I smiled at Cynthia over his shoulder, proudly sporting her new engagement ring. ‘You too. Congratulations, Dad.’
‘Well. Time I stopped worrying about what might’ve passed me by and started appreciating what hasn’t, eh?’ He kissed my forehead as he released me. ‘Something my little girl taught me. That and a bit of festive cross-dressing.’
‘Bye guys. Becky, we’ll see you Sunday,’ Cynthia said as they prepared to go. She looked at Marcus. ‘How about you? Would you like to join us for Sunday dinner?’
‘Me?’ He blinked. ‘Er, yeah, I’d love to. Thanks, Cynthia.’
‘Chucking you in at the deep end there,’ I said when we were left alone. ‘Sorry.’
He shrugged. ‘I just half-improvised a pantomime in front of a crowd of feral kids to impress the girl of my dreams. Think I can manage a family dinner.’
‘We’re not doing the new version for the whole run, are we?’
‘I do prefer it,’ he said. ‘And why not? It’s our panto.’
‘Yeah, you’re right. Let’s give Cinders and Buttons the happily-ever-after they deserve.’
‘Like we got ours,’ he said, leaning down to kiss me.
‘What do you think the press write-ups’ll say?’
‘What, the Cinderella with the line-dancing Pikachus, T-Rex-drawn coach, drunken TV star and very unorthodox happy ending?’ He shrugged. ‘I’m banking on a “memorable”.’
‘Tickets went well anyway. £480 on the door and £126 on refreshments, according to the Ladies Who Lunch, and that’s just tonight.’ I glanced round the tinsel-festooned hall. ‘Looks like this place is safe for another year.’
Marcus took my hand to guide me to the stage. He swung me up, then himself, and we sat with our legs dangling off the edge.
‘Why’d you do it, Marc?’ I whispered, nestling into the arm he slung round me. ‘Walk out on me?’
He sighed. ‘I failed, Becks. Like we all sometimes fail. I’m sorry.’
‘But why?’
‘It’s like…’ He paused. ‘Ok, I’ve tried three times to say this and it’s always come out wrong. Let me break it down.’ He nodded to me. ‘Here is Becky. She is my friend.’
‘Am I a rabbit? In Lana’s stories I get to be a rabbit.’
‘No, in this story you’re a sexy lady,’ he said. ‘Right, so I kissed my friend Becky and was all confused, because it turned out I really fancied her, only I’d been hiding it from myself.’
‘Then what?’
‘I found out that my friend Becky’s fiancé, who was the reason I’d been hiding the things I felt from myself, had moved out, and Becky was single again and fancied me too.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Here’s the bit where I sound like a prick.’
‘Go on. I can handle it.’
‘So my friend Becky looked pretty hot in her pyjamas with the ladybirds on, and she’d been crying, and I…’
‘Kissed her?’
‘And the rest. Hey, did you hear this story before?’
‘One a bit like it, yeah.’
‘And afterwards I felt bad, because friends don’t kiss friends – and the rest – when they’ve been crying. And then… then Becky said this thing that made me feel infinity per cent worse.’
‘What?’
‘That she loved me. Only I didn’t know if she meant it or she was just upset. And that made me feel awful about the kissing and the rest. Especially when I realised.’
‘Realised what?’
‘That I didn’t just fancy her at all. I loved her. That I had for ages, and I’d been lying to myself about that too. And then I felt even more confused than before the kissing.’
‘And the rest.’
‘And the rest, even though at the time the rest had actually been the best bit. And that’s when I did the Bad Thing.’
‘What was it?’
He flushed. ‘Ran away. Like a cad and a coward. Scared stiff of what I’d done and what I felt.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘I made it worse. Panicked. Avoided you while I tried to get to grips with this massive thing I’d just realised I was feeling.’ He wrapped both arms around me. ‘Can’t believe I nearly lost you,’ he whispered. ‘Oh God, Becky, I’m sorry.’
‘I know you are,’ I said gently, stroking his hair. ‘When did you rewrite the panto?’
‘Couple of days ago. We had an emergency summit in the pub and I managed to get everyone on board.’ He reached up to finger the necklace he’d given me. ‘And I got your Christmas present. Genuine vintage, 1847. Same age as the Temp, I thought you’d appreciate that.’
‘I do,’ I murmured. ‘Thank you, Marc. It’s beautiful.’
‘You’re beautiful.’
I guided him down so we were lying on the stage and pulled him to me for a kiss.
‘You really forgive me then?’ he whispered.
‘Don’t have much choice after all that, do I?’
‘And you’ll…’ He laughed. ‘Sounds daft asking this at thirty-four. Will you go out with me, Becky Finn?’
‘You know I will.’
He ran his finger down my cheek. ‘Kiss me again, Becky,’ he said softly. ‘That’s the proper way to end a fairytale, isn’t it?’
Everything was hushed and sleepy, only the Christmas tree lights twinkling in the gloom. The seats were empty. But when he kissed me, I could still hear the applause.
Acknowledgements
Once again, an enormous thanks goes to my agent Laura Longrigg at MBA Literary Agents for her unfailing cheerleading and support, and to the team at Mirror Books for going above and beyond to make this book the best it can be – Jo Sollis and Paula Scott doing a fab job on the editorial side and Cynthia Hamilton and Mel Sambells working ultra hard on promotion. Not to mention the sterling editorial work done by Annabel Wright and Donna Cordon of Whitefox, which was invaluable in helping me to polish the story and characters.
Thanks too to all the panto performers over the years who helped me fall in love with the quirky British pantomime tradition and made me determined that, one day, I would write a book about it. The Townfield Players of Wilsden Village Hall; the panto gang at Wilsden Con Club – both now sadly gone, but never forgotten; David Brett and the team at Parkside Middle School who produced our annual show, and the Harden Players troupe, especially my lady on the inside, Vicky Foster, for her helpful advice on how it all works. A special mention to Amy Smith, to whom this book is dedicated, and the Laycock Players for many happy and inspirational hours spent watching them being daft.
All my lovely, supportive Firths, Brahams and Anslows need a big thank you as always for putting up with me in writerly recluse mode, as does my first and most exacting beta reader, my partner Mark Anslow.
A big shout out to all my author pals in the real and digital world, especially Kate Beeden, Rachel Hawes, Rachel Dove, the Authors on the Edge gang, my fellow Wordcount Warriors on Facebook, and the Airedale Writers’ Circle. Thanks for all the support, encouragement and bribes as I staggered to the finish line.
And big thanks to the talented Phillipa Ashley, who first suggested The Perfect Fit as the title of this book.
Eternal gratitude on behalf of all authors to the book bloggers and reviewers for the time they dedicate to helping us promote our books. We do appreciate it.
And as always, my long-suffering friends, Bob Fletcher, Nigel and Lynette Emsley, and my colleagues at Country Publications Ltd. I promise I’ll shut up about this one now. Maybe. For a bit.
Finally, Billy Pearce, Bradford Alhambra panto stalwart. Because it wouldn’t be panto season without Billy…
Book club discussion
questions
Finished the book? Use the questions below to spark your discussions.
1. What did you think of Cole’s character within the novel?
/> 2. Do you feel Becky ended up with her “perfect fit” in the end?
3. What parallels are there between events in Becky’s life and the Cinderella story?
4. Did your perception of the relationship between Harper and Maisie change by the end of the novel?
5. Which character could you most relate to?
6. Discuss the role of Becky’s niece Pip in the plot.
7. Do you think if Cole and Becky had both wanted children, their relationship would have worked?
8. Discuss the character of Yolanda and her relationship with Becky.
9. Do you agree that Becky should have forgiven Marcus for the way he behaved?
10. What are your thoughts on the relationship between Gerry and Sue?
The Perfect Fit Page 34