Christmas Promises at the Little Wedding Shop Read online

  Your pics are so great you’ve brought him out in a nervous rash lol

  Let’s be clear. We wouldn’t text literally behind Jules’s back if he hadn’t forced his way in so rudely. At least smirking at Poppy makes me feel less as if my soul is under the microscope here, with Jules sniffing and snorting and coughing his way through my wedding files. One more ping.

  Sorry, he is well out of order. Defo no cupcakes for him

  By the time he clears his throat again, I’m almost past caring about the scrutiny. He leans back, shuffles in his parka pocket and pulls out a memory stick. I’m still smiling at the Lilo and Stitch key ring it’s attached to, which seems way too cute for serious old him, when he starts talking.

  ‘I like to post a best moments mini-album for my wedding couples within twenty four hours. There are a couple of shots here I know they’ll love. If you don’t mind, I’ll take copies.’

  It takes me so long to pick my jaw up off the floor, I don’t reply.

  ‘Hello, anyone home?’ He dangles Lilo in front of my nose. ‘Some of us haven’t got all day, you know. A quick yes or no will do.’

  Poppy steps in. ‘Yes – so long as we see what you’ve chosen.’

  He’s straight back at her. ‘All in the file I’ve created here. Jules for Zoe and Aidan’s First Album.’ His memory stick is in and out of my computer in a flash. ‘I may edit a teensy bit more. Get the rest to me by Friday. Okay. That’s me done.’

  I finally get my gaping jaw into gear. ‘You want my pictures?’ If I’m behind here, it’s because after everything he’s said, I can’t believe he’s even asking.

  ‘Obviously.’ Jules’s look of disgust couldn’t be huger. ‘No point keeping a dog and barking myself, is there? Some of them are …’ He hesitates as if he’s searching for the right phrase.

  And that’s when I spot what’s wrong. A ping three seconds later tells me Poppy’s seen it too. Except it’s so obvious once I’ve noticed, there’s no need to read the text.

  One of Jules’s startling blue eyes is brown!!!!

  Where Jules should be rolling two deep-turquoise eyes, the colour of St Aidan Bay on a summer’s day, complete with shimmer, instead there’s only one. The other’s a murky greyish brown. More like a puddle after a rainstorm.

  ‘… not too bad at all.’ Jules frowns at us. ‘Is something wrong?’ As he blinks at us we get an uninterrupted view.

  Poppy and I stare at each other as though we’re about to burst. I’m aching for her to jump in, when there’s the sound of the shop door. From the excited voices and clatter of feet, it sounds like the start of a stampede. From the speed of Poppy’s reaction, however big her bump, she isn’t suffering from baby brain.

  Pushing past Jules, she dives in the desk drawer and pulls out a pair of sunnies. ‘Quick, pop these on before the boys arrive.’ She’s hissing at him. ‘You’ve got a wardrobe malfunction. One of your contacts is missing.’

  Jules stutters. ‘Contacts? What contacts?’ He gives a wince of disgust as the specs hit his hand. ‘Don’t you have Ray-bans? Or some with less bling?’

  Poppy shakes her head at me. ‘Jeez, Jules, we’re a wedding shop not an opticians. They’re unclaimed lost property, not prescription lenses. Just put them on or these guys will eat you for breakfast.’

  ‘Who’s here?’ The flyaway cat’s eye frames he’s peering through give him a curiously androgynous air. But at least the mismatch is hidden.

  This one I know. ‘The groomsmen’s party, from the upcoming Manor wedding.’ Probably the reason poor Jess is stuck up a mountain as we speak.

  ‘Shite, if they see me like this I’m done for.’ Jules groan is heartfelt.

  Poppy nods. ‘On every count. So move it. Lie low in Sera’s studio.’

  He pushes his sunnies up and wrinkles his nose. ‘My head’s hammering, I’ve got what I came for, so I might choose my moment and make a run for it.’

  ‘As you like.’ Poppy’s already got her welcoming face on and she’s crossed the room to usher in the group. ‘Hello Paul, Brett, Gus …’ She’s talking to them through the doorway. ‘Gary and Ken, you two already met Holly.’

  As Gary laughs it’s obvious he’s Santa from last Saturday. ‘Without the pony and tights this time.’ Although he’s clean shaven, he’s still got a sizable paunch. What’s more, I can completely see how he nailed the local karaoke championships with his Karma Chameleon.

  ‘Not to mention the beard, and the ho ho ho’s.’ As if they weren’t enough clues for me, Ken gives an elfie skip. Just to be sure.

  ‘Harry, Travis, Tom, Taylor and another Tom.’ As Poppy waves in the last man, there’s a blur of a stripy scarf as Jules bolts across from the desk.

  As he pauses momentarily in mid-dash, the chandelier reflections flash off his glasses. ‘I’m going to say, “hi and bye”. I’ll catch up with you all very soon.’

  As Jules whooshes away down the hall, Gary gives a chortle. ‘Now there’s a man with a twinkle in his shades. I’m liking Julian in blue mirror glasses.’

  Ken’s purses his lips and he arches one neatly plucked brow. ‘My gaydar’s on overdrive. Do spill, has pin-up boy Jules finally come over to the dark side? I always knew he’d make a fabulous pixie.’

  I surprise myself by leaping to defend Jules’s manhood. ‘Absolutely not. Those are borrowed sunnies. To ward off a headache. That’s absolutely all.’

  ‘Whatever.’ Ken gives a smirk. ‘We might change his mind at St Aidan’s wedding of the year.’

  Poppy’s taken up her station at the end of the rail of suits. ‘So, who’s for trying on?’

  Aware I’m supposed to be helping here and knowing I need to get my wedding muscles into shape, I decide to chip in. I look down the line-up of friendly faces. ‘So, which one’s the groom?’

  I can see Poppy’s lips twitching as a sandy haired guy steps forward.

  ‘That’s me.’

  I’m opening my mouth to congratulate him, when another voice chimes in.

  ‘And me.’ Blond number two steps next to him.

  It’s out before I can stop it. ‘What?’ From the way my eyes are popping, I’m entirely giving away that my customer service skills are zero. After Mr and Mr Claus, two grooms shouldn’t come as a surprise. I make up for it by racking my brains to remember their names. ‘W-w-w-well, great. That’s brilliant, T-travis and T-taylor. You two are going to make a lovely couple.’

  I’m standing back, mentally patting myself on the back for the way I picked myself up there, when I hear a ripple of laughter. Small at first. Then it rises to a room full of hearty guffaws. From the way Poppy’s smile is splitting her face in two, there has to be something not right.

  ‘Two lovely guys are tying the knot. Which explains why there are so many groomsmen. What’s so funny?’

  Travis takes pity on me first. ‘We are both getting married – just not to each other.’

  I’m bemused. ‘Keep going.’

  Taylor joins in. ‘Travis and I are twin brothers. And we’re getting married to twin sisters.

  ‘Double trouble,’ Ken chimes in.

  Obviously not happy to be outdone by an elf, so does Gary. ‘Two for the price of one.’ He grins. ‘Like all your Christmases coming at once.’

  ‘Right.’ Twins marrying twins. If I’d done every combination, I doubt I’d have got to that. Ever.

  Although, just for a second I get a stab. Not that I get flashbacks a lot. But when I do they’re as clear as if they happened yesterday. Playing weddings with Freya. Not that we did it often. We were way more likely to be shipwrecked, or dressage instructors, with our little brothers as horses. Or on safari using a cut up dustbin for a jeep. She was the strong one, the wild outdoor one, always the one who decided. But on the days when we wore those long dresses handed down from our cousins and paraded around with tea towel veils, we always promised each other when we grew up we’d get married on the same day. Which just goes to prove how little we knew about real life. And how much
we were taking the future for granted.

  Lucky that one of us is on the ball here instead of drifting off. Poppy’s already back by her hanging rail. ‘So, all the alterations have been done, boys. We’re using the bigger fitting rooms down here today. I hope no one’s put on too much weight the last couple of weeks.

  As fast as Poppy locates the name tags, I’m handing out the suits. Once everyone’s safely tucked behind the fitting room curtains, she comes over and hisses into my ear.

  ‘So Jules’s big secret is that he wears coloured contact lenses.’ Her tone is dramatic.

  ‘So that’s why his eyes look like he got them enhanced on Photoshop?’ I’ve heard of them, I’ve just never met anyone who was a regular user. ‘And why he looked so lopsided with one missing?’ And all this time I assumed it was because he was extraordinary. Not just the spots, then. He’s less superhuman in all departments.

  Poppy nods. ‘I found out by accident when I woke him up one night when he was staying in a camper van at the farm. He’d taken them out to sleep.’

  ‘But otherwise people don’t talk about it?’

  ‘It’s St Aidan’s best kept secret.’ She grins. ‘If anyone mentions his startling eyes, he claims it’s all down to his mum’s blueberry smoothies. She smiles. ‘Mesmerising blue eyes are a great way of holding people’s attention when he’s taking pictures. And women love them too – mostly.’

  I suspect she’s pulling a face because he had a crush on her a while ago, but she knocked him back. ‘Like Jess, you mean?’

  ‘Jess is ninety per cent immune. But she still has a soft spot for Jules. Although she gets very cross when he won’t do as he’s told.’

  As the fitting room curtain moves and the first guy comes out Poppy moves to enthuse.

  ‘Hey, transformation, or what, Brett?’

  He runs his fingers through not much hair. ‘Once my new haircut’s grown a bit, it’ll be perfect.’

  I nod as he grins at his reflection in the huge White Room mirror. ‘Grey tweed. That’s very easy on the eye.’ Especially on a hottie like Brett.

  As the line of hunky guys files out, they’re all looking stunning in their own way. But the sad thing is, although I can appreciate the lookers, none of them raise even a tiny flutter. Not that getting Luc back would ever happen. I’m resigned to that. But even this far down the line, I’m still a million miles away from moving on. And anyone reminding me of my lift shaft tummy at Home Brew Cottage the other night, forget it. Because I have. That didn’t count for anything at all.

  Refolding ten suits, sliding them into their smart Brides by the Sea travelling covers, sorting the payments, I can see why Poppy needs an extra pair of hands. It’s the best part of an hour later by the time the guys file out past the Christmas tree.

  ‘Have a fabulous day on the 15th,’ Poppy calls after them, as we stand together waving.

  After yesterday I can’t help musing. A double wedding in the most upmarket venue in the county? What the hell kind of nightmare would that be for a photographer? Even Superman Jules will have his work cut out with that one. In skiing terms, it makes my two-person ceremony on the beach seem like the nursery slopes. But on the upside, it’s not something I’ll ever have to worry about. After Nate and Becky, I’ll be full speed back to quiches, casseroles and my easy life. And for me, it can’t come soon enough.

  Chapter 11

  Thursday 7th December

  At Brides by the Sea: Gobstoppers and disappointments

  ‘So how did it go with the midwife?’

  I’ve been in the White Room all day, helping Sera with bridal appointments and working on my pictures in between. By the time Poppy comes in and flops in the mother-of-the-bride’s chair, it’s late afternoon, and through the shop windows the mews outside is yellow in the street lights’ glow.

  Poppy wrinkles her nose. ‘My blood pressure’s a teensy bit up, but still completely normal. Baby Rafe is absolutely fine. But I’d rather not worry Big Rafe with this just at the moment.’

  It’s completely confidential, for all kinds of reasons. But Rafe and his previous girlfriend lost a baby a long time ago. Since she’s been pregnant, Poppy has shared this with her closest friends, if only to explain why Rafe’s reluctant to leave her side for a second. And this is why every medical appointment is extra tense for Poppy.

  She gives a low moan. ‘Rafe’s trying so hard to be relaxed and positive.’

  I shrug. ‘You being pregnant is bound to bring it all back. It’s completely understandable that he’s anxious.’ I’m sympathising despite being completely clueless.

  She puffs out her lips. ‘No, anxious was before. Since we went past the dates when it all went wrong last time, he’s totally bricking it.’ Her sigh is heartfelt. ‘And the other need-to-know yet completely off-the-record news today is, Immie isn’t pregnant. She told me when I met her in town on my way back from the surgery.’

  I let out a groan. ‘Oh bummer. That’s a shame.’ Immie’s never one to keep things to herself. When she got married last summer she didn’t throw her bouquet, because she wanted to keep it for the grandchildren. That, and leaving pregnancy test boxes scattered all around the farm office, mean it’s common knowledge she and Chas are trying. ‘With so many brides moving on to have families, Jess needs to scrap the studio idea and open Babies by the Sea instead.’

  ‘Sera’s sister Alice has a little girl now too.’ Poppy laughs. ‘Jess is great with brides. Children not so much.’

  As the phone rings the call comes up as out of area. ‘Speaking of Jess, this is her eighth call today.’ I fill Poppy in as I pick up the handset. ‘Still no sign of a ring. But she’s on first name terms with all the bar staff in Kaffee Klatsch.’

  Poppy puts out her hand. ‘Let me take it.’

  ‘Thanks.’ As I peep past the fairy lights in the window down the shadowy mews, my heart sinks. ‘Although, we may have visitors.’ Rory, swinging Teddie in a car seat from one hand and Gracie from the other, is heading straight for the door.

  I grab one of Jules’s flyers and I’m fanning myself, wildly trying for a pre-chill before the heat hits, when Immie strides in, thumping her head with both fists.

  ‘Hols, we need a toilet for Gracie and a gobstopper for Rory. That man’s doing my head in.’

  Poppy’s backing away into the kitchen, shaking her head. Although that may be more because she hasn’t got a word in with Jess yet, than because of who’s arriving.

  ‘I’m with you on that one.’ I grin at Immie. ‘What’s he done now?’

  She tugs at her spikes of hair. ‘Two kids in tow, and he still goes on endlessly about wine recommendations and mashes and labels. If I hear one more word about Mad Elf or Santa’s Little Helper, when he should be focusing on baby milk, I might just bottle Rory Sanderson himself.’

  I take it she’s talking about beers there. And seeing Immie is one of the world’s greatest sinkers of pints, with a spectacular interest in any hop-related liquid, this is a big turnaround indeed.

  There’s an outsized jangle going on in the hallway, then Rory bursts in. Teddie’s car seat slides along the floor as he puts it down, and then he releases Gracie.

  ‘Baby carrier in collision with the Christmas tree back there. You guys really need to work on your parent and baby access.’

  ‘Hi Gracie,’ I say, making a point of ignoring Rory. ‘Remind me to brush your hair before you go.’ If she was rocking the haystack look the other day, today she’s moved onto fourth day festival chic.

  Immie’s holding her hand out to Gracie, who’s clutching both furry snowmen to her chest. ‘Toilet’s this way.’

  I’m inwardly cursing for not jumping in on the bathroom run, because now I’m stuck facing Rory. ‘Dropping by with the kids isn’t the best idea. All this white lace isn’t exactly a child friendly environment.’ If I’m fierce enough, with any luck next time Gracie’s bursting he’ll drop into the Hungry Shark instead and save me the bother of tensing my muscles so hard to keep
my stomach in place, they feel like they’re cramping.

  He shakes his head. ‘You do know you’re still just as hilarious when you’re up yourself, Holly North? Don’t get your trousseau in a twist. Good thing for you we’re only here to use the facilities, not rate your welcome on Trip Advisor.’

  Seeing as we’re in the shop, I’m feeling the pressure to be professional. Ignoring his taunt, I jam my mouth into a smile. ‘So how has your day been?’ It comes out sweet to the point of sickly. Chocolate brownie, with double toffee sauce would be less cloying.

  He folds his arms. ‘Great, so long as screaming and sulking are your bag.’

  ‘That bad?’ If my smile gives way to a frown of concern, it’s for Gracie, not him. ‘Can’t you make an effort? Take them out somewhere? Kids usually like to chat. And most of them will eat vegetables too if you chop them into sticks.’ Not that I’m an expert, but I seem to have more idea than he does.

  ‘Thank you to St Aidan’s latest childcare guru.’ His shrug is dismissive. ‘There’s no common ground. Gracie’s not interested in pubs and I’m well out of touch with my childish side.’

  ‘Really?’ If my voice is a disbelieving squeak, it’s because that claim would be more credible if it didn’t come from the same sixth-form joker who left the school skeleton sunbathing in a deck chair on the roof of the science block, in full view of hundreds of drivers passing in the rush hour. What’s more, he apparently threw in a successful job in law to make home brew and flog champers. Rejections of adulting don’t come much bigger than that. He’s pushing forty and swanning around with zero responsibilities and no visible ties. Apart from having to stir the odd vat occasionally, this guy has the life of Riley. From where I’m standing, Rory is the original teenager who refused to grow up. ‘So you’re not going to try at all?’

  He saunters over to the desk and throws himself down into the Louis Quatorze chair. ‘This is a holding exercise now. As Gracie puts it, three more sleeps and they’ll be gone. Roll on Sunday, so we can all get our lives back.’ He puts his hands behind his head and starts to extend his legs. ‘Let’s face it, it’s as bad for them as it is for me. This has to be the longest week ever.’