The Wedding Shop on Wexley Street: A laugh out loud romance to curl up with in 2018. Rachel Dove
mother before she passed. I opened this up and she came with me.’
What the hell are you doing! Stop telling him your life story, you bloody demented woman!
He nodded, closing up the fuse box and stepping down the ladder.
‘Okay, it’s safe now for when you go home, but I really think you need to get it sorted soon. I can come tomorrow if you like. I have a free day.’
I bet you can too, at double the cost.
‘I won’t charge weekend rates. I’m at a loose end at the moment myself. I have family staying with me and I’d be glad of an excuse to get out of the house to be honest.’
He pulled a face, and she sat up.
‘That would be great, thanks. How much do I owe for today?’
He waved her away as he packed up his tools. ‘I’ll let you have some quotes tonight, and we can sort the bill then.’
She nodded, thinking of her bank account. With the honeymoon costs, and the way business was going, it would be tight. She would be living with Cass for a while at this rate, not that Cass would mind. Her liver might object, though.
He was just finishing up when the phone rang. Thank God she had the power back on at least. She scooped to pick it up and saw Lynn’s number on the screen.
‘Hey, Lynn, you okay?’ She half-watched James pack up as she listened to Lynn chat about her morning.
‘Cool, chilled morning then, eh? That’s good. No, it’s been dead here, and…’ She went to tell her about the electrics, but stopped herself. Lynn didn’t need to be fretting about that. Hopefully things would be well underway by the time she was in next.
‘I’m about to head home myself to be honest. I’m going to take one of the machines to Cass’s and work from there. I haven’t had a customer all day.’
‘Do you think people saw the photos?’ Lynn asked tentatively. Well, she obviously had.
‘You mean the photos that humiliate me and show I wasted years of my life with a completely selfish arsehole? Probably, yeah. I’m guessing that this is what happened. Like people need another reason to avoid me. I mean, you don’t book a wedding planner who can’t keep a bloody man, do you?’ She spun around with the phone in her hand and saw that James was waiting by the door. He looked as though he was waiting… nay, hoping… for the zombie apocalypse to hit so he could be eaten alive by the undead. Obviously preferable to overhearing her tragic backstory.
‘Er, Lynn, a customer just came in. Yeah, I have to go. Speak to you later. Enjoy your weekend.’
‘Sorry, I wasn’t listening, honest. I just wanted to say goodbye properly. What time do you want to start tomorrow?’
‘Whenever, just let me know and I’ll be here to let you in.’
He nodded and opened his mouth as though to say something further. He looked like he was struggling to think of something, so she saved him.
‘Listen, James, is it?’ He smiled, his amused mouth twitching. ‘I’m just having a bad day. I promise to rein in the crazy for tomorrow. If you don’t want the hassle, I understand.’ She plucked a Post-it note off her desk and scribbled down her mobile number.
He took it, opened the door and went to leave. ‘See you tomorrow, Maria. I’ll contact you later. Stay hydrated.’
She sank back down into her chair, watching him walk off to his van. Stay hydrated. She huffed to herself, going to pack up a machine and some work for home.
‘As if a glass of water will sort me out, eh, Mum? I need more than that.’
She packed up and, making sure she’d locked up, carried her stuff to her waiting car. Getting in and cursing the crappy heating once more, she continued her conversation with her mother as she pulled away.
‘Stay hydrated!’ she snorted, shaking her head as she wove through the streets of Westfield. Driving past the vet’s, she passed Amanda on her way up to the house, a cat in her arms. She was walking a little strangely and, as she turned, Maria could see why as her little baby bump came into view.
She waved, and Amanda waved back cheerfully. Cow.
‘Well, did you see that? Benjamin Evans, going to be a dad. I never thought I’d see the day, did you, Mum?’ She drove down the main street, heading towards the cottage. ‘She looked well, though, didn’t she? Married bliss to the man of your dreams and a baby on the way. Own businesses. Pretty good going, isn’t it? At this rate, I shan’t even have the shop by Christmas.’ She drove the rest of the way in silence till she reached Cassie’s home. If her mother had been there, she would have told her to shut up anyway, and get on with it. So that’s what she would do. After a spell of vomiting and changing her bedsheets to rid them of the smell of the stranger she had bedded the night before. If she had to caption her life at the moment, #lifegoals #blessed wouldn’t be first choice. She would rock #epicfail #passthebarfbag, though.
Darcy walked off the plane into the tepid Northern weather and shivered. Whether it was the shock of being back in Britain or the dread of things to come he couldn’t be sure. He had taken ill on the plane, and not even the complimentary champagne had made him feel any better.
His social media accounts had been deactivated while he was away, and he had left his phone at home, not wanting to be contacted while he went away to escape from his nuptials, as it were. For the first few days it had worked too, once his assistant had informed the hotel that he would in fact be attending alone, and it was no longer a honeymoon. A change of room had saved blushes all round, and a lucky couple newly engaged had been jubilant to score a free upgrade, courtesy of the sad-looking man propping up the bar in a rather tragic-looking gaudy shirt. He had found it in his case when he arrived, a joke present from Maria, he guessed, who had packed his case for him. He had gone to throw it out, but had instead found himself donning it to go down to the evening meal. Penance, perhaps. He tried to think about how Maria was, what she was doing, but he couldn’t picture it. He knew she had picked up her things, or someone had. His doorman had called his office to gain permission for them to enter, and his father had told him when he had called to let them know where he was, and his room number, in case any business arose in his absence.
‘It’s done now, spit spot,’ his father had proclaimed down the phone, as though Darcy had just had a boil lanced, or managed to kiss off a bad blind date.
‘Hardly, Father,’ Darcy tried to counter, but his father was already talking again.
‘It would never have worked out and then where would we be, eh? You’re bound to find a nice girl when the time comes, a worthy woman, who will want the same things as us.’
Darcy opened his mouth to argue that Maria surely did want the same things as them, for Darcy to be happy, but it was no use. What was the point in arguing now, anyway? The damage was already done. He had chickened out, hotfooting it down the back stairs before the organist had even cracked her fingers.
So now here he was, heading for the arrivals lounge and all that would follow it. He knew he was expected to head straight to the office, but he wasn’t in a rush to race back into the cutthroat corporate tea business. His dad had already been spouting about some celebrity ad campaign that their biggest rival, Northern Tea, had produced. Darcy had been spared the onslaught for a few days but he knew his mother, father and younger sister would be ready and waiting to fill him in. It was as though they had just erased Maria from their lives, as easily as deleting a file. Darcy wasn’t sure how easy that would come to him, but he supposed he had little choice.
As he went to stand by the carousel with the other dejected-looking holidaymakers, he caught the eye of a woman standing on her own nearby. She was looking tanned