The Break Up: The perfect heartwarming romantic comedy

by Tilly Tennant

  ‘I’m having a sandwich while they all eat their lunch, and yes, Chloe looks stunning.’

  ‘Awww, I wish I could see. I could start coming with you to the weddings, you know.’

  ‘I know you could but that would mean giving up a lot of weekends and I wouldn’t wish that on you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind.’

  Lara’s smile spread. She took a sip of water before answering. ‘I know you wouldn’t, and maybe soon if you really want to.’

  ‘I could do them instead of you so that you get a weekend off sometimes.’

  ‘Maybe…’ Lara replied, less certain about this arrangement. It wasn’t that Betsy wasn’t intelligent and capable, but Lara… the truth that she couldn’t deny, even to herself, was that she often struggled to relinquish control of a project. That was just the way she was. Perhaps that particular personality trait was well suited to running her own business, where she had to have a finger in every pie, but perhaps also worryingly conducive to eventual burnout. Her mother had said as much in the past, and though Lara had dismissed the idea, secretly she thought that Fay was probably right. ‘With a bit more training,’ she added. ‘You’d have to come to some with me first.’

  ‘I know – but you don’t have to worry about asking me; I’d love that.’

  ‘I love that you’d love that. So, now that’s all out of the way, you can go back to enjoying your weekend and you don’t need to worry about me at all.’

  ‘Being bored, you mean.’

  ‘There must be some shop that demands your patronage somewhere?’ Lara laughed. ‘Some salon that needs your bum on one of their seats? Some pub that you need to drink dry?’

  ‘I’m skint,’ Betsy said bluntly, and Lara had to laugh at that too, because Betsy had only been paid a week before and there were three more to go until her next pay cheque. Typical teenager – Lara had been exactly the same at eighteen. She was hardly better now, when she thought about it, though being self-employed for the past twelve months had been a steep learning curve in that regard.

  ‘What did you do with it all?’

  ‘All what?’

  ‘Your money?’

  ‘I don’t know… it was my dad’s birthday. And then some other stuff happened…’

  ‘Ah. Stuff. I know what you mean. Do you need a sub?’

  ‘If I have a sub that just means I’ll be short next month too.’

  ‘Very wise answer, but I thought I’d better ask. Remind me on Monday to talk to you about overtime and more training. It looks as if we’re going to have to find a way to pay you more money.’

  When Betsy replied, Lara could hear the new excitement in her voice. ‘That would be amazing!’

  ‘OK, well, if you’re happy I’m going to let you go back to your boring weekend while I finish my sandwich.’

  ‘Right, boss. See you Monday then.’

  Lara gave a light chuckle. ‘Bye, Betsy. Thanks for checking up on me!’

  With the call ended, Lara swatted away a wasp before going back to her lunch with a huge smile on her face. There really were worse ways of making a living than this.

  Once the wedding breakfast had wound up, a few of the daytime guests – older relatives and those who couldn’t stay for the evening reception – left. The others retreated to a glass-walled garden room situated at the back of the boathouse for drinks and to relax until it was time for the evening reception to begin. Chloe had come to find Lara just to check that everything was OK, and Lara had reassured her that it was.

  She had also taken the opportunity to tell her how beautiful she looked, but to Lara’s shock, Chloe had begun to cry, telling Lara she’d had so many doubts that morning as she got into her dress and, even though everyone had said it, hearing it from Lara convinced her that, perhaps, her family weren’t just telling her little white lies. Lara couldn’t imagine how Chloe could have looked in the mirror that morning and doubted that she looked stunning, but wedding-day nerves were a funny thing; Lara had witnessed enough of those in the last twelve months to know that.

  The sun was still high enough to be sitting just above the treeline as the evening guests started to arrive, but its ferocity was gone, leaving it mellow and pleasant. Lara had been to see Regan, who, once again, seemed to have almost everything under control, and so Lara was much happier as she turned her attention to her own little list of tasks. She’d typed up the instructions Chloe had given her as a handwritten list and now had it on a clipboard as she went about her business. She could have used the notes app on her phone or taken an electronic tablet, as Betsy had often commented, saving her the bother of typing up a list beforehand, but Lara always thought there was something about the clipboard that told people she was someone on official business, someone there to work. When she had her clipboard, she was largely left alone by guests. She’d gone to a wedding once without it and spent half the night being questioned by random guests on how they knew her and which of the wedding couple she was connected to. Nobody paid her much attention today and that was just fine – as long as the suppliers took note, nobody else even needed to know she was there.

  Half an hour after the last carful of guests had arrived, Lara was outside at her own car, grabbing a moment to check her phone messages while she got a little air. It was getting hot and stuffy already in the main function room of the boathouse, despite pretty much every window and door being opened to let the balmy evening air blow through. It was just as she was getting ready to go back in to ensure that the cards and messages of congratulations from absent friends were to hand for the speeches that she saw a rusting old van coming down the lane. She watched it for a moment, convinced that it was going to turn off somewhere – though she couldn’t imagine where. As far as she knew, that lane only led to one place and that was the car park where she was currently standing.

  It pulled up there a couple of minutes later. Lara gave it a final glance, and then dismissed it. She supposed that not all guests could afford swanky cars and turned back to her phone, listening to the voicemail messages. But then she looked up again and frowned as she noticed the driver of the van get out and walk round to the back to open it up. She heard the voices of more than one man, followed by scraping and grinding that sounded like someone moving something heavy across the van floor.

  Lara rushed over. The driver, a young hipster type, was coming back round to the cab. With him he had what looked like a guitar case and an amp.

  ‘Have you got the trolley?’ he called round to the back. ‘Save us taking it in bit by bit?’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Lara asked. He looked round at her blankly.

  ‘What do you mean?’ He nodded at his guitar case. ‘I’m here for the Bake Off – what does it look like?’

  Lara waved a hand at the guitar case. ‘You’ve got an instrument in there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Well, traditionally they’re for playing music on.’

  ‘Music! This is a private function and you can’t just turn up and start busking here!’

  ‘Busking?’ he asked incredulously. ‘We’re not busking, love.’ His hair was a bright copper, his face a mass of freckles. There was a sort of careless humour in his grey eyes – at least, there might have been if he hadn’t looked so clearly offended by what Lara had just said.

  ‘What are you doing then?’

  ‘We’ve been booked to play.’

  ‘Not here you haven’t. Are you sure you’re in the right place?’

  ‘Of course we’re in the right place – I’m not thick.’

  ‘Nobody said that but I don’t have you…’ Lara checked down the meticulously typed list that she currently had tagged onto her clipboard. ‘I don’t have anything about a band on here.’

  ‘Maybe you need to look again because we’ve definitely been booked.’ A second man joined in the conversation now as he hauled a box of leads from the van. He looked a little scarier, with a beard that almost obscured his entir
e face, but Lara wasn’t to be intimidated.

  A third man leapt down from the van and came to join them. ‘What’s going on, Chas?’

  The freckly man shrugged. ‘She says we’re not on her list.’

  ‘Does that mean we won’t get paid for tonight?’ the third man asked. ‘My rent’s due tomorrow.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Lara insisted. ‘I don’t know who’s booked you or where you’re supposed to be, but I don’t think it’s here.’

  ‘Well,’ the third man said. ‘Maybe your list is wrong.’

  Lara shook her head as she turned back to her clipboard. ‘This is the list the bride gave me and there’s no mention of a band on here.’

  ‘That’s because Ged booked us.’

  ‘Gez,’ Chas corrected. ‘Lucien’s mate.’

  ‘Lucien?’ Lara asked sharply. Surely it couldn’t be that Lucien? She suddenly felt faint at the idea that he might turn up at the reception. Worse still, that he’d be here with Siobhan and she’d have to watch them playing the loving couple all night.

  ‘Look,’ she snapped, her patience suddenly a lot thinner than it had been a moment before. ‘I don’t have you down to play here tonight. I’d need to check with the bride and groom before I let you set up.’

  ‘Won’t they be a bit busy getting married around now?’ the third guy asked, and his expression was just a bit too smug for Lara’s liking.

  ‘Love, if you don’t want us to set up then we’ll go, but you’ll have to explain to Gez why we’re not here.’

  ‘Don’t “love” me!’ Lara fired back.

  ‘It’s Lara, isn’t it?’

  They all turned to see the fourth member of the band get out of the van with a long black case. To Lara’s horror, she instantly recognised Theo. ‘That’s your name, isn’t it?’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘You forget – I chat to Selina too. You know, when I’m trying to find out who’s taken my cat…’

  ‘Ugh!’ Lara threw her hands into the air. Why was this man so bloody infuriating? And why did he seem to be everywhere these days? Was he deliberately following her around to annoy her? She only had to look at his face and she wanted to throw something at it. First Lucien and now Theo; this day just kept getting better and better…

  Chas looked from Theo to Lara and back again. ‘You two know each other?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Theo said. ‘This is the girl who karate-chopped me and then tried to make off with my cat.’

  ‘My cat!’ Lara squeaked.

  ‘So what’s going on now?’ Chas asked. ‘Are we playing or not?’

  ‘She said we can’t play,’ band member number two said.

  ‘I said you’re not booked to play,’ Lara corrected him. ‘There’s a difference.’

  ‘Ask Gez – he’ll clear it up,’ Chas said.

  ‘If you’d just shut up and give me a minute I will,’ Lara replied through gritted teeth. Then she paused. ‘Does anyone have a phone number for him?’

  ‘Very organised,’ Theo scoffed. ‘And what, exactly, is your job here? How come you’ve got the clipboard and the attitude?’

  ‘I happen to be the wedding planner,’ Lara said haughtily.

  ‘Well, I hope they’re not paying you a lot,’ Theo said.

  Lara clenched her teeth. ‘I’ve been dealing with the bride and so I haven’t needed the groom’s phone number,’ she said, struggling to keep her temper.

  ‘So phone her,’ Chas said.

  ‘I…’ Lara hesitated. She had to admit that she really didn’t want to phone Chloe with this. It would look like she couldn’t handle the situation, and Chloe struck Lara as the sort of woman who’d take great pleasure in spreading that opinion to any prospective client she might meet.

  ‘So can you phone her?’ Chas asked again. ‘We’re running out of time to set up.’

  Lara grudgingly dialled the number she had for Chloe. It rang out, but then, Lara supposed that it had been a bit optimistic to expect Chloe to answer when she really thought about it. After all, who carried their mobile phone in their wedding gown?

  ‘Look,’ Chas said, ‘you’re going to have to give us a straight yes or no – do you want us to play or not?’

  ‘I need to check; I have something completely different on my sheet—’

  Theo leaned against the van, regarding Lara with a look that bordered on amusement. ‘I vote we go and get a pint somewhere. We’ll be in the Emerald Lounge if the karate kid here decides she wants us.’

  At this Lara went from red to white. The Emerald Lounge was the very same jazz bar she’d been in with Lucien the night he’d dumped her just before the truth of his betrayal with Siobhan had come out. This was one reason, amongst many, that she hated it and hated the music that was played there. She’d taken a vow never to set foot in there again, and the news that Theo was heading there now only served to steel that resolve. And did that also mean that Theo’s band was a jazz band? Ugh! If she’d hated him before she doubly loathed him now.

  ‘Couldn’t I have someone’s phone number so I don’t have to drive all the way into town to fetch you?’

  ‘You’ll see that we can be awkward too,’ Theo said carelessly.

  Lara narrowed her eyes. ‘So what does that mean?’

  ‘It means no; you can’t have anyone’s phone number.’

  Lara resisted the urge to stamp her feet like a toddler.

  ‘We might get a turn in there,’ the unnamed third member of the band said to Chas. ‘At least we won’t have dragged all this equipment out for nothing.’

  ‘Fine then!’ Lara said, and even as she did she was aware of how stupid she was being letting them go. But they were winding her up to such an extent that she’d almost be glad to see the back of them. Besides, what else could she do but let them go? The fact remained that Chloe had given her no information on this part of the evening. When Betsy had phoned to query the entertainment she’d been told that they were having a disco. Her assistant wouldn’t have got that wrong, would she? It could have been a simple mistake on Chloe’s part, of course, or a lack of communication between her and her fiancé, and that happened more often than Lara liked. But if Chloe hated jazz as much as Lara did then having this band play would quite possibly ruin her entire wedding day.

  ‘Right, let’s move this lot,’ Chas said, and Lara looked on with deepest misgivings, despite her decision to let them pack up. What if she was making a huge cock-up here?

  ‘Wait,’ she said suddenly. ‘Let me try Chloe again…’

  ‘Try her, but we’re going to carry on loading this back on the van while you muck about,’ Chas said airily. ‘Like Theo said, you’ll know where to find us when you realise you’re wrong.’

  ‘I’m not wrong, I just don’t have—’

  ‘Us on your precious list – we know.’

  ‘It’s not my fault!’ Lara slapped her hand on the clipboard. ‘I’m hired to take care of what’s on here and it’s not my fault I wasn’t told about you!’

  ‘We’re telling you about us – right now,’ Theo said in such an irritatingly mocking tone that Lara really was on the verge of risking arrest for GBH. ‘Though it’s clear you’re not very good at admitting you’re in the wrong about anything.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Lara fired back.

  ‘I think you know full well what it means.’

  ‘Fluffy is my cat!’ Lara cried but, to her chagrin, Theo only gave her a lazy smile before turning to lug his case back onto the van.

  ‘Ugh, I hate that man!’ Lara hissed, and when she got a reply, she was shocked to discover that the intensity of her feeling had caused her to say it out loud.

  ‘I don’t think he’s overly keen on you either,’ Chas said.

  Lara turned sharply to him. ‘What’s he said?’

  Chas gave a low chuckle. ‘You really don’t want to know. I tell you one thing though, I quite like a feisty girl. I’m not giving you my phone number, but you can give me yours if you like.’<
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  Incensed at what she was quite certain was Chas taking the piss, Lara was about to show him just how feisty she could be when her phone rang. As she saw the contact info on the screen she immediately smoothed her features into something more professional. Not that Chloe could see her, of course, but a smiling face meant a smiling voice – that’s what her years as a customer-service advisor had taught her and she firmly believed that now she worked for herself.

  ‘Hello… Chloe?’

  A woman who didn’t sound like Chloe answered. ‘It’s her mum – I’ve got her phone for her. Is there something wrong?’

  ‘Well, not really, but I do need to check something with her.’

  ‘She’s a bit busy right now. Maybe I could help?’

  ‘It’s just that I have this band here…’

  ‘Jazzy Chas and the Anglo-Sax-ons,’ Chas supplied, dropping in on Lara’s side of the conversation. ‘And it’s Sax-ons… like Sax and Ons… because of the saxophone, you know, and we’re Anglo-Saxons…’

  ‘Right… Jazzy Chas and the Anglo-Sax-ons,’ Lara repeated, staring at Chas’s smile, which showed obvious pride in the pun, though Lara was convinced that it was quite the most ridiculous name for a band she’d ever heard. ‘They say they’re booked to play but I don’t have them on the list and Chloe said she was having a disco when we phoned to ask.’

  There was a deep sigh at the other end of the line and Lara could just imagine Chloe’s mum’s face. ‘I’ll see if I can get her attention for a minute and ask her.’

  Lara stayed on the line as Chloe’s mum apparently went to find her daughter. Lara could hear muted snatches of conversation and laughter as the woman moved through the guests inside the boathouse. Lara watched the band, still packing up, feeling as if the situation was racing away from her control second by second. Bloody musicians – why did they have to be so temperamental and unreasonable? She was simply asking them to wait while she checked if they were meant to be there at all.

  Then a voice came back on the line.

  ‘Chloe says she didn’t book them.’

  ‘Oh,’ Lara said. She looked up at Chas, who was winding a hefty cable along the length of his arm. ‘Chloe didn’t book you, so…’