by Della Galton
Olivia hesitated over one of the paintings that looked more finished than the rest. It showed a couple – two stick figures walking with a little gap between them along a shingle beach by the sea.
‘That’s us,’ Ruby said. ‘Walking at Pebble Beach – talking about the future of this little one.’ She smoothed the daisy-patterned smock over her bump. ‘Do you remember?’
‘Of course I remember.’ Olivia glanced back at the image. The shingle was suggested with faint brushstrokes and there were white horses out in the bay, and when she looked carefully, she could see a couple of fishermen close to the water’s edge.
‘That’s just a practise one. I’m going to paint a picture of you and me there at sunrise. I know we weren’t actually there at sunrise, but that’s poetic licence. I feel as though it was the start of a new dawn. A new beginning. Well, it was, of course. A massive new beginning. I shall call it “Sunrise Over Pebble Bay”.’ Her eyes sparkled and her voice was alight with passion. Olivia didn’t think she had ever seen her so happy.
‘I am so thrilled for you,’ she said, moving across to her sister.
‘I’m thrilled for you too. You and Phil – that’s such great news. He’s one of the good guys, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, he really is.’
‘And I’m so glad you ditched the other one. What was his name again?’
Olivia almost said Tom before she stopped herself. Ruby was grinning widely. She moved in for a hug and Ruby held her arms out in front of her. She was still holding a paintbrush.
‘Mind you don’t get paint on yourself. I wear this smock because nothing shows on it.’
‘Sounds like the same reason I pick clothes to wear out to dinner.’
‘Which is, of course, why you’re here. Let’s get on the case then, shall we? Let’s find you a “wow” outfit, worthy of being proposed to in.’
A few minutes later, they were standing next to Ruby’s double wardrobe. She slid the door back and started riffling through hangers and pulling them out.
‘It feels weird knowing that’s what’s going to happen before we even go out,’ Olivia said.
‘Weird, but also handy,’ Ruby replied. ‘I’m guessing you don’t know the details of exactly what Phil’s going to do, but at least you’ll know not to swallow anything without chewing it carefully. I’ve heard stories where people have almost choked on their engagement rings because they’d been put in the chocolate mousse and served up for dessert.’
‘Me too,’ Olivia said.
‘I bet he goes down on one knee, though,’ Ruby continued. ‘That’s kind of obligatory, isn’t it?’
‘I hope so and at least I won’t think he’s dropped a contact lens – I heard a story where the lady in question thought that was what was happening and she leapt down onto the floor to help her boyfriend look for it and ended up putting her back out.’
‘Ouch! Does Phil wear contact lenses then?’
‘No, he doesn’t.’
They smiled at each other. ‘I take it you’re going to wear a dress?’
‘I guess I should.’ Olivia’s stomach clenched. ‘But something that I’ll feel comfortable in.’
‘Not too tight then.’
‘I didn’t mean that really. But maybe nothing too low cut. You can get away with it with your cleavage, but I just look silly.’
‘No, you don’t, but OK. Nothing low cut.’ She pulled out several dresses in quick succession and laid them out on the bed on their hangers. ‘There we go. One of these might work. Try them on.’
Half an hour later, Olivia had narrowed it down to two. A slinky black and white number with flecks of maroon which was long and figure hugging and a shorter multicoloured one with a gorgeous scooped, but not too revealing, neckline.
‘I could spill all sorts down that and it wouldn’t show,’ Olivia quipped about the latter.
‘You’d better not, that’s a Vivienne Westwood.’
Olivia gasped. ‘I can’t borrow that. I’d need to get it insured.’
‘Don’t be daft. You’re not going to spill anything. Have some confidence in yourself. You’re about to be the new star of Nightingales and you’re going to Harper’s to get proposed to by a gorgeous hunk of a man. You’re on a roll, girl.’
31
Olivia didn’t have time to worry too much about the dinner at Harper’s. It was wedding-cake season. If she wasn’t making cakes, she was icing them. Her schedule was rammed and so was Phil’s. The author whose children’s books he narrated had two more coming out in audio – the series was a huge hit – and he had become the voice the readers loved. ‘I know it’s only bread-and-butter work,’ he said to Olivia, ‘But actually it’s quite cool knowing I’m the voice behind such a hit series.’
They were staying at each other’s houses more than they’d ever done before. Otherwise, they’d hardly have seen each other. Or, to be more accurate, he was staying at her house because there was no real reason – other than having a longer journey to work at The Bluebell Cliff – that he couldn’t be there.
‘How are you going to manage Amazing Cakes when you’re filming for Nightingales?’ Phil asked her one lunchtime, when they were snatching a sandwich together.
‘I’ve cleared my diary pretty much for October,’ she told him. ‘I’ve only had to turn down one or two bookings so far. But I know there’ll be more.’
‘I’m guessing that’s not good for business. Is there any mileage in getting anyone in to help you?’
‘Do you mean employing someone?’
‘I suppose I do. Even if it was just part-time. It’s very full on having your own business, isn’t it? It’s not like my job when I just swap shifts if I get a gig.’
‘I don’t really want to work with anyone else.’ Olivia felt herself bristle at the thought of it. ‘I like being self-sufficient.’
‘How about your aunt?’
‘She has the shop.’ She stared at him in surprise. ‘She won’t want to work with me.’
‘Are you sure? She’s a really talented cake maker. I’ve seen that with my own eyes and it’s quite hard work being on your feet in a shop all day. I don’t want to be rude, but she must be coming up to retirement age.’
‘She’s sixty-two.’
‘There you go. She might quite fancy the idea of making the odd cake and spending more time with her new man.’
‘It’s a little more complicated than making the odd cake,’ Olivia said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, and he grinned in acknowledgement. But nevertheless, the seed was planted. And he was right about one thing – Aunt Dawn was a really talented cake maker.
The next time Olivia saw Aunt Dawn, having been summoned to the flat to collect two dozen eggs that her aunt said she needed to get off her hands, she asked her if she had any plans to take early retirement.
‘Now you have a new man in your life, I mean,’ she added idly as she packed the egg boxes into a carrier on the kitchen table. ‘Not to mention a new great-niece or -nephew on the horizon.’ Ruby still hadn’t told anyone else the gender of her baby.
‘What makes you think I’m going to get a look-in with your sister and your mother on the case,’ Aunt Dawn said, laughing. ‘Honestly, if your mother got any more excited, I think she’d explode.’
Olivia knew what she meant. Her parents, especially her mother, had been thrilled to bits when she’d told them on the phone about her engagement.
‘I’ll be back soon to help you with the planning,’ Mum had said. ‘Two new roles. Babysitter and wedding planner. How very exciting.’
Olivia had agreed, whilst crossing her fingers behind her back. With a bit of luck, Mum would be very busy on the babysitting front. She and Phil didn’t want a lot of fuss. They’d already decided they wouldn’t set a date until at least a year down the line. There were too many other things going on and they wanted to enjoy the build-up to their wedding, not fit it in around work and get stressed about it.
They weren’t going to delay
trying for a baby though. Olivia had already stopped taking the pill. ‘Who knows?’ Phil had said when he’d suggested it. ‘Just because the medics say the chances aren’t high, it doesn’t mean it won’t happen.’
Olivia had decided not to think about it. But it was a lovely feeling knowing that at some point in the future they would become parents, in whatever form that took, and that they both wanted it with all of their hearts.
‘It’s funny you should mention retirement, darling,’ Aunt Dawn went on, bringing Olivia back to the conversation in hand. ‘It’s quite apposite timing, because Lydia and I were chatting about it the other day.’
‘Really?’ Olivia pricked up her ears.
‘Yes. Lydia’s interested in buying the business. She’s asked me before if she could have a stake, but this time she’s talking about buying me out altogether – she has a daughter who’s in the rag trade too. Claire specialises in vintage clothes, but she does it online. She and Lydia could work very well alongside each other.’
‘Wow. So do you mean you would sell up completely?’ Olivia felt a start of shock at the thought, despite the fact she’d started this conversation. ‘What about your lovely flat? And the secret garden? Would you have to give that up too?’
‘It would make more sense to sell the flat and the shop together,’ her aunt said. ‘I know I’ve always been reticent to leave the place, lock, stock and barrel, but maybe the time is right. I can’t keep it for ever.’
‘But we have so many brilliant memories.’ The words slipped out before she could stop them. Olivia knew she sounded selfish and petulant, but she couldn’t seem to help it.
‘We’ll still have our brilliant memories.’ Aunt Dawn’s gentle brown eyes met hers across the kitchen. ‘And places are only places at the end of the day. People are far more important.’ She patted her niece’s arm. ‘I’m assuming you and Phil will want to find a new place to live when you’re married. Or are you going to keep one of the houses you already have?’
‘Phil rents his house,’ Olivia said, blinking. She didn’t want to confess that she’d barely thought about where they would live. ‘We haven’t talked about it yet, but I guess I’d made the assumption he’d just move in with me. Although it would be a long way for him to go to work.’ She swallowed. ‘I’m acting like a child aren’t I. I want everything to be different, but I also want everything to be the same. I don’t like change.’
‘I don’t think you’re in the minority there, my darling. I don’t know a single human being who’s a fan of change. At least not the kind that involves giving up nice comfortable situations. Also known as ruts,’ she added and raised her eyebrows. She tucked a strand of frizzy hair behind her ear. ‘The only thing you can guarantee about life is that it will change,’ she stated.
‘Another fridge magnet?’ Olivia asked.
‘Definitely.’ Her aunt glanced towards her fridge. ‘I think I live my life via fridge magnets. Anyway, my darling, why were you asking me about my retirement plans? Was that just an idle enquiry?’
‘No.’ Olivia told her about Phil’s suggestion and she knew immediately that her aunt’s interest was piqued.
‘It’s not something I’d ever seriously thought I’d go into professionally,’ she said slowly. ‘But as I’ve said before I’m very happy to help out and if I didn’t have the shop, well… there’s no reason I couldn’t help out more.’ She paused. ‘What if this role in Nightingales launches your acting career and you never have time to make another cake? What will you do then?’
‘I guess we could cross that bridge when we come to it.’ Olivia picked up the carrier bag of eggs again. ‘Food for thought though.’
‘Indeed.’
Eric and Brenda’s wedding fell a fortnight before Olivia and Phil were going to Harper’s and Phil had managed to wangle another Saturday night off to go to the evening do with her.
‘I’m so glad you’re coming,’ she had told him as they got ready to go, at her’s. ‘Eric’s one of my favourite clients and his fiancée, Brenda, is a right character too. She used to be in the business. As a make-up artist, not as an actress, but I bet she’s got some fascinating stories. Not that she’ll probably have time to talk about that on her wedding day.’
She had delivered the cake the previous morning. She had refused to let them pay for it at all in the end, which had caused an argument.
‘It’s my wedding present to you both,’ she’d insisted as she had put the boxed cake carefully on Eric’s worktop.
It wasn’t a big cake, just the two tiers, and it had portrayed a couple sitting in a white Ferrari made from sugar paste. Brenda was wearing a cream hat and waving like the Queen.
‘That’s the closest we’re ever going to get to owning a Ferrari,’ Brenda had said, wiping her eyes as she’d leaned forward for a proper look.
‘I could get in one, but I’d have a heck of a job getting out of it again,’ Eric had said. He’d turned towards Olivia. ‘Thanks a million, doll. You’ve done us proud. Are you sure you won’t take anything?’
‘One hundred per cent.’
‘You are still coming to the evening do tomorrow, aren’t you?’ Brenda had asked. ‘You and your plus-one. You’re welcome to come to the wedding too, as you know, it’s at midday, but we know Saturday must be a busy day for you.’
‘Phil and I are both busy tomorrow lunchtime but we wouldn’t miss your reception for the world. Thanks again for our invitation.’
‘The DJ will kick off about seven. But don’t worry if you’re later, doll.’ Eric had winked at her. ‘We’re planning on dancing till dawn.’
‘It’s easier when you’ve got a Zimmer frame to lean on,’ Brenda had told Olivia in a stage whisper. ‘No one notices if your knees give out.’
‘My knees have still got plenty of dancing in them,’ Eric had remonstrated. ‘And don’t you go mocking my Zimmer frame. They’re hugely understated things, Zimmers – back in the day, we used to call ’em Zimmy shimmys – on account of them being helpful accessories for dancers who did the shimmy.’ He’d tapped his nose, reminding Olivia of Phil, and added, ‘I bet you don’t know what a shimmy is, do you, doll?’
‘A kind of dance?’ Olivia had ventured, although her mind was already boggling when she tried to envisage any dance being accessorised by a Zimmer frame.
‘Exactly that,’ Eric had said. ‘You’ll see it in action tomorrow.’
‘I can’t imagine the party will go on that late,’ Olivia said to Phil as they walked through the hotel foyer to the room where the reception was taking place. ‘They are both in their eighties.’
The hotel manager had directed them. Not that they’d needed to be directed as they could hear the noise long before they got there.
Phil opened the door for her and they both did a double take. Olivia had expected to see a handful of octogenarians and a bunch of younger relatives sitting about serenely – Eric had told her they had a lot of friends coming and they both had large families – but the room was chock-a-block with people, most of whom were jiggling about on the dance floor.
A jazz band was set up in one corner and they were playing a lively jive. Couples were jiving, mums and dads were swinging each other round and teenagers bopped along, either alone or with their partners. There were even a couple of toddlers jiggling to the music. The room smelled of hot perfumed people, flowers, and food. Olivia thought she could see some familiar faces on the dance floor, but knew she must be imagining it. The chances of her knowing any of Eric and Brenda’s friends had to be remote.
She glanced at Phil and he frowned at her and then leaned closer to speak in her ear. ‘Did you say that Brenda used to be in the business?’
‘That’s right. She was known as make-up artist to the stars, back in the day. Why?’
‘Because there’s a few of the cast of Coronation Street here. That’s William Roache over there and, if I’m not very much mistaken, that’s Maureen Lipman. Either that or they’re very good lookalikes.’<
br />
‘Good grief, I think you’re right.’ Olivia tried not to stare as she looked around for the happy couple, finally spotting them, sitting at a table on the edge of the dance floor. ‘Come on, I’ll introduce you to the bride and groom.’
They went across the room, threading their way through dancers and tables.
Eric and Brenda looked delighted to see them. They were both red-faced and starry-eyed.
‘We’re pacing ourselves with the dancing,’ Eric told them. ‘But you hang around and you’ll see some Zimmy shimmys, you mark my words.’ He gestured to his Zimmer frame, which had been decorated with a yellow ribbon which went very well with the bride’s yellow fascinator.
Brenda beckoned Olivia closer. ‘Didn’t you say you were in the next series of Nightingales, love?’
Olivia agreed shyly that she was.
‘Good, because Simon Caine’s here with his missus somewhere. I told him you were coming. I’ll introduce you.’
Brenda was as good as her word. Twenty minutes later, Olivia and Phil found themselves in the middle of the acting faction of the wedding guests, all of whom were utterly charming.
It turned out that Eric hadn’t been lying about the Zimmy shimmy dance either. One of the highlights of the evening was when the dance floor was cleared, and two young dancers, who turned out to be Eric’s grandchildren, took to centre stage to perform a routine, the like of which Olivia had never seen.
It really did involve shimmying with a Zimmer frame, which they used as a prop with immense skill and flair. The applause that followed, especially when the bridal couple got up to join in, brought the house down.
‘I think that tonight,’ Phil told Olivia much later in the evening, ‘has to be one of the most surreal and unexpected evenings of my life.’
‘Me too,’ she said, laughing. ‘I had no idea it would be like this. I thought that Eric and Brenda would have sloped off by nine.’
