by Sharon Owens
‘No, it’s okay; I’ll tell you. There’s no big secret love in my past, Dylan. I have never been in love. I thought I was, once. But it wasn’t true love, just an infatuation,’ she admitted sadly. ‘It was a bit of a disaster, really. I wasn’t trying to hide it from you, Dylan. I just didn’t feel ready to tell you about it.’
‘So what happened? Why were you getting married if you weren’t in love? And why didn’t you mention this last night when I told you about my ex? You could have told me, you know. I would have understood.’
Emily slipped out of Dylan’s embrace to fetch a bottle of milk from the fridge and put bread in the toaster.
‘Yes, I know you would have been very sympathetic. But it was the most embarrassing day of my life, and I still find the experience very difficult to talk about. We were having such a lovely evening yesterday, I didn’t want to go and ruin it all. Anyway, it means nothing; he means nothing, and it’s all in the past now.’
‘But is it in the past? I’m really sorry for asking,’ Dylan said humbly, while still looking absolutely adorable but slightly ridiculous in Emily’s glittery skull T-shirt from River Island.
‘It’s over; it was all over and done with eighteen months ago. My beloved stood me up at the altar, if you must know,’ Emily said, setting out cups and plates and avoiding Dylan’s gaze. ‘He stood me up on our wedding day.’
‘You are joking?’
‘No, I’m not joking. It doesn’t just happen in romantic movies, you know. It happens in real life too, sometimes. I was there at the church, doing the whole mental bride thing – biting my false nails and pacing up and down the path and asking everybody what time it was. And he just didn’t show up.’
‘Where was the wedding?’ Dylan said, clearly horrified.
Emily sat down on a kitchen chair and indicated to Dylan to do the same.
‘It was in Belfast. The December before last, it was. A lovely old church right in the city centre! One hundred and fifty guests all present and correct – mostly extended family on my father’s side. I had four bridesmaids, who were all cousins of mine, all with very expensive hairdos and make-up. A luxury reception booked and paid for by my sweet self – at Belfast Castle, no less. There were oysters and lobsters, five tiers of white cupcakes with silver balls on the top instead of a wedding cake, a string quartet in the foyer and gallons of pink champagne. Oh well. They do say pride comes before a fall. And that was a pretty spectacular fall, I can tell you.’
‘And the guy actually did a runner?’
‘Yes. He sent me a text, would you believe it? A tiny little text! He was thirty minutes late by that stage, and there was no sign of the best man either. I was imagining all sorts. I thought they’d done something terrible to him on the stag night; I thought he was in a booze-induced coma. Or maybe they’d had a car accident on the way to the church? So anyway, I’m freaking out and thinking I ought to start ringing round the hospitals … and then I get a text from Prince Charming. And he says he doesn’t want to be tied down when he’s only thirty-three. And he’s very sorry, but it’s better to tell the truth now than to get married and regret it later. And as the final touch, he told me he’d met someone else a few days earlier and he thought she might be the one for him. Just a few days, and he’d found the one! We’d been together for over ten years, off and on.’
‘The absolute scumbag! What was his name?’
‘Alex. I’m not telling you his surname – in case you go and beat the hell out of him.’
‘Didn’t your father beat the hell out of him at the time?’ Dylan wanted to know.
‘No, of course not. My poor father weighs nine stone at the very most. He couldn’t beat the hell out of a wet paper bag.’
‘Still and all …’
‘Dad was quite nice about it, really. He said Alex didn’t deserve me and I was better off without him. It was the nicest thing my father’s ever said to me, actually. I was so moved when he said that. We had a nice little moment where we held hands by the church door, and he really seemed like a picture-book father. Then he disappeared off to the greyhound track.’
‘Why?’
‘He was too mortified to face the guests. He said a flutter on the dogs would calm his nerves. Frankly, I didn’t blame him one bit.’
‘Fair enough, I think. And what did your mother say?’
‘She didn’t say much at the time – because she wasn’t there.’
‘Where was she?’
‘She was shopping in Dublin.’
‘She went shopping on your wedding day?’ Dylan gasped.
‘Yes, I told you she was very fond of shopping.’
‘I can’t believe it,’ he said.
‘I think Mum was too nervous to be at the wedding, really. You know how the mother of the bride gets almost as much attention as the bride herself? Well, my mum doesn’t like wearing posh hats – and she doesn’t care much for my father’s relatives either. She says they’re very pushy and nosy types. Mind you, with all the drama, nobody noticed she wasn’t in the church. I don’t think they ever found out that the mother of the bride was wandering round Dublin with half a dozen carrier bags on each arm.’
‘Oh, Emily, I’m so sorry.’
‘Afterwards she said, what did I expect? She said Alex was a big-shot and a smooth playboy – and that he was well out of my league, anyway. And that I was, and always had been, a daydreamer with ideas above my station.’
‘She did not say that, did she? What an unforgivable thing to say to your own daughter.’
‘Listen, it makes no difference what my mother says to me or anybody else. She’s always been a bit odd, Dylan. Actually, I should tell you … that she’s … an alcoholic. She’s a bad-tempered, painfully shy, bitter and resentful inverted snob … and a desperate, incurable, unapologetic alcoholic.’
‘Come here,’ he said, pulling Emily into his arms.
He kissed the top of her head as she wept silent tears.
‘Thanks for being so kind,’ she said eventually. ‘I know it isn’t my fault, or Mum’s either, but I’ve been carrying the shame of her alcoholism around with me all these years. I think that’s part of the reason Alex broke up with me; he didn’t want the hassle of living with an alcoholic mother-in-law. He was very conscious of his reputation and, as I said before, Belfast is a very small town. Everybody knows everything about everybody else in their social circle. So there was that – and the fact we have no money.’
‘But that must have been so awful for you. What did you do? I mean, when this Alex loser didn’t turn up at the church?’
‘I thought I was coping okay, but after Dad left I had a full-blown panic attack in the porch, gasping on my hands and knees in a cloud of white tulle. A real fairytale wedding all right! I was shaking so much, I dropped my phone in the holy water font. The priest was very nice about it; he got me calmed down again and gave me a paper bag to breathe into. I thought I’d die of shame and hurt and rage. But we had a little chat out in the gardens, me and the priest, and he told me there must be something better in line for me. Or someone better. So I told the guests to go ahead and have the meal – the poor loves were all dressed up with nowhere to go. The priest made the announcement on my behalf. After all, I’d already paid twelve thousand pounds for the reception.’
‘Ouch!’
‘And I went back to my parents’ house in the wedding car, changed into my ordinary clothes and rang for a taxi to the airport. Needless to say, I never want to show my face in Belfast again. It’s not that they’d laugh at me or anything. I just don’t want their sympathy. Something like that will never be forgotten – not ever. They have long memories in Belfast, very long memories. Fifty years after I’m dead they’ll still be describing me as the poor critter that got left at the altar.’
‘Why did you keep the wedding dress?’
‘It cost me a fortune. And it looked beautiful on me. And also, I wanted a reminder of my madness.’
‘It wasn’t madn
ess, Emily. Alex was totally cruel to do that to you. He should have gone through with the wedding, just to save face on the day. And then maybe you could have split up later, in private. You could have split up the following day and asked for an annulment. But he shouldn’t have done that to you. That was unforgivable.’
‘You’re so thoughtful and sweet,’ she said, putting on fresh toast and throwing the cold slices of bread in the bin.
She boiled the kettle again and filled the teapot.
‘Well, I don’t know about thoughtful and sweet, but I would never stand a girl up on her wedding day.’
‘I know you wouldn’t.’
‘What happened to this Alex chap in the end?’
‘He’s engaged to another girl now. The one he met a few days before he left me. She comes from old money; she’s a lawyer. Alex is a lawyer too. Did I mention that?’
‘He’s nothing but a grubby little gold-digger. You had a lucky escape, Emily.’
‘Ha! Thanks.’
‘He was only after her money, Emily. You know it’s true.’
‘Maybe he was. But anyway, my dear old mother was right all along.’
‘Huh! With a mother like yours, who needs enemies?’
‘She’s a depressive, Dylan. To her, life has always been a crushing disappointment. And everything that goes wrong simply confirms her belief that life will always be a crushing disappointment. I don’t think she knows how to deal with happiness. It’s very sad for her, really. I’m the lucky one, because I got away from Belfast and made something of myself. Would you like some toast?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
Emily set a plate of toast on the breakfast bar and calmly poured two cups of tea.
‘I don’t agree with that assessment, Emily. There’s simply no excuse for treating you like that. She ought to be ashamed of herself. What she said to you was even worse than that idiot standing you up on your wedding day. Parents should always be on the side of their kids – no matter what they’re going through themselves.’
‘It’s okay, I’m used to it. She can’t help the way her brain works, I suppose. I should just be grateful I’ve found something to be interested in. I love my work, even though it’s true that it isn’t very exciting. But the interiors business never disappoints either, do you see? That’s why I love all those perfect rooms – empty of people, empty of emotional baggage and the untidiness of human affairs.’
‘I can understand that, yes.’
‘Arabella was brilliant about it all too. She couldn’t make it to the wedding, because her father was very ill at the time. But she was so supportive for weeks and weeks afterwards. I feel I’ve let her down very badly over her husband’s recent behaviour, you know. She did beg me for advice, but I wasn’t able to give her any. I wish I knew where she was now. I wish I knew why she just took off like that. I wish I could do something to help her.’
‘I’m sure Arabella knows you care about her very much. Listen, you should give that dress away to a friend – or sell it. Get rid of the memories.’
‘Yes, I’ll donate the dress and all the accessories to the shop this very day. I’m sure Sylvia will be pleased. Or will she think you’re going out with a flake? She might as well know about Alex now – in case she finds out later on down the line and thinks I’m hiding a whole bunch of other things.’
There were one or two other secrets lurking in Emily’s wardrobe, as it happened. But Alex’s desertion was the main one – the big one. Emily decided that would be enough information for Dylan for one day.
‘Sylvia likes you, Emily. She says you’re very real.’
‘That’s nice, I like being real,’ Emily smiled.
‘Yes, it wouldn’t be much fun living life as a hologram, would it?’ Dylan said, munching toast.
The walls of Emily’s small kitchen were painted a zingy lime green, and she’d bought tea canisters and tea towels to match. A row of cup hooks held six green and white floral patterned mugs.
Dylan complimented her on the decor.
‘Thanks,’ she said happily. ‘I do try to live stylishly on a very small budget.’
‘Don’t they pay you well enough at the magazine?’
‘Yes, the salary is quite good. But the rent here is pretty high, and also I’m still paying off my wedding debts.’
‘Did your father not pay for some of it?’
‘No – he’d like to, but my parents live on benefits, Dylan. I have to send them money from time to time, dear love them.’
‘Of course, look, I’m such an idiot sometimes. I had no right to ask you about any of this.’
‘No, I’m glad to be able to tell you,’ she smiled. ‘It feels less surreal now it’s out in the open. It’s hard keeping secrets. Nobody here knows about this. I mean, apart from Arabella; she knows pretty much everything.’
‘Does anyone else at your work know?’ Dylan asked gently.
‘No, it’s just Arabella. The others are lovely too. I’m sure even Jane Maxwell wouldn’t say anything mean if she found out.’
‘Jane Maxwell?’
‘Long story … But I’m trying to portray a nicer image of Belfast, do you see? So I like to keep the most embarrassing things hidden under the carpet. Even though, if that carpet was real, it would look like Mount Everest. Would you like more tea?’
‘Yes, please. So you’re truly over this Alex chap, then?’ Dylan asked gently.
‘Yes, of course I’m over him. Haven’t you got it? What we had together was nothing. And compared to last night, well, we weren’t even all that compatible. That makes me sound terribly bitchy, but it’s true. Just so you know.’
‘Well, it was quite a night.’
‘Alex honestly doesn’t matter any more. I was a romantic fool, that’s all. Alex is from a wealthy family and I grew up in one of the poorest neighbourhoods in the city. We went to the same grammar school, though. And I was young and foolish, so I kidded myself that material things didn’t matter.’
‘They don’t matter, Emily.’
‘Oh they do, I’m afraid. Anyway, we were teenage sweethearts and I guess he was a schoolgirl crush that I just never got over. He was my first love and my first lover. We broke up lots of times over the years. It’s obvious in hindsight that it was never going to work, because we never even lived together. I think he liked the idea of breezing in and out of my life, keeping me in reserve until he found somebody better.’
‘That’s an awful way to treat anybody.’
‘And he proposed to me when we were on holiday in Australia two years ago, both of us wasted on cheap cocktails. You see, even the proposal was an indication that all was not well. But I got all carried away, became a total wedding fiend and planned this great big fancy wedding. Borrowed a fortune and blew it all on daft things like vintage cars to the church, and fresh flowers on all the pews. I mean, it was silly. I’m not even religious … And Alex said he’d move to London permanently instead of flying back and forth from Belfast all the time. Then he met this other girl on the plane one day about a week before the wedding and realized he’d found the one.’
‘So you said … Still, he fairly picked his moment to break up with you,’ Dylan said, shaking his head with disapproval.
‘I can see it from his point of view now,’ Emily said. ‘I mean, he is a lawyer. So he knew how foolish it would have been to go ahead with the wedding.’
‘You’re a bit weird, Emily.’
‘Yes, I know,’ she laughed.
‘You’re infuriatingly practical sometimes.’
‘Yes, I know – but I have to be. When and if you meet my parents you’ll understand why I cultivate my practical side as much as I can. People who live entirely by their emotions can end up in an awful muddle. Tell you what; I’ll pack up all the wedding things and my honeymoon clothes and I’ll give the lot of it to the shop. You can bring it in with you today, and then you’ll see that I’m genuinely over Alex and not in love with him any more. Will that do you?’
>
‘Sure, but only if you want to,’ Dylan said.
‘I do want to. It’s a Zen thing. I made up this Zen theory one day to stop Arabella coming round to the flat and finding out that most of her gifts to me were on their way to your shop. But, you know, I’m really starting to believe in the power of de-cluttering – one memory at a time.’
Emily leapt off her chair and went striding into the bedroom. Pulling a large carrier bag out of her wicker trunk, she opened the wardrobe door and lifted out her wedding dress, silk posy, lace veil and satin shoes. She laid them gently in the carrier bag and then added four bridesmaid dresses, several summery outfits, three brand-new bikinis, two pairs of leather sandals, two woven clutch bags and four silk scarves.
‘There,’ she said to Dylan, who was leaning on the door frame, sipping his tea and blowing her a kiss. ‘All done – I’m truly over it. Now, I’ve got to hurry up and get dressed. Remember, I’m the new editor until further notice.’
Dylan looked at Emily and fell in love with her all over again. But he didn’t complicate the moment by saying anything. He just hoped he never met Alex in the street, for he couldn’t promise not to punch him in the face.
How could any man not love Emily? he wondered. How could any man think he was too good for her?
10. Charity Begins at Home
It was late July and Sylvia had deserted her post yet again, but with very good reason: the stables were taking in a batch of nine elderly ponies that had been found half starved at the side of the road in Cumbria. The poor creatures had been left tethered to a gate, so they couldn’t even graze or drink while they waited for their callous owners to come back. Sylvia had rearranged the entire stables to fit them all in, booked a day-long visit by the vet, and was working out if they could afford more heating oil. She was also planning to invite the local press to come along and take pictures in a bid to raise fresh funds.
And so Dylan was once more running the charity shop single-handedly. He didn’t mind at all, he said, for it gave him more time to think. And it gave him a little more time to decide what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. On the final Saturday in July, Emily decided to spend the day with him at the shop, sorting out the new stock and maybe changing some of the wall displays. She bought a few fashion magazines from a nearby shop, so she could study current trends and maybe attempt something eye-catching in the window. Now that the new decor was complete, Sylvia felt it was time to begin the transformation from shabby-chic to style boutique. Consequently she had given Emily her blessing to tinker with the shop displays to her heart’s content.
