The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights
Page 159
Somewhere there waiteth in this world of ours
For one lone soul, another lonely soul –
Each chasing each through all the weary hours,
And meeting strangely at one sudden goal;
Then blend they – like green leaves with golden flowers,
Into one beautiful and perfect whole –
And life’s long night is ended, and the way
Lies open onward to eternal day.
‘Somewhere’, Sir Edwin Arnold (1832 – 1904)
“Squish in everybody,” the photographer instructs all the boys. “There are a lot of you to fit in.”
We’ve had the bride and groom shot. We’ve had just the bride, just the groom, the groom and his best man, the bride and her bridesmaid, the bride and her bridesmaid and the one who said no. We’ve had all the family shots, all the kids, all the grandparents.
Now it’s Katie with all the boys.
James is there, laughing with them all as they attempt to pick Katie up and hold her horizontally, without completely stripping her of every last shred of dignity.
“Why now?” I ask Emma, as we sip champagne in the gardens of the Montagu Arms and celebrate our best friend’s wedding.
I have so far discovered that Katie rescued my article from the bin. She’s clever though – she replaced it with some other pieces of paper so I wouldn’t notice. Then she sent it to Jennifer Dutton, who replied saying she loved it and was going to use it in the September issue as planned – only she still had Katie’s address, so it was Katie who opened the letter, and Katie who forged my signature in the contract. As for my letter to Jennifer Dutton – the one explaining why I wouldn’t be sending my article after all – well she put that one in the bin after offering to post it for me. I did think at the time it was incredibly kind of her, given that she’d more or less told me I was a fool for even writing it. And finally she has been doing her best to stop me from seeing the magazine for the last three days since it appeared on the shelves of every newsagents in the whole of London. She’s had a couple of close calls, what with her dad and then Anita…
And she showed it to Emma, of course.
“I didn’t get it before,” she says. “But I do now. I want what Katie and Matt have got, Becky. And I want you to have that too. But if I don’t let Jim – James – go then you’ll never have that. He’s your Mr Right. No-one else will do.”
“Are you sure Em?” I ask. “Are you really sure?”
She sips her champagne.
“Yes. I won’t pretend it’s easy, because it’s not. But I know now that it’s right. You’re my best friend, B, and I want you to be happy.”
“Thank you, Em,” I say hugging her tight.
Katie dashes over, looking flushed and laughing.
“Come on, Em,” she says. “Come and see the cake. You’ll love it.”
And then he’s there, by my side. My Mr Right.
“Oh, by the way B,” Katie shouts, running back over, her dress trailing obediently behind her.
“I think you’ll find this is yours,” she says, handing me an envelope.
“What is it?”
“Take a look.”
I open the envelope and take out the piece of paper inside.
It’s a cheque. For £378. And there’s a Love Life compliment slip attached.
Becky, I am most impressed. Please call my secretary and arrange an appointment to discuss regular freelance work. Regards, Jennifer.
“Oh my god,” I say, and they all smile – Katie, Emma and James – my two best friends and the love of my life.
“Great article,” James says when Emma and Katie have left to look at the cake.
“That boyfriend… the one with the lovely brown eyes and the scar above his left eye… Anyone I know?”
“Oh him, he’s just some guy I met,” I say, gently touching his scar.
He takes my hand in his and kisses it.
“I love you Becky. I never want to lose you again.”
“I love you too.”
“So, about this room of yours,” he says, grinning. “It doesn’t happen to be a double does it?”
I nod.
“Four poster bed in fact. And do you know what else it’s got?” I say.
“What?”
“Cornflakes,” I tell him. “Packets and packets of cornflakes…”
There is no remedy for love than to love more.
Henry David Thoreau (1817 – 1862)
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