Christmas Promises at the Little Wedding Shop

by Jane Linfoot

  ‘Make my day, why don’t you?’ Immie’s punching the air, then an anxious look passes across her face. ‘You are going to show me?’

  I pass my phone across. ‘Just a quick flash.’ Despite sitting back in the shadows, Jules is still looking very peaky.

  Immie lets out a whoop. ‘Trumping frog bollocks, now that’s what I call spotty. At this rate he won’t be coming out of the house again till spring.’

  Poppy’s already seen it, but she still comes back for seconds. ‘He has got it badly. But the good news is he was over the moon with the pictures his stand-in delivered from Port Giles.’ Thankfully she’s moved Immie on before she had time to demand a copy of her own. ‘And the bride and groom love the rushes too. So well done for that, Hols.’

  Immie’s nudge on my arm is so forceful I nearly fall off my chair. ‘There, what did we tell you? We knew you’d do brilliantly. With Jules’s spots as they are, you might have got a job for life, Hols.’

  ‘Totally not.’ I can’t help jumping straight in, because I can’t make this clear enough. ‘Once my beach wedding’s done I’m never going near another one again. When I agreed to that one, it was like a challenge to stretch myself. But now I’m landed with the others, truly, I already know I’m not cut out for the stress.’

  Immie lets out another chortle. ‘There won’t be that many brides out there with camera-eating dogs, you know. Mind, you have to watch out for pigs around here too. When the porkers we had as our ring bearers got loose they nearly totalled the wedding down the yard.’ In fact, before they went on the rampage Immie’s piggie ring bearers were so cute their pictures went viral and that brought in a lot of business for Rafe and Poppy.

  Poppy gives a shudder. ‘Never work with animals. Two pigs almost running riot through the farmhouse when it was all set out for a wedding was such a near miss. By the way, is Gracie okay?’

  Immie gives a nod. ‘Fine, I’ve got my eye on her, she’s still singing with Santa. When she moves on we can all go with her.’ Immie takes another swig from her bottle and chokes. ‘Jeez, bat piss would taste better than this.’

  Poppy sends her a puzzled glance. ‘So why not have a bitter? It’s not as if you’re driving.’

  Immie’s frown is so intense, her eyebrows end up somewhere near her top lip. ‘Don’t tempt me.’ The sigh she lets out couldn’t be deeper. ‘Chas and I have made a pact. We’re both cutting back on the booze.’

  Poppy’s jaw drops. ‘Frigging heck, what happened there? You have remembered Christmas party time’s coming up?’

  Immie grunts. ‘We’ve gone alcohol free to help our fertility. But I had no idea it would be this hard.’

  It must be tough for someone who enjoys her beer as much as Immie does. Especially when she works at a pub. ‘So how long since you started?’ I ask, ready to jump in with congratulations for how long it’s been.

  Immie gives a groan. ‘About twelve hours.’

  ‘That long?’ Poppy and I exchange hopeless shrugs behind Immie’s head.

  Poppy makes her tone bright. ‘It’s really good practice for when you get lucky. You’ll have to give up then.’ She didn’t go through any of this, because she was already quite a few months pregnant by the time she found out.

  ‘If cutting out the alcohol helps it to be sooner rather than later, I’m happy to make the sacrifice.’ Immie forces a smile. ‘We’re giving up getting stressed too. It’s statistically proven – conceiving is easier if you’re relaxed.’

  There’s a supervisor dressed in a dirndl dress walking past our table, and from the way her eyebrows shoot upwards, it’s obvious she’s heard. She leans towards us, speaking in a loud whisper. ‘Very true. The minute you stop worrying about them, that’s when babies show up. Just ask Jenny-on-pots.’ Then she waltzes away.

  Due to having a voice like a foghorn, Immie’s comments often resonate beyond our group. Her loud cough of complaint is very restrained, considering it’s Immie. ‘Who the eff does she think she is, joining in our conversation? And what the jeez is she wearing?’

  I jump in to smooth things over. ‘She’s meant to be Snow White. There’s a matching set of dwarves too, but they’re mostly in the other bar.’

  Before her struggle to find a dress for her wedding last summer, Immie never noticed what people wore. She gives a snort. ‘In that case, I’ll let her off, then.’ For once Immie’s guffawing voice goes so small we have to lean in to hear. ‘I’m really lucky, because I’ve already got Morgan. But it was different with him, because he was a happy accident. And I know Chas and I have only been trying to get pregnant since August. But every time I’m a day late, I can’t help thinking we’re on our way. For that one day, in my head I’ve already had the baby and got it as far as school. Then when it doesn’t happen there’s this crushing disappointment. And I know it’s early days, and it’s nothing compared to what a lot of people go through trying to have kids, but it kills me every time.’

  ‘Poor Immie.’ I’m aching for her. I squeeze her hand, because I know exactly what she means. ‘It’s true. As soon as you’re late, it’s like your whole world perspective changes. By the time it’s a week, you feel like you’re practically ready to give birth.’ As I hear the words come out, and both Immie and Poppy turn to me, my face goes hot. And damn for oversharing here. At least Snow White isn’t joining in this time.

  Poppy leans forward and puts her hand on mine. ‘You know that feeling?’ Her voice is a low whisper.

  I sigh. ‘It happened after Luc left. Looking back, it was probably the shock of the break-up. I emailed him to warn him I was late and going to do a test, but he didn’t ever get back to me. I spent ten days trying to get up the courage to pee on that stick. In the end my period came before I did it.’ I blow out a long breath. Even now the disappointment makes me strangely raw inside. Like my heart is being twisted in my chest. ‘Those ten days were the longest of my life. Waiting to hear back from Luc, then when I didn’t, planning how I was going to manage on my own. But then I didn’t need to anyway. It was something and nothing. But I do know how you feel, Immie.’

  Immie blows out her cheeks. ‘Maybe he didn’t get the email, if he was between countries?’ We both know she’s only making excuses for him to make me feel better.

  I pull down the corners of my mouth. ‘It had to be a mix-up with the emails. But when you’ve sent one with news like that, you don’t want to send another to check the first arrived.’ Somehow I couldn’t get over the feeling he’d made his new start, and he wasn’t turning back whatever happened. ‘It doesn’t matter now. There wasn’t a baby, and Luc is a hundred per cent in the past. We’ve both moved on.’ Poppy’s the only one I’ve told I haven’t completely let go.

  ‘Yeah, right.’ Immie purses her lips in obvious disbelief.

  ‘I wish we’d been there with you.’ Poppy leans over to give me a hug. When she eventually lets me go, she’s straight in with her bright voice. ‘You certainly have moved on with your weddings, though. From Jules’s reaction, it sounds like you’ve cracked them. Which is exactly what I was hoping.’ She gives me an eyebrow wiggle.

  I screw up my face, glad to change the subject. Although somewhere other than here would have been better. ‘Cracked up, more like. They’re so high pressure.’ I consider for a moment. ‘I hate to admit it, but if it hadn’t been for Rory, I don’t think I’d have managed to take any pictures at all at the Old Lifeboat Station. You know what he’s like with that mix of charm, enthusiasm and genuine friendliness. He just smoothed everyone into the right places, including me. All I had to do was point the camera and press the button.’ It crosses my mind that now might be a good time to ask. ‘So why did Rory stop going out with women?’

  Immie narrows her eyes as she thinks. ‘There was some kind of accident back in Bristol. Way before he came back here and took over Huntley and Handsome. Can you remember what happened to Rory, Pops?’

  I’m on the edge of my seat, when Poppy cuts in.

  ‘Maybe that
needs to wait, given Rory and Rafe are coming now.’ Although however enthusiastic her wave is, it might not be enough of a cover-up for Immie’s foghorn voice.

  I watch as they pick their way past the happy crowd of kids singing along to Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer. Whereas Rafe’s obviously a hundred per cent the hunky farmer, with his hollow cheeks and his Barbour, Rory’s looking for all the world like he raided Kurt Kobain’s charity shop bag to find something to wear to come out in.

  Rafe swoops in to give Poppy a kiss on the cheek, as Rory finds a beer mat for his bottle of Coke, and shrugs under the rags that are passing for a t-shirt. ‘Someone talking about me, then?’

  If I’d managed to keep my cool by doing long, slow breaths, I lose it at that, but luckily Poppy jumps in. ‘We were discussing your great crowd-control tactics at the wedding, Rory.’

  He takes that on board with a smile. ‘Berry and I definitely smashed it. Best day I’ve had for ages.’ This is Rory all over. He takes the compliment in his stride, then expands it. ‘When’s the next one? I’m definitely up for it if you want me.’

  If my sweaty neck wasn’t enough, now my stomach’s imploding. The twins are marrying twins later this week and I know I need help. I just hadn’t thought as far ahead as that help possibly coming from Rory.

  Poppy steps in. ‘Travis and Taylor are getting married on Friday at the Manor. Aren’t you invited to that?’

  Rory scratches his head. ‘Jeez, you could be right.’

  Immie’s straight in. ‘If you’re there as a guest anyway, it makes sense to help Hols while you’re there, then.’

  I butt in. ‘If Rory’s a guest, maybe someone else could come along with me?’ It’s a long shot, but anyone else would do.

  From the way Rory’s looking at me, it’s like he’s taking pity on me. ‘If the kids are still here, I’d obviously need someone to look after them.’ He turns to Poppy and Immie. ‘How are you two fixed?’

  ‘Maybe if you ask very nicely.’ Poppy’s grinning at him. ‘Seeing as you’re helping Hols and the team, you’re on.’

  ‘That’s not definite.’ I’m still fighting them. ‘Jules’s friends might be back from holiday.’ I might be able to get my dad back from Spain. Or persuade one of Rafe’s workers from the farm. Or I could even borrow a dwarf from the Crab and Pilchard.

  ‘It’ll cost you.’ Immie laughs at Rory. ‘Depends how many cases of Bad Ass Santa you’re offering?’

  As he turns, Gracie is approaching, a snowman trailing from each hand. ‘Would you like to make some more snowman cakes, Gracie?’ Rory talking to Gracie directly has to be a first, even if she won’t have a clue what he’s on about.

  Gracie looks almost as bemused as he does, but she manages a solemn reply. ‘Actually … I want to go on the slide next.’

  All us adults look across the room to where the slide sweeps down and lands in the ball cage, but I’m the first to seize my chance to get away.

  I hold out my hand to her. ‘I’ll take you.’ Obviously no one else is listening to me here.

  She thinks for a few seconds then her hand slides into mine. ‘I had snowman cakes at Poppy’s house. We put carrots on for noses. And chocolate buttons.’

  Rory cuts in. ‘It’s fine, we can all come over to the slide.’

  I have to argue. ‘Really, it doesn’t take five adults to look after one child.’ However ridiculous it sounds, they’re all traipsing after me in a line, Rafe coming up the rear, pushing Teddie.

  ‘Have you been in a ball cage before, Gracie?’ Poppy sounds concerned as we reach the netting enclosure with literally thousands – if not millions – of brightly coloured balls inside.

  Gracie nods back at her. ‘All the time. Mummy lets me.’ She drops her snowmen at the bottom of the slide steps, then begins to scramble up.

  Immie’s laughing. ‘At Morgan’s fourth birthday, we had to evacuate the area when some kid from another party did a poo in the ball pit.’

  Rory pulls a face. ‘Gross.’

  Rafe laughs. ‘Sounds more like a House of Horrors than a Fun Palace.’

  Gracie looks down from where she’s poised at the top of the slide. ‘My snowmans want to come too.’

  Rory picks them up and delivers them to her lap. ‘Jeez, anything else?’

  Gracie stares down at him. ‘Mummy says “one two three go”.’

  ‘Christmas crackers.’ Rory’s muttering under his breath. ‘Is that all, your majesty?’

  ‘She does clapping too.’

  ‘What?’ Rory groans. ‘It’s a slide, not the frigging Cresta Run.’

  ‘Maybe just do it, Rory.’ From where I’m standing the slide looks pretty high for a three-year-old. I remember one time when Freya queued with me all the way to the top of this huge slide in the park. And when I got to the top it looked such a long way down, I lost my bottle. The entire queue behind me had to go back down the steps to let me climb off. It might have been the ultimate humiliation for me and Freya, but for once I didn’t care. I’d have happily suffered the embarrassment ten times over if it meant I didn’t have to whoosh down that polished stainless-steel channel. As Gracie pushes off, I shout, ‘One two three, go!’ By the time she whizzes round and flops into the ball pile, most of us are clapping. As I glare at Rory, he joins in too.

  Gracie flounders around, then struggles the length of the cage and clambers out of the hole in the netting. ‘Again.’

  ‘Great,’ I say, catching Poppy’s eye. ‘Why not?’

  Half an hour later, Gracie’s still doing her circuits, cheered on by her own personal fan club. Even the single kids with their grandparents in tow don’t have quite as many supporters in their crowd as Gracie does.

  ‘So are you free tomorrow afternoon, Berry?’ Rory breaking the cycle of clapping and sliding takes me by surprise.

  I exchange glances with Immie, who’s spooning food into Teddie from a jar, and give Rory a superior ‘told you so’ smirk. ‘See, we knew once you came to a play zone you wouldn’t be able to stay away.’ Even if Gracie hasn’t smiled yet, I’m sure I’ve caught the occasional twitching at the corner of Rory’s mouth. Who knows, his face might even crack into a beam before we trundle back out past Santa and his bobbing reindeer. ‘Coming again might be fun. Maybe Gracie’ll try the bouncy castle tomorrow, for a variation.’ An hour by the ball cage, surrounded by whooping kids might be noisy. But even though it’s horribly Christmassy, it’s relaxing enough for me to be tempted to come again.

  Rory looks at me as if I’m totally crazy. ‘Jeez, I don’t mean we’re coming here. If I hear Frosty The Snowman one more time my head might implode. But if the next wedding’s on Friday, we need to stake out the Manor ASAP.’

  For a few happy moments back there the spectre of Friday’s wedding had slipped my mind. I’m just about to curse Rory for bringing me hurtling back to reality when Gracie comes towards us.

  She’s waggling her snowman at me. ‘Snowman’s gone down.’ From the dark shadows under her eyes, I’m guessing she’ll sleep tonight.

  I beam at her, willing her to smile back. ‘Yes, Gracie, Snowman’s gone down the slide a hundred times at least.’

  But rather than smiling, her mouth corners droop. ‘Snowman’s gone. Snowman’s gone …’ Her voice gets more urgent, then rises to a shriek as she shakes him at me. ‘Snowman’s gone!…’

  Rory winces at her howl. ‘Christmas, weren’t there two of them?’ He frowns down at her. ‘Where’s your other snowman, Gracie?’

  As a large tear rolls down Gracie’s cheek, she points at the cage. ‘B-b-balls …’

  Rory rolls his eyes. ‘For once I couldn’t have put it better myself.’

  ‘Oh my. Is Snowman Two in the ball pit?’ Poppy’s shaking her head. ‘We can’t leave him there, he’s like part of the family.’ Even if she sounds a tad sentimental, we all know what she means.

  Rafe’s scrunching up his face. ‘Can’t we just buy another?’

  Poppy’s eyes widen in shock. ‘Please tell me
you didn’t say that.’

  Immie’s got her hands on her hips. ‘Too right. There’s only one thing for it. I’m going in.’ A minute later, she’s horizontal and wriggling through the gap in the netting, swimming her way into the balls. ‘Come on, Hols, we’ll do a systematic sweep of the cage.’

  There are some people you can ignore, but Immie isn’t one of them. Next thing I know, I’m diving head-first after her.

  ‘How the heck do the kids do it?’ Wading through a sea of plastic balls that comes well up my thighs is harder than you’d imagine.

  Immie’s sifting through the spheres as if she’s doing back skulling, while I’m already on my knees, raking through, like some kind of frenzied mole.

  Rory’s laughing. ‘Shout if you need a poop scoop, Immie.’

  Beyond the netting, Poppy turns on Rory. ‘Tell me I didn’t hear that, either.’

  ‘Is this impossible?’ Now I’m inside there are so many balls, it’s hard to imagine ever finding one small soft toy in here, however systematic our approach is.

  Immie shakes her head at me and mutters under her breath. ‘About as likely as finding a snowman in hell, I’d say, but given the levels of Poppy’s pregnancy hormones, we have to look like we’re trying.’ She staggers backwards as she comes across a small child, then shouts at Rafe and Rory. ‘Come on, you guys. If you want to get home this side of midnight, don’t just stand there. You need to get in here.’

  They don’t need asking twice. ‘Chocs away!’ ‘Tally ho!’ As Rafe dives off a platform at the far end, Rory comes sailing down on a zip wire.

  Rafe’s launching himself as if he’s crowd surfing, his dark cashmere sweater submerging in the mass of brightly coloured plastic. ‘How much fun is this?’ Talk about men reverting to boys. They just turned the clock back thirty years.

  Rory’s whooping back. ‘Next on my wish list is a massive bouncy castle. A customised Roaring Waves one has to be great for publicity. We could take it down the beach and hire it out for weddings.’

  Immie’s chiding them. ‘Watch out! Don’t squash any kids.’