by Rachel Dove
‘Did they book it in? A specific date?’ She was running her finger along the laminated paper.
It was like watching a child look for a present on Christmas morning. All excited, hopping from foot to foot, jiggling with excitement. Except Lynn had nothing under the tree, because Maria had been a naughty girl, and Santa didn’t give out presents to naughty people.
‘Lynn, I didn’t book the wedding. I can’t book the wedding, so if they call, either of them, we can’t do it, and I am out at an event.’
Lynn turned around, crestfallen. ‘Why? Can’t you work it round the baby?’
She looked so worried. Maria wanted to kick herself for making her colleague worry. She knew how stressed she had been since the wedding. Another thing to blame Darcy for. She really hated him sometimes, but not as much as she’d hated herself since that meeting.
‘No, Lynn, I can’t take the wedding. I just can’t. The groom, Mark? He’s the—’
‘Hi,’ the door opened and there was James. He looked at both women and smiled nervously.
‘You haven’t been answering my calls, so I just thought I’d check on you. I brought breakfast.’
He raised a brown bag. ‘Fruit salad, bacon rolls, fruit juice.’
‘Lovely,’ Lynn started to say. ‘That’s lovely, isn’t it, Maria?’
‘I have to work, James. Did you want something?’
He lowered the bag, and Maria went back to work stitching. She could hear Lynn tutting at her, and she did her best to pretend to be oblivious. She heard footsteps and the shop door close, and she looked up.
James was walking over to the sofa area, bag in hand. He laid himself out over it, feet on the coffee table, and, opening the bag, pulled out a bacon roll. He noticed her watching him and gave her a little wave.
‘Oh, sorry, did you think I left? I was just closing the door. There’s a bit of a draught. I’ll be fine here. I’ll just eat my breakfast and wait for you to take a break.’ He beckoned to Lynn, who was now sitting at her workstation, watching in amusement.
‘Come on, Lynn, come and grab a bacon roll. I have plenty.’
Lynn looked at Maria and got up, heading to the kettle.
‘I will join you actually, James love. Fancy a cuppa to go with it?’
James nodded, mouth full of bacon. ‘That would be lovely, Lynn. Thank you.’
Maria glared at the pair of them. Why couldn’t people just leave her alone to live in her little bubble? God knew, when she started showing, the villagers would all know about it. She kept working, trying her very best to ignore them, but James was humming and singing along in the corner.
‘I am trying to work you know,’ she said huffily. He waggled a plastic container at her.
‘Come on, you have to eat. Fresh fruit.’
Maria pouted at him.
‘Please,’ he said softly. ‘Just ten minutes?’
Maria sighed and put down the dress.
‘Five,’ she said, wandering over to him. Lynn came over with some tea on a tray.
‘I’m just going to go upstairs, sort some fabric samples out for Mr Taylor.’
Maria went to object but Lynn was already hotfooting it out the back. She slumped down into the couch opposite James and took the container from him. The fruit did look nice. She looked around for something to eat it with and James waggled a fork in front of her face. She took it without looking at him. ‘Thanks.’
‘You’re welcome. So, what’s happening with you then? Are you mad at me for something? I was supposed to be coming to look at upstairs, but you haven’t been answering my calls.’
Maria forked a piece of melon into her mouth, her eyes closing at the taste. She hadn’t eaten much that morning, other than coffee. Not the best breakfast. She needed to take her iron tablets too. Not exactly following doctor’s orders. She had struggled to concentrate on anything since meeting Annabel.
‘See, baby needs fruit.’ His face dropped. ‘The baby is okay, right?’
Maria grinned. ‘All good, yes. Hungry perhaps.’ She stabbed another piece of fruit.
‘Good,’ he said, looking relieved. ‘So what is it then? Are you cross with me? I know it’s weird, but I did think we were friends now. I don’t get what’s wrong.’
Maria felt awful. She had just assumed James would get mad at her for turning down the wedding and give up. She could just shut herself away, work hard, get someone else in to deal with upstairs. Simon, the handyman in the village, could help. She didn’t need James. She didn’t need a damn thing. She just wanted to live in her own little cocoon. Why couldn’t people realise that? She couldn’t let James in; she couldn’t lose anyone else. If she didn’t let him get any closer, it wouldn’t hurt when he left. Her pregnancy hormones had turned from tearful despair to fuelled anger, so she had been clinging to that to see her through the day.
‘Nothing’s wrong, James, I’m just busy. I don’t really have much cash spare, so I can’t do the upstairs yet.’
‘What about the wedding booking? Annabel said you turned them down. Why?’
‘I just can’t do it, James. I’m sorry. It’s just too much work and—’
‘I’ll help! I’m part of the wedding anyway, so I’ll be around. I’ll help with everything, and Annabel says she’ll leave it all to you and not interfere. To be honest, she got a bit bridezilla and it caused problems for her and Mark. They were stressing over everything, and money, but now Mark’s family have stepped in with some cash. They really love Annabel, which is nice.’
Maria’s heart squeezed when she heard James talk about his sister. He really loved her, Maria could tell. Here he was, doing what he did best, putting himself out there to help others. The man was a damn saint, and she felt a little like a devil in disguise these days. Leading all those around her down the path to hell and eternal damnation.
‘I can give her some other numbers. I emailed her a couple of other planners. Did she not call them?’
James frowned, taking a big draw of coffee before answering.
‘Maria, she wants you. They can get married before the baby comes, you’ll have time.’
Maria gasped. ‘You didn’t tell them, did you?’
James smiled kindly. ‘Of course I didn’t, I didn’t tell anyone. It’s your business, no one else’s. Has he contacted you?’
Maria could feel her heart thump in her chest.
‘Who?’
‘Your ex, Darcy.’
Maria opened her mouth to speak, to tell him some version of the truth, but his phone rang in his pocket. He looked at the screen and groaned.
‘Sorry, it’s Annabel. I swear she doesn’t know I’m here.’ He held a finger up to tell her one minute, and she nodded.
‘Hey, sis, how’s it going?’ His face darkened, his features clouding over. ‘Don’t, Bel. Listen, stop stressing. We can sort it. Listen, er…’ He looked apologetically at Maria. ‘Can we talk later? I’m on a job at the moment… yeah, give me an hour, okay?’
‘I’ll do it,’ Maria heard someone say. Someone that sounded suspiciously like her. What am I doing! ‘I’ll do the wedding.’ Oh great, you’ve really gone and done it now.
James looked at her in shock. ‘Just a minute, sis.’ He covered the mouthpiece. Maria could hear Annabel squeaking tearfully at the other end. ‘Are you sure?’
Maria nodded. ‘Yes, I’ll do it, but we’ll need to discuss my fee.’
She had to make this right somehow. Having James here had decided it for her. She would do the right thing. Help James, help Annabel and Mark have their perfect wedding, and earn the money she needed for her unborn child. Then she would just be out of their lives. If Mark asked, she would tell him the baby wasn’t his, and that would be it. She could tell him she’d had more than one drunken encounter, that it was another one which had resulted in her falling pregnant. Not the classiest answer, to be sure, but what else was she going to say? He hadn’t been in touch, so perhaps he wouldn’t even ask when he found out. It wasn’t like t
hey had feelings for each other. It was just one night; two lonely people doing something to ease their pain.
James gave her the biggest, daftest grin, and stood to go and talk to Annabel. By the sound of it, she was very happy to hear the news. Now Maria just had to get through it. Make everyone happy, and then get back to her bubble.
***
The bubble burst that evening as she was about to leave the shop to go home. Lynn had already left, and she was just heading to the door when a face at the window made her jump. She looked at the figure for a moment, and he smiled. An awkward smile that made his whole face look nervous. She slid back the locks on the door, allowing him inside.
‘Hi,’ Mark said, ruffling his unruly hair back off his forehead with his hand. ‘I didn’t mean to just turn up, but…’
‘Annabel told you I said yes to the wedding, and you’re here to tell me to turn it down.’
‘I… it’s not that, it’s…’
He sagged a little and Maria took a step back, figuring he could probably use some more oxygen. She felt the same way. Being alone with him, especially here, among the dresses, shoes and dreams… it felt so wrong. So awkward. And oddly, it made her feel guilty when she thought of James. There was a baby elephant in the room, and Maria felt its trunk breathing down her neck.
‘I’m not this man. I don’t cheat. I don’t hurt people. I just don’t know what to do, and with you doing the wedding now, I just wondered whether…’
He looked stricken, terrified, and the penny dropped in Maria’s mind. He felt guilty too.
‘You were wondering whether I was madly in love with you, and planning to sabotage your big day.’
Her plain speaking made his eyes bulge, and she shook her head kindly at him.
‘I know what type of man you are, I think. I was sad, you were sad, it was a mistake. As far as I’m concerned, it’s not an issue. I don’t mean you any harm. I need the money too, in all honesty, with one thing and another.’ You know, my failed marriage, public humiliation, secret baby… ‘I just want to help James really.’
She couldn’t help but smile when she thought of his goofy face, the way he made her laugh and feel safe. She really did want to repay him for his kindness, even if this was a warped way of doing it.
‘Really? You’re really okay with this?’ Mark was looking at her sceptically, and she saw what Annabel saw in him. The man was in love, clearly. Adoration and sheer panic crossed over his facial expressions like raging storm clouds.
She took a step forward, placing her hand on top of his momentarily, without thinking. They both froze, and she dropped her hand.
‘Sorry, that was a bad move. I seem to be making a few of those lately.’
His eyes crinkled in the corners as the tension in the room broke a little at her joke.
‘I know the feeling.’
‘I meant what I said. This is just about the wedding, doing the job and helping James. That’s it. I like Annabel, Mark. You’re both so happy. I don’t have anything nasty planned. If you really don’t trust me, I get it – believe me. I’m willing to drop out, but I just think we can get through this, and then we’ll be done.’
He looked around the shop, his eyes flicking from one display to another.
‘Annabel wants you, and James trusts you.’
Maria nodded, relieved he didn’t seem to be so wary anymore.
‘I can do the job, I won’t let you down.’
Mark turned to the door.
‘I trust you too, Maria. Goodnight.’
‘Night,’ she said, watching him walk away through the window, into the darkness.
So many people to please, to make happy, to keep safe from the truth. Placing a hand on her stomach, she flicked off the lights. This was going to be some wedding.
Chapter 14
Mrs Burgess was reading the papers in the sunroom when Darcy walked in. She was still in her dressing gown, her silk nightgown matching (of course) and her hair already neatly coiffed. She was sitting at the cream dining table, the papers of the day spread out all around her as she perused the business section with her usual Early Grey (Burgess brand TM) tea in the smoking pot next to her.
She looked down her glasses at him and he shuffled in, squinting at the bright light coming in from the numerous high, thin windows. The sunroom was his mother’s favourite room. She spent much of her time in here, or in the conservatory that led off it at the bottom of the room. It was light and airy, a stark contrast to the bright, white, marbled family rooms, and the dark wood rooms his father occupied. In here, it was all florals, pretty cream furnishings, wall-to-wall bookcases full of colour-coordinated books. It looked like the perfect room for his mother, as she sat there, looking so at leisure, but Darcy knew different. The room had been designed by her for photoshoots, the woman behind Burgess Tea. People wanted to believe the homely image, the successful businesswoman, pride of Yorkshire. It was what she traded on, even enjoyed being from time to time. What they didn’t see was the rod of steel that ran through her womanly features. Especially when it came to her family, her children. She ran the Burgess Tea empire like the Queen of England ran the monarchy, and she never let a thing escape her notice.
‘I see the papers are finally dying down about your wedding farce,’ she said, her soft tones sounding like slippers brushing along a deep-pile carpet. ‘I think our PR girl really did earn her money this time.’
Darcy rolled his eyes but said nothing. ‘It’s not over yet, though. I told you, I can make things right with Maria, if only you’ll let me. Sending that godawful publicity girl to pose with me on the beach wasn’t the best idea either, was it?’
His mother folded the paper in half, dropping it back onto the table.
‘I told you the day you left her standing at that altar, and again the day you came home from the hospital, we need to manage this situation, which means staying the hell away from her and letting the gossip rags calm down. She’s done the right thing, now why can’t you?’
‘What do you mean, done the right thing? She didn’t do anything wrong!’
His mother picked up an envelope from the pile of post she had on the table and waggled it at him.
‘Charity ball in Leeds this weekend; I thought you could attend with me. Your father wants to stay at home – you know how he hates those things. I thought this could be good PR for you. Some bloody good women going too, by all accounts. Perfect for casting your net out again, discreetly of course.’
‘Mother, what do you mean the right thing? And I’m not casting my net anywhere. I don’t want to go.’
Beatrice huffed. ‘The right thing by keeping quiet – quite dignified of her, I thought. Besides the rather dramatic hospital dash. That smacked of desperation a little. Did you ever find out what was wrong?’
Yes, mother, she’s carrying your grandchild. Heir to your throne. ‘She was exhausted, low blood sugar, dehydration.’
Beatrice tutted. ‘These young waifs, they never look after themselves. Never mind, at least it’s over now.’ She took a sip of her tea. ‘Your black tuxedo, I think, for the dinner. Have it dry-cleaned, won’t you?’ She smiled at him sweetly. ‘A haircut wouldn’t go amiss either.’
She picked the paper back up, seemingly dismissing him. He cleared his throat.
‘Mother, I am going to see Maria again. We have things to discuss. I shan’t be going to the charity ball either. I plan to get back with Maria, and marry her. I know I messed up, but without you constantly in my ear, telling me how unsuitable she was…’
‘Who do you think you’re speaking to?’ Her tone was icy. ‘You will be going to that charity ball, and yes, you did mess up. I had you meeting every eligible lady in the county, all with breeding, and money, and you go to some backwoods community event and meet a bloody shopgirl!’
‘She’s not just a shopgirl, she owns the place! She’s a successful businesswoman, just like you.’
‘Me!’ Beatrice snorted. ‘She is nothing like me! I
married a man with a two-bit business and turned it into the most successful tea company in England, and I did it all while raising a family!’
‘Well, actually—’
She cut him off before he could drop his bombshell. Her usual trick of raising one hand and pinching the bridge of her nose with the other. It had never failed to silence him as a child; she didn’t even need words. Just that hand to silence him, and the action to convey her annoyance and pain at what he was saying. She used her migraines like warnings.
‘Don’t do that, or Mummy will get a migraine.’
‘Keep the noise down, Mummy has a migraine coming on.’
Darcy realised he was never going to get out from under the shadow of this woman. He loved her, but everything he was and everything he had were down to her. Dependent on her. His job, his apartment, his lifestyle, all paid for by Burgess Tea. His mother would see him married off to some other heir to some other throne. She was already talking about the daughter of a local biscuit factory owner. Imagine the headline then. Tea and biscuits down the aisle? Dirty Darcy dunks into married life again for a second bite of the biscuit?
It didn’t bear thinking about, and he already had a blossoming family out there, waiting for him to man up.
‘Mother,’ he said, ignoring his mother’s wince. ‘I will go to that ball, but as for Maria, that door is most certainly not closed. I’m taking the rest of the day off.’
He didn’t dare wait for an answer. He was out of there, his expensive Italian imported shoes squeaking as he half-ran across the marble hall to the front door. Once in the car, his mobile rang in his pocket. He didn’t need to look to know who it was. He had to get this sorted now, once and for all, before his mother called the dogs in.
***
December
‘Is this the place?’ James asked as they saw a sign half-obscured by the roadside. They had been driving on this road a good few miles, and the sat nav was no help at all, other than binging at them every now and again.
‘I can’t really see the sign clearly,’ Maria said, frowning, trying to see the words through the thick brush around it. ‘They should really cut this back, get some better signage in. How do the guests even find the place?’
