The Break Up: The perfect heartwarming romantic comedy

by Tilly Tennant

  ‘You know what collars! The ones you’ve been taking off Fluffy!’

  ‘I haven’t taken any collars off him.’

  ‘Well, where are they then?’

  ‘I don’t know. I haven’t taken them.’

  ‘You must have done.’

  ‘Why would I lie about it?’

  ‘Because you want to keep him.’

  ‘You’re mad.’

  ‘I’m right.’

  ‘Look.’ He stopped at a red car, some vintage sports model, and took a set of keys from his pocket.

  Typical, Lara thought, hating him more than ever. Why would she have expected him to own anything else? She was sorely tempted to utter the phrase ‘penis extension’ but at least her brain still had enough sense rattling around in there to stop her, even if she was feeling totally unreasonable about everything else right now.

  ‘We’re going to have to agree to disagree on this. You think Satchmo is your cat—’

  ‘He is my cat, and it’s Fluffy—’

  ‘And I say he’s mine. We’re going to have to accept that he’s decided he wants to belong to both of us. Or maybe he really belongs to neither of us and just visits when he feels like.’

  ‘So, why bother with the super-expensive food then? Why not just admit defeat?’

  ‘The same reason you’re doing it, I expect.’

  Without giving her an opportunity to reply, he threw his bag onto the passenger seat and got in at the other side. Lara threw him a look of pure fury, but his eyes were fixed firmly ahead as he started the engine.

  As he drove away, she marched back to her own car, fuming. If she’d been determined to keep Fluffy before, the battle lines were well and truly drawn now. Let Mr-Midlife-Crisis-Car try and tempt Fluffy away with swanky food because it wouldn’t work. Lara knew better than anyone what her cat liked and it would take more than a few nice dinners. She was going to win in the end.

  It was gratifying to see Fluffy curled up on the sofa when Lara got in from the store. He stretched out with a sweet little mew and went to greet her. She stroked him fondly as he purred and wound around her legs, and it was hard to believe that this innocent little face could be the cause of so much trouble.

  ‘You’d better like this food I’ve bought,’ she cooed. ‘It cost more than mine does.’

  He looked up at her and gave another little mew, as if to say he was listening, and then she pulled the collar from the shopping bag. Might as well try and get it on now while he was a more willing victim – later she might not be able to catch him so easily. But he was far quicker than her and as soon as he laid eyes on it he stalked off, heading for the cat flap. Hurriedly, she grabbed a bag of cat treats and shook it.

  ‘Come on, Fluffy – I’ve got your favourite!’

  He looked back once, seemed to decide it wasn’t worth the risk and then headed out, the cat flap banging behind him.

  ‘Stupid cat,’ Lara muttered. Maybe she was going to have to abandon the collar and bell after all.

  ‘You do realise it’s starting to sound as if you fancy him?’ Betsy gave an idle grin as she set a mug of coffee down on the desk in front of Lara. ‘You were moaning about him before I went to make a drink and you’re still moaning about him now.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Lara snatched up the mug and took a swig, wincing as the freshly made brew burnt her mouth.

  ‘You might want to watch that,’ Betsy replied, her grin spreading and looking smugger. ‘It’ll be hot.’

  ‘Funny,’ Lara said. ‘You know, during your probation period I can still sack you.’

  ‘You wouldn’t.’

  ‘Hmm,’ was Lara’s only reply. She would never do that, of course; she loved Betsy to bits already and couldn’t possibly manage without her, but she felt the sudden compulsion to remind her who was actually the boss around here. Perhaps it was the insinuation that she might be getting so uptight about Theo the Cat-Nabber because she was actually attracted to him, which was just about the most ludicrous notion she’d ever heard.

  ‘So, is he cute?’ Betsy asked, sitting at her own desk with her mug.

  ‘I don’t know. I wasn’t taking notes – I was too busy trying to fend off his insults.’

  ‘Sounds like he might fancy you too.’

  ‘Well, if that’s how people show they’re attracted to one another in your world then it must be a very weird place,’ Lara said stiffly, not daring to look up in case she caught another of Betsy’s knowing smiles. That would have been very irritating indeed, and she was quite irritated enough without adding that to the mix.

  ‘So how long did you spend looking for your cat last night in the end?’ Betsy asked.

  ‘God knows – at least an hour.’

  ‘So the super-posh food was a waste of time?’

  ‘I didn’t even get a chance to try him with it. One look at the bell and collar and he was off.’

  ‘I don’t know why you bothered. I’d have left him to it; he would have come back eventually. And I wouldn’t have bothered with all that expensive food either – it doesn’t sound as if it’s going to make a scrap of difference, especially if that bloke has bought the same food too.’

  Lara knew this, but she wasn’t going to admit that she’d gone out looking for Fluffy simply because she couldn’t bear the thought of him settling at Theo’s for the night. And she was well aware that his house probably looked just as inviting as hers did, except that Theo wasn’t trying to attach a great big bell and collar to him.

  ‘He did come back, after I’d given up and gone home to bed. I heard the cat flap go at around two this morning. When I woke up for work he was curled up at the bottom of my bed, all innocence.’

  ‘Shame you didn’t run into his other owner while you were looking for him…’ Betsy said. She was all innocence too, but Lara knew what she was getting at. Did Lara’s complaints really sound that hollow? Surely nobody would listen to her grumble about Theo and come to the conclusion that she fancied him? And even if she did think he was attractive (which she didn’t), she could never date a man who was so infuriatingly cocky, a man who was so smug, who thought he was so clever and witty when, in fact, he was just plain annoying…

  ‘Would you do me a favour and call Chloe Rowley for me?’ she asked instead in a bid to change the subject and steer the conversation back to more practical matters. A bit of banter was fine but they still had work to do. ‘Ask her to confirm that the list of suppliers I have here is everything she needs me to check for her wedding day. I don’t seem to have anything down for entertainment and I’ve only just noticed.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Thanks. I’d do it myself but I need to drive down to the river to look at the venue. I can see it being quite a difficult place to work, if I’m honest, but if I can get the lie of the land beforehand I can run any suggestions for alterations past Chloe in good time. That’s assuming she’d be open to them, of course, and it would be enough time to change things with the venue.’

  ‘What’s she having?’ Betsy asked, looking down the list Lara had just passed to her.

  ‘An old boathouse. It’s on the river, but slightly further out of town. I looked online and the parking looks a bit questionable for the amount of guests she’s invited, though she assures me she’s phoned to check and the owners of the boathouse say they can accommodate. I’m also a bit concerned about suppliers getting in and out as it’s quite a way down some very narrow lanes which are prone to flooding. It’s not really a wedding venue per se, but I can only hope Chloe has done her research to make it work for them.’

  ‘Well, if she hasn’t, what are you going to do?’

  Lara shrugged. ‘I honestly don’t know. I suppose I’ll have to go ahead and do the best I can, but it’s going to be a learning curve for sure. I suppose it won’t end up being the most awkward wedding I’ve ever worked.’

  ‘Are you beginning to wish you hadn’t taken the booking?’

  ‘I was wishing that as so
on as I’d left Chloe’s workplace,’ Lara said with a faint smile. ‘Still, we can’t be sniffy about these things – got to make a living somehow.’

  ‘Are you going now?’

  Lara looked at her watch. ‘I probably ought to. I’ll drink my coffee first and then head out.’

  On the way to the boathouse, Lara called to pick up her mum. She’d phoned ahead, mindful that her mum might quite like an hour out in the sunshine by the river and that she still owed her big time for her outburst at Matt and Abbie’s wedding. She was also aware that things were, perhaps, still not quite right between them. Lara hated the thought that they might still be at odds on some level, so she was only too glad to hear her mum’s enthusiasm for the idea. Fay had agreed to be ready for Lara’s arrival but, of course, she wasn’t.

  ‘Oh, you’ll have to come in for a minute,’ Fay said as she opened the front door. ‘I’ve lost my beige shoes.’

  ‘Can’t you put some other shoes on?’ Lara asked, standing in the hallway amidst the stacks of old newspapers and books that Fay kept just in case she decided to read them again (though Lara couldn’t imagine she even knew what was in those piles, and if she didn’t know what was in there, how could she know if she wanted to read it again?), rows of shoes and a rack full of coats that hadn’t seen daylight since around 1987. As a child, Lara had never noticed how chaotic her home was – in fact, she’d rather liked it. But now, as an adult, it frustrated her. She could hardly tell her mum how to live – Fay had been alone ever since Lara’s dad had left them not long after she’d been born, leaving her to bring up Lara and her brother as a single mother – and she’d got used to her own routine and lifestyle. But Lara couldn’t help often reflecting on how much easier her mum would find day-to-day living if she could be a little more organised.

  ‘It’s not like you don’t have another pair,’ she added, angling her head at the row of shoes.

  ‘I know, but my beige ones go with this coat and they’re nice and cool.’

  ‘I can see at least three pairs of sandals amongst that lot. Sandals must be cool enough, and they look as if they go with your coat.’

  ‘They make my feet sweat.’

  ‘Sandals make your feet sweat? I’m pretty sure that’s the one thing they’re designed not to do.’

  ‘They do. I should know – it’s my feet sweating in them, isn’t it?’

  Lara opened her mouth to reply, but then clamped it shut again. This was an argument she wasn’t going to win. In fact, she rarely won any of them. It was hard to win an argument when there was absolutely no logic in it. Instead, she closed the front door and settled to wait while her mum disappeared into another room to, presumably, continue her search for the only shoes that would do. She’d tell her mum to hurry up, but there was no point in that either. Telling her to hurry up usually resulted in her taking longer than ever.

  As she waited she checked her phone. Betsy had texted a photo of Fluffy lying out in the sun on her patio. She smiled, despite the fact that she ought to be annoyed with him for keeping her up late the previous night. God, she loved that cat, no matter how hard he made things for her.

  A minute later, Fay returned. Still barefoot, she looked despairingly at the row of shoes in the hallway.

  ‘I suppose it will have to be sandals after all,’ she said. ‘If you’re getting all impatient with me…’

  ‘Mum, if you need to find these shoes then I’ll wait.’

  ‘But you don’t really want to. I suppose you could go ahead without me after all.’

  ‘I don’t want to go without you. I asked you to come so we could spend an hour together and I thought you might enjoy visiting the boathouse. You love the river.’

  ‘I do,’ Fay said ruefully. ‘But I don’t want to hold you up.’

  ‘Well then, put some sandals on,’ Lara said.

  ‘But my feet will sweat.’

  ‘Then look for your shoes.’

  ‘I have looked for them and I can’t find them.’

  ‘Then…’ Lara tried to smooth out the exasperation creeping into her voice. ‘I don’t know what to suggest. Perhaps you can go barefoot?’

  Fay threw her hands into the air. ‘Oh, right, I’ll wear the sandals then. But don’t blame me if I make your car smell!’

  Ten minutes later Lara was driving. Fay was in the passenger seat, looking contented as the city passed by their open windows. The sun streamed in and the radio was tuned to Fay’s favourite local station which played sixties and seventies classics. Fay was drumming her fingers on the window frame to Mungo Jerry’s ‘In the Summertime’. Lara was paying less attention to the radio and more to where she was going. Chester’s one-way system was notoriously difficult to navigate if you didn’t know it, and even though Lara, born and bred in the city, was well used to it by now, it took a little concentration as she tried to find the right road to take her to the wedding venue, which was outside the Roman walls.

  ‘Jade Machin is still trying to get pregnant,’ Fay said suddenly.

  ‘Is she?’ Lara asked vaguely.

  ‘I don’t doubt she’s left it too late now.’

  Lara didn’t comment. She didn’t really have a clue who her mother was talking about. Often she didn’t have a clue who Fay was talking about when the gossip started. Fay was always saying that she had no friends and talked to nobody all week unless Lara or her brother visited (and Sean hardly made any effort at all). But for someone who led such a solitary existence, Lara was constantly amazed at just how much she knew of other people’s business.

  ‘But she couldn’t find a man for ages, so I suppose that’s it,’ Fay said. ‘Now she’s married she’s what doctors call a geriatric mother.’

  Lara tensed in her seat. She waited for what she knew was likely to come next.

  ‘I hope you don’t do that,’ Fay continued solemnly. ‘Don’t become a geriatric mother, will you?’

  ‘I won’t.’ Lara’s grip on the steering wheel tightened just a little. She didn’t want to lose her temper today, not when the sun was shining and she’d had nothing but good intentions to spend the lovely afternoon getting along with her mum. She tried to bat the comment aside and think of something more positive, though she knew that Fay probably wasn’t going to let it go that easily.

  ‘I would like a grandchild from someone soon and your brother doesn’t seem as if he’s going to give me one.’

  ‘Sean will settle down when he’s ready. You can’t hurry these things, Mum. The ideal partner comes along or they don’t, and there’s not a lot you can do about it.’

  ‘Neither of my children seems to be having much luck in that department. Your brother’s girl doesn’t seem to want babies, and I fear you’ll never find the right man. I’m never going to be a granny.’

  ‘It’s not for want of trying, Mum.’

  ‘Not that your Lucien would have been good dad material. I can well imagine he’d have left you high and dry, just like your dad left me.’

  ‘He definitely wasn’t dad material – he cared too much about his clothes for a start. I can just imagine how he’d react to a baby being sick on him.’

  ‘Well, what on earth is Siobhan going to do if she gets caught?’

  ‘I’m sure she’ll work something out,’ Lara said tartly.

  Fay looked out of the window, firmly chastised.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said finally.

  ‘No, Mum, I’m sorry. I just don’t want to talk about them if you don’t mind.’

  ‘I think about it all the time. I just can’t believe what happened.’

  ‘It’s all old news now and I’m getting over it, but I’d get over it a lot faster and with less pain if I didn’t have to keep discussing what they’re up to. I don’t mind chatting about anyone else you like, but not them, please.’

  ‘Of course.’ Fay gave a resolved nod. ‘You’re right.’

  They lapsed into silence as the roads opened up into wider boulevards, and the black-and-white Tudor buildi
ngs that crowded the city centre gave way to more modern structures. A few minutes later Lara noticed the sign for the boathouse.

  ‘Damson Tree Boathouse,’ Fay read. ‘That sounds pretty, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Very,’ Lara said, taking a sharp right turn onto a stretch of road that could only be described as a track. Immediately the car began to bump up and down, jolting them around. Lara grimaced at the thought of the damage it was doing to the suspension. ‘I hope it lives up to the name.’

  They bumped along the track for another few minutes. The path was overhung by trees and shrubs, cooling the air and giving welcome shade from the glare of the sun. Eventually, they emerged from the tunnel and the road widened into a gravelled plot surrounding a large wooden building.

  ‘This must be it,’ Lara said, pulling up in a corner and killing the engine.

  ‘Oh, it’s lovely!’ Fay cooed. ‘Imagine having your wedding here! It certainly beats the British Legion Club where I had mine!’

  ‘It is nice,’ Lara agreed as they got out of the car. The gravel gave way beneath their feet as they walked, making it hard work, and Lara made a note of that. It was something that might or might not make access difficult for suppliers, especially coupled with the winding country lane that was the only way of reaching the location. But despite this, she couldn’t deny that Damson Tree Boathouse was breathtaking. It wasn’t a venue she’d used before, and not somewhere that any of her clients had requested, but if Chloe’s wedding went without any technical hitches, then Lara was sure she’d be recommending it in the future.

  The boathouse itself was built from whitewashed timber that gave it a sort of New England feel, with huge windows that looked as if they opened all along the front wall to bring the outside in. A veranda ran alongside, merging with a long jetty that led onto the river, the supporting columns garlanded by climbing roses and honeysuckle. All around the grounds grew lush trees: willows that dripped into the river, alder, poplars and river birch. Lara went to the windows to peer inside. There was more whitewashed wood in there, the ceiling high and beamed, and the floor was a honeyed parquet, the space flooded with natural light. It was currently empty and not dressed for any event, but Lara could see that it would look pretty spectacular for any wedding with the right décor.