Sequins and Snowflakes Page 19

  As she picks up the sleeve that’s almost sheer, she smiles as the minute sequins catch the light. ‘And long sleeves too. Perfect for a Christmas wedding.’ She gives a wistful sigh. ‘For anyone getting married, that is.’

  Dammit. Obviously not her, then. Which reminds me that white-horse wishes really aren’t reliable. If they were, right now Alice and Dan would probably be drinking Winter Warmers in the Goose and Duck and laughing together about the missing disco floor. Instead of which, they’re both miserable and contemplating life as single people. Stubborn single people. In my book that doesn’t go down as a desirable outcome. Which also reminds me how much work there is to do, if we’re going to make this damned wedding of the year happen at all.

  32

  Thursday, 22nd December

  In St Aidan: Pompoms and great excuses

  As I drive back into St Aidan after dropping Alice back at Daisy Hill Farm there are already a few groups of people spilling out of their offices onto the pavements after work, hitting town for Christmas drinks. Although I’d rather have stayed at the cottage with Alice, I can’t help remembering how she lingered over the ‘sequins and snowflakes’ top in the studio. Not that I’m getting my hopes up that she’s going to need it, but in case there’s the slightest possibility, I want to finish it.

  I leave my car down by the harbour and head back up towards the mews and the shop. As I pass The Hungry Shark it’s already buzzing. Beyond the tinsel-clad windows, the inside looks warm and inviting. I’m willing myself to walk past without popping in, when the door opens.

  ‘Hello, stranger…’ It’s Quinn, glass in hand, his crumpled checked shirt half in, half out of his jeans, hanging down below his floppy sweater.

  And if I take a moment to recognise him under the yellow glare of the street lights, it’s because he’s wearing a red-and-green-striped elf hat. I can’t help grinning. ‘Nice ears you’ve got there.’

  His face creases into a smile as he pats the pointy bits of latex stuck to the side of his head. ‘Being a pixie’s a great excuse to be naughty. Check out the pompoms and the bell.’ He waggles the end of his hat that’s dangling over his shoulder.

  I take my cue and lean in to admire them and get a waft of whisky too.

  ‘Coming in for a drink, then?’ When he smiles the dimples behind the stubble are pretty impossible to resist.

  It takes a nanosecond and one more glimpse of that laconic smile to decide. ‘Just one… then I have to sew.’

  As he walks behind me to the bar, his hand’s already dropped onto my shoulder. ‘I’m warming up with a toddy, but the mulled cider’s looking good if you’d like one?’

  Even as the fug of the bar hits me, in my head I’m already picturing wonky stitching on the chiffon. ‘I’ll stick to the spiced apple, thanks. I’m on my way to work.’ From the way his face falls as he orders, I’m guessing he was hoping for a drinking mate for longer. ‘So what have you done with Dan?’ Between us, I’d pinned my hopes on them being together. At least that way we’d know where Dan was.

  Quinn carries my steaming jam jar to a space along the bar and pulls out two high stools. As I unwrap my scarf, slip off my jacket and clamber up beside him, he squeezes my knee, then gives a shrug.

  ‘Dan came and went before we touched base. I don’t blame the guy for being pissed off. Or for pissing off, either. He didn’t exactly get a warm welcome from “Ice Queen” Alice.’ Quinn’s lip curls as he says Alice’s name.

  Before I know what I’m doing, I’m leaping in there to defend my sister. ‘It wasn’t just Alice’s fault.’ I know Alice was pretty unreasonable, but I can’t let that sneer go, even if it is softened by those baby blue eyes of his. ‘Dan gave as good as he got. They’re both stressed and overwrought. It’s up to us to help them through.’

  Quinn seems to find that funny. So funny, he almost falls off his stool laughing. ‘Couples counselling might be in your job description, but it’s certainly not in mine.’ His elbows are on the bar now and he’s rolling his whisky around in its glass.

  ‘So you’re not even going to attempt to find Dan? Or smooth things over?’

  The corners of Quinn’s mouth drag downwards and he seems to be searching for something in the bottom of his drink. ‘Nope. Dan’s a big boy. If he wants to tie himself down for life to the bitch queen from hell, that’s entirely up to him. But, similarly, if he decides to save himself the bother, that’s his decision too.’

  ‘Holy frigging crap, Quinn, that’s a bit harsh.’ I’m so shocked by what he’s come out with, my juice sloshes all over the wood-block bar, and I almost lose a cinnamon stick.

  ‘Not at all. I’m simply telling it like it is. Take your sickeningly rose-tinted wedding specs off, forget the party hype – and you’re left with two people who are going to have to wake up and look at each other every morning for the rest of their lives. It sounds brutal, but it would take a brave guy to commit to your sister the way she’s been these last few months.’ His pointed stare tells me he’s not joking.

  As I sip my lukewarm drink and pick a clove out of my teeth, I’ve gone all shaky. My tummy’s dissolving on Alice’s behalf. She may have been hard work, but she doesn’t deserve this.

  I screw up my face, because however much I run away from conflict, for once I have to fight this one. ‘If you knew half the effort Alice has put into making this wedding completely amazing for everyone, including Dan, you’d cut her some slack.’ Even as I’m saying it, I’m suddenly furious Quinn’s being so cutting. ‘Not that you’d know about work, given you seem to cause a lot more than you actually do.’ It might sound mean, but he hasn’t exactly been knocking himself out to help. What’s more, my whole childhood, Alice stuck up for me, but this is probably the first time in my life I’ve been able to return the favour. When you’re fighting for something you really believe in, especially for someone else, it’s a lot less hard than you’d think.

  Quinn’s face breaks into a beam. ‘Whoa, go Sera.’ As he laughs and his cheeks slide into the kind of creases that should be to-die-for sexy. ‘None of this needs to bother us. It’s really not our business. Forget about the wedding, we’ll have some downtime of our own. Drinks, laughs, hanging loose – how about a night for us?’ He’s holding my gaze with his. If he wasn’t so damned cool, I suspect he’d be smouldering. One delish beach-ready, Ferrari-driving guy. Delivering himself on a plate. Should be a no-brainer. As the barman walks by, Quinn’s stare slides off me and he waggles his empty glass.

  ‘How many have you had?’ Not that I ever count, but I’m sensing he’s a long way ahead.

  ‘What, are you the drinks police now?’ There’s another throaty laugh. ‘You are so like your sister.’ And despite the tease in his voice, I suspect he doesn’t mean in a good way.

  I can’t let that go without protest. ‘Actually, I’m really nothing like her.’ Apart from being stone-cold sober. And indignant. And being less than enthusiastic about the Quinn I’m seeing right at this moment. And fighting someone else’s corner. Okay, so maybe he is a teensy bit right.

  He leans in towards me, so close his temple is almost touching mine. ‘Just because you’re related to Alice, you don’t have to sign a fun disclaimer.’ His hand slides over my knee and he grasps my fingers. ‘If you’d rather have a night in, we could grab some champagne. Curl up in front of the fire?’

  Talk about déjà vu. This is highwayman island re-visited, and now I’m the one seeing the funny side. ‘You mean pick up where we left off the other day?’ My lips are bursting to smile, but I hold it in.

  His grin is playful. ‘Think of it as a pre-emptive Christmas present – to us both.’ However decorative he looks, it’s not happening. ‘Or even a late one.’ His low chortle tells me he’s alluding to the other day.

  ‘I’d hate to spoil the surprise this far ahead.’ Clunking my jam jar of juice down on the bar, I finally let my grin go as I slide down from my stool. As for the present I already missed – there are no words.

&
nbsp; His chin shoots upwards. ‘Where the hell are you going?’

  ‘There’s a wedding dress waiting. I have to go.’ On a need-to-know basis, that covers it.

  He frowns. ‘If you think Alice will be needing one of those, you’re deluding yourself. Running out on me for that is bollocks.’

  ‘Whatever.’ So much for home truths.

  ‘Seriously, Sera, you’re wasting your time. Jeez, just for once, let go, enjoy the ride.’ Cool and ripped. His denims and his body. All blonde stubble and cheekbones. He’s even got the frayed sweater to match mine.

  And I’m still walking away. ‘Thanks for the drink.’ I grab my coat. ‘Sorry to miss the fun, I’ll catch you later.’

  33

  Thursday, 22nd December

  In the studio at Brides by the Sea: Better in daylight

  Whenever I sew, the outside world always fades. Tonight, as I sit up in the studio, in the pool of light next to the twinkling Christmas tree, the whirring of my sewing machine is the perfect way to block out reality. All I’m thinking about are the pieces of chiffon. As I ease them under the flying machine needle, the wedding manual seems a long way away. Dan and Alice’s argument begins to blur. And the way Quinn shook it off as if he really didn’t give a damn isn’t important any more. As I hand-stitch the tiniest pearl buttons into place down the back, and ease them through loops made from the narrowest satin ribbon, all that matters is the whisper of the fabric in my hands. Once the little cropped jacket is done, I carefully drape it onto a hanger. As I hold it up, the colours of the Christmas tree shine through the sheer fabric and the miniscule sequins glint. It weighs so little, it moves as a draught of air blows up from the stairs.

  ‘Sera… are you up there?’

  I jump, and kick myself for being careless enough to leave the door unlocked. If this is Quinn… I brace myself and rush to hang the top on the rail as I hear the thump of feet on the stairs. Quinn, four hours more drunk than when I left him, is the last thing I want to deal with.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me coming up…’

  As I catch the lilt of the words, my ribcage relaxes and I sigh with relief. ‘Johnny?’

  ‘I saw your shadow in the window from the street.’ His hands are deep in the pockets of his North Face jacket as he appears in the doorway. Below his uncharacte‌ristically messy hair his face is lined and pale. ‘Sorry, I know it’s late, but I was hoping to tap your local knowledge.’ He sounds like a line from the wedding manual. On the upside, he’s not slurring or waxing lyrical in an over-emotional way. What’s more, he’s made it up the steep winding studio stairs without falling over. So that can only be good.

  ‘Sure, how can I help?’ Given the awkward way we parted last time, as I flick off the power to the machine and the iron, I don’t meet his gaze.

  His deep sigh heightens the shadows under his cheekbones. ‘I’ve been all over the county, trying to locate Dan, and I finally found his car down by the harbour. At a guess, he’s out in town.’

  I’ve already picked up my coat to leave. ‘And you want me to…?’

  ‘Come round the pubs and bars with me to look for him. It’s a long shot, but I reckon it’s worth a try.’

  ‘Okay.’ Even if I’d rather not be doing it with Johnny, after Quinn’s attitude earlier, it’s a relief to have some positive action from Team Groom.

  Johnny hesitates as he turns for the stairs. ‘Believe me, this is all about Dan. I’m not trying to change history here. For us, I mean.’

  I hope someone knows what he’s going on about here, because I don’t. I stare at him blankly. As I flick out the lights and join him on the landing he’s trying again.

  ‘Whatever I said the other day, and however bemused I am at how your life has turned out, I promise I’ll back off.’

  ‘Okay. Thanks for that,’ I say, throwing in a bright smile, even though I still haven’t got the foggiest what he’s getting at. ‘Shall we make a start, then?’

  As we head out onto the street, we run straight into a guy with a monster Christmas pudding for a body, surrounded by a cluster of people dressed as crackers.

  Johnny pulls up his collar and leans down to me. ‘It’s party time out here. At least we’ll stand a better chance with two of us.’

  I dodge an inflatable snowman, then a guy who appears to be riding a stuffed camel. ‘Trust Dan to go AWOL the one night everyone’s out on their festive pub crawls.’ If Dan’s dressed up to blend in we won’t stand a chance. ‘Shall we start in The Hungry Shark?’

  As we shoulder our way through the crowds spilling out onto the pavement, I’m aching for Quinn to have moved on. I brace myself, dive into the melee, and begin to scan the faces. There’s a snowman on the stool where Quinn was.

  ‘When did plain old Santa suits and fairy dresses go out of fashion?’ Johnny’s shaking his head, as we meet up again back at the door. ‘I’ve checked the Gents, but on balance I’d say it’s a “no” in here. So where next?’

  ‘We’ll start with The Jolly Sailor, The Ship, The Balcony Bar, Hot Jacks, The Hub and The Smugglers’ Inn.’ I count them off on my fingers. ‘Then we’ll try The Yellow Canary and The Rum and Crab, then pull in The Harbour Hotel. And work our way down to The Beach Hut and The Surf Shack.’ Even as I reel them off, it seems like an impossible task.

  ‘The quicker we go, the more chance we have of catching him rather than missing him,’ Johnny points out.

  We’re shooting in and out of bars so fast, there isn’t even time to unwind my scarf, let alone enjoy the decorations or join in the Christmas songs playing in the background.

  ‘Should we be checking them all, or should we be targeting the places Dan would choose?’ I’m panting and half running, as I try to keep up with Johnny’s long strides as he steps off the pavement to overtake a dawdling turkey. On the upside, there’s no breath left for conversation in between bars.

  ‘Best do them all.’ As he hops back onto the pavement, he pulls me up beside him. ‘You never know where he’ll wander in to.’

  We’re about to dodge a group of guys in angel dresses, arm in arm and singing, or rather shouting, ‘We three kings…’ I’m scanning, just in case Dan’s hiding in amongst the group when I come across a familiar face under a very crooked halo.

  ‘Chas?’

  He narrows his eyes at me for a second, then it clicks. ‘Sera, hi, how’re you doing?’ The enthusiastic punch on the arm he gives me is pretty forceful for an angel. As the line slews to a halt, the angel carol subsides. ‘Are you partying too?’

  I’m shouting over the noise from the nearby Rum and Crab. ‘Looking for Dan, the groom. We’ve temporarily misplaced him.’ At least that’s halfway to the truth.

  Chas gives a grimace. ‘We’ve just come from The Harbour Hotel; he wasn’t there. Wasn’t in The Beach Hut earlier either from what we could see.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I can’t imagine how they ever got into the up-market Harbour Hotel in their angel dresses. Maybe there are special dispensations for festive firemen. ‘If you see him, tell him we’re on our way down to The Surf Shack,’ I yell as an afterthought as I nudge Johnny across the road.

  ‘Will do.’ Chas shouts over his shoulder as the angel line sets off again.

  Probably because Chas just saved us a half-hour round trip or more, as we make our way down the hill and along the sea front to The Surf Shack, our pace slows.

  ‘Must be cool to wake up this close to the beach every day.’ Johnny’s hair is flattened against his head as he yells at me. As we hit the sea front he’s struggling into a head wind so strong, it whips his words away.

  I shove my hands deep into my pockets and pull my jacket closer to my body. ‘It isn’t always blowing a gale like this.’ I yell back and jump to dodge the spray as the high tide smacks against the sea wall and splatters foam over the railings. By the time I skip up the steps to the decking at the front of the café heading for the chaser lights around the door, I decide some context might help. ‘This is pretty much m
y local.’ It’s easier to explain away the welcome in advance.

  As we push our way into the sudden calm of the café and sidle up to the bar, sure enough Brin bobs up from behind the electric blue Christmas tree, beaming. ‘Hey, Sera, you’re out late tonight. What can I get you? Beer, hot punch, hot chocolate…?’

  I grin at him. ‘Actually I’m not here to order, I’m searching for a lost bridegroom.’ When you put it like that, it comes over as a bit dramatic. As I catch sight of the muffin plate on the bar, my mouth begins to water, so I yank my gaze away from the cakes. ‘Although we’re running out of places to look.’ When I look over my shoulder and check the tables, it’s obvious Dan’s not here either.

  ‘No, let’s have a drink.’ Johnny’s come to a halt beside me. ‘We can warm up and regroup. What would you like?’

  I hesitate, but only for a moment. ‘Double chocolate muffin, please, and my usual please.’

  ‘Which is?’ Johnny’s head is tilted.

  ‘Frothy hot chocolate, XXL, with a swirl of salted caramel and dark-chocolate sprinkles. It’s to die for.’

  There’s a smile lilting around his lips. ‘Two of those, then, and a muffin for me too, please.’

  Five minutes later I’ve sunk onto a chair and I’m dipping my spoon into the froth on my drink. ‘After all that rushing around it’s nice to sit down. As for lunch, it’s so long ago I can’t remember it.’ I peel back the paper on my muffin and slide a knife through the cake, and take a delicious, sticky bite. ‘Best, most gigantic muffins in town.’ I mumble, pushing the crumbs into my mouth, then taking a deep drink of hot chocolate.

  ‘It’s a pain we’ve lost Dan. But it’s nice to see you where you live, at last.’

  This is the downside of stopping. Though why he makes it sound like something he’s been waiting for all his life, I have no idea. ‘It’s better in daylight in summer, to be honest.’ I rub the corners of my mouth. ‘Have I got a chocolate ‘tache?’