The Break Up: The perfect heartwarming romantic comedy

by Tilly Tennant

  Even at this early hour the sun burned Lara’s neck as she walked through the garden, every corner crowded with dazzling, fragrant flowers. They really had been blessed this summer – or cursed perhaps, depending on what you thought about climate change. Though Lara was as concerned about such things as anyone else, she also saw the fabulous summer from a purely selfish point of view. It was very good for the wedding business. Couples who had the weather on their side were more likely to be happy with their big day as a whole and more likely to give Lara a glowing review for her part in it, while couples who attended such a glorious occasion might just be seduced into setting their own date, hopeful for the same. There was no scientific evidence for Lara’s thoughts on this, of course, but she felt certain that it all made perfect sense as a hypothesis. Either way, she certainly hadn’t been disappointed with the bookings in her diary this year, nor with the feedback she’d been getting. If that was to do with the excellent weather, then long may it continue – she’d take it all any way it came.

  She’d just put the key into the lock when Betsy arrived at the gate.

  ‘You’re keen,’ Lara said.

  ‘Yeah, I was up early. Dad woke me up going fishing. Couldn’t get back to sleep and didn’t see any point in hanging around at home once I was ready to come out.’

  Lara smiled. She hadn’t forgotten their conversation about giving Betsy more responsibility and a pay rise, and she was sure her assistant hadn’t either. It might have explained the eagerness, though Lara felt that to cite that reason alone might be a little unfair. Betsy was always keen and seemed to love working with Lara as much as Lara enjoyed having her there.

  ‘Have you had breakfast?’ Betsy asked as Lara let her in and shut the gate again.

  ‘I’ve just scoffed a slice of toast. Why – do you want some? I’m sure I can—’

  ‘No, no… it’s just that my mum has sent some breakfast muffins for you. She was trying out a new recipe or something. They’re a bit nice, actually – I’ve eaten about twenty already! I don’t know why, but I’m just so hungry these days and I really can’t stop eating them!’

  Betsy grinned and held up a paisley-patterned tin.

  ‘Well,’ Lara said with a grin of her own, ‘if they’re that good I’m sure I can take a couple off your hands. Shall I put the kettle on so we can have tea with them?’

  ‘Coffee for me please.’

  ‘Oh yeah, you’re the weirdo who hates tea. I mean, who doesn’t drink tea? I don’t know how I ever managed to employ someone who doesn’t drink tea, but it isn’t right.’

  Betsy laughed. ‘I probably don’t hate tea but I’m not used to drinking it so I don’t. We’re just a coffee house, that’s all. My mum and dad both drink it all the time – they only keep tea in for visitors.’

  ‘OK then… I suppose as an explanation that’ll have to do. Get yourself settled in the office while I put the kettle on.’

  As Betsy went over to the summer house Lara went back to the main house. She looked up at the door to see another little queue of bumblebees circling the entrance to the nest and guessed that maybe the queen was ready for a little love action. She couldn’t be sure, but when she’d been on the national bee website to research her little guests she’d read something about it and this seemed to fit. They weren’t hurting anyone and certainly not bothering her, though she knew that it always made Betsy a bit fidgety when there was a larger than usual crowd hanging about. Fluffy was still sleeping and didn’t seem to have noticed them, which was probably just as well. Lara was pretty sure he was far too crap to catch any of them, but she would rather not find out. She really didn’t fancy trying to extract a sting from the roof of his mouth today – she had far too much else to do.

  But the sight of nature simply doing its thing cheered her a little. Despite her bright greeting of Betsy and delight at another morning of sun, she’d struggled to get the image of Lucien and Siobhan arriving at Chloe’s wedding out of her mind over the weekend. Whenever she did manage it, it was replaced by recollections of Theo dancing with Gez’s great-aunt, or how he’d looked at her at the end of the night when he’d seemed to be genuinely concerned for her welfare. And if she wasn’t dwelling on either of those things then she was replaying her conversation with Regan, when she’d caught Lara crying like a ridiculous pre-pubescent girl.

  What made it worse was that she was certain Regan thought it was because Lara was still in love with him. But it wasn’t that at all. In fact, that couldn’t have been further from the truth. The truth was far simpler. It just felt to Lara as if whenever she finally managed to turn the page on that chapter of her life, up he’d pop again to remind her of it, though as long as he and Siobhan both stayed in Chester, Lara had to suppose that chapter of her life would never be fully closed.

  It had certainly been wide open all weekend. Lara had found herself wanting to message Siobhan, simultaneously wounded and incensed that her ex-best friend had made no effort to speak to her, despite obviously noticing her, and then she’d wanted to message Lucien, too, to demand an explanation. In the end, she’d forced herself to recognise that although these actions might provide temporary satisfaction, in the long term there was just no point in opening up all that hurt again.

  She’d thought about going to see her mum to tell her all about it, but Fay could always be relied upon to say exactly the thing that would make Lara feel worse and so she didn’t do that either. She’d settled instead for a five-mile run, although, disappointingly, even that only offered a temporary respite.

  Still, as she crossed the threshold this morning, out of the bright sunlight and into the cool shadow of her kitchen, Lara reminded herself that just because she couldn’t entirely eradicate Lucien from her life, it didn’t mean she had to let him keep on getting to her. She could still win by making him irrelevant – she just had to figure out how to do that. Her mum would have said the answer to that question was easy – that Lara just had to find another man. That was easier said than done when she was so busy though, and, besides, she wasn’t sure that it was the catch-all answer her mum seemed to think it was. More than that, the one thing Lara absolutely did not want was to settle for an almost-there relationship again. Next time it was the real thing or nothing at all – she was far too busy to waste her time on anything less than perfect.

  With that thought, she got busy making their drinks.

  A few minutes later she was carrying two mugs back to the summer house. Betsy had already taken the lid from the paisley tin of wonder and had left it on Lara’s desk. Lara could smell the muffins as soon as she came in, all fruity and sugary sweet. She handed Betsy’s drink over and peered inside the tin. Betsy’s mum really could bake – so far this month they’d been treated to chocolate cupcakes, Victoria sponge, cherry scones and red velvet cake. If there was no other reason to keep Betsy on, Lara thought wickedly, then she might have been tempted to just for the cakes.

  ‘They look amazing,’ she said, taking her seat. ‘What’s in them?’

  ‘I think some are banana and oat and some are apricot or date or something. I think she went for the healthy things, trying to make me eat more fruit.’

  ‘There are worse ways to get your five a day. Tell me again why your mother hasn’t been on Bake Off yet.’

  ‘We keep saying that to her but she doesn’t think she’s good enough.’

  ‘If she’s not good enough then I don’t know who is. I’d give her a Hollywood Handshake for sure.’

  ‘I’ll tell her that,’ Betsy said. ‘It’ll make her day.’

  ‘These have certainly made mine.’ Lara bit into a muffin and sighed as a large, tangy chunk of apricot exploded onto her tongue. If ever a cake tasted like summer, this one did.

  ‘Do you like it?’ Betsy asked.

  ‘So good…’ Lara mumbled, crumbs spraying across the desk. She didn’t care – this was worth it. ‘Better than good. Better than anything…’

  Betsy giggled, clearly proud that her mu
m could bake the kind of cakes that did what they were doing to Lara. Lara threw her a wink.

  ‘Just ask your mum when I can move in. I think it’s time I sacked my mum and employed another one who can bake like this. My mum can’t bake at all.’

  ‘But she’s lovely,’ Betsy said.

  ‘I suppose she has her moments,’ Lara acknowledged. She took another bite of her muffin and made another rapturous face, which made Betsy laugh again. ‘You do realise this means a twelve-mile run tonight?’

  ‘There can’t be that many calories in a breakfast muffin?’

  ‘Maybe not in one, but I intend to eat the whole tin before lunch.’

  Betsy’s broad grin almost broke free of her face. Lara popped the last of the cake into her mouth and pushed the tin across her desk, out of her eyeline.

  ‘God help me, I will eat the whole lot if I can see them.’

  ‘Want me to put them away somewhere until tomorrow? Mum says they’ll keep for ages in the tin.’

  ‘I need you to lock them up in a vault or I’ll be sneaking in for a midnight snack and there’ll be none left tomorrow.’

  Betsy took the tin to her own desk and sealed it again. Lara licked her fingers before taking a large gulp of her tea and turning to her diary.

  ‘Oh bugger!’ she said after a moment. ‘I forgot Terry was coming.’

  ‘The accountant?’

  ‘Hmm. He’s in the diary for ten and it’s nine thirty now.’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘Not especially. It’s just that I’m not really ready for him. I hate feeling not ready for him – he can be scary when he starts scrutinising my receipts.’

  ‘He is scary – I’m glad it’s not just me who thinks so. It’s when he looks at you over the top of those half-glasses.’

  ‘I’m sure he’d say thorough, rather than scary,’ Lara said. ‘And he is thorough; there’s no doubt about that. I just wish I didn’t feel like a naughty school pupil being told off by the headmaster whenever he’s going through my stuff.’

  ‘I could see him,’ Betsy said brightly. ‘You could pretend you have a client to see and go out.’

  ‘Now that’s throwing yourself under the bus for me,’ Lara said, laughing lightly. ‘It’s very loyal of you but I’d better do it. I know what’s what and he might ask things you can’t answer. That’s not to say that you’re not capable, of course, it’s just that my accounts aren’t always crystal clear to anyone else but me – I think that’s why Terry comes down so hard on me.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ Betsy said. ‘I understand. I just thought I’d offer because we did say I could start doing more.’

  ‘We did, and we’ll definitely make time this week to talk about that properly. Let me get the Monday muck pile out of the way and we’ll pencil some time in the diary for later in the week.’

  Betsy nodded eagerly, clearly thrilled. Lara had to wonder if she’d ever looked like that about anything at eighteen and had to conclude that she didn’t think so. But then, she knew Betsy loved this job and Lara had never had a job back then that she’d really loved. In fact, this was the first one she’d really loved too.

  ‘Right…’ she muttered, turning back to her diary. ‘Terrible Terry… let’s see if I can’t be a little bit ready for you!’

  Terry arrived on the dot of ten. They exchanged pleasantries and Lara decided, as the day was so glorious, she’d take the meeting outside on the patio. Fluffy remained stretched out, taking full advantage of the sun as it moved round the house and the heat intensified. Lara was often amazed at how contrary her cat could be – either stalking the streets for miles night by night or sleeping the day away, hardly lifting a paw.

  Terry made a brief comment about what a handsome cat he was, which was quite unexpected as her accountant was usually silent on anything but business matters. And, more surprising still, by the time she’d offered him tea and one of Betsy’s mum’s divine muffins, he’d almost softened into a regular human being. Still, whenever he looked at Lara over those half-glasses, she had to hold in a little laugh, remembering what Betsy had said earlier, and she couldn’t help but think her assistant might be right. She wondered, as he pored over her receipts and tutted loudly, whether he might look like a regular human being if he would only wear a different style.

  By the time they’d wound up the meeting and Terry had unlocked the puzzle of Lara’s terrible account keeping, it was almost twelve. The sun was high overhead, and Lara wondered how Terry wasn’t fainting in his expensive but thick woollen suit as he shook her hand and she saw him out through the side gate.

  As she walked back to the summer house, she happened to look down and was certain that her arms had tanned since she’d been outside. She’d always known there were perks to working from home, and this was another to add to the list.

  ‘How’s it going?’ Lara asked as she went into the office.

  Betsy looked up from a bridal magazine she’d been trawling through. Lara loved going through those too; every page was just filled with beautiful things to sigh over – it was yet another perk of her job, and a necessary one. Though it often felt like a luxurious distraction, she had to keep up with the latest bridal trends, and there was no better way to do that than to buy regular piles of magazines that would have everything in one place, rather than the more time-consuming task of visiting website after website to see what was new there.

  ‘It hasn’t been too busy.’

  ‘Nothing urgent for me to look at?’

  ‘That nutty woman from Nantwich rang again.’

  Lara raised her eyebrows as she sat down. ‘The one who’s convinced she’s getting married but doesn’t actually have anyone to marry?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What did she want?’

  ‘The usual. Wanted us to recommend somewhere nice for her to have the service.’

  ‘And what’s the theme this time?’

  ‘Frozen.’

  ‘As in “Let It Go”?’

  ‘Yup.’

  Lara let out a sigh. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Oh, yeah; I took a call from a Mrs Wilson. She was at the wedding on Saturday. Says she thought it went really well and says Chloe gave her our number for her daughter’s wedding.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Lara said, absently taking a sip of an old cup of tea and grimacing as she realised it was stone cold. She’d make another one for them both, just as soon as she’d gone through the messages with Betsy. ‘What does she want?’

  ‘Same – just the day, I think.’

  ‘My favourite sort of booking.’

  ‘You say that but you might change your mind when you find out when it is.’

  ‘Don’t tell me it’s another short-notice one.’

  ‘A month’s time.’

  ‘On a Saturday?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Honestly! People think they can click their fingers and everyone will come running. Did you check the diary?’ Lara pulled it towards her. ‘I feel certain the Pettifer wedding is around then.’

  ‘It is, but the Pettifer wedding is only a day service with no evening reception, isn’t it? I could… I mean, if you wanted, maybe I could do that? This booking is all day and night so it would be more money, wouldn’t it? But if I do one and you do the other, we can take both. I didn’t say yes to the lady because I thought I ought to ask you first…’

  Betsy looked hopeful. Even though they’d yet to have their conversation about her taking on more, and even though Lara wondered whether sending her to a wedding alone was a bit too much of a leap, deep down she had a certain faith that Betsy would probably do a good job. How was she to learn if she never had a go? Lara also knew if she could learn to delegate then it made good business sense in the end. Like now – two bookings had to be better than one. She knew what Terry would say had he still been there. She’d have to pay Betsy overtime, of course, but still…

  Finally, she spoke. ‘Did you take Mrs…’

  ‘Wilso
n.’

  ‘… Wilson’s phone number?’

  Betsy passed over a sheet of paper. ‘I took a few notes about the wedding too.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ Lara said, reading it. ‘I’ll have a chat and see what she wants.’ Then she looked up and noticed again the mug with the layer of cold tea sitting in the bottom. ‘But first things first – drinks.’ She collected the cup and went over to get Betsy’s.

  ‘Thanks, boss!’ Betsy reached into her desk and grabbed the paisley tin. ‘Think we need something to go with it?’

  Lara laughed. ‘We’re, like, an hour off lunchtime – we won’t want our lunch!’

  ‘Lunch is right here,’ Betsy said, lightly tapping the tin.

  Lara’s laughter trailed out of the office as she went back to the house to make drinks.

  As Lara crossed the garden to the house, she noticed that Fluffy was no longer in his sunbathing spot. A quick inspection of the kitchen showed he wasn’t there either; nor was he in his other favourite sleeping place on Lara’s bed. She had to suppose that he’d eventually decided to go about his usual daily business, whatever that was.

  She went back to the kitchen, deep in thought about the day’s work so far. If Betsy was going to take on a wedding for her, it really was time they had their chat about increasing her role generally and also increasing her pay. Perhaps they’d get a few minutes to do it before Betsy went to lunch.

  As she stood and waited for the kettle to boil, Lara gave the worktops a quick tidy and took the spare moment to empty the leftover food from Fluffy’s bowl ready for a fresh serving when he eventually decided to turn up again. She tried not to let the idea that he might have gone to Theo’s bother her. More likely he was out stalking the streets, terrifying baby birds and squirrels, like any self-respecting moggy would be. Once she’d done that it occurred to her that she hadn’t actually checked her phone all morning and she now recalled that she’d had a text message first thing that she’d never opened. Once she’d unlocked her phone and looked, however, she wished she hadn’t bothered.