‘Ladies and gentlemen, get your arses outside for the fireworks!’ yelled Alberto.
He had lit patio heaters and strung fairylights outside in the chilly beer garden.
‘Stand well back, for frig’s sake!’ said Mrs Masserati, herding those members of the wedding party who had strayed past a chalked white line on the ground.
‘Wait, I need to throw my bouquet,’ said Juliet, turning around and tossing it high into the air. It sailed a good foot over Floz’s outstretched hand and landed straight into Coco’s.
‘Oh my GOD!’ he joked. ‘Gid, you’ll have to marry me now.’
Gideon thought for a moment. Then he made Coco’s mouth drop to his shoes. ‘Okay. Why not? Bit more of a whirlwind than I’m used to in my life, but it feels right. Coco – will you marry me? Really?’
Coco went into paroxysms of noisy glee until he was shocked into silence by the bang of the first firework. Steve had a feeling that Robber Johnny had got them from the IRA. The noise was thunderous, the reverberations would have made the space station wobble in the sky. Someone had to go and get Aunt Clara’s heart pills out of her coat pocket. The men were in a state of orgasmic delight.
Floz stood at the back of the crowd gazing into a sky that was suddenly flashing with coloured crackles and fizzles, the air full of that familiar end-of-autumn fire smoke. Jeff Leppard was passing around sparklers and like big kids the wrestlers were attempting to write their names in the air with them. Everyone was standing in couples, arms round each other, or leaning on each other, or holding hands. It was touching and warm, yet she felt as if she were stood in some cold lonely shadow at the edge.
Then she felt him behind her. She did not need to turn to know it was Guy.
‘Lovely but mad, aren’t they?’ he said. She didn’t know if he meant the guests or the fireworks, not that it mattered for the answer was the same for both.
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Are you cold?’ He noticed her shivering.
‘A little.’
His arms closed around her, his breath was warm on her neck as he leaned over her and felt her delicious gasp of shock.
‘Dear Floz,’ he said, his cheek upon hers. ‘I think I’m in love with you.’
She twisted to face him. He saw the flicker of firework sparks reflected in her eyes.
‘Oh, Guy, I’m not the woman for you.’
He lifted up her hand and kissed the back of it. Her skin was scented with those dear, familiar strawberries.
‘I think you are every inch the woman for me,’ he said. ‘I don’t care if you can’t have children. Yes, I know about it, Floz. You’re all I want. Anything else would be a bonus.’
He cupped her face in his big hands, lowered his head slowly and kissed her on the lips. His arms came around her and she felt like the perfect shape against him and he knew that all the pictures he’d had in his head of her and Hallow’s Cottage and stupidly tall Christmas trees and that huge log fire were wonderful scenes waiting to happen.
‘Watch out, everyone, I’m lighting the “Big Bugger”,’ said Alberto.
The massive explosion went off with a defeaning whoosh. Everyone stood reverently still as the ‘Big Bugger’ rocketed moonward then it burst into a magnificent chrysanthemum of rainbow fire, blossoming across the sky with a boom that was off the Richter scale. And still it couldn’t be heard above the fireworks going off in Floz Cherrydale’s and Guy Miller’s hearts.
Epilogue
The South Yorkshire Herald, 7 November:
WOMAN GIVES BIRTH TO BROTHER’S TWIN CRACKERS
A Barnsley woman and wife of GWE Superstar wrestler Archangel has given birth to her brother’s children, for whom she was a surrogate. The twin boys were born in Barnsley District General Hospital on 5 November and are the natural children of Mrs Florence Miller and Mr Guy Miller, the Michelin-starred chef and owner of the nationally acclaimed Firenze restaurant in Lower Hoodley, Barnsley.
Mrs Juliet Feast, who gave birth on her fortieth birthday, is herself a mother of twin boys and twin girls.
‘It went like a dream and I wasn’t surprised that I had twins for them – there are now six generations of them in our family,’ said Mrs Feast. ‘Alas, my sister-in-law is unable to have children and I suggested that I act as surrogate for them. They took a lot of persuading, but I am a very hard woman to say no to.’
Mrs Miller, who suffered a series of devastating miscarriages and stillbirths, was understandably jubilant.
‘I still can’t believe it,’ she said. ‘My sister-in-law has also been my best friend for years. She has given us the world.’
The boys, Julius and Steven, weighed in at a whopping 8lbs 14oz and 8lb 8oz.
Acknowledgements
There are a few people I’d like to thank for helping me with this book.
Firstly the wonderful, funny, warm UK wrestling community – especially my mates ‘Tarzan Boy Darren’ Ward and Klondyke Kate, Sam ‘Dwight J Ingleburgh’ Betts, Ray Robinson, Tony Kelly and the late greats: Gordon ‘Pedro the Gypsy’ Allen, Arthur ‘Butcher Goodman’ Betton, Herbert ‘Wilson Sheppard’ Craddock and George ‘Joe Williams’ Hubbard for inspiring this story – and giving me so many anecdotes. I just wish I could put them all into print, but I’d be arrested under the indecency act.
To the fabulously friendly WWE, especially the lovely Heather Sanford, who arranges for me to cuddle huge wrestlers twice yearly, freeze-frame the moment in photographic form – and thus thoroughly embarrass my sons Tez and George.
To my gorgeous agent Lizzy Kremer and everyone at Simon & Schuster who sorts me out and looks after me, especially my brilliant editors Suzanne Baboneau and Libby Yevtushenko and my long-suffering publicist and friend Nigel Stoneman – all of whom are a constant source of support despite the fact I must drive them barmy.
To Joan ‘Eagle-Eye’ Deitch who works her magic on my manuscript and is my good luck charm.
To Jill Craven at our lovely library – a lady who never fails to shove my name out there and has no concept of the words ‘switching off from the job’. To all the Yorkshire press who have been with me from the beginning and helped my career blossom – you’ve been smashing.
To the utterly delightful Daphne Butters who won the Supreme Cat competition to name the moggy in this book. What a pleasure it was to meet you.
To my ace family and friends who keep me on the right side of sane – and insane.
To my solicitor David Gordon at Atteys who answers all my obscure research questions with such grace.
To Jackson Taylor whose daft little idea about an autumn book didn’t half bear some fruit.
And to the fantastic greetings card companies who have given me a wage over the years and allowed me to afford school clothes, a roof over my head – and gin: Emotional Rescue, Wishing Well, Quitting Hollywood, Carlton, Paperlink – and to the late Chris Douglas-Morris at Statics who started that enchanted ball rolling. The golden days of joke-writing were the best fun I ever had.
Table of Contents
Cover
Author biography
Also By Milly Johnson
Title page
Copyright page
Dedication page
Epigraph page
Half-title page
Contents
August
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Ch
apter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
September
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
October
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
November
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
An Autumn Crush Page 34
