their golden anniversary by about fourteen months, but Gramps and I had been adamant that we were still going to celebrate the occasion anyway by going to Nan’s favourite restaurant, eating her favourite food and toasting her memory. It had been a special but poignant day.
‘Fancy only knowing someone for three weeks and then marrying them and it lasting for all those years.’
‘Exactly. That’s what I mean about it being a bit of a lottery. I mean you hear stories like that, but then there are those people who’ve lived together for years, finally decide to get marriage and then, within a matter of months, it’s all over. I’ve never quite understood that either.’
We moved onto our main course. The most delicious aromas were wafting towards my nostrils; roasted duck breast, potato rosti, honey roasted carrots and savoy cabbage.
‘Hmm, that happened to me,’ I said, not entirely sure why I was choosing to divulge this information to a stranger.
‘What? You’re married?’
‘No, I was. Nearly. I mean, I nearly got married. Could you pass me the water please?’ More water, less champagne was clearly what was required here. ‘I was with someone for nine years and we were about to get married and then, well, we split up.’
‘Oh, that’s tough. Sorry for that. Nine years is like a marriage.’
‘Yeah, it was just one of those things,’ I said, waving my hand in front of my face in a suitably nonchalant manner as though it hadn’t mattered in the slightest. ‘It obviously wasn’t meant to be. Maybe for those couples who have been together for a long time, getting married is a sticking plaster to cover the cracks already in the relationship, and it’s only when they’ve made that firm commitment that they realise that they can’t make it better after all.’
Alex pondered on that for a moment before tilting his head to one side and nodding his head sagely.
‘That’s very profound. You might have a point there.’
And I wondered as I said it if that’s what had happened to Paul and me. It had been a now or never situation. We’d been together so long we either had to make a commitment or go our separate ways. It was only when we started thinking about our future, making definite plans, that we realised our future didn’t belong together after all. Maybe Alex was right. Perhaps it was more of a lottery than I thought.
‘So you’re suggesting, to be in with a chance of having a long and happy marriage, it’s better to marry someone relatively quickly after meeting them?’ He quirked his eyebrow in a way that spiked an instant response from the deepest depths of my stomach.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I said, looking away, feeling a heat rise in my cheeks. ‘I’m hardly an expert on these matters.’
I wasn’t sure how we’d got on to this subject.
‘You and Tom work together?’ I said, desperate now to change tack.
‘We used to. We were at uni together and when we left we both went to work for the same bank in the city. It was a mad time. We worked too hard, played too hard, and probably did most things to excess.’ He laughed and I conjured up a mental image of them both; partying, living life to the full, two young men at the top of their game. ‘Three years in that job was more than enough for me. When I’d made enough money I quit. Tom’s still there though, he rode the storm out.’
‘Oh right. So what is it you do now then?’
‘I’ve an art gallery in town. The Woodland Studios? I represent a few artists locally and nationally, and sell online too. I paint a bit myself too when I get the time, which I have to admit isn’t that often these days.’
‘So quite a change from what you were doing before then?’
‘Yep. Completely different. Now I’m doing something I really love.’
I took a sip from my glass of white wine, resolving to make it my last. I was just teetering on the edge of that nicely fuzzy-headed mellow stage and knew that any more might tip me over into the ‘a-step-too-far’ stage, and I wasn’t sure Alex was ready for that. I gave him a sneaky sideways glance, hoping he might not notice, but our eyes met for a split second and a warm sensation filled my chest. Too late, I was definitely on the squiffy side of mellow now.
So I had no idea if Alex was a sophisticated hard-edged city type or a creative arty type, or more probably a compelling mixture of both. Whatever he was, and despite his dodgy views on marriage, I think I liked him. He had an air of authority about him, a quiet self-assuredness that radiated from his body. A confidence that came from knowing he was good at what he did. He had an artist’s hands too, I noticed; long expressive fingers that moved in an oddly compelling way as he spoke.
‘What do you do then?’ he asked casually.
I work in a garden centre.
The words caught at the back of my throat, refusing to come out. I’d never been embarrassed to say them before, so why I was hesitating now I didn’t know. Instead I opted for the glorified version, hating myself for doing so and wondering why I was even bothering. I mean, it wasn’t as if I was out to impress Alex.
‘I’m a buyer – luxury goods, gifts, for a large store.’
‘Ah, okay,’ said Alex, looking suitably satisfied with my answer. He had this weird way of nodding in silent approval when I answered a question, as though he was secretly interviewing me for a job, one I didn’t know I’d even applied for. He was just about to ask me something else when Nana Gladys interrupted. She turned around, a big smile on her face.
‘So can we expect you two lovely young people to be next?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Will you two be getting married next?’ she said, just at the moment when a complete silence fell around the table and all eyes turned to look at us.
‘Ah well,’ said Alex, giving Gladys the benefit of his warm genuine smile. ‘As much as that is a very tempting proposition, Jen and I have only just met today so I think it might be a little bit too soon to be talking along those lines, although you never know.’
A ripple of laughter ran round the table.
‘What do you say, Jen?’ He fixed his gaze upon me, his blue/green/brown eyes shining with mischievous intent and I looked away – not wanting him to see the flush of heat colouring my cheeks. He leant in closer, whispering in my ear. ‘Weren’t you just saying you thought that might be a good idea?’
‘Stop it,’ I hissed, turning my attention back to Gladys.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said, laughing.
Admittedly it was hot in the restaurant, but now Gladys was blushing like a teenager, showing the tell-tale signs of a rush of heat spreading up from her neck to her cheeks. I’d only known Alex a matter of hours, but I suspected he might have this effect on a lot of women.
‘I could have sworn you two were a couple. You look so right together. Don’t they make a lovely couple, Betty?’
‘Oh yes they do. Lovely.’
Thankfully, saving us any more embarrassment, Angie and Tom were making signs to move at the other end of the table and the attention was deflected onto them where it should most rightfully have been.
It had been the most wonderful wedding breakfast. We’d had mouthwatering desserts of croquembouche and lemon posset, followed by a selection of continental cheeses. Angie’s father had stood up and said a few words and if he’d harboured any bad feeling towards Tom then he certainly didn’t show it. Tom gave a heartfelt speech which had most of the women in the room close to tears. He talked of his love for Angie and how he was the luckiest man on the planet to be given a second chance with the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. No one in that room could have been in any doubt as to Tom’s complete and utter devotion to his bride, or Angie’s to her groom as her eyes shone with love and affection.
‘Thank you darling, I love you so so much,’ Angie said, grabbing me for a hug, as the bride and groom went round the room saying their goodbyes.
‘Oh, and I love you too! Have a fabulous honeymoon. Take lots of piccies. I need to see what paradise looks like.’
‘I will, I will and I’ll call you just as soon as I get back.’
In a shower of confetti, we waved Tom and Angie off as they climbed into the back of a waiting taxi ready to speed them off to the airport, and I was left with a funny feeling of regret, relief and happiness all rolled into one.
‘Are you two coming back to ours for a cup of tea?’ Even Diane, Angie’s mum, was getting in on the act now, talking to Alex and me as though we were a proper couple.
‘That sounds like a lovely idea, thank you, we’d love to,’ said Alex, putting an arm around my shoulder, answering as if we actually were one. Not that I minded in the least, it was just what I needed at the moment, a lovely cup of tea.
Chapter Five (#ulink_b16e5d71-f67d-587e-9fb2-15878c0db0ee)
After three cups of tea, two shortbread biscuits, a slice of fruit cake, and a long and interesting chat with Gladys and Betty about Taylor Swift, her extensive back catalogue, her fashion high-fives and faux pas, plus the ins and outs of her love life which I knew nothing about but the sisters seemed to know everything about, I decided I really ought to go and do something to make myself useful. I rounded up some dirty plates and took them into the kitchen.
Alex was sitting on a kitchen stool, idly looking at his phone. He’d lost his jacket now and had rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, his tie loose around his neck. He looked relaxed and totally at ease, putting away his phone in his pocket when he saw me.
‘So what time do you think the dancing starts?’ he asked.
I laughed. His sense of mischievousness and fun shone in his eyes in a way that played havoc with my sensibilities. It had been a day of excess; the never ending glasses of champagne and wine had made me lightheaded, the delicious and abundant food had filled my tummy to the point where I thought I would never need to eat another thing again and the whole emotion of the occasion had made me thoughtful and fanciful. I glanced at my watch, it was definitely time to be going home.
‘Ha, didn’t you hear, the band have rung and cancelled. Looks like there’ll be no dancing after all.’
‘That’s outrageous,’ said Alex, shaking his head mockingly. ‘What kind of wedding reception is this? Should I go and ask Gladys if she would do me the honour?’ He smiled, looking up at me under long eyelashes, the faintest of dark shadows beneath his eyes, lending him a vulnerability I hadn’t noticed earlier.
‘Look, I’m probably going to make a move. I could do with a livener, if I’m being honest. Do you fancy going back into town, finding a bar? What do you reckon?’
It was only a casual invitation, but I felt my heart flitter-flutter at the suggestion. At the same time Angie’s cautionary words rang in my ears. This guy was a player, someone to be avoided at all costs, but despite knowing that and my head telling me I should really say my goodbyes and get the hell out of here, there was something about Alex that I found intriguing and compelling and, if I was being honest with myself, totally and utterly attractive. Totally and utterly not my type, but what did that matter. We were just two people who had hooked up together at a wedding and were enjoying each other’s company. I wanted the excitement of the day to carry on into the night. I was fed up being a sensible Sarah. Mum would be urging me to be bolder, have more fun. It was almost as if I could feel her on my shoulder egging me on. The spontaneity that was missing in my life was now knocking at my door, beckoning me outside to play and that was a much more appealing proposition than the thought of going back to my empty flat with only the television for company. Besides, it was only a drink, it wasn’t as if he was asking to marry me.
***
We ended up in a wine bar down by the river and despite my earlier protestations that I couldn’t eat or drink another thing, as soon as I sat down and Alex suggested sharing a bottle of Prosecco, it was as if there was nothing more in the world I desired at that moment.
For a moment I felt a twinge of self-consciousness wondering what was I doing there and what we would possibly find to talk about, but I needn’t have worried, Alex’s confidence and easy charm put me completely at ease. I plastered on a big smile as he handed me a filled glass and I took a sip, the bubbles having an instant restorative effect.
‘To Tom and Angie,’ said Alex raising his glass to mine. ‘Wishing them all the best for a long and happy marriage.’
‘To Tom and Angie!’
Alex’s earlier comment came back to taunt me. I’d always had doubts about Tom as marriage material, or even boyfriend material come to that, but then I didn’t know him nearly as well as Angie or Alex did. Was it really possible Alex knew something I didn’t? Had he been trying to tell me that earlier? I couldn’t bear the thought that there was something amiss, something I didn’t know about. Or more worryingly, something Angie didn’t know about.
‘So, you never said,’ I asked, trying for absolutely dead-casual, really not bothered one way or the other, ‘what chances do you give the happy couple for a long and happy marriage then?’
He gave me a rueful smile.
‘I didn’t think we were allowed to think along those lines. Look I’m sorry if I upset you earlier, it was just an off the cuff comment. I didn’t mean anything by it.’
‘You do think it will work out for them though, don’t you? I’ve never seen Angie looking so happy.’
‘Yeah, well I hope so,’ said Alex, carefully avoiding my question and my gaze. ‘Tom is a great guy. I guess they have as much chance as any other couple out there.’
‘Hmmm.’ I wasn’t sure if Alex’s lukewarm response was due to his reservations about Angie and Tom as a couple or if he was anti-marriage in general. I suspected the latter. ‘Can you see yourself getting married one day?’ I asked.
He tilted his head to one side, pondering on my question before pursing his lips.
‘Possibly.’ He tilted his head the other way, narrowing his eyes.
‘Maybe.’ He looked me directly in the eye.
‘Definitely,’ he said, laughing.
‘Well that’s conclusive,’ I said, laughing too.
‘I don’t know if I ever will,’ I said, uncertain why I felt the need to tell Alex this riveting piece of information, and not realising I even felt that way until the words were out there.
‘That’s rubbish. I barely know you, but you strike me as the marrying kind. Here, let me have a look at your hand.’ He took hold of my hand and turned it over, stroking his thumb across my palm. He pushed my fingers back and then gently traced the lines on my hand in a movement that was so light it was almost imperceptible, but still managed to send shivers down my spine at the same time. I looked up into his eyes and our gaze locked for the briefest moment, before I had to look away.
‘Aha, just as I thought, I can see it all here, there’s a very exciting future ahead for you.’
‘Is that right?’ I knew he was teasing me, but I was more than willing to play along with the game. ‘So tell me then, what can you see?’
‘Definitely a marriage. Within two years, I’d say. A big white wedding, I think.’
‘Really, well I suppose I ought to get a move on and meet this mystery man then. Two years isn’t that long to meet someone and then decide I’m going to marry him.’
‘And your marriage will be blessed with children.’
‘It will? Really? This is getting more interesting by the minute. How many?’
‘Let me see.’ He lifted my hand higher, peering closer at a random spot on my palm. ‘Four, I’d say. Possibly more.’
‘WHAT?!’ I nearly snorted my wine out at that revelation. ‘Four? Good grief. Absolutely no way. Two possibly, at the most, but there’s no way I can imagine having four children. I’m not even sure I’m that maternal.’ I snatched my hand away, laughing.
‘Ah well, I find a lot of people don’t want to hear the truth. It is a cross I have to bear with this special gift I have.’
‘Is that so? Okay tell me about my job then. Sounds like I don’t need to worry about my personal life, that’s all sorted, but I could do with some guidance on my career.’
‘Let me see?’ He picked up my hand again and ran his finger around the outline of my hand and then up and down and around the length of my fingers. By this stage I wasn’t really bothered by anything he might have to say, I was more concerned about the magic his touch was tracing on my hand. That a touch so light could have such a startling effect on my whole being I found astonishing.
‘A change is on the cards,’ he said, adopting the croaky voice of an elderly woman soothsayer. ‘You mark my words, young lady.’ I laughed, shaking my head at him indulgently but he kept hold tight of my hand. ‘Really,’ he said, his voice back to normal now; warm, caressive, enticing. At that moment he could have told me anything and I would have believed him. ‘I can see a lot in your future, but I’m afraid I can’t really divulge any more. Not now. It will all become apparent with time.’
He dropped my hand like a hot potato.
‘Oh.’ I wanted to grab his hand straight back again and tell him not to stop. I’d been enjoying the sensations much more than I should have done.
‘Sorry, but I don’t want to put ideas into your head, you have to follow your own path without being influenced by anything I might tell you, but your fate is here, all laid out in your hand.’
‘Right, well that’s good to know,’ I said, feeling flustered. ‘Nothing I need to worry about then.’ Heat flushed my neck and face. His attentions were far too distracting. I looked at my hand wondering if I’d missed something obvious there, all these years. I smiled and shook my head. ‘Just one word of advice, Alex, don’t give up the day job. I really can’t see you ever making a career out of being a palmist.’
‘Er, I hope you’re not casting doubt upon my inherent abilities. People come for miles to have one of my special readings. Well I’m sure they would if they knew what a special talent I have. I’ll tell you what… do you have a pen… some paper?’
‘No.’
‘Excuse me!’ Alex beckoned the young waiter over. ‘Do you have a piece of paper and pen I could have please? And an envelope too, if possible?’
When the waiter had delivered the requested items, Alex started writing something down, craning his arm around the paper so that I couldn’t see.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Oh ye of little faith. I’m just writing down one or two predictions for you. You’ll be able to look at these a year down the line and think, “oh yes, that funny guy I met at that wedding, he did know what he was talking about after all.”’
‘Can’t I just read them now?’
‘Nope. What’s your surname?’ he asked. When he finished scribbling down whatever it was he was writing, he folded the paper in half before inserting it into the envelope. He then wrote on the outside.
‘For Jen Faraday – Not to be opened, in any circumstances, until 19th April 2016’
‘But that’s a whole year away! You do realise I’m going to go straight home after this and the first thing I’m going to do is rip open the envelope and read what you’ve said.’
‘No, you’re not,’ he said, removing the envelope from my hand. ‘Can’t you read what it says on the envelope? Not to be opened until 19th April 2016. And to save you from any temptation I’m going to give this to the waiter and ask him to put it behind the bar with strict instructions not to hand it to you until the designated date.’
‘Really? You’re mad, do you know that? Absolutely mad. I’ll have completely forgotten all about it by then. Memory like a sieve, me.’
‘Well if that’s the case then no harm done. But, if you do happen to remember, and you’re curious as to what’s in here,’ he waved the envelope in the air, ‘then you can always come and have a look. In one year’s time, that is.’
I laughed. Who knew where I might be then. Alex’s predictions were probably as good a guess as my best surmising, although I highly doubted I’d be married with four children!
‘Well thank you. You never know – if I’m in need of a bit of spiritual guidance in a year’s time, I’ll know where to come.’ Although I suspected the barman would probably bin the note just as soon as the crazy, giggling and clearly drunk couple had left the building.
Alex was looking at me intently, a lazy seductive smile on his lips.
‘Look, Jen. I don’t want this party to end.’ He reached across for my hand, but this time there was a very different intent in the action. ‘Why don’t you come back to mine for some coffee.’ He pulled out his phone and tapped at the screen. ‘Oh look, I’ve just had a text from the band.’
‘What?’
‘You know, the band who should have turned up at the wedding. They got their wires crossed apparently and turned up at my place instead.’
The breath caught in my throat as a tingle of anticipation ran down my arms.
A contented weariness spread along my body. It had been a lovely, but long and exhausting day. Weddings always affected me that way. Alex had been great company but I wasn’t the type of person to go home with someone on a first date. Only this wasn’t a first date and this wasn’t just someone. This was a charming, gorgeous, red-hot date. Six months of trawling internet dating sites hadn’t brought anyone of this deliciousness anywhere near my inbox. This was definitely the ideal opportunity to practice what my mum had preached and embrace my inner gorgeousness.
‘Bloody band, getting the details wrong,’ I said, leaning across to leave a small kiss of intent on his lips. ‘I suppose we ought to give them the benefit of the doubt and turn up for at least one dance. I mean, it would be rude not to.’
Chapter Six (#ulink_85f50cd4-fd68-59c0-b3ea-3473effacfbc)
‘Oh shit!’ An arm hit me in the shoulder and a flurry of sheets and pillows and covers were tossed in the air as the slow realisation of where I was and what I had done filtered into my consciousness. ‘Sorry Jen, I’ve got an exhibition opening this morning. The artist is putting in an appearance and there’s a whole host of guests turning up. Well, that’s the plan anyway. I’ve got to go. I’m late as it is.’
Alex jumped out of bed without an inch of self-consciousness and I closed my eyes as though I hadn’t seen him in all his naked gloriousness the night before. Slowly I opened them again, my eyes adjusting to the light filtering in through white linen curtains, my brain adjusting to where I was and hoping to god Alex wouldn’t turn around again. Hoping that all of this was a product of my over-active imagination.
‘Take your time though.’ Oh god, there he went, doing exactly what I hadn’t wanted him to do. I quickly snapped my eyes shut again, trying to somehow un-see what had just been staring me in the face.
It wasn’t that I was a prude, it was just that I wasn’t that sort of girl. Or at least I thought I wasn’t until yesterday. I’d got to the ripe old age of twenty-seven and never had a one-night stand before. So lord knew what had possessed me to act so out of character last night and break a habit of a lifetime.
Possibly the champagne. Definitely the undeniable attraction of the man who was now running in and out of doorways, picking up and discarding various bits of clothing as though he was the lead character in a comedy farce.
What would Angie say if I told her? That despite all her warnings I’d ended up in bed with the groom’s best friend. Probably best not to tell her, I reckoned. By the time she returned from her honeymoon this would all be a hazy memory.
A pretty good memory admittedly. Alex had been the perfect companion, funny, charming and totally seductive, and it had been all too easy to fall for his charms. Oh, and the dancing, how could I have forgotten the dancing. I’d felt like Ginger Rogers to his Fred Astaire – gliding around Alex’s living room as though we could actually dance, laughing so much until we fell into an ungainly heap onto his sofa.
It had all felt so normal and natural, as if we’d known each forever, and now I sensed that late night easy familiarity was about to be replaced by an early morning awkwardness.
Alex was hopping about the bedroom looking less like the smooth operator of last night and more as though he had two left feet, pulling on a pair of black cotton boxers that only went a tiny way to making me feel any less embarrassed by being in close proximity to such a very naked man.
‘Help yourself to tea or coffee in the kitchen. It’s through there,’ he pointed helpfully. ‘There’s cereal in the cupboard or some bread in the tin if you want to make some toast.’ He disappeared for a few moments before poking his head round the door again, only thankfully this time he was fully dressed. ‘My phone’s not over there is it?’
I gave a cursory glance over the bedside cabinet. A radio/alarm clock, a pair of engraved cufflinks, a half dozen assorted coins but, more insistently, a pair of abandoned silver teardrop earrings that were flashing at me like a pair of Belisha beacons. I felt a wave of nausea. My gaze got stuck on those damn things until I realised Alex was waiting for an answer.
‘Yep, it’s here,’ I said, leaning over and grabbing it for him.
‘Cheers.’ He came and perched on the edge of the bed and stroked his thumb across my cheek, taking the phone from me. ‘I had a really great time yesterday, Jen. The wedding was fab, but sharing the day with you, getting to know you made it all the more special.’
I smiled, feeling vulnerable, naked under his bed covers while he was fully dressed. I resisted the urge to reach up and throw my arms around his neck, pulling him back into bed but I sensed a subtle shift in the atmosphere from last night. It was obvious he wanted to get away as quickly as possible.
‘I’ve got your number so I’ll give you a call. We can do it again, go out for dinner or something?’
I nodded, pulling the duvet up higher around my body.
‘Or you give me a call, yeah?’ he added.
‘Yes, sure. We’ll get something sorted,’ I said, breezily. Now I remembered why I’d never had a one-night stand before. Everything that seemed so romantic and magical last night now only appeared sordid and awkward. Alex was going through the motions, saying what he thought was the socially acceptable thing to say in these situations, something he’d probably had a lot of practice at in the past.
He stood up and looked at his watch.
‘Aargh, sorry, Jen, I would really love to stay, but I have to go.’ He gave me a chaste kiss on the forehead before turning around and leaving. ‘I’ll see you soon, yeah’ he called, the front door slamming shut after his departure.
No sooner was he out of the way than I quickly jumped out of bed. I didn’t want to hang around any longer than I had to, fumbling around his kitchen trying to feel as though I had every good reason to be there when in fact the opposite was true.
I’d felt a prick of shame even before I’d rolled out of bed, which was ridiculous really. I had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. I was a consenting adult and so was Alex, although it didn’t help that he’d already departed the crime scene. No, however much I tried to convince myself that this was all absolutely fine I still felt like a burglar stealthily negotiating a property I had no right to be in. I just hoped Alex wouldn’t dash back and find me scrabbling around the floor for my knickers, or the doorbell wouldn’t buzz or the phone wouldn’t ring or the owner of the earrings wouldn’t put in an early morning appearance. Those damned earrings! Who did they belong to exactly? I sighed. It had nothing to do with me, of course, but that was the trouble with romantic flings, there were so many unanswered questions.
I threw my clothes on, the ones so hastily abandoned last night, picked up my phone and my bag, gave a hasty check of the bedroom to make sure I hadn’t left anything behind, before letting myself out of the front door, relieved and disappointed that I would never need to see Alex again.
***
I marched out of the wine bar, my cheeks stinging with humiliation. Damn that woman! Who the hell did she think she was, telling me I couldn’t have my letter. I had every mind to march straight back in there and give her a piece of my mind. This time if she refused to hand it over I would clamber over the bar and rip it from her hands, but then if I did come off worse in a fight I might just be left with a few scraps of torn up paper which would defeat the object entirely. It even crossed my mind to phone the police to report the letter as stolen, but I could see that might be a slightly over-the-top thing to do. Besides, I wasn’t entirely sure of my legal rights to an envelope with my name on, but with a ‘do not open until’ proviso scribbled across the front.
The thing was I felt even more curious as to the contents of that note this morning, although why I was tormenting myself with ‘what-ifs’ I didn’t know. If I did get to read the letter, I would probably only end up disappointed. What was I expecting to find out? That Alex really did hold the secrets to my future. It was laughable. It had only been intended as a bit of fun.
That envelope was the only link I had with Alex now. Despite him saying he’d call me, we both knew that was unlikely. Outside of our mutual friends Tom and Angie, we had absolutely nothing in common. The truth was I probably wouldn’t see him again and that realisation as I mooched along the high street looking in the shop windows filled me inexplicably with sadness.
Crikey, what was wrong with me? I clearly still had too much wine sloshing around my veins to be making me so maudlin this morning. This was obviously why I wasn’t cut out for this one-night stand malarkey. I was over-thinking the whole thing, giving it much more importance than it merited.
I stopped outside an employment agency and looked up at the myriad of jobs adorning the windows. At least I shouldn’t have too much difficulty in finding some temporary work when I left Browns. Shame it wasn’t open today or else I would have gone in and signed up, but I resolved to do that first thing tomorrow.
No, the best thing to do was completely forget about Alex. It had been great, but it had been of the moment and now the moment was over. Thinking about it, I don’t suppose there’d even been an art exhibition he’d had to rush off to this morning – he was an accomplished one-night-stander and this was probably just his standard excuse for extracting himself from any awkward situations.
Ha ha, yes! If I was going to love more, with casual abandon, without losing my heart to every man who came along, I really would have to learn the rules of the one-night stand game.
I turned to go home, but something stopped me in my tracks. What was the point when I’d only end up slouching on the sofa watching a box set, while eating too much chocolate and drinking more wine which my body certainly didn’t need. Much better to stay outside and walk off the excesses of the previous day.
I walked through the high street with a renewed sense of purpose, up into the Old Town and through the alleyways that were home to a selection of independent shops and galleries. I rarely came up here, I had no reason to, but there was no reason to say I couldn’t. It was perfectly normal behaviour for a Sunday morning. Nothing out of the ordinary at all. It was what other people did with their weekends; strolled in the sunshine around the bespoke boutiques and jewellers, looking into the windows of the craft and gifts stores, stopping off for a cup of tea or coffee in one of the many welcoming cafes.
My heart picked up a pace as I found Bell Alley and I walked along the cobbles on one side of the thoroughfare, my gaze scanning the signs hanging above the shop frontages. When I saw Woodland Studios I felt a sense of relief. It was definitely a gallery and there were definitely people inside milling around and yes, I just managed to see from the corner of my eye that it looked to all intents and purposes like an art exhibition. Hooray! Alex hadn’t been lying to me after all. I could go home now with my dignity and honour intact. I wasn’t sure why it had felt so important to verify that information, but it had and now my curiosity had been sated I felt a whole lot better.
‘Excuse me.’ I was standing directly opposite the gallery when a large man in a straw hat with a camera around his neck stopped me. My eyes widened as I tried to circumnavigate his considerable girth, taking tiny little steps one way and then the other to try and hurry him along the path so that we were out of direct sight of Alex’s shop, but the American gentleman in the hat wasn’t picking up on my non-too-subtle hints.
‘Yes,’ I said impatiently.
‘Sorry to trouble you miss, but I wondered if you could tell me where I might be able to buy some candy. I hear there’s a shop around here somewhere, but I’ve not happened upon it yet.’
My gaze did an involuntary sweep down to his rotund tummy and I had to bite on my tongue to stop myself from suggesting that perhaps he’d already had one too many candies. Instead I smiled sweetly, and pointed him down the hill.
‘Go down to the bottom of this alley and then turn right onto Peacock Mews. The sweet shop is in the far corner.’
‘Well thank you ma’am,’ he said, tipping his hat towards me in gratitude. ‘You really are a perfect English rose, aren’t you?’
‘Thank you,’ I said blushing, using his considerable size to hide behind as I shuffled round his body and attempted to make my getaway.
‘Jen!’
I froze on the spot. Oh god no, please no.
‘Jen, is that you?’
I considered for a moment asking the American if I couldn’t hide beneath his jacket and go and buy candies with him, but it was too late. I’d already been spotted. I peered out from behind the man to find Alex looking at me, a bemused smile on his face.
‘Hey, I thought it was you. What are you doing here?’
I watched as the man sauntered off, a smile on his face and I wondered if it wasn’t too late to run after him.
‘Oh, me, I was, um, just walking home.’ Humiliatingly I was still wearing my wedding outfit from yesterday which was looking as tired and past its best as I was feeling.
‘But don’t you live…’ Alex screwed up his face, his brow furrowing. He pointed in the opposite direction to the way I was walking.
‘Yes, but I thought I’d take the scenic route,’ I said laughing, trying not to sound like a mad woman. ‘I needed a bit of exercise after yesterday.’
‘Look Jen,’ he said, laying his hand on my arm and looking as though he might have got the assessment of my character very wrong. ‘I’m sorry for not inviting you along to the exhibition, it just didn’t occur to me. You’re welcome to come in for a glass of wine now though if you’d like to.’
‘Ah, thanks, but no. I’m late as it is,’ I said, glancing at my watch. ‘Another pressing engagement beckons. I’ll just be on way.’
‘Great,’ said Alex, looking worried. ‘Good to see you again. And so soon too.’
‘Yep. Bye!’
I hurried off, my cheeks stinging an unbecoming beetroot colour, I felt sure. So now Alex would think I was a proper weirdo, stalking him out after only seeing him a couple of hours earlier. What an idiot. I sighed, determined not to look back at the shop or the events of the last twenty-four hours. None of it mattered any more. It would be fine. I would just have to spend the rest of my life avoiding Alex Fellows.
Chapter Seven (#ulink_af3d0fa3-876e-5975-a567-89e0058f79d6)
Fortunately I wasn’t due in to work until eleven the next morning, so I popped round to see Gramps on the way. I found him sitting in his armchair flicking through the pages of a travel brochure.
‘I thought I’d go away love, just for a couple of weeks.’ I brought in a couple of mugs of tea and two bacon sandwiches from the kitchen and sat down by his side. ‘I’ve not been away since your nan died. It’s about time, I reckon.’
‘What a brilliant idea!’ I peered over his shoulder and gasped, immediately taken in by the images of fairytale castles, mediaeval villages, towering mountains and dramatic scenery. A river cruise on the Rhine sounded right up my street. I don’t know why it hadn’t occurred to me before, but it made perfect sense to get away properly. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a decent holiday. Angie and I had gone to Brighton for a long weekend last year, but that had involved a lot of cocktails, some frenetic dancing and some midnight paddling in the sea – so you couldn’t really call it a proper holiday as we both came home feeling a whole lot worse than when we’d arrived, due to the lack of sleep and our alcohol consumption.
No, a European tour would be just the ticket. Who wants to go and lie on a beach in the sun for a couple of weeks with a bunch of over-sexed girls when you can experience a bit of sophisticated culture with your lovely Gramps. I was definitely in need of some of that. I would meet new people, people I wouldn’t necessarily meet otherwise, and it would give me the opportunity to dress up. I’d have to buy a whole new wardrobe especially, and I’d be able to sashay down to dinner in my new finery to eat seven-course meals. Who knew, I might even meet a handsome millionaire on the trip. At the very least it would give Gramps and me the chance for some special bonding time together too.
‘Obviously I’ve got Harvey to think about.’
‘Oh, of course, how could we forget about you, Harvey.’ I scooped up the little dog for a sneaky cuddle, fondling his ears. Already I was feeling so excited about this new turn of affairs. ‘I don’t suppose he’ll like the kennels, but…’
‘Oh, I couldn’t put him in the kennels, love. That’s the thing. I wouldn’t be able to enjoy myself thinking of Harvey pining in a strange place. That’s why I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind looking after him while I’m away. He’s no trouble, as you know, and he knows and loves you.’
‘Me?’ My voice came out as a squeak. Images of crystal clear lakes, half-timbered chocolate box houses and black forest gateaux whizzed through my brain like the fast train. It clearly had no intention of stopping at my station.
‘I think Marcia and I have decided on this one,’ he said, holding up the page to me, the one I was now fully acquainted with, having been eagerly scanning it for the last few minutes. ‘We can get a good last-minute deal on it.’
‘You and Marcia?’
‘Yes. Why? Oh, you didn’t think…? Sorry love.’ He fell silent for a moment, concern scratching his features. ‘Well, I’m sure you could come along with us if you really wanted to. I could have a word with Marcia.’
‘No! Oh god no! You wouldn’t want me tagging along, cramping your style. Besides, you don’t think I’d really want to go away with a couple of old fogeys like you, do you?’
My tone was light, but my mood was as dark as the deepest recesses of all those Bavarian castles I wouldn’t get to see now.
‘Those sort of holidays sound like my idea of hell. Loads of people get food poisoning on those cruises, you know.’
I stood up and paced the length of the living room. Marcia and Gramps had moved onto the holidaying together stage already. Wasn’t it a bit too soon for that? Did that mean they’d be sharing a bedroom, getting naked? Eugh. I blinked furiously, trying to rid myself of the scary images.
‘Really, I couldn’t think of anything worse.’
‘Do you mean that?’
I sighed, tipping my head to the ceiling.
‘No, I don’t,’ I said, slumping down onto the sofa. With my legs stretched out in front of me, my bum slid down the edge of the sofa and I just stopped myself before landing in a disgruntled heap on the floor. Gramps looked at me from across the top of his glasses. He could always read me like a book.
‘I would have loved to go to Germany with you Gramps, but Marcia, well, you know we would probably end up killing each other after a day or two.’ I gave an evil chuckle.
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