Taking a Chance on Love

by Erin Green

  What weaknesses have been observed in his learning?

  Luke needs practice forming his words. Some days are better than others, but sometimes I don’t understand what he is saying or asking for. This can result in little accidents relating to his toileting.

  I’ve noticed his confidence growing when interacting with other children. Have you witnessed this in the classroom?

  Luke loves being with the other children. He shows an aptitude for kindness towards others and is very loving.

  Is he still being a little too boisterous in the dining room when it comes to food?

  Luke does have a tendency to want second or thirds at dinner time. The dinner ladies do offer him a little extra but frequently refrain as maintaining a healthy wellbeing is essential at such a tender age.

  Is there any improvement in his acknowledgement of needing the toilet?

  Luke will take himself to the toilet when necessary but leaves it a little late regarding passing water, which has resulted in accidents in the classroom.

  Should you have any concerns, please don’t hesitate to contact me.

  Kindest regards,

  Mrs Richards

  I read the letter and have two questions to ask.

  ‘Who is Mrs Richards?’ I ask. ‘And why isn’t Luke’s name being added to the classroom cleaning-up rota?’

  ‘She’s new to the school,’ says my mum. ‘She joined last term.’

  Both my parents shrug and then seem astonished when I burst into tears.

  ‘I don’t bloody believe this! The answers haven’t even come from the woman who teaches him every day and who I speak to regularly . . . Why haven’t I been introduced to Mrs Richards?’

  Luke looks at me from under his brow, his big eyes staring woefully at my tear-stained face. My tears have made him uncomfortable. I quickly wipe my eyes and bundle my son on to my lap, jiggling him up and down awkwardly.

  Do the school think I don’t notice when Luke returns home wearing his spare joggers with two pairs of wet school trousers wrapped in black bin liners?

  ‘This doesn’t help anyone,’ I say, staring between my parents. ‘What a waste of time. I am so sorry – you must feel as if I’ve sent you into a situation which was never going to be informative or productive in finding out about his academic progress. I might as well not have bothered.’

  I reread the letter over the top of Luke’s bobbing head.

  ‘Basically, her answers outline that I am raising a very lovable child who is happy when painting, eating or playing. Though he needs to focus on handling water, whether it be his toilet habits or his painting skills. And – surprise, surprise – he needs to practise his speech with a professional speech therapist, which I’ve been chasing them to organise since last September! What about his lovely handwriting, which is coming along so well despite his poor dexterity skills, or his love of music or his subtraction and addition work?’

  I hug my boy.

  I feel fooled yet again by the school. I had thought they’d been listening to my requests and looking after Luke’s needs appropriately. It now feels as if every day is a little hit and miss.

  I silently vow, yet again, to demand another meeting with the school about the speech therapy.

  Polly

  ‘No way, Mum! Please say you’re joking!’ snaps Cody, across the dining table.

  ‘Milo of Musicland . . . do you know him?’

  ‘Know him! He’s Lola’s older brother.’

  My knife and fork go down, mimicking my mood.

  ‘Look, I had a choice of two DJs: Milo or Trev. I assumed that Trev sounds . . . well, years older than you’d have chosen, so I went with the other guy. He sounded so enthusiastic and upbeat. I’m out of my comfort zone here, Cody, and beggars can’t be choosers, eh?’

  ‘But it does mean that Lola will expect to come,’ says Fraser.

  ‘Not necessarily,’ I retort.

  ‘Oh, I bet so too,’ adds Cody. ‘She’ll use it as an excuse, even if it’s just to carry his speaker cables.’

  ‘Do I chance him then?’ I ask, looking from one to the other. ‘Or contact Trev?’

  ‘But what if the other guy isn’t available?’ says Fraser.

  I nod smugly.

  It’s amazing how those who haven’t done any of the booking or deciding can knock those who are left doing the donkey work for his party.

  ‘Just leave it . . .’

  ‘Are you sure? She’s your ex, so I’ll expect you to speak to her if she proves to be difficult,’ says Fraser. ‘Lola is not your mother’s concern but yours.’

  ‘I know.’

  I’m not convinced and sense that neither is Fraser.

  I snuggle up to Fraser’s back once he climbs into bed and turns out the lamp.

  ‘Thank you,’ I whisper into his warm skin.

  ‘What for?’ comes the reply in the darkness.

  ‘For everything . . . for today, yesterday and possibly tomorrow.’ I swallow as the enormity of my words wedge in my throat.

  ‘Polly?’

  ‘I mean it, Fraser . . . I was watching you both today and I was so proud of the man you are, the way you conduct yourself with Cody, and your compassion for Helen, Marc and the girls . . . and even my parents. You certainly do things right in life, whereas me . . . I bumble along making mistakes every day and somehow get through, only to begin again the following week.’

  Fraser swiftly turns within the confines of my arms, his face inches from mine, his sweet breath tickling my cheek.

  ‘I do what I do for us, Polly. We made a deal in life; we complement each other. You amaze me each day with your endless love for others – it’s you who fetches, carries and organises us all. Not me. Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m fine, honest . . . just, listening to Helen today, it makes me wonder what the future holds, that’s all.’

  ‘Come here,’ he says, putting his arms around me and stroking my back. I imagine his eyes staring intently into mine as we face each other in the dark. His hands gently lift and lower, the length of stroke increasing to move from my shoulder to hip and back up. I feel the pressure intensity with each stroke, his breath quickens against my cheek and, finally, his hold draws me nearer into his chest. My hands unlink from around his torso and lift towards his jawline, as my mouth finds his.

  Chapter Nine

  Friday 28 February

  Carmen

  I arrive at the boutique an hour earlier than usual. I didn’t sleep well last night, tossing and turning, for hours, mulling over everything. Lying alone in the darkness, I felt an overwhelming sadness. I missed Elliot’s warmth beside me. The dog is being boarded with Trish and Terry so, I even missed Maisy snoring as she had throughout the previous night. My mind played awful tricks on me, throwing up negative dreams of Elliot hobbling around Cardiff, cheating with numerous beauties. This time in my life should be joyous; I should be creating memories which will last for a lifetime. Instead, I’m churning over suspicious comments which have no feasible evidence, worrying about in-laws and trying my hardest to create a proposal speech which is worthy of his answer without being mushy, overly sentimental or sounding a tad desperate.

  And now I’m here at the boutique, dragging tables left, right and centre to create one decent-sized meeting table. I feel increasingly guilty and annoyed with myself for wasting last night by staring at the TV and not running through my speech for today one last time. Instead, I filled my time waiting for Elliot’s second late-night call from Cardiff, which didn’t come through until 11.17 p.m. He was drunk but sounded as if he was trying his hardest to cover it up by talking non-stop and pronouncing each word very slowly.

  From past experience, I’d wager Elliot was legless, which is ironic given his injured knee.

  When will I learn my lesson?

  Finally, I have the
tables in a formation that I’m happy with, and throw a freshly laundered linen tablecloth over them to hide the mismatched surfaces. I run about snatching wedding paraphernalia from around the boutique to decorate said table, to create something resembling a top table at a wedding without the cutlery. My attending florist is bringing a fresh centrepiece to help me and to support her home-grown business, so I need to leave plenty of room for it to be admired.

  ‘Hello! Ohhhh, we are a busy bee!’ exclaims Trish, arriving in a spritely manner.

  ‘You can say that again,’ I say, pushing chairs into place. ‘I want it perfect for when they arrive. First impressions and all that.’

  ‘Carmen, it’ll be fine . . . Believe me, if I were a local business owner in this industry I’d be wanting a slice of whatever you are planning.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, grateful as always for her support.

  ‘Secondly, Anna and I have the cushiest day ever without any appointments, so we have no reason to complain, my lovely. We’ll be on hand if you need anything fetching at the last minute.’

  ‘I’m as nervous as hell.’

  ‘Why don’t you let me finish off out here and you take some time to prepare – practise your spiel or whatever you’ve planned?’

  ‘Would you? You are a sweetie, Trish,’ I say, not waiting a second before accepting her offer.

  ‘I know,’ teases Trish, arranging the next chair whilst still wearing her coat.

  ‘And Maisy?’ I ask, eager to hear about my fur-baby.

  ‘She wolfed her breakfast down, much to Terry’s delight – they were heading out for a walk as I left,’ says Trish, manoeuvring the chairs.

  ‘Thank you so much. I’ll put the kettle on first, then settle to read my notes,’ I say disappearing towards the back office.

  I’ve made coffee and delivered biscuits by the time Anna arrives, flustered and blustered by the horrible weather we’ve been granted today. Trish has begun polishing and tidying the display cabinets and instructs Anna to begin cleaning the many mirrors in the boutique. Trish knows I want perfection today. I have one chance to explain my new business venture and persuade others to join me.

  ‘Is there any way I can have my laptop and extension cord set up at the far end?’ I ask, thinking that I’d like to sit in front of a backdrop of beautiful wedding gowns. ‘I’ve written tiny name cards and a seating plan, if you could lay those out too.’ I disappear to practise a little more.

  By eleven o’clock, I’m still nervous but ready to go. Thankfully, the majority of the invited business owners have arrived and are already clutching a glass of champagne generously poured by Trish, while Anna, eager to meet our new local celebrity, darts about collecting coats and umbrellas.

  ‘Hi, nice to meet you . . . Welcome to The Wedding Boutique . . . Please help yourself,’ I say over and over again to the many familiar faces. I eye my closest critic warily. Mr Knightley of Knightley’s Limousines once had a similar dream of a joint venture but following a spate of unexpected issues with his chauffeur service and numerous reports of vehicle breakdowns during bookings, his reputation has plummeted. His misfortune has bolstered bookings for the horse-and-carriage lady. I’ve learnt from experience that in this industry everything moves in phases and fashions: you need to keep your finger on the pulse and move with the times – which is the road to success on which my proposal rides.

  By ten past we are all seated and it’s down to business. I hate to stand and speak before the gathered group but needs must.

  ‘Thank you so much for coming here today. As you all know, I’m Carmen, proprietor of The Wedding Boutique. For fourteen years, I have focused all my efforts on my boutique and have taken delight in helping many brides-to-be choose their dream gown. For years, I have been just one part in a couple’s wedding day, and have frequently heard complaints about the difficulties of trying to book so many specific services. Today, I’m launching a new venture to bring those services together into one place . . . my hope is to be able to cater for all areas of a wedding rather than expecting couples to go in search of suppliers and goods offered in various locations,’ I explain, holding my hands together to stop them from shaking. Whilst I talk I keep glancing at Trish, who is offering moral support from the sidelines – she’s smiling so I must be sounding OK despite my nerves.

  I continue.

  ‘Each one of us around this table provides the services required by the majority of our couples. We each bring a wealth of expertise in our fields and endless possibilities for those seeking our services. I propose that together under one roof we could support each other in securing more bookings, creating more memories and strengthening our local industry for years to come.’

  I quickly provide them with a wealth of information about costs, proposed rental space and outline how my venture can be manned and bookings arranged in their absence.

  When I finally fall silent and ask for questions, there is a flurry of interest and positive reactions to my proposal.

  Dana

  I can’t believe Carmen remembered me. I’m quite humbled that she would go out of her way to invite me to her meeting when she hasn’t seen me for years; she’s a nice person. I bet Andrew knows nothing about this; he wouldn’t be too happy.

  ‘How’s Luke doing?’ was her first question on greeting me. No mention of anything else, she simply asked how my boy was doing – how lovely. I’m hardly ever asked about Luke’s welfare; people usually just want to delve into his difficulties, but not Carmen. That was really sweet of her.

  Not that I knew her that well when Andrew and I were together, but still, I suppose I could have made more of an effort when we did see each other in the Cross Keys.

  I look round the boutique as others arrive, gather their brochures and grab a coffee. My display was easy. I created a table centrepiece of white lilies, roses and shamrock; the colour contrast is stunning, the overall effect fetching and yet classy from all directions. I simply had to position the arrangement on the table, where it sits in pride of place for all the vendors to see. I don’t need flash leaflets, plastic banners or glossy postcards to sell my wedding wares – flowers speak for themselves.

  I stare around the table. I know several people, such as Kevin Knightley with his limousines, and I recognise other folk from around town but my networking circle isn’t as big as it could be, so this meeting might drum up some business. I’m the only florist so far, which is good news, but still I’m flabbergasted that Carmen should be so generous as to invite me to hear about her new business venture.

  I’m conscious that people keep looking at me and doing a double-take. The youngest woman from the boutique keeps smiling at me, so I take it she’s recognised me from this week’s TV. I’d hate to guess what she thinks of my behaviour. Though at her age, I’d probably think that a thirty-nine year old still seeking love was a bit strange – the years fly by so fast and suddenly you go from her tender age to mine.

  I sink a little lower in my seat as others join the table and settle down with their business portfolios, I bet they all have an opinion on reality TV and the so-called professional experts. Though funnily enough, I haven’t required their help much this week. Jez probably feels it’s been a waste of time hauling them around for the week after the initial selection process. In hindsight, the travelling crew could have been as small as just Jez, Tamzin, the camera guy and one or two extras . . . I don’t know what’s the point of all the rest, though I bet they are charging a small fortune for their services.

  Polly

  I’m nervous. I wouldn’t usually go to this type of meeting, so I have no idea what to expect. I’m excellent at my job, with many years of experience, but even so, why I’ve been trusted to attend this meeting is beyond me.

  Clutching an armful of glossy brochures, I’d entered The Wedding Boutique with a flurry of nerves gathering in the pit of my stomach. I can’t believe
I’ve entered this establishment for the second time in one week. I feel out of my depth representing our company amidst a group of other industry specialties. And I know for a fact that Stacey isn’t impressed by having to do additional hours to man the agency while I’m at this meeting.

  ‘Hello, I’m so pleased you could come, Polly,’ said Carmen, welcoming me into a throng of other individuals. ‘Please take a seat and we’ll do the introductions once everyone is settled. And please help yourself to a hot drink from the reception counter.’

  Within minutes, I was seated at a beautifully decorated linen table in the middle of the boutique and am sipping aromatic coffee with eight energetic people each expressing their delight to be here representing their offered services or talents: chauffeured cars, cake design, beauty services, men’s tailoring and Monica, the events manager from the Red Lion. I’m dreading saying anything, but with only one more woman to give her introduction I know it’s a must.

  ‘Hello, I’m Dana . . . I’m a local florist who works from home. I can cater for everything from a few simple buttonholes, table decorations, bridal party bouquets, church decorations and even reception locations and bridal suites – I can create flower designs for pretty much any area where the couple wish to incorporate flowers into their special day. I created the centrepiece for today’s meeting.’ She points to the arrangement of fresh flowers decorating the table, an arrangement of lilies, roses and blue-green leaves.

  Then it’s my turn.

  I want to hide. I feel such a hypocrite being here, given my thoughts on marriage.

  All eyes turn to me.

  ‘Hi, I’m Polly. I work part-time in the travel agents next door where we’re able to provide information and book any package holiday for honeymoons, whether it be a short getaway or a luxurious all-inclusive trip to a long-haul destination . . . whatever the couple desire.’