Christmas Promises at the Little Wedding Shop

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Christmas Promises at the Little Wedding Shop Page 31

by Jane Linfoot


  I’m puzzling. ‘So where does the wee come in? You need to be careful it doesn’t get mixed up with the apple juice.’

  Now it’s Immie’s turn to look despairing. ‘With so much Christmas booze on offer, I might just crack. Which is where you two come in.’ She rams the sample into my hand, then pulls a box out of her pocket and shoves that at me too.

  I let out a shriek as I look down at the wee and the box. ‘A pregnancy test?’

  ‘Keep it down. I don’t want the whole world to know.’ If Immie’s looking daggers at me, it’s way too late. She hisses at us, ‘If I say the word to you and Pops, I want you to do a test for me and tell me it’s negative. And that’ll be the go-ahead for me to have whatever drink I’m craving.’

  Poppy’s voice is sympathetic. ‘Any reason why you can’t do it yourself?

  Immie blows up at her nonexistent fringe. ‘To be honest, I’ve done so many tests the last few months, seeing another negative would wreck my Christmas. I know it’s a big ask to get friends to put your pee on the stick for you. But I thought you two wouldn’t mind. It’s only for use in the direst emergency. We all know it’ll be negative. But this way I don’t have to look at it.’ She scans our faces.

  I open my shoulder bag and push the sample and test in. ‘Great. Say the word and we’ll be in the cloakroom.’

  Poppy’s eyeing Bart as he comes across the room, balancing a tray of steaming glasses. ‘More drinks, ladies? Jess has told me to make sure everyone has a full glass.’

  I take some gluhwein and turn to look out across the lake to the snowy hills beyond. I’m just bending down to check on Gracie, when there’s a squawk from Immie.

  ‘Hang on to your thong, Hols, Jess is waving and it looks like she wants you.’

  Poppy’s blinking. ‘Christmas crackers, is that Luc she’s got there?’

  The lurch my heart makes is so big, it practically jumps out of my chest and lands on the terrace outside. ‘It can’t be.’ Despite throwing down a huge slug of gluhwein, my mouth’s dry.

  Immie’s voice is a low growl. ‘Elephant bollocks, it sodding is. The Ashton Kutcher is sailing this way. With Jess at the helm and Rory following close behind.’

  I give another gulp. ‘He met her at the shop. She’s probably just invited him over for drinks.’

  Poppy sounds perplexed. ‘For someone only out for a drink he’s looking very focused. He’s heading over here like a guided missile, but twice as fast.’

  I let out a little moan. ‘I’d hoped for a catch up over coffee …’

  Immie’s voice is gruff. ‘A cream tea would definitely have maxed out the food-intimacy connection.’

  I can’t help smiling at that. ‘Hot chocolate at the Surf Shack, I’d melt faster than you can say “Christmas muffins”.’ Although that would hardly fit with Luc’s carb ban.

  Beyond the sofas, Jess is somehow propelling Luc toward us, clinking a glass at the same time and shouting for everyone to be quiet. If I wasn’t bricking it, I’d be in awe of her multitasking skill. I clench my bum really tight in the hope it’ll help me drop the inches I’ve gained since last December.

  As everyone goes quiet, there’s a terrible sense of déjà vu. As Luc comes to a halt a few feet in front of me and starts to clap his hands, it’s like I’ve lived this before. I know exactly what I’ve got to do. I’m edging backwards towards the double doors to the garden. Behind my back, I locate the handle. When I push, I feel the door spring ajar. I’m just about ready to run for my life, when I look up and Rory catches my eye. You know when people talk about communicating without words and it sounds like crap. But there’s something in his gaze that freezes me to the spot. I’m not taking the easy way out any more, am I? This time, I’m not going to run. I’m going to stay and tough out whatever’s going down here.

  As Jess clears her throat the look on her face is as delighted as mine is horrified.

  ‘Everyone. Please. Luc wants to say a few very important words to our very own, and very special, Holly.’

  As Luc towers in front of me, in his sharp dark-grey suit and pristine white shirt, I can see why Jess is bowled over. All the way from America. All the way to Rose Hill Manor. Exactly a year to the second, practically, since … well, since last year. Somehow, now I’m staring up at him, my crazy heartbeat is getting more sensible again.

  ‘Hi again, Luc.’ I smile at him, because if nothing else, his timing is impeccable.

  He clears his throat and looks around to check he’s got everyone’s attention before he begins. ‘Holly. Last year, I asked you to marry me, and at the time, due to – er – extraneous circumstances, you didn’t give me a proper answer. And I left for New York, thinking our relationship was over.’

  The American twang is a shock all over again. And this is how Luc is. If there’s an audience, he’ll always go out of his way to bring them up to speed first, before he gets to the point. He’s already lost Immie with his preamble, because she’s rolling her eyes. Extraneous circumstances? He pauses for long enough for me to think that’s a bit of a strange way of describing what happened and I catch Rory sighing too, over Luc’s shoulder.

  Luc clears his throat again. ‘However …’ He lets that very big word hang for a while. So long, in fact, I’m wondering if he’s forgotten what comes next in his head. Then he kicks off again. ‘However, during the year, I had time to reflect. And I decided that maybe my future was not in New York after all, but in London. With Holly.’

  There’s another pause. Possibly to give me time to work out if this is about me or the job. Because, from where I’m standing, it’s not at all clear where he’s going with this.

  ‘So, in short …’

  Which it isn’t at all, but whatever. Immie’s not the only one yawning. He’s pretty much lost me too. I think I must miss the next bit because I’m so busy frowning, looking out at the hills. But when I look back round, my eyes almost pop out of their sockets, because he’s scrambling onto the floor. Then he pulls a chunky pale-blue box out of his pocket. As he shows it around the room, his flourish reminds me of a magician with an eye on the Oscars. Then Jess hisses the word ‘Tiffany’ so loud the cows at Poppy’s farm probably heard her. There’s a rumble that goes all around the room. Realistically, stunned silences never happen here, because everyone’s always got too much to say.

  There’s no need for Jess to get overexcited. Even if it’s a prettier box this time, it’s still going to be his grandmother’s ring inside. Then, as he flips back the lid and does another whole-room show-off, the sparkle is so totally dazzling even I do a kind of croak in my throat.

  As he looks up at me from where he’s scrunched up on one knee, the expression on his face is so earnest that, for a nanosecond, my heart squishes. Then my gaze moves on to his navy silk tie. And the slight graze on his neck where he’s shaved too closely. I can only think Americans don’t approve of designer stubble. Not that I’m shallow, but he looked so much better ‘with’ than ‘without’. All this time, despite the bling in the box, his lips haven’t deviated from their straight line. When the main words finally come out, they’re low and quite growly, ‘Holly, will you marry me?’

  I’m opening and closing my mouth, and it’s nothing to do with my shock at the new ring. ‘I’m sorry, Luc, but …’

  That’s as far as I get. Then Jess swoops in and grabs the box from Luc. ‘Holly, remember what you told me?’ She beams down at Luc. ‘Thank you, Luc, Holly is truly delighted, she especially loves your ring. This heartbroken girl has waited patiently for you all year. Please bear with us, she’ll be accepting very shortly.’ In one movement, she rams the ring onto my finger, then powers me backwards onto the sofa. As I land against the kind of luxurious feather cushions that hug you right back when you fall on them, someone’s clearing their throat.

  ‘Holly Berry, you can’t throw your life away, don’t marry him,’ It’s Rory. Every bit of colour has drained from his cheeks, but he’s still just as chilled, leaning with his shoulder on
the wall, arms folded. ‘He doesn’t love you …’

  Rory’s voice has kickstarted my heart again. There’s a glorious moment when it dawns on me what he’s about to say. There can only be one reason why he’s joining in here. I’m thinking, yes, yes, yes, I love you too, Rory Bad-Ass Sanderson, how the hell did I not see that before? And Rory standing up here now to tell everyone Luc doesn’t love me, but he does, is the most romantic thing I can think of in the world. So romantic, my mouth goes all sour, because I might just be going to cry. Smiling across the room at Rory and sniffing hard as he finishes his sentence, I’m already anticipating how amazing it’s going to be to snog him.

  I’m aching to hear the words. ‘He doesn’t love you, Berry …’ I do …

  Except it isn’t that. Rory’s voice carries across the room, and it couldn’t be louder, or clearer. ‘He doesn’t love you, Berry … the only person Luc loves is himself!’

  I’m squirming inside for having got that so wrong.

  As Rory’s words bounce off the white walls, Luc is looking up, scratching his head. ‘Who’s this Berry, anyway?’

  As the murmuring around the room gets louder, Immie’s frowning and growling at me. ‘Stuff Jess! You can’t marry a guy who didn’t even bother to get in touch when you told him you might be pregnant!’ Except in the end it’s indignant and horribly loud. There’s a ripple of gasps around the room, then the roar of excited chatter.

  Let’s face it, this is St Aidan. Everybody cares enough to wade in when you’re at the checkout buying cereal. Getting proposed to, the discussions may take all day. I smile at Gracie, who slides off her pouffe and comes to nestle against my knee.

  She wrinkles her nose. ‘Is this Luc the p …

  Happily, I cut her off before she gets to the ‘puke’ bit. ‘Yes, this is Luc, and he’s come all the way from America.’ I’m sounding like a song. ‘Luc, this is Gracie.’

  As Gracie puts her hand up to wave, Luc backs away as much as a man on one knee can and pulls a face. ‘I’ve consolidated a lot the last year, Holly. We’re world leaders in Sound Operating Environments now and I’m currently screaming up the ladder.’

  ‘Great.’ It’s so absurd, what he’s saying, that my lips are twitching. ‘I hope you’ve attached your safety harness?’

  He squints at me. ‘What?’

  Our old conversations are all coming back. ‘Site regs when working at a height. Don’t you have to clip on above two metres?’ He talks the talk, I make the jokes.

  His face is still blank. ‘Shall we get on with this, Hols?’

  As I stare around the room, everyone’s talking so hard it’s as if they’ve forgotten we’re here. It’s very like the night we had to force everyone back into Sophie and Saffy’s reception. As I catch Luc’s eye again, I give an apologetic shrug. Then I dip my hand into my bag and the first thing I pull out is Immie’s wee pot. Which was well worth it, if only for the look of disgust on Luc’s face. Second time lucky, I pull out the whistle. Two sharp blasts later, the room is ours. Almost.

  I’m just psyching myself up to speak when a loud voice from the back breaks the silence. ‘I heard Holly talk Saffy into getting married when she was ready to run off. She’ll know her own mind here. Be quiet and let her speak.’

  Good point well made, about letting me get a word in. But I’m gobsmacked that he’s been so indiscreet. ‘That was supposed to be a secret, Gary.’

  Ken joins in. ‘We’re backing Team Rory!’ With comments like that they’re completely living up to their matching Bad Elf jumpers too.

  I glare at them both, then take a moment to focus on the dazzle coming off my hand. It’s so much more than I’d ever hoped for. I’ve spent an entire year aching not to be on my own. Luc taking me back at any point would have been beyond my wildest dreams. Yet now I’m staring down at this startling row of diamonds, in just the kind of simple and classy white-gold setting I’d have chosen myself, it couldn’t feel more wrong.

  ‘Okay.’ As I take a deep breath, I’m taking it for granted that everyone wants to hear this. ‘As some of you already know, this time last year when Luc proposed to me, it’s no secret that I ran away. Then, by the time I was ready to say yes, he’d changed his mind.’

  Immie interjects loudly. ‘And buggered off to America. Don’t forget that bit. As dickheads go, they don’t come any bigger.’

  I pause for a moment, then start again. ‘It’s true what Jess said. I cried for an entire eleven months.’ I pull a face at her. ‘And then I came here. And for the last few weeks, I’ve done a lot of things I’d never have done by choice. But somewhere along the line that’s made me into a different person. It’s showed me I’m capable of a lot more than I thought.’ Even as I’m speaking, I know the Holly who came off the train would never have dared to do this. Although admittedly, I’m still a long way from coming out with the kind of slick performance and fancy words Luc uses.

  Poppy flops down beside me and punches my arm. ‘Go Holly!’

  I glare across at Gary and Ken. ‘And it definitely isn’t about teams, okay?’ It’s somehow very important to make that clear. ‘This is only about Luc and me. And Luc, you’re a great guy. For four years, you were solid and certain. But I think what I took from you was security rather than love. Somehow we collided and we stuck together, when maybe we shouldn’t have. I was your happy accident, who all your friends thought was ditsy. And you were my comfortable option. However hard we work at this, we’re never going to make it more than that.’

  Luc’s blinking up at me, as if he’s been struck dumb.

  I look across at Gary. ‘I think I finally began to understand the day I talked to the bride Gary mentioned. I was taking pictures at her wedding when she had a wobble and I helped her sort out why. Her reluctance was all about little things. But she showed me what it was like to be crazily in love with the man she was going to marry. So in love she couldn’t imagine a day waking up without him. The kind of love where all that mattered was that they were together. Enough love to see them through the bad times, as well as the good times.’ I turn to Luc. ‘When I ran away last Christmas, Luc, at the time I didn’t have a clue why it had happened. But now I know, it wasn’t because I was shocked or because I was scared.’

  As I look between the faces, I see Rory, back by the wall, nodding gently as he listens. Of all the things I’ve done since I’ve been here, he’s pushed me the hardest. But he’s also been there supporting me, every inch of the way. I can’t actually believe I’m daring to stand here saying this to everyone. And without Rory’s help, I never would have been.

  I take another breath and look back to Luc. ‘I now see, if we’d truly loved each other, I wouldn’t have had misgivings when you asked me to marry you last Christmas. And you wouldn’t have been able to leave me in the way you did. So I’ve finally worked it out – my instincts were good that day. I ran because we didn’t have the kind of love we needed to carry us through. I ran because deep down I knew what you were asking was wrong for both of us.’

  Luc’s still down on the floor, resting his elbow on his one knee, propping his chin on his hand. For the first time in our entire relationship, I’ve got his undivided attention. And, blow me down, as they say in the States, but he’s actually listening to me too.

  As I’ve no idea how long this state of bliss will last, I press on. ‘So that’s why I’m just as certain I should be saying “thanks, but no thanks” this time around. I’m very touched that you’ve come back. It means everything that you’ve asked me to marry you a second time. And I’m truly sorry I can’t accept. But at least it’s given me a chance to explain. And this way we can say a proper “goodbye” too. Believe me, you’re a fabulous man. Just not the right one for me. And I’m certain there will be some very lucky woman out there, who will make you a lot happier than I ever could.’

  I’ve pretty much said it all. I’m wavering, wondering what the hell to do, apart from giving the ring back, obviously. Next thing, I find myself getting
up. I’ve tugged the ring off my finger and I’m stepping forward, holding it out for him to take, my arms open. And I’ve completely forgotten that Luc’s not ever a huggy person. And definitely not in public. As he scrambles to his feet, I can’t help noticing how obsessively shiny his shoes are. But that’s not my problem any more. He’s also totally overdone the expensive-smelling and rather spicy cologne in his collar region, so even from two feet away, my eyes are starting to stream. But whatever, the hug we both participate in feels more spontaneous and heartfelt than any he’s ever given me. As my cheek is rammed against his lapel, the tears I’m sniffing away are mostly allergic. If there’s a tiny twist in my heart and a lump in my throat, they’re for all the things we couldn’t give each other.

  Then everyone starts to clap and cheer. And strangely, it feels like it couldn’t have been any louder if we’d just got engaged.

  Chapter 39

  Monday 25th December

  Christmas Day at Rose Hill Manor: Swishy tails and special deliveries

  As expected, turning down a proposal, in public, in Rose Hill isn’t without fallout. I get enough hugs, well wishes and advice in the next hour to last at least until the mince pies come out a lot later this afternoon. By midday, when a lot of the guests are peeling off back to their own Christmas lunches, I’m pretty much over the shock of getting engaged then unengaged all inside ten minutes. I’m catching a quiet moment by the French window when Rory sidles up with Gracie for his own debriefing.

  ‘Well done for that one, Berry.’ As he pulls me towards him with his one spare arm, there’s a waft of delicious Diesel mixed with Rory’s own particular guy smell, and a crush so hard I can hear his heart hammering against his chest wall. He frowns down at me. ‘Are you okay? Have you survived the mass concern and love?’

  I nod. ‘I even had a hug from Jules. He’s very brave to come out when he’s still blotchy.’ For someone as appearance-orientated as Jules, a face that’s all red must be a nightmare.

 

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