The Wedding that Changed Everything: a gorgeously uplifting romantic comedy
Jennifer Joyce
‘A charming and delightful read!’ Pretty Little Book Reviews on The Little Bed & Breakfast by the SeaLove happens when you least expect it…Emily Atkinson stopped believing in fairy tales a long time ago! She’s fed up of dating frogs in order to find her very own Prince Charming and is giving up on men entirely…But then she’s invited to the wedding of the year at the enchanting Durban Castle and realises that perhaps bumping into a real-life knight in shining armour isn’t quite as far away as she thought!Will Emily survive the wedding and walk away an unscathed singleton – or finally find her own happily-ever-after?A cosy and charming romance, perfect for fans of Trisha Ashley and Caroline Roberts.Readers love Joyce:“a perfect holiday read”“a great escape into a romantic and funny world”“Didn't want to put it down”“A book like this, lifts up the weary heart, brings a smile, and is easy to read and love.”“This story made me laugh, swoon and dream.”“Infused with charm and humour”“Hugely entertaining”
Love happens when you least expect it!
Emily Atkinson stopped believing in fairy tales a long time ago! She’s fed up of dating frogs in order to track down her very own Prince Charming, despite the best efforts of her matchmaking best friend…
But now she’s been invited to the wedding of the year at the enchanting Durban Castle, and perhaps bumping into a knight in shining armour isn’t as far away as she thought!
Will Emily survive the wedding and walk away an unscathed singleton – or finally find her own happily ever after?
A cosy and charming romance, perfect for fans of Trisha Ashley and Caroline Roberts.
Also by Jennifer Joyce (#ulink_23a93616-7073-5b64-9fcc-1a68d961f0c5)
The Little Teashop of Broken Hearts
The Little Bed & Breakfast by the Sea
The Wedding Date
The Mince Pie Mix-Up
The Wedding that Changed Everything
Jennifer Joyce
ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES
Contents
Cover (#uc78f64b9-d207-5a63-b7f3-074d657f1cfd)
Blurb (#ua13c911e-d962-56b2-b4de-622f4d35d386)
Book List (#ulink_e2d5ff20-0751-5ec0-9541-88a795bca69b)
Title Page (#u987f764b-77db-5b57-b22c-7184f0b6bd38)
Author Bio (#u26801600-9f7d-584b-87ca-7d0a704a8206)
Dedication (#uf45b612b-7282-5590-9fc7-6721f170eff7)
Chapter One (#ulink_901e2f5e-fc00-5d4c-ba2f-c349527267b7)
Chapter Two (#ulink_ab354525-b353-5941-84e2-7c7a504e1c81)
Chapter Three (#ulink_cc3a3956-c041-507e-9aaa-0f16200652f5)
Chapter Four (#ulink_070954ea-eb3d-5cfa-818a-339d58de4889)
Chapter Five (#ulink_0db7d38f-f6f2-5e53-8b8a-7ef8f5d3efbd)
Chapter Six (#ulink_d0fbd4c4-642c-5af6-a7da-017928b9da62)
Chapter Seven (#ulink_045d6f17-ff4c-595c-8550-b9b3dcd96eb1)
Chapter Eight (#ulink_78ea9edb-6757-5fe8-9944-fb186157f329)
Chapter Nine (#ulink_ffb4dae3-f03c-57f0-9e0c-a89a5a60fb3e)
Chapter Ten (#ulink_316add14-ed3d-56fd-b02f-a34bb5813739)
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)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)
Endpages (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
JENNIFER JOYCE
is a writer of romantic comedies. She’s been scribbling down bits of stories for as long as she can remember, graduating from a pen to a typewriter and then an electronic typewriter. And she felt like the bee’s knees typing on that. She now writes her books on a laptop (which has a proper delete button and everything). Jennifer lives in Oldham, Greater Manchester, with her husband Chris and their two daughters, Rianne and Isobel, plus their bunny, Cinnamon and Jack Russell, Luna. When she isn’t writing, Jennifer likes to make things – she’ll use any excuse to get her craft box out! She spends far too much time on Twitter, Pinterest and Instagram.
You can find out more about Jennifer on her blog at jenniferjoycewrites.co.uk (http://www.jenniferjoycewrites.co.uk), on Twitter at @writer_jenn (https://twitter.com/writer_jenn) and on Facebook at facebook.com/jenniferjoycewrites (https://www.facebook.com/JenniferJoyceWrites)
For my Joyces,
Chris, Rianne and Isobel
Chapter One (#ulink_67f2f78c-21de-5eda-af6b-337134f9806e)
I’m going to have to dump him, which is a shame as he’s a good-looking guy (not that looks should matter, but there’s no denying the bloke is pretty damn hot). His dark hair is styled (but not overly so), he has the perfect amount of stubble, and deep, expressive eyes beneath defined brows, and – his best asset, in my opinion – a wide, readily available smile. He has good teeth, his fingernails are neatly trimmed, and he always smells divine. He has good manners too. He’s attentive and interesting and never monopolises our conversations. And, most impressive of all, when we spoke about our work (I’m a history teacher at the local secondary school) and he asked about my favourite time period, he didn’t gloss over as I gushed about my passion for all things Tudor. He is, on the surface, the perfect package.
But he has to go, I’m afraid.
‘It’s too soon, isn’t it?’ he asks as I sit staring at him from across the table, my fork suspended between plate and (gaping) mouth. I haven’t said a word since he suggested I meet his parents next weekend, but I manage to pull myself together, snapping my cavernous mouth shut and pushing my lips into what I hope resembles a smile and not the grimace I’m feeling deep inside.
‘No. Of course it isn’t too soon.’
I’m lying. It’s way too soon. This is our third date, for goodness’ sake! I’ve had a longer, more fulfilling relationship with the half-packet of Polos in my handbag. I don’t know him well enough to meet his parents; I don’t know whether he prefers salt and vinegar crisps or cheese and onion, which supermarket he frequents, how many sugars he takes in his tea or coffee (see, I don’t even know his preference of hot beverage!) or how he feels about Brexit. We haven’t even slept together yet! Now, call me crazy, but I’d quite like to know what he’s like in the sack before we start doing full-on couple stuff.
‘So?’ He looks at me with those gorgeous eyes, eyebrows lifted, fingertips meeting above his plate as though half in prayer. ‘What do you think?’
‘It’s… an idea.’
A stupid idea. Ludicrous. Who meets the parents of somebody they’ve been on three measly dates with? We won’t make it to a fourth, that’s for sure. I’d probably find an engagement ring floating in my Chardonnay considering the speed this bloke works at.
‘Great!’ If he senses my discomfort, he doesn’t show it as he flashes his wide smile. ‘What do you want to do?’
Go home? Curl up on the sofa with Carrot (my cat, not a root vegetable) and pretend this date never happened?
‘We could go for a hike?’ he suggests when I don’t respond. My fork is still frozen in the air, the speared stuffed mushroom no longer appetising. ‘We could take a picnic or stop off for a pub lunch? Do you own a pair of hiking boots? We can pick some up on the way if you don’t.’
‘Are you a big fan of hiking?’ I’m enquiring more to avoid answering the question than out of genuine interest, to be honest, but he doesn’t pick up on this.
‘Oh, yes.’ He nods effusively and picks up his cutlery while I place mine down gently on my plate. ‘We love it! The fresh air, the views…’ He sighs happily and starts to saw into his steak. ‘Gets your heart rate going too.’
Do you know what else gets your heart rate going? The prospect of dumping a perfectly nice guy because he’s galloping way ahead of you, moving you on to a new stage of your relationship before you’re even remotely ready. But I have to do this, before I find myself clad in brand-new hiking boots, making polite conversation with Mr and Mrs Nice Guy while dragging my carcass up a hill.
But just look at him. He’s so sweet, chatting away animatedly about the top hiking routes to take on the outskirts of Woodgate, the pubs that serve the best lunches, where to buy my new boots (his treat). I need to let him down – gently, obviously – but I’m not sure how to do it without hurting his feelings.
‘Maybe we can spend the weekend after with your parents.’ His fate is sealed as he pops a forkful of steak into his mouth. I now know, without a doubt, that this three-date relationship will be over before he’s swallowed.
My house is just ahead, a two-bed terrace nestled between the Chelsea Flower Show and a drug den. Okay, so it isn’t the actual Chelsea Flower Show, but our neighbour has filled the tiny strip of yard at the front of her house with enough shrubs, blooms and decorative solar lights to create a mini exhibition. And our other neighbouring property isn’t really a drug den, though the lads who live there do dabble in a bit of weed dealing. The smell is sometimes as overpowering as Mrs Hodgkinson’s primroses.
I’ve lived in this little house with my best friend for a decade, ever since we were students commuting daily into Manchester for uni and the waitressing jobs that helped fund our not-quite-lavish lifestyles. Alice is technically my landlady as she owns the house, but I’m an exemplary lodger so it’s never been a problem. It works for us, anyway. I love living with my best friend and the rent is extremely reasonable, which helps when you’re a teacher at a state school, and Alice likes to wind her family up (especially her annoying stepmother) by still ‘living in squalor like a student’. We don’t live in squalor, but Francelia Monroe (the annoying stepmother) has issues.
Our house looks so inviting as I approach, the lamp inside the living room casting a warm glow now it’s just starting to turn dark, but I don’t ask the taxi driver to stop just yet. There’s plenty of space to park, but we carry on up the road, stopping several doors away so the rumbling engine doesn’t alert Alice to my arrival. My plan is to sneak, as quiet as a mouse wearing cotton-wool slippers, into the house and up the stairs without Alice hearing a thing. I know she’ll want to dissect the date – What did we talk about? Did we kiss (or get up to anything more saucy)? Wouldn’t he make a fabulous husband and father one day? – and I simply don’t have the energy or inclination to discuss any of it. Not tonight. Alice will be so disappointed I’ve let another good guy slip through my fingers, so I’ll let her down gently in the morning (or shout it over my shoulder as I leg it from the house with a piece of toast clutched in hand so I don’t have to go into detail). Alice has been trying to find my perfect match for the past year. She’s always had herself pegged as a bit of a Cupid, but three things happened a year ago to propel her nagging about my love life to actual meddling. The first was the introduction of Alice and Kevin, one of the music teachers at my school. Alice had been a bit mopey since her sister announced her engagement, so when a group of us got together to celebrate the end of the school year, to toast our surviving yet another set of GCSEs and kick off the summer holidays in style, I invited Alice to join us. She hit it off with Kevin and, one year on, they’re proper loved up, and Alice thinks it’s all down to me. She’s determined to repay the favour, even if I’d rather she didn’t. I’m happy being single. It’s less complicated. Less stressful. Ending my relationship with Edward – the second thing that happened a year ago – was the right decision, no matter how much Alice tells me otherwise.
I pull my keys out of my handbag as I scurry past the row of houses, making an emergency stop as I reach the Chelsea Flower Show. From here, I tiptoe (yes, really – I look like a flipping cartoon character) past the shrubs and flowers until I reach our wall. I pause while I consider – briefly – whether I should drop down to the pavement and army-crawl past the window. The blinds are still open and, although my view is obscured by their angle from the outside, Alice will be able to see me clearly if she happens to look outside. But no, even I’m not that irrational.
With extreme care, I inch my key up to the lock, holding my breath as metal reaches metal. Growing up, I had lots of practice at sneaking into houses – non-burglar-like – as I often stayed with my great aunt, who was strict about curfews (screw it, let’s call a spade a spade – the woman was a mean old cow), so I manage to slot the key into place almost silently, turning it ever so gently until the door starts to give. This is the easy bit done with. The hardest part is removing the key without alerting the occupant inside.
With one hand against the door, I ease the key from the lock, breath held and face scrunched up in concentration. I’m nearly there. The key is coming loose. A little bit more and it’ll be free. I’ll creep inside, closing the door with as little noise as possible, before slinking up the stairs. Once I’ve made it up there, I’m golden. If Alice finds me in bed, I’ll just pretend to be asleep.
The key slips from the lock and I give the door a gentle nudge, almost jumping out of my skin as I come face to face with Alice, looming on the doormat like Great Aunt Dorothy.
‘Holy humus, Alice!’ I’ve somehow managed to swallow the gasp of surprise as I take a step back, one hand pressed against my chest. ‘What are you doing? You scared the crap out of me.’
‘Ssh!’ Alice’s eyes are wide, a finger vertical across her lips. When she speaks, she’s whispering. ‘I thought you were Kevin.’
‘Do you usually hide behind the door to scare the living daylights out of your boyfriend?’ I, too, am whispering, though I’m not sure why.
‘No, of course not.’ Alice grabs me and pulls me inside, her finger going back up to her lips once my feet are firmly on the ground again. She nods towards the living room. ‘Francelia is here.’
‘What?’ I manage to groan while whispering. ‘Why? What have we done to deserve this?’
‘Something bad, obviously.’ Alice narrows her eyes at me. ‘Why are you home so early?’
I concentrate on shoving my keys into my handbag so I don’t have to look at Alice when I reply. ‘The date didn’t go too well.’
I sneak a peek up at Alice. She’s folded her arms across her chest and an eyebrow is quirked at me. ‘What do you mean? What happened?’
This is why I was so keen to avoid Alice tonight. She’s affronted every time a date goes awry, as though I’ve insulted her by not falling head over heels with the guy. I look down at the doormat beneath my feet. This really is like getting collared sneaking into Great Aunt Dorothy’s house and I’m lost for words as she awaits an explanation.
‘Emily…?’
I sneak another peek at her. Poor Alice. There is such hope in her eyes. It’s going to be such a shame to squish it.
‘I ended it.’
‘You ended it?’ Alice’s voice comes out all high and squeaky, and she clamps a hand to her mouth, her eyes swivelling towards the closed living room door. When she speaks again, the whisper is back. ‘What happened?’ Her eyebrow quirks again, as though adding ‘this time’to the end of her question.
‘He wanted me to meet his parents.’ I wait for a reaction, but Alice doesn’t bat an eyelid. ‘His parents, Alice. We’ve been on three dates. That isn’t normal!’
Alice opens her mouth to argue, but closes it again with a sigh. ‘I suppose you’re right. It is a bit soon.’
‘A bit soon?’ I give a hoot, which earns me a death glare from Alice, who thrusts a thumb at the living room. I dutifully lower my voice even further. ‘Three dates, Alice. I’ve known the man for approximately six hours. You’ve been with Kevin for a year and…’ I yelp as Alice grabs me by the arm, her grip so tight it pinches.
‘Will you shush?’ Her eyes are back on the living room door again.
‘Sorry.’ I try to extricate myself from Alice’s grasp, but the woman’s fingers are like a vice. ‘But you know what I mean. Also, you’re really hurting me.’
‘What?’ Alice looks down, suddenly realising I’m trying to squirm from her grip. ‘Oh. Sorry.’ She releases my arm and I start to inch towards the stairs.
‘Anyway, I’m exhausted. I’m going to go up to bed.’
‘No, you are not.’ Alice’s fingers are clutching my arm again before I can make any attempt to shuffle off upstairs. ‘You are not leaving me with that woman. She’s been here for twenty minutes and I already feel like jumping off a very tall building. She’s mocked my career choice, my living arrangements, my so-called weight gain.’ Alice looks down at her tiny frame. ‘Pur-lease. Bitch knows I look smokin’ hot.’ She tightens her grip on my arm, and her eyebrows press down low. ‘Any minute now we’re going to start on my love life. I need you, Emily.’
‘Wouldn’t it be easier if you just told them about Kevin?’
Despite their one-year relationship, Alice hasn’t told her family about her boyfriend. They’ve never met him or even heard his name. As far as they’re aware, Alice is still very much single (and doesn’t Francelia like to goad Alice about that).
‘Are you kidding me?’ Alice jabs her free hand at the living room door. ‘That woman in there would make our relationship hell until she’d crushed it if she knew about me and Kevin. You’ve met her. She’s evil. There’s not a chance in hell she’d accept Kevin.’
‘Not even if she knew you were totally in lurve with him?’ I make a silly kissy face, but it doesn’t make Alice smile. In fact, it makes her face and shoulders droop.
‘Especially if she knew I was totally in love with him. She’s done it before and she’ll do it again. She doesn’t want me to be happy.’
‘You have to tell them the truth one day,’ I point out.
‘I know.’ Alice nods, though with little enthusiasm. ‘And I will. Just not now when Carolyn’s about to get married. The wedding is the only thing that’s put Francelia in a good mood – I don’t want to ruin it. Now isn’t a good time.’
‘Will there ever be a good time?’ I ask, but Alice doesn’t get the chance to answer as the living room door swings open. I almost recoil in horror as evil stepmother Francelia appears in the doorway. She’s actually beautiful (on the outside) – though this is more down to her highly paid surgeon than Mother Nature. Francelia is forty-seven (and not thirty-five as she tells everyone) but she doesn’t have a single crease on her face or grey hair in her glossy, chin-length bob.
‘What’s going on out here?’ she asks, eyes narrowed (no crow’s feet) and one hand planted on a slender hip. ‘And why have I been left to fend for myself? This is not how we treat guests, Alice. You are a very rude young lady at times. Your father would be shocked at your behaviour.’
‘Papa Monroe not here today then?’ I pop my head past Francelia into what I know will be an empty living room. Alice’s father hasn’t been to the house in the ten years I’ve lived here, and I think I’d die of shock if he rocked up now.
‘Mr Monroe is very busy this evening.’ Francelia has an icy glare when she’s irritated. It’s actually quite scary. It makes me wonder what would happen if I chanted ‘Francelia Monroe’ three times in front of a mirror.
‘He is a very busy man,’ I say, which is clear, as he never has time for his daughter. Alice flashes me a pleading look, silently begging me to leave it. Alice is a strong and feisty woman, but she wilts whenever she’s in Francelia’s presence.
‘He is indeed.’ The corners of Francelia’s mouth pull upwards, hinting at a smile. ‘Now, are we going to stand out here all evening?’
‘No. Of course not.’ Alice finally releases my arm and follows Francelia back into the living room. She glances over her shoulder, eyes wide and pleading. It’s been a very trying evening and I want nothing more than to drag myself up the stairs and crawl into bed, but I can’t do that to Alice. Taking a fortifying breath, I step into the living room and prepare for battle.
Chapter Two (#ulink_6e468570-1ce0-5b2c-90fd-3bc85a54eacc)
The next half an hour with Francelia is as arduous as the date I’ve just endured (my date did not take well to being dumped mid-chew and made a bit of a scene), but I’ve been nothing but polite as I settle myself down with a cup of tea, biting my tongue as Francelia throws out jibe after jibe about Alice, the house and even Carrot, our gorgeous little ginger cat.
‘Seriously, girls, you should open a window.’ Francelia gurns as Carrot pads past her again. I like to think he does this on purpose to push the evil one’s buttons. ‘You can always tell immediately which houses have cats living in them. It’s the smell.’
‘The house doesn’t smell,’ Alice says, but she gives the air a quick sniff anyway.
‘Believe me, it does. What is it those adverts say?’ Francelia lifts her cup of tea to her lips (it’s part of the super-expensive china set Alice bought for use whenever her stepmother descended). ‘Ah, yes. You’ve gone nose blind. Just because you can’t smell it, doesn’t mean the rest of us are as fortunate.’ She jabs a foot at Carrot as he winds his way past again and I would quite like to send any hint of politeness on a one-way trip out of the window and smack her in the gob. Luckily, Carrot skitters out of the way and Alice places a calming hand on my thigh to anchor me in place.
‘Maybe I should put Carrot out in the garden for now.’ Alice hops up off the sofa and scoops the little kitty up into her arms. ‘Emily, why don’t you pop the kettle on again?’
Because it would be an invitation for the witch to stay longer?
‘Sure.’ I follow Alice into the kitchen, filling the kettle while she opens the door for Carrot and encourages him into the garden. The poor bugger doesn’t want to go outside, but he’s in danger of sporting the pointy toe of a Kurt Geiger court shoe up his arse if he remains indoors.
‘That woman.’ Alice leans against the closed back door and growls. ‘Why did my father have to marry such a cow?’
‘You could just tell her to bog off. Or you could let me do it.’ I like this idea. I’d enjoy it.
‘No.’ Alice gives a sad shake of her head. ‘My father would never forgive me. He’d never speak to me again.’
He doesn’t anyway, I want to point out, but I know this will only hurt my friend, and her family do enough of that themselves without me wading in to throw a few verbal punches her way. The only decent member of the Monroe family – aside from Alice, obviously – is Carolyn, but she’s just as cowed as her sister when it comes to Francelia.
‘She’ll leave soon,’ I say in my best soothing voice. ‘The gates of hell will close behind her and we can get on with our smelly little lives.’
There’s a flicker of a smile on Alice’s face before she frowns. ‘We haven’t gone nose blind, have we? What if she’s right and the house does smell?’
‘The day Francelia is right about anything is the day the Devil pops his ice skates on for a twirl around his frosty kingdom.’ I pull Alice into a hug, trying to squeeze away the damage Francelia has done – and not just this evening. ‘The woman is a muppet, and we don’t listen to muppets, do we?’
‘Not even Miss Piggy?’
‘Okay, we can listen to Miss Piggy. That girl is sassy and confident and she doesn’t take any crap. She’s a role model. Francelia Monroe is not.’
‘I quite like Kermit too. And Gonzo.’
‘Animal was always my favourite.’
Alice and I grin at each other. Francelia can spew her poison but we refuse to be infected. At least from the safety of the kitchen. I kiss Alice’s forehead and release her from the hug.
‘You got this. Don’t let her win.’
Alice shakes her head and throws her shoulders back. ‘Never.’
‘Good girl. Now, am I allowed to spit in her tea?’
Alice practically rugby-tackles me as I head for the kettle and pulls me out of the way. ‘Absolutely not. We won’t stoop to her evil ways.’
We make the (spit-free) tea and take the tray through to the living room, where Francelia is studying our bookcase, running her nasty, ruby-red talons along the spines of my historical romance novels.
‘You honestly read this trash? I thought you were an actual historian. Doesn’t it rot your brain?’
‘It hasn’t so far,’ I say, my voice cheery. I will not let her win. I will not let her rile me.
‘I suppose we all have our guilty pleasures.’ Francelia wipes her hands down the thighs of her navy trousers as she sits, as though she’s rubbing away something unsavoury after touching my books. ‘Some of us read silly little novels and some of us covet expensive, irreplaceable jewellery…’ She shoots a glance at Alice, but her stepdaughter is rearranging the scatter cushions on the sofa and doesn’t notice.
‘I don’t feel guilty about my book choices in the slightest.’ I set the tea tray down on the coffee table and refill Francelia’s cup. She arches an eyebrow. She thinks I should feel guilty. I think she should take a long run off a short pier.
‘So. Francelia.’ Alice is starting to get hot and flustered, so I retreat to the sofa and vow to keep it zipped. ‘How was your trip to Aruba?’
‘Ghastly.’ I think Francelia’s lip is curling, but it’s hard to tell with all the fillers. She doesn’t offer up any more information.
‘Good to be back home then?’ I can see beads of sweat starting to form on Alice’s forehead. I hate the way this woman’s mere presence turns my friend to mush.
‘I wouldn’t exactly say that.’ Francelia places her teacup down and clasps her hands on her lap. ‘Anyway, the reason I popped over this evening…’
Yes! This is what Alice and I have been waiting for. She’ll tell us why she’s here, we’ll deal with whatever it is and then she can clamber back onto her broomstick and fly back to Harrogate.
But Francelia doesn’t get the chance to divulge her reason for descending (uninvited and without warning) as there is the unmistakable – and panic-inducing – sound of key meeting lock from the front door. I turn to Alice and our eyes meet, wide, startled, conveying what our mouths are desperate to say.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.
We’re up off the sofa and barrelling into the hallway in a split second, Alice reaching the front door milliseconds before me. Kevin takes an alarmed step back when he opens the door to see us standing there, panting like rabid dogs.
‘Go!’ Alice hisses, eyes darting backwards to make sure Francelia hasn’t followed.
Kevin laughs, but he’s frowning. ‘What?’
‘Didn’t you get my message?’
‘What message?’ Kevin, painfully slowly, takes his mobile out of his pocket, holding it out to show a blank screen. ‘I turned it off during the performance. I must have forgotten to switch it back on.’
‘Francelia’s here.’ Alice’s eyes dart back towards the living room before she addresses her boyfriend again. ‘You have to go.’
Kevin sighs, long and heavy, but he knows the deal.
‘Fine. Text me when she’s…’
‘Hello? Who’s this?’ A shiver runs down my spine at the sound of Francelia’s voice. She looms behind us, no doubt fighting against the Botox in an attempt to arch a practised brow at poor Kevin.
‘This is Kevin,’ Alice squeaks. ‘Emily’s brother.’
I look at Alice, then Kevin (who is in the process of folding his arms in an ‘oh, really?’ way), then back at Alice.
‘Emily’s brother has a key to your house?’ Francelia doesn’t miss a bleeding trick.
‘For emergencies,’ Alice says.
‘And what’s the emergency right now?’
Alice’s mouth opens. She shuts it again. She’s got nothing.
‘He’s also staying with us for a few days.’ I shouldn’t encourage Alice’s cover-up of her relationship, but I can’t stand to see her flounder. ‘On the sofa.’ I roll my eyes at Kevin. ‘What are you standing out there for, bruv? Get inside, you big dope.’
If Alice notices the majorly pissed-off look on her boyfriend’s face as he steps over the threshold, she doesn’t show it. She leads us all into the living room, where the three of us sit on the sofa – Alice on the left, Kevin on the right and me in the middle.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,’ Francelia says as she arranges herself in the armchair. She flashes Alice a reproachful look.
‘It’s Kevin. Kevin Jackson.’ He holds out his hand, but Francelia doesn’t acknowledge it, never mind shake it.
‘You have a different surname to your sister?’
‘Different dads,’ I say as Kevin settles back down into the sofa.
‘Hmm, it figures,’ the witch mutters before turning her attention back to Kevin. ‘So, Kevin Jackson. Why are you – a grown man – sleeping on your sister’s sofa? Don’t you have a home of your own? Don’t you work?’
‘I’m a music teacher,’ Kevin says and Francelia nods.
‘At the local school like Emily? That explains it then. No wonder you’re “sofa surfing”, as they say.’
‘I’m not sofa surfing. I have a place of my own.’
‘Oh?’ There goes the eyebrow again. ‘Then why aren’t you sleeping there instead of on this sofa?’ She points at the sofa we’re all sitting on, in case he needs clarification.
‘His flat’s being fumigated,’ Alice says. ‘For rats.’
Francelia recoils. I quite enjoy seeing her so uncomfortable, but Kevin is taking less pleasure from the experience.
‘How unfortunate.’ Francelia rubs at her calf with the pointy toe of the shoe that had designs on Carrot earlier. Her eyes roam the carpet for rodents, as though Kevin has turned into the Pied bleeding Piper and brought his little infestation pals along with him. ‘Anyway, the reason I popped over…’ She peers into her handbag, as though expecting to find a furry critter nestled there, before reaching gingerly inside. ‘Emily, this is for you.’
Chapter Three (#ulink_4b323aca-28db-55c6-8892-5bfd211bdb87)
‘For me?’
I observe the proffered envelope with suspicion. What is this? Surely no good can come of accepting anything from this woman? I do not trust Francelia Monroe. Not one little bit.
‘What is it?’ I ask, but my question is swallowed by the gasp beside me, followed shortly by a squeal and handclapping.
‘Is it…? It is, isn’t it?’ Alice has stopped clapping and is now bouncing up and down on the sofa. Francelia gives a curt nod before thrusting the envelope at me again.
‘Go on,’ Alice says, grasping me – quite tightly, again – by the arm. ‘Open it.’
‘What is it?’ I’m not taking it, not until I know what it is.
‘Open it and see!’ Alice’s face is so alive, so joyful, that I know it can’t be anything bad, but I’m still hesitant.
‘Are you going to take this, or have I wasted an entire evening?’ Francelia lifts her wrist and gives a tut when she sees the time on her elegant watch.
I take the envelope. Alice’s grip tightens, and she emits another little squeal. The envelope is thick, made of ivory paper, and embossed with a pattern of interlocking hearts. On the front, in swirly gold writing, is my name.
Miss Emily Atkinson.
My address is there too, but there isn’t a stamp.
‘We didn’t have time to post it, what with it being a last-minute request.’ Francelia shoots a pointed look in Alice’s direction. Her grasp on my arm goes limp. ‘You’ll have to RSVP in person to me.’
RSVP? This isn’t…?
I pull the invitation out of the envelope. The card is the same ivory, embossed with the same pattern of interlocking hearts. The pattern has been picked out with glittery silver leaf on one half of the card, with a wide, dove-grey ribbon seamlessly covering the cutoff point. A pale-blue gem surrounded by clusters of diamantes sits in the middle of the ribbon, cinching it in to create a bow effect. I open the card carefully, already knowing what it will say inside as I read Alice’s invitation months ago.
Carolyn Allegra Monroe
and
Piers Michael Reeves
request the pleasure of your company in a week-long celebration of their marriage, commencing Monday the twenty-third of July.
Durban Castle
Clearwell Road
Little Heaton
Cheshire
‘What is this?’ Obviously, I know what it is, but I don’t understand why Francelia has schlepped all the way over from Harrogate to give this to me. I don’t really know Carolyn and I’ve never even met her fiancé. I know nothing about the dude, other than the fact he’s stinking rich and Francelia thinks he’s the best thing since sliced bread (which probably has nothing to do with his bulging wallet. Nothing. At. All).
‘I asked Carolyn if you could come to the wedding with me,’ Alice says. ‘You’re my plus-one!’
‘You did what?’ Both Kevin and I ask the question, and Alice is torn about who she should answer first. Or how she’s going to answer Kevin in front of Francelia without giving the game away.
‘Emily’s my best friend.’ Alice shoots a pointed look at her stepmother as she speaks to Kevin. ‘And I didn’t want to go on my own.’
‘And there was absolutely nobody else you could have asked?’ Kevin is furious. His voice is measured but there’s a worrying vein pulsing at his temple.
‘There is somebody else who I could have asked, but it’s awkward.’ Alice flicks her gaze towards Francelia, who is watching the exchange like a hawk. Alice is a plump, juicy mouse and Francelia is hungry.
‘Fine. Whatever.’ Kevin shrugs and shoves his body back into the sofa.
‘What’s going on here?’ Francelia wags a finger in the general direction of the sofa.
‘Nothing,’ Alice says quickly. ‘It’s just I have this other good friend, but we’ve fallen out.’
Kevin nods. ‘Big time.’
Francelia glances at her watch again. ‘Whatever. I don’t have time to hear about your little squabbles.’ She turns her icy gaze on me. ‘Look, will you be attending or not?’
‘Yes,’ Alice says, her grip now intentionally tight on my arm. ‘Yes, she will.’
‘Right. Glad that’s sorted.’ Francelia is on her feet, handbag hooked over her arm before I even have time to blink, never mind protest. ‘I must be off. Long drive ahead and all that. I’ll see you both on Monday. Don’t forget we dress for dinner.’ She looks me up and down and puffs out a little sigh. Cheeky cow! Okay, so I didn’t make much of an effort for my date this evening, but still.
‘Oh, and Alice…’ Francelia pulls a face and clasps her hands together. ‘Please behave yourself. We don’t want a repeat of what happened the last time you were at the castle, do we?’
Alice, who is halfway out of her seat, slumps back down onto the sofa. She’s gone awfully pale and appears to be blinking away tears.
‘Am I to see myself out?’ Francelia rolls her eyes and, with a huff of indignation, strides towards the hallway. Alice pulls herself together and leaps to her feet.
‘Of course not. Thank you for coming.’ Alice scuttles after Francelia while I remain seated, the wedding invitation still sitting between my fingers.
‘I’m sorry, okay? But you know how it is with my family.’
‘Yes, I know you’re ashamed of me. That you’ll do anything to stop them knowing we’re in a relationship.’
‘No, it isn’t like that at all. I’ve told you. It’s them. Her especially. You think I like it being like this? Keeping our relationship a secret? Shoving you in the garden shed to hide when she shows up unexpectedly?’
As soon as Francelia left, all hell broke loose between Alice and Kevin. They’ve taken their row to the kitchen, but I can still hear every single word of it.
And yes, Alice did once shove Kevin in the garden shed to hide when Francelia rocked up out of the blue. It was the middle of December and he hadn’t been prepared enough to layer up. He’d emerged looking like Jack Frost after Francelia’s two-hour visit.
‘I really don’t know, Alice, because this sort of thing doesn’t happen in my world. If you love somebody, you don’t hide it.’
‘I don’t want to hide it. I want to tell the whole world how crazy I am about you. How much I love you, but I’m scared I’ll lose you if I tell them.’
‘You couldn’t lose me. I wouldn’t let it happen.’
‘You don’t know them. Not like I do. It wouldn’t be the first relationship she’d ruined. She wouldn’t let it rest. She’d keep at it, chipping away, until she’d driven a wedge between us.’
‘I wouldn’t let her.’
‘You don’t understand.’
‘No, I really don’t.’ There’s a moment of silence. I hope Kevin hasn’t stormed out of the back door, though I could understand if he has. It can’t be easy for him. ‘But I love you, and if I have to hide out in the shed every time your stepmum visits, then so be it. You could at least slip my coat in there with me next time though.’
There’s another block of silence, but this time I know Kevin hasn’t removed himself from our kitchen. They’ll be snogging like a pair of horny teenagers in there. They’re a very touchy-feely couple, which is unsettling when I have to face Kevin in the staffroom during term time.
‘So, I thought we could go shopping tomorrow.’ Alice has breezed back into the living room after her smooch sesh as though it’s a forgone conclusion that I’m attending Carolyn’s wedding. That I’m as thrilled as she is at the invite. ‘I know you have some lovely dresses, but we’ll be sitting down to formal dinners most evenings so you won’t manage with your staple three. But it’ll be fun, and my treat, of course.’
‘Alice.’ I hold up a hand to silence my friend as she continues to go on about tomorrow’s shopping trip. ‘I’m not entirely comfortable about gatecrashing your sister’s wedding. I barely know Carolyn. I’ve only met her a handful of times!’
‘That’s a handful more times than I’ve met her,’ Kevin – unhelpfully – calls from the kitchen.
Alice and I both decide to ignore him.
‘You won’t be gatecrashing anything.’ Alice picks up the invitation from where I’d shoved it on the coffee table during the lovers’ tiff in the kitchen. ‘You’ve been invited.’ She waggles the invite at me. ‘Besides, it’s the perfect place for you to meet your Prince Charming.’
Alice is grinning. I am not.
‘My Prince Charming? What are you talking about?’
‘Your perfect guy. Your Mr Right. Whatever you want to call him.’ Alice gives a wave of her hand. ‘Weddings are the perfect place to meet men, and this one is taking place in a castle.’ Alice leaves that hanging in the air for a moment, as though she’s just played her ace card.
I pluck the invitation from her fingers and frisbee it back towards the coffee table. ‘Meet myPrince Charming?’ Ugh. The idea alone makes me itch. ‘I’m not some feeble little princess waiting to be rescued. I’m a strong, independent woman.’
‘Except when you need me to catch spiders,’ Kevin calls – again unhelpfully – from the kitchen. I swear to God…
Deep breaths, Emily. Ignore him. Concentrate on Alice and this ridiculous notion of being rescued by a man.
‘How can you call yourself a feminist with this attitude?’
Alice looks at me, one eyebrow quirked. ‘I buy underwear for a living so women can look hot for the opposite sex. We may claim it’s about empowering women and all that tosh, but it’s for the menfolk. I ask myself that question every single day.’ Alice throws up her hands. ‘I haven’t found the answer yet. Besides, I need rescuing. I don’t want to go to this wedding on my own. It’s a whole week, Emily. A whole week with that woman telling me I’m useless and a disappointment and a thief.’
‘A what?’ Why on earth would Francelia accuse Alice of being a thief?
Alice rolls her eyes and gives a wave of her hand. ‘It’s a long story. Not important. The important part is she’s going to make my life a misery for the whole week.’ She adopts a snarky tone to say, ‘If you haven’t found yourself a boyfriend by now, it’s probably too late.’
‘There’s a solution for that last one,’ Kevin calls.
‘Shut up!’ Alice and I shout. She turns her focus back on me, taking both my hands in hers.
‘Please, Emily.’ Her eyes are wide, her lips slightly quivering. ‘Please don’t leave me to deal with Francelia on my own.’
I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to spend a week at this castle, surrounded by love and romance and the promise of happily ever afters. I want to stay here, where it’s safe. Where I can snuggle up on the sofa with Carrot purring on my chest while I watch crappy, comforting TV.
‘Carrot,’ I say, almost jumping out of my seat as I’m jolted by the realisation. By the ‘get out of jail free’ card. ‘We can’t leave Carrot here on his own. Who’ll feed him? Let him outside? Keep him company?’
‘Kevin will.’ Alice is quick as a flash with her answer. There’s no hesitation. No pondering. How long has she been planning this?
‘Excuse me?’ Kevin is at the living room door now, a mixture of outrage and bemusement on his face. ‘I’ll do what?’
‘You’ll stay here and look after Carrot.’ Alice pouts at her boyfriend and I swear to God she’s fluttering her eyelashes. ‘Won’t you? Pretty please?’
‘So let me get this straight.’ Kevin steps into the room, standing in front of Alice with his arms folded. ‘You two go off and spend a week in a luxurious castle, having fun and getting pissed on champagne, and I have to stay here like Cinderella?’
‘I wouldn’t quite put it like that…’
‘I would.’
Alice pulls Kevin down onto her lap, winding her arms around his waist and resting her cheek on his chest. ‘I will love you for ever and ever if you do.’
Kevin sighs and I know the git is going to crack. ‘Fine. I’ll stay here and look after Carrot. My flatmate’s doing my head in playing his grime at top volume anyway. It’ll be a nice break.’
‘So you’re just going to throw me to the lions, Cinders?’ I glare at the spineless toad. I know I can just say no to Alice, refuse to go to this stupid wedding, but I also know I won’t. Alice is my best friend and I won’t leave her at the mercy of Francelia and her vicious tongue. Alice has always been there for me, especially over the past year, so I have to be there for her too.
‘If I’m Cinderella,’ Kevin says as he hops up off Alice’s lap and wanders towards the door, ‘does that make you two the ugly sisters?’
He has the good sense to duck as two cushion missiles fly his way.
Chapter Four (#ulink_68be293b-6564-5c11-9d23-547070177140)
So, I’ve agreed to accompany Alice to her sister’s wedding. We’ve shopped for new outfits (there was no way Alice was paying for mine, no matter how much she insisted) and agreed that Alice will drive us to the castle in Little Heaton. The journey is just over an hour and I plan to sit back and relax while taking full control of the music choices. My suitcase is zipped up and sitting on the end of my bed, but I can’t bring myself to pick it up and carry it downstairs to the car.
What am I doing? I know I’m tagging along for Alice’s benefit, but I feel sick at the thought of leaving my comfort zone. The past year has been a tumult of change with the break-up and everything, and now it finally feels as though my life is settling down again. If I pick up my case, if I take it downstairs and drag it to the boot of Alice’s car, I’ll be stepping into the unknown. I know Alice is determined to find my ‘Prince Charming’ at this castle, but I’m perfectly happy with my life the way it is right now, and I don’t want anything to send it off kilter again.
‘Do you need a hand with that?’ Alice has stopped outside my bedroom and is nodding towards the suitcase. She has her own suitcase, plus the teddy bear that still sleeps in her bed tucked under her arm.
‘Are you seriously taking Hubert?’ I sit down on the bed, as far away from my case as possible.
‘Of course.’ Alice drops a kiss on the sparse fur on Hubert-the-bear’s head. ‘Hubert comes everywhere with me. But don’t worry, he knows you’ve bagsied the front passenger seat.’ Alice smiles at me, but I don’t return the gesture. ‘Everything okay, honey?’
I nod, even though it isn’t.
‘I know you’re not all that keen on coming to the wedding, but I do think you’ll have a great time once you’re there.’ Alice steps into my bedroom and sits down next to me on the bed. ‘Carolyn and I spent every summer and Christmas at the castle when we were growing up and we had so much fun. Carolyn wants to recreate that time and has loads of activities planned for the week. Plus, you’re a history nut and Durban Castle was built in Tudor times or something.’
I am intrigued by the castle and its history, but still.
‘And weddings are the perfect place to meet men.’ Alice says this as though it’s a good thing. ‘We can find you your happily ever after, I just know it.’
‘But that’s the thing, Alice. I don’t believe in happily ever afters. Haven’t for a long time.’
‘But you did, once upon a time.’ Alice is looking at me funny, sort of frowning and with her lips pursed. She hands Hubert to me and pushes herself up onto her feet before striding away. When she returns, she’s holding a pink, hardback book. Its familiar title and design glint at me as she moves across the room.
I wrap my arms around Hubert and push my cheek into his fur. ‘Why do you have that?’
‘You believed in happily ever afters when you received this book,’ Alice says, not really answering the question.
‘I was six.’
I can’t look at that book. I can’t face the memories it catapults at me, one after the other. The joy, the wonder, and then the pain of knowing life would never be as simple or as jubilant as those tales. It was a birthday present from my parents and I’d loved it. Like Alice and her Hubert, I’d dragged that book everywhere with me. I’d devoured the pages, drinking in the images before I could read the words myself. I knew the words off by heart, knew the order of the tales, knew how each story made me feel as that six-year-old full of wonder.
‘Why do you have that?’ I ask again, my voice firm this time. There’s a hint of the anger I feel bubbling up inside, but I’ll try to control it. My anger isn’t aimed at Alice, not really.
‘I found it.’ Alice rubs a hand over a pale, yellowish-brown stain on one corner of the book. A new addition since I last saw it. The slightly charred edges are still there, reminding me how much I despise the book and everything it represents. ‘It was in the bin. I’d already scraped the leftover curry we’d had in there before I spotted it. Sorry.’
I don’t know what she’s apologising for. Surely not for dropping curry on a book I’d tried to dispose of – twice. Why would I care if the book is stained? I wanted it gone. Destroyed. Perhaps that’s it. She’s apologising because it’s still here. Still in this house.
‘I couldn’t let you throw it away.’ Alice has opened the book now. ‘Not when I read the inscription.’ She holds the book out towards me, but I turn away. I don’t recall an inscription being in the book, but I don’t want to read whatever it says. It’ll only dredge up memories I’d rather keep locked away.
Alice closes the book and sits down next to me on the bed. ‘I know how much you’re hurting. I’ve lost my mum too, remember?’
The other thing that propelled Alice into finding me my perfect match a year ago, combined with my failed relationship with Edward and finding herself loved up with Kevin, was the death of my mother.
‘And I know that when we’re hurting we sometimes do things we regret.’
‘But I don’t regret it.’ I point at the book, but I can’t quite bring myself to focus on it. ‘I don’t want that thing.’ I didn’t want it a year ago, when I discovered it in the box of items from Mum’s house that Great Aunt Dorothy had sent over. Didn’t want it hanging around, reminding me of that brief time in my life when everything was perfect. Before everything changed. ‘How dare you retrieve it?’ The anger gurgles to the surface. I leap up from the bed, throwing poor Hubert down onto the duvet. ‘How dare you meddle in my life? First, pushing me to go on these stupid dates, and now this! It’s too much, Alice. Why can’t you just let me be?’
‘I know what it’s like to lose a parent. I know it’s different for me – my mum died when I was really little and I barely remember her – but I’d give anything to have a reminder of her. Dad got rid of everything when he married Francelia – all the photos, her perfume and jewellery, the cards she wrote for me and Carolyn. Said he wanted a fresh start.’ She stands up from the bed and places a hand on my shoulder. ‘I know you’re angry with me right now, but one day you’ll thank me for keeping hold of the book.’
I roll my eyes, still not looking at it. ‘It’s a book of fairy tales, Alice.’
‘It’s more than that.’ Alice gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. ‘The little girl who received this book believed in happily ever afters. You told me once that she used to dream of being rescued by the handsome prince. What happened to her?’
I throw my shoulders back, dislodging Alice’s hand, and lift my chin slightly. ‘She grew up and realised life isn’t a fairy tale.’
Alice crosses the room, stopping in front of my small bookcase. She squeezes the book of fairy tales into a gap at the end of the middle shelf. ‘I’ll do you a deal.’ Alice turns to face me again. ‘If you come to the wedding with an open mind and at least give the guys there a teeny chance, I’ll stop pestering you about finding a boyfriend once we get home.’
We stare at each other across the room. I’m still angry, but it’s dying down now the book is no longer in my vision.
‘There’ll be no more pushing me to date when we get back?’
Alice shakes her head. ‘I won’t mention it again.’
We stare some more.
Can I do this? Can I endure one week of intense Alice matchmaking (because that’s what this will turn into)? Can I get through it for the chance of being left to my own devices when we return?
‘Fine.’ I cross the room and stick out my hand. ‘You have yourself a deal.’
Alice’s grin is wide as we shake on it. ‘You’re not going to regret this.’
‘We’ll see about that in a week’s time.’ I reach past Alice and slide the fairy tales book off the shelf.
Alice looks stricken. ‘You’re not going to throw that away again, are you?’
‘What would be the point? You’ll only dig it out again with teabags and food stuck to it.’ Instead, I shove the book to the very back of my wardrobe, where I won’t have to face it on a daily basis.
‘Come on, Cinderella.’ Alice tucks Hubert back under her arm and hefts my suitcase off the bed. ‘You shall go to the ball!’
I take the handle of my suitcase so Alice can trundle her own down the stairs. ‘I thought Kevin was Cinders?’
‘No way am I being an ugly sister. You, honey, are Cinderella, and I am your fairy godmother.’
Chapter Five (#ulink_48b66eda-f7a1-5a40-b63e-d213cd032d28)
With our suitcases squeezed into the tiny boot of Alice’s sleek but impractical car, there’s an emotional goodbye between Alice and Kevin on our doorstep. I wait in the car, fingers firmly crossed that Alice will feel so guilty about leaving Poor Kevin (as I have taken to calling him in a bid to induce more guilt) behind that she’ll call the whole ‘let’s irritate the absolute crap out of Emily by matching her up with some god-awful people for a whole damn week’ thing off. Kevin and I will switch places and Carrot and I will wave them off.
No such luck. Alice is blubbering, but she isn’t in family-issues-battling mode and she’s soon walking backwards towards the car, unable to tear her eyes away from her beloved. She plonks herself down in the driver’s seat, taking a moment to compose herself before strapping herself in and, giving one last wilted wave, setting off towards the M60.
‘You’re going to love Durban Castle,’ she tells me once she’s managed to stop the hiccupping her crying has caused. ‘It’s so gorgeous. It’s such a shame I haven’t been there in so long.’ She looks like she’s about to burst into tears again but manages to regain her composure and aims a watery smile at me. ‘It’s been in my family for generations, so Carolyn and I would spend every Christmas there and the summer holidays with my grandparents. My step-cousin would visit too, and we’d have adventures around the castle and its grounds together. There was always a quiz on Boxing Day, when other relatives would visit, and fireworks and a huge bonfire on New Year’s Eve. It was magical.’
Alice’s smile brightens as her mind wanders back to her childhood. I wish I could do the same, but my childhood doesn’t have a great deal of happy memories to look back on fondly.
‘Granny and Grandpa were wonderful. So warm and fun. I miss them.’
‘You’ve never mentioned the castle before.’ Which is odd, given my passion for the past. ‘I can’t wait to have a nose around and breathe in its history.’
Alice reaches for the CD player, but I bat her hand away. We’ve agreed the music is my domain for the duration of our trip.
‘The castle’s still in my family,’ she tells me. ‘But when Uncle Ned inherited it, he turned it into a weddings and events venue, so we couldn’t have turned up for a nosy around. Which is why this week is perfect for us: you get to satisfy your nerdiness and I get to relive some fond memories.’
An hour later, we’ve reached Little Heaton. It’s a picturesque village, almost cut in two by the canal running through it. Barges painted in bright greens, reds and blues sit on the water while ducks, swans and geese glide by. There’s an arched bridge up ahead, which we turn onto, crossing over the canal into the heart of the village. A memorial stands in the centre of the high street, with a terrace of shops on one side and a red-brick pub on the other, half covered in ivy. Ahead is a small church with a pointy steeple, its grounds filled with crumbling headstones.
‘Is that where Carolyn is getting married?’ I ask as we pass, but Alice shakes her head.
‘She’s getting married in the chapel, like Mum and Dad.’
‘The castle still has its own chapel? Is it original?’ For the first time, I’m genuinely quite excited about the week ahead.
‘I think so.’ Alice’s brow furrows. ‘I know Uncle Ned had to have the roof restored a couple of summers ago and it was apparently a nightmare trying to source original materials. Cost a fortune too.’
My heart is bleeding for the poor rich man.
We pass a primary school, its bright-yellow railings and play equipment jarring against the nineteenth-century building, another pub (this village is looking up), and lots of little, white-rendered cottages with pretty gardens that would give our neighbour a run for her money with their show-quality lawns and bursts of colour from the flowerbeds, window boxes and hanging baskets.
We reach the end of the latest batch of cottages and turn into a clearing, with a blanket of buttercups and daisies thrown over fields either side of a narrow lane. The fields rise into a hill, upon which stands Durban Castle.
‘Wow,’ I say, my jaw practically hitting my lap.
‘Yes.’ Alice sighs happily. ‘She’s a beauty, isn’t she?’
The narrow road winds up the gentle slope of the hill until we reach the castle’s curtain wall and a giant, arched gateway made of pale-grey stone. The castle, which I haven’t taken my eyes off during the short drive up the hill, is made of the same stone, and two flags flap in the breeze as they stand proudly on top of the keep. The gates are open, so we drive through, my jaw dropping more and more the closer we get to the castle.
‘I’ll drop you and the suitcases off at the front,’ Alice tells me as we drive towards the looming castle. Trees line the road either side of us, with lush lawns beyond. It is beautiful, like stepping into a real-life fairy tale. The six-year-old who received that book of fairy tales would be in heaven if she could see this place. ‘There’s a car park just to the right. I’ll park and meet you at the main entrance so we don’t have to lug the suitcases too far.’
My only reply is a slow nod. I am unable to form a sentence at this moment in time. Of course I’ve seen castles before. I’ve studied them extensively. But Durban Castle is magnificent, and I can’t quite believe I’m going to be staying here for a whole week. I am no longer recoiling in horror at the thought of gatecrashing Carolyn’s wedding, and Alice can chuck as many eligible bachelors at me as she likes.
‘Look at you.’ Alice giggles as we step out of her car. Stone steps lead up to a pair of thick, iron-studded wooden doors. My chin is grazing the gravelled ground by now. ‘I told you you’d love it. Wait until you see inside. It was beautiful when Granny and Grandpa lived here, but it was a little bit crumbly and musty, to be honest. Uncle Ned really went to town restoring it to its former glory when he took over.’
We heft the suitcases out of the car and, with instructions for me to wait, Alice climbs back into the car and follows the signs to the parking area. I take this moment to get a grip. I cannot allow myself to become swept away by all this. Yes, the castle is gorgeous and I’m desperate to drink in its rich history, but I need to keep in control. Alice hasn’t really brought me here to satisfy my history nerdiness; the girl means business when it comes to my love life. She thinks I’m responsible for bringing Kevin into her life (which is technically true, I suppose, but I merely introduced the pair, playing no part in their courtship at all) and she’s desperate to repay the favour. It doesn’t matter one tiny bit that I take no credit for her relationship, nor want one of my own.
I move the suitcases to one side as a car sweeps up the road, its rumble low and animalistic. It’s a stunning car with its sleek, glossy-red body that screams expense and class. I watch as it makes a perfect arc to stop at the entrance, spitting gravel from beneath its tyres. The window glides down and a tanned forearm appears, leaning against the frame, followed by a face. It’s hard to tell if the driver is good-looking as a pair of sunglasses seems to take up half his face, but his hair is perfectly styled and his lips are pulled into a seductive smile.
‘Hey.’
That one word is enough to put me off, especially when coupled with the head jerk commanding I scuttle over to join him. As soon as he opens his mouth, I spot his rather large teeth. It’s hard to not spot them to be fair – it might as well be Shergar sitting there in a sports car.
‘Parking’s over there.’ I point in the direction Alice headed off into, still standing with the suitcases. I will not scuttle over to the car, awaiting a head pat for my good-doggy behaviour. Even if I would very much like to be taken for a spin.
When he smiles at me, displaying his gnashers in all their glory, I half expect him to neigh. ‘I know, babe. I just wanted to introduce myself.’
Babe? Ugh.
‘Ezra Bardon.’ Seemingly in one swift movement, he’s opened the door, slipped out onto the gravel and leaned against the shiny body of his car. He folds his arms lazily across his chest and flicks his chin into the air. A slight frown creases his brow when I don’t respond. ‘What’s the matter? Don’t have a name?’ He removes his sunglasses, hooking them on to the open collar of his polo shirt. ‘Or would you like me to guess?’
I really, really wouldn’t like him to guess. It would be agonisingly cringe-worthy standing there while he reeled off name after name.
‘It’s Emily. Emily Atkinson.’
He grins toothily (there is no other way this dude can grin). ‘Hello, Emily Atkinson. What a beautiful name.’
My eyes are aching to roll. If I don’t concentrate really hard they will begin the cycle. ‘Thank you. I like it.’
‘It suits you.’ He pushes himself away from his car and saunters over to me, the stupid, Jaws-like grin taking up half of his face. ‘A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.’ I didn’t think it was possible, but the grin widens. Jeez, this guy has a lot of teeth. I’m filled with the urge to play them like a glockenspiel. ‘I hope I get to know you more over the next few days.’ I feel grubby as he looks me up and down, his head bobbing in some sort of agreement with himself. ‘Why don’t I give you my card? This place is huge – I wouldn’t want to miss you.’ He reaches into his pocket and retrieves a thick, cream business card embossed with gold and black lettering. I’m about to decline – both his offer of the business card and the getting-to-know-you-better part – when the crunching of gravel underfoot catches the attention of both of us.
‘Ezra?’ The approaching bloke has a knitted brow, his head tilted to one side. He’s wearing navy overalls and heavy black boots, and is carrying a pair of gardening shears tucked under one arm. ‘Sorry to interrupt, mate. Your wife said to tell you she’s gone for a lie-down.’
‘Oh.’ Ezra’s eyes widen, and the proffered business card is snatched away and shoved roughly into the top pocket of his polo shirt. ‘Thank you. I’ll, er, just go and park the car and, um, hahaha.’ Unable to find any more words, he simply titters to himself as he backs away. The gardener and I watch as he turns and practically nosedives into the driver’s seat before tearing away in a cloud of dust and gravel.
‘A friend of yours?’ I ask once the cloud has dispersed, but the gardener is already striding away.
‘God, no,’ he calls over his shoulder. ‘Never met the slimy bastard before but I saw him arrive with his clearly pregnant wife earlier.’
‘You’re kidding,’ I say, more to myself as the gardener doesn’t seem to want to stick around and chat. How can Alice want me to put myself through this kind of shiz? To commit myself to a man who flirts with anything in a skirt (or a pair of jeans, like I’m wearing right now) as soon as my back is turned? ‘What a scumbag. Why are men like this?’
‘Hey, we’re not all like Ezra Bardon, you know,’ a voice says from behind me. I turn and see a bloke framed in the doorway at the top of the steps. ‘Some of us have morals. We’re not all cheating scumbags, I promise.’ He smiles, and I’m pleased when a full set of teeth doesn’t tumble out for inspection.
‘I guess not.’ I shrug, not convinced either way.
‘It’s true. Some of us are decent.’ He jogs down the steps to join me on the gravel. He’s wearing a pair of brown trousers and a blue-and-white-striped shirt, which should look ridiculous but suits him. ‘I don’t think we’ve met before – are you a guest from Carolyn or Piers’ side?’
I shove my hands into my jeans pockets, my eyes inspecting the gravel at my feet. See, this is why I didn’t want to come, because I’m not really a guest from either side. No matter how much Alice has assured me otherwise, I still feel like a gatecrasher.
‘I’m actually a friend of Carolyn’s sister. She didn’t want to come alone, so I’m sort of her plus-one.’
‘You’re a friend of Alice’s? Is she around?’ I peek up to see him looking around the grounds. ‘I didn’t know she’d arrived yet. It’s been too long since I saw her, so I’ve been looking forward to catching up.’
‘She’s parking the car.’ I grab hold of the suitcase handles and start to drag them towards the steps. ‘She’ll be meeting me here in a minute.’
‘Can I give you a hand?’ He indicates Alice’s suitcase, and although I’m usually quick to assert my independence, I find myself thanking him. They are heavy and difficult to manoeuvre on the gravel.
‘This one has to be Alice’s suitcase,’ he says as we lug the cases up the stone steps. ‘Weighs a ton. She never could travel light. I bet she’s brought six pairs of shoes with her.’
‘Only six?’ I scoff, which makes him laugh. I’m not joking, though. The girl has squeezed eight pairs in there, ranging from sparkly flip-flops to knee-high boots.
‘Will you be okay from here?’ His phone has started to ring as we reach the entrance hall and he’s pulling a face at its display. ‘It’s work. I really should take it.’
‘Go ahead.’ I drag my case to the side, where a suit of armour is standing guard by the door. ‘Thanks for your help.’
‘No problem.’ He smiles, his phone still ringing in his hand as he backs away. ‘Tell Alice I said hi.’
I would, I think as he turns and strides away, the phone now at his ear. But you didn’t tell me your name.
Chapter Six (#ulink_d68d7f65-529c-5e4b-b49f-221c319edf51)
I feel myself slump as soon as he’s out of view, hands resting on my thighs as I try to get my breath back. I would never admit I’m struggling, but now I’m alone, I can admit how exhausted I am by the short trip up the steps. But I forget all about the suitcases and my fatigue as I take in my surroundings.
Wow.
Just wow.
The wide entrance hall is lit by a giant, glittering chandelier and dozens of decorative wall sconces dotted in between large, gilt-framed portraits of the Monroe ancestry. The floor is covered in a patchwork of black and white tiles, while a red-carpeted staircase stands in front of me, leading up to the first floor. Lots of doors lead off to a warren of rooms at the sides and I’m not sure where I should be heading. The castle is humongous and my room could be anywhere. I’m sure I’d find myself lost within minutes, but Alice should be here any second now to lead the way. In the meantime, I grapple with the suitcases once more, somehow wrestling them towards the staircase, where I sit gratefully on the second step, exhausted after my suitcase skirmish.
‘Alice!’ I’m so relieved to see my friend after a considerable wait that I forget my thighs have turned to jelly and jump up from the stairs. ‘What took you so long?’
‘I had to phone Kevin to let him know we’d arrived safely.’ Alice retrieves her vanity case from where I’ve dumped it on the floor and grabs the handle of her suitcase. ‘And then I got chatting to one of Piers’ cousins. Lovely young man. Gave me his card.’ She pulls out a familiar cream business card embossed with gold and black lettering. ‘I thought I’d try to introduce you to him at dinner, but if not, we have his number.’
‘I don’t think so.’ I pluck the card from Alice’s fingers and tear it in two. ‘We’ve already spoken, and he’s no Prince Charming.’
Alice sighs. ‘It was the teeth, wasn’t it? I knew they’d get in the way.’
‘You’re not kidding. Those choppers must obstruct the guy’s life on a daily basis.’
‘That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.’ Alice gives a firm tug of her suitcase and marches along the hall. ‘This guy could be The One, but you’ll never know if you don’t give him a chance.’
‘He’s already somebody’s One.’ I’m scuttling after Alice, battling once again with the suitcase. Alice is gliding along but my wheels aren’t playing ball and it’s a struggle pulling the suitcase in a straight line. ‘He’s married.’
‘What?’ Alice comes to a stop, which is the perfect time for my suitcase’s wheels to play nice. I only just manage to stop myself from toppling into her.
‘He’s married,’ I repeat. ‘And his poor wife is pregnant.’
Alice’s forehead furrows. ‘Son of a bucket.’
‘Yes.’ I’m glad we’re on the same page. Sort of. I’d have used an actual expletive, personally. ‘Now you see why I ripped up his business card.’
‘Absolutely.’ Her brow furrows deeper. ‘I can’t believe he hoodwinked me.’
‘It’s the teeth,’ I say as we set off again. ‘They’re pretty distracting.’
Alice huffs out another sigh as we reach the first door. She pushes it open, stepping back again when she sees the room is empty.
‘We need to find Carolyn so we can find out which rooms we’ll be staying in. Then I can give you the guided tour of the castle – and its male guests.’
Yippee, I think as I trundle after her.
‘Are we the only ones staying here?’ I whisper as we poke our heads into yet another empty room. I don’t know why I’m whispering; we haven’t seen another soul since we stepped inside.
‘It’s still quite early,’ Alice says as she leads the way to the next room. ‘People might not arrive until after lunch, maybe not even until this evening. Plus, some of the guests are only arriving on the day. Even Piers’ parents aren’t coming until Wednesday. Ah-ha!’ Using her foot to hold open the door, she motions for me to step inside, following after me.
‘Jeez.’ I look around the great hall, my jaw dropping to the ballet flats on my feet. The room is unbelievably long, with a massive, arched window at the end, reaching up to the breathtakingly high ceiling. More arched windows along one side flood the room with light.
‘This is beautiful. Stunning. Why did I ever think it was a bad idea to come here?’
‘See?’ Alice arches an eyebrow at me, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. ‘I told you it’d be fabulous. Ooh, Uncle Ned!’ She darts off suddenly, waving her arms to draw the attention of a short, portly man with white, wispy hair and a cane.
‘Alice, dear. How lovely to see you.’ He pats Alice on the back as she throws her arms around him. ‘I had no idea you’d arrived.’
‘I’ve only just got here. I’m looking for Carolyn, or maybe my dad?’
‘I think Carolyn is off showing Piers the chapel. I don’t think he’s seen it yet.’ Ned’s lips turn down at the corners. ‘As for your father…’ His bushy brows lift. ‘I’m afraid he’s been delayed and won’t be here until this evening, maybe not until tomorrow.’
‘Oh.’ Alice smiles brightly, though I know it takes great effort and suspect Ned knows it too. ‘Never mind. There’s still plenty of time before the wedding.’
‘Absolutely. Plenty of time.’ Ned smiles kindly at his niece. ‘Anyway, before I forget to tell you, I found some old photos while we were renovating the south wing. I thought you might like to keep them. I did mean to send them on to you, but I’m afraid it’s all getting a bit foggy up here.’ He taps his temple and chuckles. ‘Old age is setting in, I’m afraid.’
Alice tuts. ‘You’re not old, Uncle Ned.’
He chuckles again. ‘I’m not young any more, either. I was thinking about having a stairlift installed, but your Aunt Delia says it wouldn’t be in keeping with the castle.’
‘I don’t suppose it would.’ Alice turns to me. ‘Sorry, how rude of me. Emily, this is my Uncle Ned. Uncle Ned, this is my best friend, Emily.’
‘Lovely to meet you.’ Ned shakes my hand with a firm but brief grip.
‘Do you know which rooms Emily and I are staying in?’ Alice asks him.
‘I don’t have the list to hand.’ Ned looks around him, as though the list will suddenly leap up and present itself. ‘My Lilianna has taken charge of the day-to-day running of the events. She’s around here somewhere…’
‘It’s okay, Ned.’ There’s a clacking of heels on the polished floor as Francelia swoops in towards us. ‘Alice, Emily, come with me. I’ll show you to your room.’ Without pausing for pleasantries, Francelia forges ahead, leading the way while Alice and I scrabble to keep up. Grabbing our suitcases from outside the great hall only slows us down and Francelia appears to be in a hurry and refuses to stop.
‘You have a lovely room overlooking the orchard,’ she calls over her shoulder as she marches up the stairs. She reaches the top before we’re even a third of the way up. ‘Come along, girls. I can’t hang around playing tour guide all day. There is so much to do when you’re the mother of the bride.’
‘You’re not the mother of the bride.’ It’s rare for Alice to speak up against Francelia, but I can see she’s riled and struggling to keep herself contained. Her suitcase bears the brunt of it as she manhandles it up the stairs.
Francelia gives a wave of her hand. ‘Stepmother of the bride then. I don’t know why you have to be so pernickety. It isn’t an attractive trait.’ She strides off again, leaving Alice and I to huff and puff our way up the stairs with the suitcases. Thankfully, Francelia leads us to a room on the first floor so we don’t have to tackle another set of stairs.
‘Here you are.’ Francelia opens the door with a flourish, stepping aside so we can drag our suitcases inside.
‘A twin room?’ Alice asks. ‘I thought we’d have rooms of our own.’
‘Emily did take up her place at the last minute,’ Francelia says, still standing on the threshold like an uninvited vampire. With her deathly pale skin and black trouser suit, she could easily pass. ‘And we’ve had a couple of other latecomers, so it’s been a bit of a squeeze accommodating everyone. Besides, you’re both single girls. It isn’t as though you need double rooms to yourselves. There’s no need to be greedy, Alice.’
‘I wasn’t being…’ Alice says, but she’s cut off when Francelia holds up a silencing hand.
‘Let’s not make a fuss. This is Carolyn’s wedding. We don’t want to spoil her big day. We don’t want any mishaps, do we?’ Francelia gives Alice a pointed look and my friend seems to shrink into herself.
‘No.’ She smiles weakly at me. ‘This’ll be more fun anyway, like we’re back at university in halls.’
I don’t point out that Alice never resided in halls while we were at university; that her father, for all his faults, bought the house we still live in now so she could be close enough to commute but still have her own, decent space.
‘We’re going to have a brilliant time.’ My voice is bursting with extra gushiness for Francelia’s benefit. I suspect she thought putting Alice and I together in a twin room would rile Alice, but I won’t let her win. ‘It’ll be like having a sleepover. We can gossip and watch girly films and paint our nails.’
‘Makeovers!’ Alice claps her hands together. ‘We can give each other makeovers!’
I squeal (again for Francelia’s benefit. I have never squealed in my life before, unless it’s in the presence of a spider, which is totally acceptable). ‘And have a pillow fight in our pyjamas!’
‘Midnight feasts!’
‘Ooh.’ My eyes widen, and I clasp my hands together. ‘Truth or dare!’
‘And make prank calls.’ Alice mimes holding a phone to her ear. ‘Hello? Is that Pepe? Pepe Roni?’
I pick up my own invisible phone. ‘I’m looking for a Claire Voyance.’
‘I’m looking for my Aunt Teaks.’
‘Can I speak to Connie? Connie Lingus?’
‘All right, that’s enough.’ Francelia is holding up the silencing hand again. ‘Whatever you do, please respect the other guests and keep the noise down.’
I bet she’s wishing she’d put us in separate rooms now. I can’t help feeling a tiny bit smug.
‘And please, for Carolyn’s sake if nothing else, keep your fingers to yourself.’
I turn to Alice, my face pulling into a ‘what the hell is she talking about?’ face, but Alice is looking down at the floor, her cheeks turning pink.
‘Carolyn wasn’t sure what time everybody would be arriving, so she’s provided welcome baskets packed with lunch.’ Francelia’s lip starts to curl as she points out the baskets on the ends of each bed, but catches it in time and smooths it out. ‘It isn’t as formal as the setting befits, but she insisted, I’m afraid. Dinner will be served at six in the great hall, followed by dancing and cocktails in the ballroom. Please dress appropriately.’ Francelia cocks an eyebrow in my direction before looking me up and down, taking in my jeans, T-shirt and ballet flats ensemble. I fight the urge to mimic her condescending tone.
‘We’ll see you down there,’ Alice says, reaching for the door in a massive hint for the evil one to bog off. Thankfully she takes the hint, leaving Alice and I alone to flop on our beds. This week will be fun, despite Francelia and her grimacing face.
Chapter Seven (#ulink_d2116a39-fc38-5985-8b80-2b6be4d02f1d)
Although the lunches Carolyn has packed don’t meet Francelia’s uber-snobbish standards, they certainly tick all my boxes. There’s a selection of cooked meats and cheeses, crusty bread rolls, mini pots of potato salad and pasta, bite-sized pork pies, packets of hand-cooked crisps, and salted caramel brownies, all to be washed down with mini bottles of Prosecco.
‘I can’t eat another thing, ever again.’ I flop down onto my pillow, ready for a food-induced nap. There’s still food left over, though I’ve managed to remove all traces of the booze.
‘Me either.’ Alice rubs her stomach, but instead of settling down for a snooze, she clambers off the bed. ‘Let’s walk off all this food and have a tour of the castle.’
She’s having a giraffe, right?
‘Come on,’ she coaxes when I refuse to move anything but my eyelids, allowing them to droop. ‘You can’t sleep the week away. There’s so much to see.’
‘Later,’ I mumble. Much later. Like, tomorrow. ‘Ouch! Gerrof.’ Alice has grabbed my arm and is attempting to tug me off the bed. Unfortunately for Alice, she’s built like a particularly petite pixie and I’ve gained several pounds during our bedroom picnic. But where she lacks stature, Alice’s determination is in abundance. I’ve never met a more resolute woman in my life. If there’s something Alice wants, she’ll keep going until she gets it. Her only downfall is her family, but they won’t help anchor me to the bed right now.
‘All right, all right.’ I wrestle my arm away, checking for bruising as I force my body up into a sitting position. ‘I think you’ve taken a layer of skin off.’
‘Don’t be so soft.’ Alice holds a hand out to help me up off the bed. I don’t take it, fearing the removal of a digit or two in the process, and somehow stand up on my own steam despite my body crying out to be horizontal again. ‘So, what do you want to see first? Inside the castle or out?’
Right now, I want to see the inside of my eyelids, but that clearly isn’t an option. ‘Outside, I guess. The fresh air might wake me up.’
We head out of our room, making our way back down the red-carpeted staircase and ending up in the opulent entrance hall. There are a few people mingling around now and Alice grasps my hand and tows me towards a bloke admiring a painting of an ugly old boot with wrinkled skin and eyes that are glaring so hard, I suspect she despised the artist. She introduces me to the bloke, but I quickly forget his name when I notice he’s wearing a cravat. A cravat! I can’t take any man seriously when he’s wearing a flipping cravat.
‘Well?’ Alice whispers when we finally wander away, leaving Mr Cravat to admire more paintings of Alice’s ancient relatives. ‘What did you think?’
‘No.’
‘No?’ Alice frowns. ‘That’s it? Just no?’
‘He was wearing a cravat.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Emily.’ Alice comes to an abrupt stop, thumping her hands down on her hips. ‘You’re going to dismiss a potential love match because he’s wearing a cravat?’
‘First of all, he is not a potential love match. The L word is forbidden during this week, unless it’s in reference to lunch, limoncello or Lion Bars, okay? Second of all, he looks like a right wanker.’
‘Because of the cravat?’
‘Not just because of that.’
Alice raises her eyebrows, waiting for me to elaborate.
‘Just look at him, Alice.’ We turn to look at Mr Cravat, who’s still scrutinising the paintings, practically nose-to-canvas.
‘What? Maybe he’s interested in the history of the castle?’ Alice flashes me a smug look, as though I’ll suddenly realise that yes, he is the perfect match. A history nerd like me! How could I not see it before? Let’s make this a double wedding so I can become Mrs Cravat!
‘Or maybe he’s looking for a bit of nipple-out-of-bodice slippage? Or a full-on nude?’
‘Oh, Emily.’ Alice sighs heavily and links her arm through mine, guiding me out of the entrance hall and along one of the many corridors. ‘What are we going to do with you?’
‘Leave me alone to my own devices?’
‘Nope. Not part of the deal, missus.’ Alice marches along at quite a pace on her little pins. ‘You’ve been single for far too long, lady. We agreed to find you your Prince Charming and that’s what we’re going to do. Stop making gagging noises.’
I snatch my fingers away from my mouth, where I’ve been pretending to stick them down my throat. ‘Sorry.’
Instead of leaving the castle through the main entrance, we follow the corridor and emerge through a door into a large courtyard surrounded by the castle’s walls. A gravel path leads to a large fountain in the centre, with perfectly trimmed lawns either side.
‘What did Francelia mean earlier?’ I ask as we wander along the path. ‘About keeping your fingers to yourself?’
Alice shrugs. ‘No idea. She’s a batty old cow. Just ignore her.’ She points ahead suddenly and picks up her pace. ‘I fell into that fountain when I was little. I used to walk along its edge, but I lost my balance that day and nearly drowned. Grandpa had to fish me out. I was coughing up dirty water and everything.’ Alice shudders. ‘Nearly dying in fishy water was worth it for the hot chocolate Granny made me drink afterwards though.’
‘I bet you never got up there again,’ I say.
Alice looks at me and makes a pfft sound. ‘Are you freaking kidding me? I was up there the next day.’ She unlinks her arm from mine and takes hold of my hand instead. ‘Come on. It’s fun.’ She’s pulling me quickly towards the fountain before I can even open my mouth to remind her we’re only a stone’s throw away from thirty (and an underarm rather than overarm throw at that). We are not children any more. We are grown women who…
Ah, sod it. Why should children get to have all the fun?
We break into a run, both determined to reach the fountain first. Alice is fast, but I have longer legs, so it ends up being a tie. We’re breathless and giggly when we reach the fountain, but we don’t waste any time in clambering up onto the wall, arms outstretched for balance as we totter along the curved edge.
‘Why can’t life be like this all the time?’ Alice asks as she takes tiny, sideways steps. ‘Being a kid was so much easier than trying to be an adult.’
‘Speak for yourself. I wouldn’t go back to my childhood for anything.’
‘Oh, honey.’ Alice’s feet pause, and she reaches out for my hand, which is a big mistake because, as soon as contact is made, we both start to wobble. Still, Alice clings on and we manage to steady ourselves. ‘Me and my big mouth. I wasn’t thinking. That was such a stupid thing to say.’
‘Don’t be daft. Not everybody has a dark cloud looming over their youth. Besides, it wasn’t as though you had an idyllic childhood yourself. I’m glad you can enjoy the memories of good times.’
Alice was very young when her mum died, so she can’t really remember the trauma of a parent being there one minute and gone the next, but she remembers the day Francelia swept into her life and everything seemed to change all at once. Her life became unbalanced as they got used to the new dynamics at home, as she became part of a whole new family unit. And just as she was adjusting, her life was turned on its head once again when she was sent away to boarding school. Of course there were the school holidays, but she mostly spent them at the castle, with only brief visits from her father when he could tear himself away from work and his new wife. Alice once told me that when her father married Francelia, she gained a stepmother and lost a father.
‘I always felt safe here,’ Alice says. ‘The place is huge, but every nook and cranny was familiar.’
‘It must feel weird, being back here and it being a business venue rather than your grandparents’ home.’
‘I suppose it is.’ We’ve started to move again, making almost synchronised fairy steps along the fountain’s wall. ‘It’s still familiar, but there are lots of changes – all of them improving the castle for its paying guests, but it’s lost a bit of its charm.’
Alice loses her footing and we both have a major, arms-flailing wobble, our hands losing their grip on each other in the process. My heart is racing, picturing one of us taking a dip in the fishy water. This time there will be no grandfather to do a bit of human fishing. Somehow, however, we both find our balance.
‘Hey, do you know what this is like?’ Alice asks.
‘What?’
Alice stretches her arms out, one in front of her, the other behind, and bends her knees slightly. With the forward-facing hand, she beckons me with her finger.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ I’m frowning but giggling at the same time. ‘You look ridiculous.’ Alice flips the beckoning finger and points down at the fountain’s wall at her feet, and it clicks what she’s up to. I splutter and shake my head. ‘Oh my God, you’re doing the Dirty Dancing on a log thing, aren’t you? No. No way.’ I shake my head. ‘I am not making a tit of myself and dancing with you up here.’
‘Come on.’ Alice pouts. ‘Carolyn and I used to do this all time when we were kids.’
‘I don’t care if you did this with Patrick Swayze himself.’ Alice and I both sigh dreamily. We wore our Dirty Dancing DVD out when we were at uni and too poor to go out on a Friday night. ‘I am not dancing with you, you little weirdo.’
Alice starts to sing the song that plays in that particular scene, moving backwards and forwards along the wall, even giving a little twirl of her foot à la Baby. I am in no doubt that this is something she has done a lot over the years.
‘Hey!’ a voice cries out, the sudden noise almost making me nose-dive into the water. I manage to keep dry only by hopping down onto the path. ‘I can’t believe you’re dirty dancing without me!’
Alice squeals and hops down off the wall too before tearing towards her sister, who is grinning at us despite the spectacle she’s just witnessed. The sisters throw their arms around each other, both babbling over the other.
I’ve met Carolyn only a handful of times over the years, first when she spent the weekend with us during our third year at uni (but I was juggling a waitressing job, a super-brief, super-hot fling with a fellow historian, and my studies at the time so our paths barely crossed), and again during graduation. Shortly after, Carolyn moved to Denmark and when she returned home to visit family, it was usually during the Christmas period, which I’d felt obligated to spend with Mum and Great Aunt Dorothy, even though I knew it would be the longest, most miserable few days for all involved. But I know Alice and Carolyn are close, despite not always residing in the same country.
Alice and Carolyn are very similar in looks. Both are petite with long, strawberry-blonde hair and pale freckles across their cheeks, and they have the exact same shade of green eyes, but Carolyn is a few inches taller than Alice, her face more rounded.
‘You remember my friend, Emily, don’t you?’ Alice says as I approach, and Carolyn smiles in a spookily familiar way.
‘Of course. Thank you for coming, Emily. I hope you’ll enjoy the week I have planned. It’s going to be so much fun, I promise.’
‘I’m sure I’ll love it,’ I say, almost convincing myself with the fib. If Alice has her way, I’ll hate almost every second of it as we hunt out my ‘Prince Charming’. I want to gag at the mere thought.
‘Have you seen her?’ Carolyn asks Alice, lowering her voice.
Alice frowns. ‘Who?’
Carolyn takes a furtive look around us and lowers her voice even further. ‘Francelia.’
Alice pulls a face. ‘Unfortunately. She showed us to our room.’
Carolyn frowns. ‘Room? You’re sharing?’ Alice nods, and Carolyn throws her hands up in the air. ‘Bloody Francelia! Sorry, I had no idea. Francelia put herself in charge of allocating the rooms. I could try to rearrange something…’
Alice shakes her head. ‘It’s fine, honestly. I think it’ll be more fun this way.’
Carolyn gives a slow nod. ‘You’re probably right. Have you got room for one more?’
Alice mock-gasps. ‘Don’t tell me you’re fed up of Piers already.’
‘Never.’ Carolyn sighs, a serene smile on her face. ‘I can’t believe I actually get to marry him.’
Would it be totally rude to make gagging noises right now?
‘But anyway…’ Carolyn’s face is alive as she grasps hold of her sister’s shoulders, giving them an excited squeeze. ‘Have you seen Tom?’
Alice gasps – for real this time – and claps her hands together. ‘Tom’s here? I haven’t seen him in years. The last time was… Well, you know.’ I don’t know, but clearly Carolyn does and senses her sister would rather not elaborate. ‘I didn’t know you were still in touch. I sent him a friend request on Facebook about four years ago, but he never accepted it.’
Carolyn’s hands fall to her sides. ‘He never accepted mine either, and he avoided all my calls and texts after… you know.’
No, I still don’t, actually.
‘But he accepted your invitation, so he must have forgiven us.’ Alice’s gaze locks on to her sister’s. ‘Right?’
Carolyn breaks the eye contact and scuffs the toe of her shoe on the ground. ‘I didn’t actually invite him. We haven’t spoken for so long and everything, so…’ She shrugs. ‘I had no idea he’d be here until I saw him out the front this morning.’
‘But what’s he doing here, if you didn’t invite him?’
‘He works here. Apparently, he took over his dad’s role of head gardener when he retired. It was such a lovely surprise to see him, but I’ve been so busy I haven’t had chance to chat to him yet. Shall we see if he’s got a few minutes to catch up?’ Carolyn links her arm through Alice’s, who in turn links me, and we start to head back towards the castle.
‘Who’s Tom?’ I’ve been a bit of a bystander during their conversation so far, but I’m curious.
‘He was one of our best friends growing up,’ Alice says as we head back into the castle. ‘His dad was the head gardener and Tom would help out during the school holidays, so we got to know him. Eventually, he came to the castle to hang out with us more than to help his dad. We had a bit of a foursome going: me, Carolyn, Tom and Archie.’
I’m about to ask who Archie is, but we’ve reached the front entrance and emerged back out of the castle again, and Alice and Carolyn are tearing down the stone steps. I follow after them as they race towards a hedge-lined rose garden. Working away with a pair of shears is one of the blokes I saw earlier while waiting for Alice to park the car. He barely glances up from his task when Carolyn calls out his name and the sisters tear off towards him.
‘Tom? Didn’t you hear me calling you?’ Carolyn’s enthusiasm hasn’t abated by the time she’s reached the gardener, despite his reticence. He’s still working away with his shears, pausing only briefly to flicker a smile at the pair. The smile doesn’t even come close to reaching his eyes.
‘Gosh, it’s been such a long time! I can’t believe you’re here.’ Carolyn’s smile is wide, genuine, and I feel a stab of anger as I watch him snipping away at the hedge. Talk about rude!
‘The gang’s back together again,’ Alice says, though, unlike her sister, her enthusiasm has dampened due to their old friend’s lack of interest. ‘Archie’s here somewhere too. We should all get together for a drink.’
‘I’m pretty busy,’ the gardener says without disrupting his snipping.
‘I can see that.’ Alice is frowning at Carolyn, who gives a small shrug. ‘I didn’t mean right now. Tonight?’
The gardener straightens and swipes at his brow with the back of his hand. ‘Don’t you have plans? Big wedding stuff?’ I see his lip start to curl as he turns towards the hedge again. Is he pissed off because he wasn’t invited? He has a bit of a cheek, especially since it appears he was the one who severed contact.
‘We’re having cocktails and dancing after dinner.’ Carolyn doesn’t appear to have clocked his resentment, even though he’s completely turned his back on us. ‘You should come!’
‘Maybe.’ Tom, still facing away, shrugs his shoulders and resumes his hedge-trimming. ‘I’ll see if I have time.’
‘Please come.’ Carolyn’s voice is so small, so disappointed, that I can’t help feeling for her. She was so excited to be reunited with her old friend but he’s behaving like a bit of a turd.
‘It’ll be fun,’ Alice says. ‘Like old times.’
Tom stops now, turning to face the sisters with a deep frown, but his forehead smooths out again and his lips flicker into a suggestion of a smile. ‘I can’t promise to stay for long, but I’ll pop over for a bit. Toast your marriage. Have a quick catch-up.’
‘Maybe have a dance?’ Carolyn nudges him playfully, but his smile doesn’t return.
‘Don’t push it.’ He opens the jaws of the shears and starts to snip away again. ‘We all know I’ve got the coordination skills of a drunken elephant.’
‘You were never that bad,’ Alice says, but Tom shakes his head, still working away with the shears.
‘I think you’re looking back with rose-tinted glasses.’
A silence follows, the only sounds coming from the shears as they lop off unruly clumps from the hedges.
‘We’ll let you get back to work then.’ Carolyn reaches up on tiptoe to kiss Tom’s cheek, ignoring the way he flinches away from the contact. ‘See you tonight.’
Tom simply holds up a hand in farewell before the three of us wander back towards the castle.
‘He seemed… nice,’ I say, once we’re far enough away from the rose garden.
‘He is.’ Alice glances over her shoulder, where Tom is merrily working away uninterrupted. ‘At least he was. He isn’t usually so…’ Grumpy? Uninterested? Rude? Alice can’t seem to find the right words, so she simply shrugs. ‘We were really close, but then we stopped coming here after…’ Alice’s eyes widen as she looks at her sister. ‘He hasn’t forgiven me, has he?’
‘Forgiven us.’ Carolyn puts a hand on Alice’s arm. ‘But I’m sure he has. It was a long time ago. I’m sure that whatever’s going on with Tom, it has nothing to do with…’ Carolyn’s gaze slides towards me briefly before returning to her sister. ‘That. Maybe he’s just really busy and couldn’t stop to chat. There’s a lot to do before the wedding. I have high standards, you know.’ She winks at Alice, who manages a small smile. ‘Speaking of the wedding, I should be getting back to Francelia.’ She pulls a face. ‘She has so many to-do lists, I’m exhausted just thinking about them.’
Alice smiles wryly. ‘Have fun. I’m going to give Emily the grand tour and introduce her to the male guests. She’s single and ready to mingle.’ Alice giggles at the look of disgust I throw her way.
‘All the single male guests,’ I add. I need to clarify this after Tom’s tip-off earlier. He may be a bit sullen, but he helped me dodge a bullet there.
‘You should go and find Piers’ best man, Teddy.’ Carolyn is already backing away towards the staircase. ‘He’s a hoot. And single, obviously.’ She winks at me. ‘They were playing pool the last time I saw them. Have fun and I’ll see you at dinner.’
Alice links her arm through mine, clinging tightly in case I feel the need to bolt (I do). I already have my reservations about the best man and I haven’t even met him yet.
‘Don’t say it,’ Alice warns as she leads me down one of the corridors.
But I can’t help it. ‘Teddy, though? How can I take anyone seriously when they share a name with a soft toy?’
Chapter Eight (#ulink_2711a6c8-64ba-52e7-a95a-f64e2ebf3ef6)
‘He was smarmy. There is no way I could date him without wanting to push his face into a bowl of piping hot soup.’
‘You’d already pre-judged him on his name.’
‘Of course I pre-judged him on his name! Who wouldn’t?’
Alice and I are sitting in our designated seats in the dining room. Despite stuffing ourselves silly with the picnic lunch earlier, we are now feeling so ravenous after our exhausting wander around the castle and its grounds that we’re among the first to arrive for dinner. I’ve changed out of my travel-creased jeans and T-shirt combo and slipped into a slim-fitting, off-the-shoulder cream dress with a midi-length skirt. It’s gorgeous and I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it in the shop (and fell more deeply in love when I noticed the sales tag). My ballet flats have been replaced with a pair of T-bar peep toe heels and I’ve made an effort with my hair. I usually scrape my shoulder-length brown hair into a simple ponytail, but this evening I’ve pinned it up into a messy bun with gently waved tendrils framing my face.
‘I wouldn’t have judged him on his name.’ Alice arches an eyebrow at me. ‘And don’t think I’m fooled by your pickiness either. I know exactly what you’re up to.’
I fold my arms across my chest. ‘And what would that be, exactly?’
‘You’re avoiding relationships. Using any excuse to end them – or stop them from forming in the first place. Take your recent date, for example…’
I raise a finger to stop Alice in her tracks. ‘Hold on there. He wanted me to meet his parents after three measly dates. That’s a perfectly valid reason to halt proceedings!’
Alice gives a one-shouldered shrug. ‘Perhaps. Or – and here’s a crazy thought – you could have explained that it was a bit too soon, that you should get to know each other a bit better first. I’m sure he would have understood, but you never gave him the chance. You saw your opportunity to dismiss him and killed the relationship before it could begin. It’s what you do.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ My mouth is gaping open in outrage. It’s what I do? ‘Since when?’
‘Since Edward.’ I flinch at the name. I’d been with Edward for almost three years and had silly notions of doing the whole settling-down thing with him, so the break-up had been tough, however necessary. ‘The two of you were so good together. You were happy.’
I look down at the gleaming cutlery in front of me. ‘Things change.’
‘I know it was hard when your mum died.’
‘Alice.’ My tone has an edge to it. A warning. Alice knows I don’t like to talk about Mum.
‘But you pushed him away when you needed him most.’ Alice holds up her hands when I glare at her. ‘That’s all I’m going to say on the matter.’
This isn’t the first time I’ve heard Alice say this. I’ve heard it time and again and, like always, I shake my head.
‘It was never going to work out between us. I hadn’t been happy for a long time.’
This isn’t strictly true, but Alice can’t prove otherwise.
‘And what about your relationships since?’
‘What other relationships? I haven’t been on more than a handful of dates with anybody in the past year.’
‘Exactly!’ Alice throws me a triumphant look. I return a withering one. ‘Do you know the maximum number of dates you’ve allowed yourself with any one guy?’
I shrug and emit a long sigh. ‘I don’t know. Six? Seven?’
‘Three.’ Alice leaves a pause to allow it to sink in. ‘Three dates. Nobody gets a fourth, because you always find a reason to end it, whether it’s because he wants you to meet his parents, or wears a beanie hat indoors, or watches Hollyoaks.’
All valid reasons, I think.
‘But it isn’t about them,’ Alice says before I can defend myself. ‘It’s about you and your fear of allowing anybody to get close.’
I scoff. I fiddle with my cutlery. But I don’t disagree.
‘Ever since your mum…’
‘No, Alice.’ My voice is sharper than I intend, but I have to put a stop to it. I won’t talk about her. Not here, not now.
‘I’m sorry,’ Alice says, but I’ve already scraped back my chair and am striding from the room.
I take a moment to compose myself, perching on the stone steps while I take deep, calming breaths. I know Alice means well, that she wants what’s best for me, but I need her to back off, to let me live the life I want to. Need to. Because matching me up with a man isn’t going to fix me. There’s a reason I hold back, why I guard myself so fiercely.
‘Is it the food or the company?’
I turn at the sound of the voice, looking up to see the guy who’d helped me with the suitcases earlier. He’s at the top of the steps, looking down with a bemused smile twitching at his lips.
‘Sorry?’
‘The reason you’re hiding out here. Is it the food or the company?’
I push my mouth into what vaguely resembles a smile. ‘Neither. Just needed a bit of fresh air.’
‘Should I leave you alone?’ He indicates the door, which he’s been holding open with his shoulder, and starts to back inside the castle.
‘No, it’s fine.’ I stand up and brush down the skirt of my dress. ‘I should be getting back inside anyway. Alice will be wondering where I am.’
‘Yes, that’s right.’ His face lights up as I climb the steps. ‘You’re a friend of Alice’s. How is she? I haven’t seen her for ages. Not since…’ The smile vanishes from his face. ‘Well, you know.’
No, actually, I don’t. What the hell happened the last time Alice was here? People keep hinting at it, but I haven’t got a clue. It must have been something big to keep Alice away from her beloved castle. I’ll grill her later and find out the goss.
I follow him inside the castle and the sound as we near the dining room is incredible. The room has started to fill now and the dozens of conversations taking place are reaching a crescendo.
‘Do you know where you’re sitting?’ he asks, and I nod, pointing at the table where Alice and I were seated earlier. The table has filled up, though Alice is no longer there. ‘I’m over there.’ He points further down the room. ‘But I’ll find you later, in the ballroom?’ He waits until I’ve nodded in agreement – it would seem churlish to do anything other than agree – before striding off to find his seat. I sit down at the table, shooting awkward smiles at my dinner companions. The only person I recognise is Mr Cravat, though he’s removed the neckwear by now.
‘I mean, it’s got to be a sick joke, right?’ one of the women is saying to her neighbour. ‘Seating us with her.’ She presses a hand to her throat, where a diamond pendant is catching the light. ‘Keep an eye on your valuables, that’s all I’ll say.’
‘Oh, absolutely.’ Her neighbour nods, one hand covering a giant emerald ring on the middle finger of the other.
‘Ssh!’ the woman suddenly hisses. ‘Here she comes.’
I follow their gaze and almost laugh out loud when I realise it’s Alice they’re tracking across the room. They’re worried about Alice? Alice, the loveliest, most generous person I know? Ridiculous! I’m offended on my best friend’s behalf and am about to put them straight when Alice stops suddenly, her eyes widening when she clocks the looks of distrust on our dinner companions’ faces. She hesitates for a moment, as though she’s contemplating turning around and retracing her steps out of the room, but then pushes forward swiftly, a smile forced into place.
‘There you are. I’ve been looking for you.’ She drops down into the seat next to me, her gaze fixed firmly on my face. ‘I’m sorry about before.’
‘It’s okay.’ My eyes flick towards the two women, who are looking on with deep suspicion, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. What is going on? ‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘I think they’re about to start serving.’ Alice is now looking down at the tablecloth, her fingers playing with the napkin, unfolding its elaborate design and smoothing it down into a boring old square.
‘Do you know what?’ the woman announces loudly. ‘I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.’ She scrapes back her chair and stands, looking down at Alice, who is refolding the napkin, though not in its original shape. ‘I can’t imagine why.’
She strides away, followed quickly by her neighbour, leaving the table in awkward silence. Even a couple of nearby tables have quietened so they can observe the drama. The bloke sitting next to me starts to whistle with fake nonchalance while Mr Cravat is taking a great interest in his fingernails.
I lean in close to Alice and whisper, ‘What was that all about?’
She sneaks a peek up from her napkin-pleating and I’m stunned when I notice the tears pooling in her eyes.
‘It’s nothing.’ She attempts a smile. And fails. ‘I’ll explain it all later.’ She gives another valiant attempt at a smile and almost succeeds this time. ‘So, our mission…’ I give her a blank look. ‘To find your Prince Charming.’
‘Oh. That.’ I should have known there was little that could distract Alice from the task at hand. ‘What about it?’
‘Is there anybody you’ve seen so far who’s piqued your interest, even mildly?’ She looks around the table, frowns, and looks further afield, craning her neck to see who’s on offer.
‘I quite like the look of the suit of armour in the entrance hall. I bet Old Rusty would show me a good time.’ I’m joking, trying to cheer her up after the awkward moment, but Alice isn’t amused by my fooling around. Her lips are pressed very tightly together as she turns to face me again.
‘His name is Wallace.’
‘You named the suit of armour?’
‘Yes.’ Alice gives me a look that suggests I’m the crazy one. But then her face brightens and she gasps. ‘I’ve got it! I know who’ll be perfect for you. He’s so charming. And handsome. And kind.’
‘But how will we break it to Old Rusty? I’ve promised him dinner and a movie.’
Alice ignores me and continues to list the qualities of the so-far-unnamed gentleman. Honestly, the way she’s going on, he’s well on his way to sainthood. He sounds too perfect.
‘So, what’s his flaw?’
A flurry of waiting staff have started to serve dinner, placing bowls of soup in front of the guests, so Alice has a moment to consider the question. Everybody has a flaw – minor or major – and I’m keen to get it out there, so I have all the information available to me instead of the cherry-picked stuff. How else am I supposed to make an informed decision?
‘He doesn’t have any,’ she says as the waiting staff move away. She picks up her spoon and starts to dig merrily into her soup.
‘None?’
Alice starts to shake her head, but stops herself and scrunches up her nose. ‘Well…’ The way she drags the word out, I’m expecting something big. He’s perfect apart from his massive foot fetish. Or he’s charming apart from his severe racism. And that criminal record for armed robbery? Nothing to concern yourself with.
‘He’s Francelia’s nephew.’ Alice rests a hand on my arm and gives it a gentle squeeze. ‘But don’t hold it against him. He really is lovely.’
‘If he’s so lovely,’ I say as Alice resumes her soup-scooping, ‘why don’t you go out with him?’
‘For two reasons.’ Alice holds up a finger. ‘One: I’m madly in love with Kevin. And two…’ She holds up a second finger. ‘He’s my step-cousin. It’s icky.’
Which is fair enough, but it doesn’t help me wriggle out of being introduced to him.
Chapter Nine (#ulink_3f437993-f1cb-51c5-8c8b-b844eb0a9e4b)
We move through to the ballroom after dinner, where a band is playing some jazzy numbers and a cocktail bar is set up in one corner, which I intend to make full use of this evening. I’m no doubt going to be introduced to Francelia’s oh-so-perfect nephew – plus any number of potential suitors – so I’ll need the alcohol to get through the evening.
Alice hands me a menu of the drink concoctions on offer. ‘I’ll head to the bar while you keep your eyes peeled for any possible matches. What would you like?’
I hand the menu back to Alice. ‘Anything, as long as it has at least three shots and an umbrella in it.’
I circumnavigate the dance floor, where couples are already twirling away, and make my way to a dark corner where I can hopefully hide away for the evening. I know it will be no use. Alice is determined to couple me up with somebody – anybody – and there is no corner dark enough to protect me from the onslaught. But I have to at least give myself a fighting chance of surviving the week.
‘I got you a blood orange margarita.’ Alice pushes a glass into my hands and clinks her own against it. ‘Anybody caught your eye yet?’
I take a large sip (read: drain half in one go). ‘Nope.’
Alice’s shoulders slump. ‘I haven’t seen Archie yet, either. I was sure he’d be here.’
‘Archie?’
Alice has been scouring the room with her eyes, but she throws me a contemptuous look now. ‘Francelia’s nephew.’
‘Ah. Mr Perfect.’ I drain the rest of my drink.
‘You scoff now,’ Alice says. ‘But wait until you meet him.’
I’m itching with anticipation.
‘What was the deal with that woman at dinner?’ I ask, partly to shift attention away from myself and partly because I’m a nosy cow. I regret it, however, when I see a flash of pain cross Alice’s face. She takes a long sip of her own drink before she turns to me, eyes wide and pleading.
‘It was a huge mistake, okay? I didn’t do it, no matter what Francelia says. You have to believe me.’
I straighten, my shoulders whipping back. ‘Always. You know that. I’ll always be on your side.’
Alice nods, her teeth biting into her bottom lip. ‘It happened years ago, the summer before uni, just before I met you. We were all here, like always, the whole gang. It was the last time the four of us were together.’ Alice pauses, flashing me a pleading look again, silently begging me to believe what she’s about to tell me. I take her hand in mine. ‘One night, Francelia’s necklace went missing. It was this really expensive antique, passed down from her mum’s family for generations. It was so ugly, but Francelia thought she was wearing the bloody crown jewels or something. Anyway, one evening she runs into the dining room, in a proper flap, because her necklace has gone missing. She can’t find it anywhere. She had us searching the entire castle, but it didn’t turn up anywhere.’ Alice squeezes my hand. ‘Until Francelia marched us all to my bedroom and made me empty my underwear drawer. And there it was! Just sitting there. But I swear, Emily, I didn’t take it. I didn’t.’
‘I believe you.’ Alice is looking down at the floor, so I gently tilt her face so we’re eye to eye again. ‘I know you wouldn’t do that.’
‘Thank you.’ Alice’s voice is hoarse. She leans against me and I wrap my arm around her, pulling her in tight. ‘The thing is, Francelia is adamant I took that necklace and she told everyone. It was humiliating, and now nobody trusts me. Not even my dad.’
‘I do. I trust you completely.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Alice straightens. ‘Because there’s Archie. Trust me when I say he’s perfect for you.’
I walked into that one, didn’t I?
‘Come on, quick!’ Alice grabs hold of my hand and tows me towards the throng of people. ‘He’s disappearing into the crowd.’ Tugging on my hand, she weaves us between partygoers at an alarming rate. My feet, already aching in the heels I’m wearing, are struggling to keep up.
‘Slow down,’ I call out over the increasing music volume as we race across the dance floor, but it’s no use. Alice is on a mission. Nothing can stop her. Nothing, apart from a six-foot gardener stepping into her path.
‘Fuck’s sake,’ I hear him growl even over the loud music. He’s batting at his shirt with one hand, where there’s a wet patch soaking through to his skin, while the other holds on to a now near-empty glass. A couple of ice cubes have clinked onto the floor, and Alice has crouched down to scoop them up.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Alice plops the ice cubes back into the glass. ‘Let me get you a fresh drink.’ She goes to take the glass, but Tom snatches it away.
‘It doesn’t matter. I’m not in the mood anyway.’
I do not like this guy. He’s about as charming as a bag of steaming dog turds and I can’t understand why Alice and Carolyn were so excited about being reunited with him.
‘Let me at least get you a napkin.’ Alice’s eyes move to the damp patch on Tom’s shirt and she pulls a face.
‘It doesn’t matter, honestly.’ Tom swipes at the patch and shrugs. ‘It’s only a small spill, and I’ll be getting off soon. I only came to wish Carolyn well.’
‘She’ll be thrilled you came. It’s been too long.’
Tom scratches the back of his neck. ‘Yeah, well, a lot happened back then.’
Alice nods, her gaze dropping to the floor. ‘It did, but we shouldn’t have let it affect our friendship. We were so close.’ She looks up again, her eyes on Tom, but he’s gazing down at the dregs of his drink and the melting ice cubes in his glass. ‘You were one of my best friends, Tom. I’ve missed you.’
‘Look, it’s been great to see you again, Alice, and I’ve enjoyed the drinks and canapés.’ There are canapés? Where? I’ve just stuffed myself stupid with a three-course meal, but I never say no to snackage. ‘But I should get going. Stuff to do, you know? Give Carolyn my regards, won’t you?’ Pressing the glass into Alice’s hand, Tom strides away, heading straight for the door. He wrenches it open before disappearing from the ballroom.
Alice frowns and shakes her head. ‘He didn’t used to be like this. He was so lovely. Kind, funny, like a big brother, really.’
‘That guy?’ I thrust a thumb at the door, which has now closed behind him, and wrinkle my nose.
The corners of Alice’s lips have turned down and she sighs. ‘He was one of my best friends growing up, but he feels like a stranger now.’
‘He couldn’t have been that good a friend if he didn’t believe you about the necklace.’ I wasn’t even at the castle at the time, yet I know Alice didn’t take it.
Alice shakes her head. ‘Tom believed me. He stuck by me, with Carolyn and Archie. They were the only ones who did.’
‘Then what happened to drive a wedge between you?’
But Alice doesn’t answer. Her smile is back on her face, as though she’s rebooted her settings. ‘There’s Archie!’ She points ahead. ‘Let’s go!’
I groan as she grabs my hand and starts to tow me through the crowds once more, but at least it’s at a much slower pace this time.
The barman is wielding a cocktail shaker as I approach, the ice cubes rattling and the liquid sloshing as he jiggles it in the air. There’s already a pair of glasses set out on the bar in front of the guy who helped me with the suitcases, which the barman fills with the red liquid before adding a maraschino cherry to garnish.
‘That looks delicious.’ I lean against the bar in an attempt to take the weight off my aching feet. We’ve traipsed back and forth across the ballroom in search of the elusive Archie but have yet to locate him. I feel like I’m taking part in an interactive Where’s Wally? Alice was not impressed when I made the comparison.
‘It’s a Poison Apple,’ he tells me before taking a sip. His eyebrows lift once he’s swallowed. ‘It’s pretty potent stuff, actually. Wow.’ He grins at me and I smile back, trying not to laugh as he eyes the glass with great suspicion before taking another – tiny – sip. ‘Can I get one for you to try?’
‘Why not?’ I was going to go for another blood orange margarita, but this looks much more enticing. ‘Can I get two, please?’
‘Thirsty?’ he asks once he’s placed the order with the barman.
‘The other’s for my friend.’ I’d finally convinced Alice to pause the search for Wally (aka Archie) to grab some drinks, so I can’t turn up empty-handed. ‘What about you?’ I point at the second drink waiting on the bar.
‘For my aunt.’ He picks up the glass. ‘I should get this to her. She isn’t the most patient of people. But maybe we’ll bump into each other again?’ He starts to move away, but turns to face me again. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.’
‘It’s Emily,’ I say as the barman places a couple of martini glasses on the bar.
‘It’s lovely to meet you, Emily.’ He smiles warmly at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘I’m Archie.’
‘You can call off the search,’ I tell Alice as I pass her a Poison Apple cocktail. ‘I’ve found him.’
‘You found Archie? Where?’ Alice is on her tiptoes, eyes searching the room.
‘At the bar. He recommended these.’ I lift up my glass before taking a sip. Wowsers. I’ll be squiffy after half a glass.
‘But where is he now?’
I shrug. ‘With his aunt somewhere.’
‘Oh.’ Alice returns to her normal, non-tiptoe height. ‘That’ll be Francelia. There’s no point in disturbing him if he’s busy.’ She takes a large sip of her drink and doesn’t even bat an eyelid at the strength. ‘What did you think of Archie? He’s cute, right?’
‘Hmm.’ I shrug. ‘I guess.’
He is good-looking – especially in his tailored suit – but I know Alice will pounce if I even hint that he’s an attractive member of the opposite sex. She’d up her game. Hunt him down and make sure there was a firm introduction, where every single bit of salient information was exchanged: ages, job titles, hopes for the future, whether marriage and children are on the cards. I’ve been there before – and mortifying doesn’t come close to describing the experience – and I’m not keen to return.
‘He’s such a sweetie, honestly. When all that “stolen necklace” nonsense happened, he stuck up for me, going against Francelia and everything. He knew I wouldn’t do something like that and he wasn’t afraid of saying so. Shows great strength and loyalty, don’t you think?’
‘I guess.’ I take another sip of my drink. I wonder if Alice’s meddling would seem less annoying if I downed the lot in one go…
‘And he isn’t like Francelia at all. You wouldn’t even think they’re related.’
‘I suppose not.’ Archie didn’t seem to possess the same iciness as his aunt, but then I’ve only encountered him briefly.
‘So? What do you think?’ Alice leans in close to me, one hand on her chest, breath held.
‘I think I’d quite liked to get drunk on these cocktails.’
Alice sighs, her hand slipping back down to her side. ‘We had a deal, remember? You have to take this seriously.’
‘Sorry.’ Not sorry. ‘I will take it seriously. Very seriously. But I can’t promise to fall head over heels for him. We might not be compatible at all. You can’t force that kind of thing.’
‘I know.’ Alice takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. ‘But don’t worry, honey. There are plenty more fish in the ballroom. Your Prince Charming is here somewhere, and we’ll find him. Trust me.’
Chapter Ten (#ulink_c27cdd67-92cf-5da0-bc3a-0c154d7e24e1)
Alice sweeps me around the room, introducing me to eligible bachelor after eligible bachelor, each seeming more weird or pompous than the last. My feet are aching and I’m in dire need of a Poison Apple top-up, but there’s no stopping my friend in her mission to pair me up. We’ve devised a clever code, so as not to hurt any feelings – Alice’s idea, not mine – where Alice, after initiating a little get-to-know-you session between us, will ask if I’d like a drink. If I say, ‘no, I’m fine, thanks’, I’m giving the guy the thumbs up and Alice will slink away. If I say, ‘yes, let’s go to the bar!’, I’m giving a definite thumbs down and off we toddle.
Alice isn’t deterred in the slightest that I’ve rejected each and every one of them.
We’ve yet to make it back to the bar, though.
‘You have got to meet my second cousin, Owen. He’s a little camp, but if you believe the gossip, he’s totally into women and isn’t lacking in that department.’ Alice doesn’t even have to tug on my hand; I’ve become completely resigned to her mission and stopped fighting it several eligible bachelors ago. My aim for the evening is to play along with her meet and greets, ignoring my poor, throbbing feet, until I can feign exhaustion and crawl into bed.
‘Alice!’ Before we can make it to Owen – who, I can already tell, even from a distance, is way more than a little camp – we’re derailed by Francelia. I never thought I’d be so glad to see the woman, but she’s like my guardian angel, swooping in to save me from another matchmaking attempt. ‘Have you seen Carolyn? She’s had a little tiff with Piers, apparently, and I need to make sure they smooth things over. Nothing is going to ruin this wedding after all the effort I’ve put in.’
‘I haven’t seen her.’ Alice starts to wring her hands while her eyes dart around the crowded room. ‘What was the row about? Nothing major, I hope?’
Francelia throws her hands up in the air. ‘Goodness knows! You know how dramatic your sister can be.’
‘Carolyn isn’t…’ Alice starts to say, but Francelia isn’t listening. She sighs and brings a hand up to rest on her unnaturally smooth forehead.
‘Do you realise how stressful planning a wedding is? No, of course you don’t. What a ridiculous question! You’d need an actual engagement for that. Or a boyfriend at the very least.’ She sighs again and clamps a hand down on her hip. ‘I heard there was a bit of a scene at dinner. Can you please keep yourself out of trouble? You don’t want to embarrass your father and I, do you?’
Alice opens her mouth to speak – to defend herself – but Francelia is already striding away.
‘Right.’ Alice does a good job of faking cheer as she turns to me, smile fixed in place, head held high. ‘Let’s go and find your Prince Charming.’
I want to say no thank you, let’s not. I want to say I’m too knackered to have another lap of the ballroom. I want to kick off my shoes and curl up in bed. But I don’t do any of these things. I can’t. Not after Francelia’s little dig. Because as jolly as Alice appears to be, I know she isn’t. So, grudgingly, I decide to go along with it for just a little bit longer.
I’m ready for calling it quits when Alice suddenly squeals, grabs my hand and pulls me away from the second or third cousin (they’re all blending together into one boring mass by now) I’ve been listening to drone on and on for the past ten minutes (is that all it was? It felt like much longer, believe me). I’m mid-fake laugh as I’m wrenched away and plonked in front of Archie, the star of the show as far as Alice is concerned.
‘There you are!’ Alice throws her arms around Archie and gives him a tight squeeze. ‘We’ve been looking for you everywhere. It’s so good to see you!’
‘It’s good to see you too.’ Archie steps back so Alice is at arm’s length, though they’re still grasping one another. ‘It’s been too long. I’ve missed you.’ Archie adopts a stern voice, his head dipping towards Alice. ‘You shouldn’t have stayed away.’
Alice squirms out of his grasp and looks down at the floor. ‘I know, but all that stuff with the necklace…’
‘Hey.’ Archie cups Alice’s chin and brings her gaze back up to his. ‘Everyone who matters believed you. Carolyn, Tom, me. We know you’d never do anything like that.’
Alice nods, but she doesn’t look any happier.
‘Come here.’ Archie opens his arms and Alice falls into them, resting her cheek on his chest. He drops a kiss on the top of her head. ‘I really have missed you, Alice in Wonderland.’
Alice in Wonderland?
Archie catches my eye over the top of Alice’s head and smiles. ‘It was our nickname for Alice when we were kids.’
Alice giggles as she straightens. ‘I’d forgotten about that, Archibald the Great.’
Archie holds up his hands as he says to me, ‘That wasn’t my choice. I’m not that egotistical.’
‘Not like Queen Carolyn,’ Alice says with a giggle. ‘She insisted on that one.’
‘We’ll have to think of a nickname for you,’ Archie tells me. ‘If you’re to become part of the gang.’
Alice widens her eyes at me, her hands clasped and her lips pressing together in an attempt to keep her excitement locked in. I suppose it is quite sweet that Archie is inviting me into their little group.
‘As long as it’s something complimentary,’ I say.
‘Of course.’ Archie nudges Alice. ‘We only give the non-complimentary names to those who truly deserve them.’
Alice claps a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening. ‘The Goblin!’ She and Archie giggle at the shared memory. ‘The Goblin was the name we gave to Francelia, though we never told her that, obviously.’
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/jennifer-joyce/the-wedding-that-changed-everything-a-gorgeously-uplifting/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.