by Jill Mansell
‘People are going to wonder where we’ve got to.’ Ellie pushed open the door to her bedroom.
‘They won’t notice we’re gone,’ said Zack as the thud-thud-thud of the music continued to reverberate around them. ‘They’re having fun without us.’
‘I think we might have more fun without them.’ Whether or not this worked out, Ellie knew she would never regret it. Sometimes you just had to take the risk. Maybe it would be a brief but wonderful romance, maybe it would last a lifetime. She reached for Zack and kicked the door shut behind her. ‘No offense to them, but I know where I’d rather be right now. And it’s not out there, dancing to Coldplay.’
At that moment the music faded out and they heard the DJ say, ‘OK, Eminem next, the clean version. Now this one was requested by Ellie and I can’t see her on the dance floor. Come on, Ellie, get yourself over here, where are you?’
‘Oops.’ Ellie pulled a face. ‘I forgot about that. Should we go back?’
Through the loudspeakers the DJ bellowed, ‘And Zack? No sign of you either. Give us a shout, mate—we’re all waiting for you!’
‘Oh God.’ Zack tightened his hold on her and smiled ruefully. ‘We’re not going.’
‘Good,’ said Ellie.
Over in the marquee, meanwhile, the realization that they had both vanished from the party was giving rise to laughter and bawdy cheers.
‘No? No sign of either of ’em? Honestly, this is a shocking state of affairs,’ said the DJ. ‘Sloping off for an early night, what’s wrong with these people? Disgraceful, that’s what I call it. Right then, if they’re not here to appreciate my efforts, I’m not playing Eminem. We’ll have more Status Quo instead!’
Epilogue
Eleven months later
Ellie leaned out of the second-floor window and watched the goings-on below. There was Todd, playing soccer with an apple, dribbling it past Zack’s nephews as he zigzagged across the manicured lawn and through the croquet hoops. There were Tizz and Ken, chatting with Paul and Geraldine whilst they admired the flowers in the borders. And over there was Steph, kneeling to retie the bows on Lily’s shoes. No flashing trainers this time. Lily had found and chosen them herself. These were bright green with sequined butterflies on them; she was currently going through an intensely sparkly stage that had Joss curling her lip in bewildered disbelief.
To think that it had been almost a year since Steph and Gareth’s wedding. And now she was having her own. How life had changed in the past eleven months.
Her mobile phone rang and Ellie glanced at it before answering. ‘You’re five minutes away? Great. Yes, everything’s fine. See you soon.’
Turning away from the window, she quickly double-checked her hair was still OK. Not long to go now. It had been Zack’s idea to hold the wedding here, at Colworth Manor Hotel where they had spent such an idyllic weekend last November. That had been shortly after he’d sought suggestions for a romantic proposal from Roo, and she had excitedly exclaimed that he must drop the diamond engagement ring into a glass of champagne. She’d seen it done in a film, Roo had told Zack, and it had been so romantic she’d cried buckets.
Ellie’s eyes danced at the memory. Zack had nearly cried too, when she’d taken a big swig and almost swallowed the ring.
But the sentiment had been there. It was the thought that counted, and the three dazzling diamonds had glittered proudly on her finger ever since. She knew without a doubt that Zack was the right man for her; in fact, more than that, he was perfect. They were as besotted with each other now as they had been on that first night. These days they laughed, loved, and argued with each other and every day together was a joy. The desolate pain she’d experienced following Jamie’s death had lessened and shrunk more than she’d ever imagined possible.
Nor did she see so much of Jamie now, either. The need was no longer there. Occasionally Ellie conjured him up for a couple of seconds, just to touch base and say hi, but these days he didn’t occupy her mind to the same degree. Their long conversations were now a thing of the past. It was enough to know that Jamie approved of Zack and the next step she was about to take.
Ellie turned and gazed at herself in the elaborate full-length mirror. Oh my word, would you look at that, she was like an actual proper bride! Her hair was up, but in a tousled rather than a superglued way. Her dress was ivory silk, bias cut, and full length. Zack’s sister Paula had done her makeup and they’d heroically resisted the urging from Lily to add pink glitter. All in all, if she did say so herself, she was looking pretty good.
‘Just as well,’ said Jamie, appearing in the mirror behind her and flashing his habitual easy grin. ‘Otherwise Zack might run a mile, and that would just be embarrassing.’
Ellie smiled. It seemed only fair to have him drop by, today of all days.
‘So?’ She held up her hands, did a pose. ‘Will I do?’
Jamie surveyed her for a couple of seconds. ‘You look fantastic. I’m so proud of you.’
‘Thanks.’ She wasn’t going to cry, not today. ‘I do still love you.’ She needed to say it, to make sure he understood. ‘Just because I’m getting married again doesn’t mean I’ll ever forget you.’
‘I know. But you’ve got Zack now.’ Jamie looked thoughtful. ‘The only thing I’m not too happy about is his legs. They’re not as skinny as mine.’
‘I know. But his knees are knobbly. So that makes you even.’
‘Glad to hear it. OK, I’m going to go now. Be happy, sweetheart.’
OK, maybe just the one tear. ‘Thanks. Bye.’
Ellie carefully blotted her eyes with a tissue. When she looked up again, Jamie had gone.
Moments later there was a knock at the door. She called out, ‘Come in,’ and Tony appeared.
They hugged each other, hard.
Tony drew back finally and surveyed her with pride. ‘Oh sweetheart. I miss my boy so much. And I never thought I’d be saying this, but today is going to be a very good day. It’s going to be… splendid.’
Moved, Ellie straightened his pale gray tie. Tony was still smartly dressed but the last year had taken its toll on him. There was a lot more silver in his hair now. The lines on his face were more pronounced. He put on a brave front, but she knew he’d been working hard on various projects in order to take his mind off the emptiness in his own life. He’d kept the Nevis Street flat on after she’d moved in with Zack, but these days it was a seldom used pied-à-terre with most of his work concentrated in the States.
And Ellie was fairly certain she knew why. He had learned of Henry’s death through the Internet but had respected Martha’s wishes not to resume contact. No one knew better than Tony the power of grief.
‘It will be.’ She brushed a fleck of lint from the shoulder of his morning suit. ‘You’re looking very handsome.’
‘Flatterer.’ Ever the actor, he was adept at hiding his loneliness beneath that ready, charismatic smile. Glancing out of the window, he said, ‘By the way, should pregnant women run around like lunatics?’
He was referring to Roo, her topaz-yellow dress plastered to her impressive seven-month bump as she raced barefoot across the lawn with Lily, Joss, and Elmo in hot pursuit. With her shoes in one hand and Elmo’s favorite new squeaky toy in the other, she was squeaking it wildly, sending Elmo into a frenzy of excitement. The next moment all four of them had hurtled over a flower bed. It was like a kindergarten version of the Grand National.
‘Roo’s fine. It’s good exercise. Did I tell you, she’s got Todd doing 5K runs with her on Saturday mornings?’ Ellie had declined their kind offer to join them, but had nothing but respect for their efforts. Once the baby was born, Roo had her sights set on next year’s London marathon. She turned away from the window to face Tony again. ‘Now listen, can you do me a huge favor?’
His expression softened. ‘Anything.’
‘Everyone here knows pretty much everyone else. But I’ve invited a friend along who doesn’t know anyone at all.’ Ellie pulled a face. ‘Whic
h means she’s going to feel a bit on her own. I was hoping you could kind of look after her. Would that be OK?’
‘Oh God, do I have to?’ Evidently not enthralled, Tony hesitated for only a split second before good manners took over. ‘Sorry, that’s fine, of course I will. Is it someone you used to work with?’
Ellie checked her watch. ‘Come on, she’ll be waiting downstairs. Let’s go and find her, and I’ll introduce you.’
Together they made their way down the impressive staircase. Ellie practiced walking like a bride and not falling off her high heels. In twenty minutes the wedding was scheduled to begin. Tony, her beloved former father-in-law, would escort her into the oak-paneled drawing room where the ceremony was being held, and give her away.
But before that happened, there was one other small thing she had to do.
One other small exciting thing, hopefully.
She led Tony through the door on the left and there was Martha waiting for them, thinner but still beautiful, wearing a flowing Cadbury-purple dress and jacket, and nervously clutching a tray-sized silver gift bag with curly silver and white ribbons trailing from the handles.
Tony stopped dead when he saw her. Ellie let go of his arm and moved discreetly to one side. Martha did her level best to smile over at her but her attention was being dragged towards Tony, who in turn couldn’t tear his gaze away.
‘Martha… my God, you’re here.’
‘Ellie invited me. We’ve been talking things through.’ The lilt and the warmth in her voice was unchanged. ‘She made me see that it was OK. I couldn’t have done it before. Now I can. It’s been a nightmare year.’ Martha paused, her smile hesitant. ‘But I’m on the mend.’
Tony took a tentative step towards her. ‘I can’t believe this is happening.’
‘She was worried you might have moved on,’ Ellie put in helpfully. ‘Met someone else.’
‘No. Never.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m so sorry about Henry.’
‘Thank you.’ The necklace of handmade pink pebbles bobbed against Martha’s throat.
‘And Eunice? Is she well?’
‘Very well. She’s living in Carlisle now, close to her daughter.’ The twinkle in her eye signaled that whether Eunice’s daughter was thrilled with this development was debatable. ‘And my son has met a wonderful girl, so fingers crossed there. I keep embarrassing him, dropping hints about how I can’t wait to become a granny.’ The next moment, remembering the ribbon-strewn silver gift bag in her hand, Martha held it out to Ellie and said, ‘Sorry, this is for you.’
‘That’s so kind. You didn’t have to.’ They exchanged a hug.
‘Oh, darling, I’m just glad I was able to.’
‘Right, I’ll leave you in peace for five minutes.’ Ellie pointed to Tony. ‘Then you have a bride to give away.’
The expression on his face told Ellie she’d done the right thing. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re sure you don’t mind looking after her?’
Tony squeezed her hand. ‘I’ll give it my very best shot.’
Ellie closed the door behind her. Out in the hallway, she lifted the painting out of the gift bag.
There it was, a sunny summer’s day in Little Venice. Martha had returned to the exact spot where they’d first met, in order to demonstrate that her ability to paint had returned. Along with her enthusiasm for life.
The next moment another door opened and she heard Zack’s voice a split second before he emerged from the drawing room where the ceremony was being held.
‘Close your eyes,’ Ellie blurted out.
Zack appeared, dark hair slicked back, tanned jaw stubble-free. His eyes were closed.
‘It’s unlucky to see the bride before the wedding,’ Ellie reminded him.
‘So move away,’ said Zack. ‘You’ll have to, I can’t see where I’m going.’
Well, sometimes a situation arose that was just too good to pass up. Crossing the hallway, Ellie planted a kiss on his beautiful un-suspecting mouth.
‘How do I know it’s you?’ Zack kept his eyes closed. ‘It could be anyone.’
‘It’s me.’
‘I’m not sure I believe you.’ The beautiful mouth was twitching.
‘Put it this way.’ She pressed herself against him and pinched his bottom. ‘It had better be me.’
Zack touched her face, exploring the various curves and angles, before kissing her again. ‘OK, it’s you. I recognize you now.’ He broke into a slow smile. ‘Ellie Kendall, you have no idea how much I love you. Will you marry me?’
Was it possible to feel happier than this? ‘Play your cards right,’ she ran a playful finger down the front of his cream waistcoat, ‘and I just might.’
Acknowledgments
Huge thanks to my wonderful son Cory, who came up with the perfect title for this book.
About the Author
Jill Mansell lives with her partner and children in Bristol and writes full time. Actually, that’s not true; she watches TV, eats gumdrops, admires the rugby players training in the sports field behind her house, and spends hours on the Internet marveling at how many other writers have blogs. Only when she’s completely run out of ways to procrastinate does she write.
Read on for a sneak peek of Jill Mansell’s
Nadia Knows Best
Available May 2012
From Sourcebooks Landmark
Chapter 1
‘Ooooohh… eeee…’ To her horror Nadia realised she was having a Bambi moment. A scary, drawn-out, Bambi-on-ice moment in fact. Except unlike Bambi she couldn’t make it stop simply by landing with a bump on her bottom.
The car carried on sliding in slow motion across the perilously snow-packed road. Despite knowing—in theory—that what you were meant to do was keep your foot off the brake and steer into the skid, Nadia’s hands and feet were frantically doing all the wrong things because steering into a skid was like trying to write while you were looking in a mirror and—oh God, wall––
Cccrunchh.
Silence.
Phew, still alive, hooray for that.
Opening her eyes, Nadia unpeeled her trembling gloved hands from the steering wheel and mentally congratulated herself on not being dead. The car was tilted at a bit of an odd angle, thanks to the ditch directly in front of the wall, but despite the best efforts of the snow she hadn’t actually been going fast enough to do spectacular amounts of damage to either it or herself.
Then again, what to do now?
Pulling her hat down over her eyebrows and bracing herself against the cold, Nadia clambered out of the grubby black Renault and inspected the crumpled front wing. Just as well she hadn’t borrowed her grandmother’s pride and joy for the journey—the teeniest scratch on Miriam’s Maserati would have meant being beaten with a big stick and sent to stand in the naughty corner for weeks.
Her face screwed up against the stinging onslaught of low-flying—and actually quite ferocious—snowflakes, Nadia hopped back into the car. At least she had her mobile. She could dial 999 and ask the police to come and rescue her… except if she did that, chances were they might want to know where she was.
Hmm.
Maybe phone home then, and at least let the family know she was in a ditch, in a blizzard, somewhere in deepest darkest Gloucestershire. Or, more accurately, deepest whitest Gloucestershire.
Although it would be dark soon enough.
This dilemma was solved neatly enough by the discovery that her phone was dead, which narrowed the options down to two. Should she leave the car and trudge off through the ever-deepening snow in search of civilisation?
Or stay here and hope that somebody else—preferably in a Sherman tank or a helicopter—might come along and rescue her?
Since civilisation could be miles away and her feet still ached like mad from dancing last night, Nadia reached over to the back seat for her sleeping bag, wriggled into it like a giant worm and settled down to wait.
Poor old Laurie, he’d missed a brilliant party
. Nadia smiled to herself, thinking back to yesterday morning’s phone call. She wondered how hot it was right now in Egypt, if Laurie was remembering to drink only bottled water and if he’d managed to squeeze in a visit to Tutankhamun’s tomb before flying on to Milan.
Gosh, she was hungry. Easing a hand from the cocoon of her sleeping bag, she flicked open the glove compartment. A packet of Rolos and a half-empty bag of wine gums. Should she ration herself, like people trapped on mountains, to one Rolo a day? Or give in to temptation and guzzle the whole lot at once?
But she wasn’t trapped on a mountain and she wasn’t going to starve. Compromising, Nadia ate three Rolos and half a dozen wine gums, then switched on the car radio for company, just in time to hear a DJ cheerfully announcing that there was plenty more snow on the way.
That was the thing about Sherman tanks, they were never around when you needed them.
Less than half an hour later—though it seemed like more—Nadia let out a shriek and abruptly stopped singing along with Sting to ‘Don’t Stand So Close To Me’. Actually, it was an appropriate song. The person who had tapped on her window was pretty close.
Male or female? Hard to tell with that hat pulled down over their face. Wrapped up in a Barbour, thick sweater and jeans, it was either a man or a hulking great six-foot-plus woman.
Hoping it wasn’t Janet Street-Porter, Nadia opened the window and promptly wished she could have been wearing something more alluring than a green nylon sleeping bag strewn with bits of gold foil Rolo wrapper.
She also hoped she’d been singing more or less in tune.
Not that this was terribly likely.
‘Are you OK?’
He had dark hair, light brown eyes and snowflakes decorating his black, spiky eyelashes.
‘I’m fine. Really warm. Skidded off the road,’ Nadia explained, fairly idiotically given the novel angle at which she was sitting.
