‘Right now?’ she repeats in horror. ‘By the end of today? Are you serious?’
‘Nope.’ She relaxes slightly. ‘As in something I can take in the next ten minutes.’
‘You’re pulling my leg,’ she says on a laugh. ‘Is this some kind of a joke?’
‘We wish it was,’ Flo says, ‘but apparently the bride bled all over hers.’
The woman puts her hand to her chest aghast. ‘Bled? Has there been some kind of murder?’
Jesus, with the drama queens in this industry. Me being one of them.
‘No, she's started her period.’
The whole shop seems to have fallen silent, brides looking at me in revulsion.
‘Yeah, yeah. I said period, ladies.’ I scream, having apparently lost my shit. ‘We all have them. We have it in common. No need to look so appalled.’
The woman takes my arm. ‘Please.’ She pulls me to the side of the shop. ‘If you stop scaring my customers, I’ll find something that can help.’
‘Excellent.’
Turns out acting like a psychopath works sometimes. I should pull that act out of the bag more often.
‘What size is your bride?’
‘She’s a small size twelve.’ I look over Florence. ‘She’s about the same height as her.’
She nods. ‘Okay. It’ll have to be a sample dress. I’m thinking ideally a corset back. That way you can make it looser or tighter depending on her back width.’
‘Yes, great. But we need it, like ten minutes ago.’
She rushes off, summoning the basic bitch behind the desk with a click of her fingers. She glares at me. Yeah, yeah, run along now.
Florence and I run into the pub with only five minutes until the wedding is due to start; guests are making their way to the barn. We politely push them out of the way and run up the stairs of the pub and into the flat. Four fully dressed up, depressed looking bridesmaids turn to stare at us in hope.
‘We have a dress!’ I shout triumphantly, holding the dress bag in the air like a trophy.
The bride’s face transforms from morose to an expression of absolute relief. She runs over, snatching the dress bag from my hands.
‘Oh my God, Nadine. I could kiss you.’
I blush. ‘No need. Just get your arse in this dress in the next three minutes.’
The bridesmaids start fussing over her, helping to secure her in it. Thankfully she’s so grateful she doesn’t seem to mind that it’s a slightly different style. If she’d have complained, I’d have probably had to punch her and that wouldn’t go down well. I can just see the newspaper headlines now: ‘Wedding Planner punches Bride-to-Be with minutes before Wedding'. That’s one way to commit career suicide.
I turn to see Flo leaning against the wall, her face unusually pale. I’m just about to ask her if she’s okay when her eyes flutter and then she’s sliding down the floor onto her bum.
I rush over, glad her eyes aren’t completely closed.
‘Shit, Flo. Are you okay?’ She doesn’t answer me, her breath coming out in short spurts. ‘Someone get some water.’ I shout to the bridesmaids.
One brings a glass of water over just as Flo's eyes begin to open fully again. She looks around as if not sure what just happened.
‘Flo. Should I call an ambulance?’
She shakes her head, taking the water from the bridesmaid. She takes a large gulp.
‘I’m fine,’ she dismisses. ‘I’m just tired. So I think I’m gonna go home.’
Is she crazy? The woman almost passed out.
‘I’ll drive you. But first you’re drinking that water, having some food and resting for a little while longer. Otherwise I’m going to force you to the hospital.’
The bride thanks us, now ready in her dress, and hurries off past us to get married.
I eventually drive Flo home, the colour finally back in her cheeks.
‘What the hell happened back there?’ I ask as we finally pull into her road.
‘I had a few too many wines last night. All the rushing around made me feel hungover. I just need to get to bed.’
‘Okay. Have a good sleep hun.’
But something tells me she’s lying. About what I have no idea.
Chapter Three
Monday 8th January
I’m helping Hartley at the school today as per my email from Clara, but I still have time to dash into work to check on a few emails. I can do them on my laptop at home, but I also like to check that everything has been cleaned up properly from the wedding the day before. Control freak problems.
I’m surprised when I see Hugh already there, looking around for something.
‘Oh, there you are,’ he says when he spots me. As if I was due in today at all. It’s not officially in my contract to work Mondays, but I suppose he knows me too well.
‘Hey. I didn’t know you were coming in today. Did we plan a meeting or something?’
Now that I’m closer, I see his face has turned stern, his jaw locked.
‘No,’ he says through gritted teeth. ‘I’m here to ask you why the fuck you decided to involve my wife in a ridiculous mission yesterday?’
Wow. Hugh has never sworn at me before. He’s bloody furious and I have no idea why, apart from Flo obviously telling him about her funny turn. Way to rat me out, Flo.
‘Oh. Yeah... the thing is - ‘
‘The thing is that my wife is not even an employee here,’ he interrupts. ‘You involved her in a stressful situation, on a Sunday, without clearing it with me.’
God, he’s gone into full on headmaster mode. He’s never been like this. I’m always made to feel more like a partner here than an employee. It's half the reason I work so hard. But when he speaks to me like this, I just want to headbutt him.
‘Sorry, Hugh, but since when did I have to clear with you, me speaking with my best friend?’ I ask sarcastically.
‘When that talking involves her rushing around and making herself ill.’
I lean on one hip, attempting to show some defiance. ‘Look, I agree. I didn’t mean for her to get so tired she ended up nearly passing out on me.’
‘Passing out?’ he repeats, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’
Wait… She didn’t tell him? Way to go, Flo. Everyone knows if you play down a situation you must let the other person know in case they’re pulled on it. This is just like that time in PE when she’d told the teacher I'd vomited and then I went back in complaining of a sore ankle.
‘Err... did I say passing out? She never actually passed out. Just got, you know, a bit tired. It’s no big deal.’
‘No big deal?’ he roars, pushing himself off the wall and invading my space. ‘You have no fucking idea, Nadine.’
Okay, now he’s scaring me. Why the hell is he losing his rag so much? I’ve never seen him lose his composure like this.
‘I obviously don’t. What the hell am I missing here?’
‘Nothing,’ he barks, looking away from me. ‘I just don’t appreciate my wife being used to the point of exhaustion. She already has enough on as it is.’
‘Why? What are you keeping from me?’ Then it dawns on me. Flo’s ill. That’s why he’s being overprotective and why she had her funny turn yesterday. Oh my God.
‘Wait, is Flo ill?’
He turns away from me. ‘She’s fine.’
Why don’t I believe him?
‘Just stop dragging her around on your crazy pursuits. Next time the bride fucks up her dress just let her bridesmaids deal with it. Don’t get so involved.’
‘Fuck you, Hugh.’ Ha ha, I didn’t realise that rhymed. ‘Until you tell me what the fuck is going on, don’t expect me to be a mind reader. You can tell Flo from me, that if she still wants a best friend I’m here, but I won’t be asking her husband’s permission to speak to her.’
I grab my bag and storm out of there as dramatically as I can. It’s just a shame the old creaky door doesn’t slam and has to be
closed a certain way for the latch to click.
My breath is coming in short pants, my heart beating erratically. I can’t believe the fucking cheek of him. Here I am, fucking employee of the year and this prick is telling me off like I’m still in school. I’ll be calling Flo and telling her what an arse her husband is, something you can only do when you’ve lived next door to your bestie all your life.
By the time I arrive at the school, I’ve just about calmed down. I can’t believe I got talked into this. I really need to learn to say no, but if I’m honest with myself, I’m strangely looking forward to going back to a school environment.
After signing in at reception, I follow the directions to the main school hall. I push the door open, the mixed smell of bare feet and hot cheese assaulting my nostrils. There’s a crowd of teenagers on the stage milling around, reading aloud from pieces of paper. I’m assuming it’s a script. Jesus, I’ve forgotten how loud everything is. I’m so used to working in my own little bubble.
‘Nadine.’
I jump from the sound of Hartley’s deep voice behind me. I spin around to find him staring at me, his forest green eyes dancing in amusement. He has his arms crossed over his chest, his biceps bulging over in his tight shirt/jumper combo. Whoever thought a jumper could be so sexy?
‘You scared me,’ I admit, my voice high and jumpy.
He’s just so large and manly. He must have modelled when he was younger, just got into teaching because he became too old for it.
‘Thanks so much for this. I really appreciate it.’
‘It’s fine,’ I quickly dismiss his comment, avoiding eye contact. Whenever I meet his gaze, I feel myself redden like a giggly teenager. It’s a mortifying feeling. ‘So where do you want me?’
His eyes lighten with mischief. God, did that sound whorish? Like I’m offering to sprawl myself out like a starfish for him?
‘If you could help out with costumes that would be great.’
‘No probs,’ I nod eagerly. Far too eagerly. Calm down Nadine, you look like a nodding Churchill dog.
I busy myself by going towards the stage. Where are the costumes? Oh God, I really should have asked him that. I look back but he’s halfway through rehearsing a scene with the kids. I can’t interrupt that. Damn.
I look around to try to spot any kind of material. Well this is awkward.
‘Are you okay?’ a girl with long blonde hair asks me. She’s got huge brown eyes that seem to take up most of her face. She’s like a human version of Bambi.
‘Um... I’m supposed to help with the costumes?’
‘Ah, you’ll need to go to the prop room then.’ She starts walking. ‘Follow me.’
Oh, thank God. A friendly and efficient teenager. I didn’t think they existed anymore.
I follow her behind the stage and down some steps. It seems the prop room is under the stage. She opens the door to reveal a dimly lit room with crap everywhere. Wow, this place is beyond unorganised. It’s giving me anxiety just looking at it.
‘Wow,’ I blurt out, without thinking.
‘Yeah, it’s a bit of a mess,’ she admits with a grimace.
‘Uh-huh.’ I pick up an outfit just lying on the floor. ‘What exactly does he want me to do with all this?’
She shrugs. ‘Sorry, no idea. Good luck!’
Two hours later and I’m almost finished sorting the room. Without knowing what to do I thought I’d stick with what I’m good at, organising. So, I’ve sorted through everything and have a pile of outfits that need mending, some that need washing, and the ones in good order are now hung up in order of theme. I’m onto props now. I really wish I’d brought my label maker.
‘Hey.’
I look up to see Hartley watching me, leaning against the doorframe. His shoulders take up most of the door.
‘Hi,’ I say shyly. ‘Look, I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to do, so I’ve just been organising what I can see.’
He checks over my piles. ‘Well, that’s more than Heather ever did. Don’t worry, I kind of just threw you in the deep end.’ He walks in, assessing the hung-up costumes.
‘It’s fine,’ I shrug, looking at the floor. Why is it he makes me so edgy? It’s taking a lot of effort to stop my jaw from chattering.
The door suddenly slams shut. I frown at him. ‘I didn’t feel a draft.’
He pouts. ‘Me either.’ He walks over to the door and tries the handle. ‘It’s stuck.’ He puts his ear to the door. ‘I hear giggling.’ He bangs on it. ‘Alright you lot, a joke's a joke, let us out now.’
More squealing giggles, this time loud enough for me to hear. Oh my God. They’ve locked us in.
‘I mean it. Detention for everyone unless you let me out right this instant.’
‘Sorry, Sir,’ a boy laughs. ‘But we’re off for a bit of lunch.’
‘I mean it, Marley!’ he shouts furiously. ‘Open up. NOW.’
Their giggles fade out until all we can hear is an eerie silence.
‘Are they serious?’ I ask in alarm. ‘We can’t really be stuck here, can we?’ I look around at the tiny room barely big enough for five people.
There must be an emergency exit in case of a fire.
He sighs, as if exhausted. ‘I’m afraid so. There’s no other way out.’
My heart starts racing. Bit of a fire hazard isn’t it?
The thought of not being able to get out claws at my throat. I start kicking the door, working up a sweat.
‘Let me out!’ I scream. ‘Let me out!’
My chest tightens, and it's suddenly hard for me to breathe. I’m running out of air down here. God, am I dying? I fold myself down onto the floor, unable to move myself to a seat. A feeling of utter despair comes over me as if a physical dark cloud has descended.
‘Nadine. Are you okay?’ I hear Hartley ask as if in the distance. I can’t move. I can’t look at him to reassure him. I’m too busy dying.
My heart beats so fast and erratically I’m expecting it to explode out of my chest. I clutch it, hoping he’ll realise I’m clearly having a heart attack and call an ambulance. Not that they’ll be able to get us out. God, I’ll have died by then. I knew I should have written a will while I had the chance. Not that I have much to my name, but there has to be some kind of cat charity I could leave my savings to, right?
I can’t breathe. Why can’t I breathe?
Hartley is suddenly in my face, squatting down next to me.
‘Nadine, you’re having a panic attack,’ he explains calmly.
Panic attack? I’ve never had a panic attack before and I’m pretty sure they don’t feel like this. This is a real physical thing I’m feeling. Not just some freak out.
‘I need you to breathe,’ he commands calmly, locking eyes with me.
I frown. Can he not see that I’m trying to breathe dammit!
‘You are my sunshine,’ he starts singing. Why the hell is he singing right now? ‘My only sunshine.’
This is the song I used to sing to Belle when I was pregnant. No, don’t think of that. That’s only going to make me more upset. Instead I force myself to look into his strange coloured eyes and try to concentrate on how I’d describe the colour. I’m going to say they look more hazel today.
‘You make me happy, when skies are grey.’ My heart starts to slow down ever so slowly. ‘You’ll never know dear, how much I love you.’
Belle will never know how much I love her. The despair squeezes at my chest.
He tucks a bit of my hair behind my ear. ‘So please don’t take my sunshine away.’
She was taken away from me. A traitorous girly tear escapes out of my left eye. He wipes it away with his giant thumb before taking my hand and encouraging me to breathe slowly in and out. With every breath the oxygen slows down my erratic heart, my body heat returning close to normal.
Except now I don’t know where to look. I just had a panic attack. I can’t believe it. How mortifying to have done it in front of Hartley, a new client. A new client who’s
still staring at me intently.
‘Well I’m glad I only ever taught five-year-olds. Teenagers are scary.’
He snorts a laugh. ‘You’re telling me. This lot drive me mad most days. Especially with me teaching drama. They think they can say whatever they want.’
I get up off the floor with his help and sit down on the old bench.
‘I can’t believe that just happened.’ I cover my face with my hands, flustered.
He takes my hands and pulls them down, a kind smile gracing his lips. ‘Don’t be embarrassed. Was that the first one you’ve ever had?’
I nod.
‘I take it you’re claustrophobic?’
‘Not really.’ I think about it for a second.
Actually, I had something extremely similar after Belle. But only that one time and it was bloody understandable. Not that I can tell him that.
‘I mean, I don’t like the idea of not being able to get out from somewhere. Once, I had a cousin who used to lock me in a cupboard whenever the adults weren’t around. I suppose it’s scarred me.’ I force a laugh to try to lighten the mood. ‘How come you knew what it was?’
He was so calm.
‘My mum used to suffer from them. I sang her that song. It probably sounded a bit random, but it worked for her.’
‘And for me apparently.’ I stand up onto shaky legs, eager to change the subject. ‘Well, you might as well tell me what you want me to do. Looks like we’re going to be in here for a while.’
‘Sorry.’ He slumps down next to me. ‘I shouldn’t have got you involved at all. I’d have never asked you to do something like this. It’s so far away from your job description it’s ridiculous, but Clara will do anything to get me more time.’
‘That’s nice of her.’
He snorts. ‘No, it's time off so I’m more available for her every beck and call.’
‘Oh.’ I grimace. ‘I’m not used to hearing that from happy fiancé’s.’
He raises his eyes heavenwards. ‘Yeah, well you don't know my fiancée very well yet.’
‘Is... everything okay between you two?’ I ask carefully, unable to stop myself.
He sighs again. ‘Yeah. We’re... fine.’
Marrying Mr Valentine (Standalone) (One Month Til I Do Book 2) Page 3
