The Break Up: The perfect heartwarming romantic comedy

by Tilly Tennant

  ‘I told you it was Gez,’ Chas said.

  Lara spoke into the phone again. ‘Is Gez close by? Could you ask him? They’re telling me he made the booking.’

  ‘I’ll go and look,’ Chloe’s mother said. Lara sighed and glanced at her watch. She had a million things to take care of without this unwelcome addition. There was the champagne toast to organise, she had to make sure everyone knew who was reading wedding cards and that they, along with the gifts, were where they were supposed to be, then there was the cake-cutting… and all that was even before the entertainment started. And while Chloe’s mum – as well-meaning as her help was – pottered to and fro trying to get to the bottom of this particular conundrum, the band were close to being packed up and on their way. Lara would have liked to think that they wouldn’t really make good on their threat to retreat to the Emerald Lounge for the night if she asked them to unpack again to play the gig, but she wouldn’t have bet any significant money on it.

  ‘Hello…’

  Chloe’s mum was back on the line. ‘Gez says he asked them. Says his friend recommended them. Are they any good?’

  ‘I have absolutely no idea,’ Lara said, glancing back at the band members, who were now busy moving equipment like a platoon of soldiers on a mission. Theo and Chas carried a speaker between them. ‘Hasn’t he heard them play?’

  ‘I don’t think so, but he said his friend said they’re very good. That should be alright, shouldn’t it?’

  Lara wanted to ask who this friend was, but she was afraid that the reply might confirm her worst fears about potential guests. Two in particular that she really would find it difficult to acknowledge with any degree of professionalism if their paths should cross during the course of the night. Knowing that Siobhan and Lucien were an item was one thing, but having her face rubbed in it was quite another. Besides, she supposed that Chloe’s mum was hardly going to know the answer anyway.

  ‘OK, thanks,’ Lara said, pushing all her doubts to one side and recognising that she needed to act quickly if she was going to stop the band from leaving. Ending the call, she rushed around to the back of the van where they were securing the equipment.

  ‘They want you to play,’ she said.

  ‘Bloody hell – we’re packed up now,’ member number three said.

  ‘You did it so fast—’ Lara began to protest.

  ‘Because you told us to,’ he replied.

  ‘I didn’t tell you to pack up,’ Lara squeaked. ‘You started to pack up because you were going to that crappy jazz bar!’

  ‘You told us we couldn’t play – what else were we meant to do?’

  ‘I said I needed to check you were booked! That’s not the same thing at all!’

  ‘So you want us to unpack again?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Theo folded his arms, joining the conversation again now. ‘Yes what…’

  Lara blinked. ‘What?’

  ‘What’s the magic word?’

  Lara frowned. ‘Really? We’re playing this game?’

  ‘We can just as easily head off to the Emerald Lounge. I’m up for a pint—’

  ‘OK, OK! Please!’ Lara hissed. ‘Better?’

  Theo looked at Chas, who shrugged. ‘We’ll have to get a move on if we’re going to be ready for eight thirty.’

  Lara had really wanted to hate Theo’s band. Her hunch had been right about it being jazz (though their name, on reflection, was a fairly obvious indicator), and she’d wanted them to be as awful as most of the jazz Lucien had played during the time they’d been together, but the fact was that Theo’s band was pretty good. Nobody was more annoyed than Lara to have to admit that, but nobody could argue with the way they got the wedding guests on their feet to dance.

  They fitted the ambience of the evening perfectly too. Somehow, against the backdrop of the lanterns strung through the trees that reflected onto the gently chattering river and the beautiful old boathouse, alive with conversation and laughter, the usual old disco didn’t seem quite right. But Theo’s band had a sort of elegant coolness about them, every member had obvious talent and charisma (even though offstage they were massively irritating) and it just sort of worked with the mood of the evening, which was relaxed but classy.

  Even more annoying was that Lara found herself searching for Theo every time she looked at the stage. Just as she had for most of the day, she tried to stay as invisible as possible. It was a policy of hers when she oversaw a wedding day like this – she wasn’t a guest and didn’t want to get in the way of people enjoying themselves. To Lara, it was something like not seeing the strings of a magic trick – everyone wanted to marvel at it but nobody wanted to see how it was done.

  Tonight, really, she had more reasons than usual to stay behind the scenes because she absolutely didn’t want to keep catching Theo’s eye, but somehow she kept finding things that took her to the room where the stage was set up. Every time he saw her he got this small, smug grin on his face, and she felt sure he was enjoying a private joke at her expense. She really hated him for it. She had to be impressed that he could play keyboard and saxophone, which he demonstrated by swapping from one to the other even part way through songs, though it was not remotely sexy at all and no reason not to continue hating him. In fact, every time she met him she couldn’t help but feel that he was inwardly laughing at her; even during full-on arguments (i.e. basically every time they met) she felt that beneath the sarcasm and the jibes, he found her massively amusing. And not in any good way.

  It was on one of these occasions, when she found herself wandering over to take a look at what the band was doing even though she didn’t know quite why, that she heard a voice from behind her.

  She spun round to see Gez, Chloe’s new husband, nodding up at the stage. ‘They’re good, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes,’ Lara agreed, though she still wished she could say otherwise. There was no denying to anyone with ears that they sounded good, even if it wasn’t your sort of music. And it definitely wasn’t Lara’s sort of music. But, even if they were terrible, she was hardly going to say that to the client who’d booked them and clearly liked them.

  ‘Took a chance on a mate’s recommendation – lucky they weren’t total shit, eh? Chloe would have murdered me.’

  ‘You’d never heard them play before?’ Lara asked, assuming the mate was the Lucien that Chas had mentioned before and wondering – if it was – whether it was her Lucien. Not hers, of course, but the lying, cheating ratbag from her previous existence as a woman who got upset about these things. Not now, of course, because now she was a strong and independent woman who didn’t have time for that sort of nonsense. Still, it was a name rare enough to give her some serious concerns. And if it was her Lucien, she couldn’t help but wonder if he might still turn up at some point tonight and how she’d react if he did. So far he hadn’t and it was getting late. As time went on, Lara had been quietly building her hopes that it would turn out to be a complication she’d worried about unnecessarily.

  ‘Nope,’ Gez replied. ‘If I’m honest I don’t know all that much about jazz. I wasn’t even sure I liked it before tonight.’ He sniffed. ‘This lot are OK though, not like that weird jazz that proper fans listen to – this lot plays proper tunes. They’re OK.’

  ‘They certainly know how to get the room on their side,’ Lara said.

  ‘Yeah, but then most everyone is so pissed now they’d probably dance to the sound of a washing machine on the spin cycle.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Lara said, and she couldn’t help a little smile. ‘So you’re having a good day?’

  ‘Cracking! The only thing wrong with it is that I’m still sober.’

  ‘That sounds a bit out of order.’

  ‘Someone’s got to look after Chloe – she doesn’t know when to stop. She was pissed as a fart by five thirty.’

  ‘Right. Where is she, by the way?’ Lara asked, scanning the dance floor and the room beyond, suddenly aware that she hadn’t seen the bride for some time.


  ‘Last I heard one of the bridesmaids was helping her throw up in the toilet.’

  ‘Oh God! Is she OK?’

  ‘Oh yeah!’ Gez said cheerfully. ‘Normal Saturday night for Chloe is that. She’ll get that lot out of her system and be ready to start again in an hour.’

  Lara smiled. For some reason she suddenly felt very old and staid. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a mad night out like that – not cool for someone who wasn’t yet thirty. But it just seemed as if she always had something else to think about these days: important decisions to mull over, accounts to do, paperwork to file, research and bookings to make, big days that needed her to be focused and sober. Things like socialising and nights of wild abandon had disappeared slowly from her calendar until she’d quite forgotten what they were like. It hadn’t helped that there was always a very real fear that being out and about in the clubs of Chester would bring her face to face with Lucien and Siobhan too. And all those worries were without the added stress about her mum, who was perfectly capable of living by herself but still gave Lara plenty of headaches anyway.

  The song that had been providing the backing track to their conversation came to an end and, on stage, Chas announced that they were going to slow things down.

  ‘It’s a shame your new wife isn’t well enough for a slow dance right now,’ Lara said.

  ‘No chance!’ Gez grinned. ‘I’d be waiting for a month of Sundays.’

  ‘Seems a shame to waste the slow songs.’

  Gez looked across the room to a table where an old lady was sitting alone, watching the party go on around her. She looked frail and, although she was smiling, her gaze on the dance floor, her smile was melancholy. She looked so sad, so unutterably lonely, that Lara was annoyed with herself that she hadn’t noticed her before. If she had, she’d have tried to do something to make sure she was feeling a bit more included. Quite what, she wasn’t sure, but something had to be better than nothing.

  ‘My great-aunt Emma,’ Gez said in answer to Lara’s silent question. ‘She lost my uncle a few months ago. He would have loved this band – they were big ballroom dancers. Any party, they’d be on the dance floor as soon as the old-time songs were on; loved it. Regional champions when they first got married.’

  ‘Poor thing,’ Lara said, hardly realising she’d said it out loud.

  ‘Makes you think, doesn’t it?’ Gez said. ‘I’ll bet when she was celebrating her wedding day all those years ago she never imagined a day when she’d be sitting at someone else’s wedding and her husband would be gone.’

  Lara looked up at him and smiled. She liked Gez a lot more than she did Chloe.

  ‘Would you excuse me?’ Gez said. ‘You’re right – it’s a shame to waste the slow dances. I’m going to see if my aunt would like to dance with me.’

  Lara’s smile spread, and she nodded, watching as he left her and went to speak to his elderly relative. He leaned in and said something, and his aunt’s face lit up in a beaming smile, then he led her carefully and slowly to the dance floor. It was lovely to see how caring and considerate Gez was and how much pleasure the dance was giving to the old lady. Lara wondered if she was thinking about her husband now, imagining him rather than Gez whirling her around the floor, and Lara could only hope that the brief daydream was bringing some comfort to her, that it might go some way to soften the pain of her loss, even if only for a few short minutes.

  They’d barely been on the dance floor for two minutes, however, when a pink-satin-clad bridesmaid raced across and grabbed Gez by the arm. Lara watched them have a brief, urgent conversation, and then she saw Gez looking apologetic as he explained something to his great-aunt Emma, leaving her standing alone on the floor a second later as he followed the bridesmaid out of the room.

  ‘Everything OK?’ Lara called as he passed.

  ‘Yes,’ he shouted, not looking particularly worried despite the speed at which he’d left his aunt. ‘Chloe’s a bit drunker than I thought. I’d better go and see what I can do.’

  He sounded cheerful and relaxed, and so Lara allowed herself to relax again too. Her gaze turned back to the abandoned great-aunt, who was still standing alone in the middle of the whirling throng, looking more melancholy and lost than ever. Feeling that none of the other guests had really noticed her predicament, Lara made a snap decision, and was about to go over and fetch her, when she was stopped in her tracks by something peculiar and completely unexpected. Theo had abandoned his saxophone and leapt down from the stage onto the dance floor. Chas saw it and, despite Lara’s distance from the stage, she was certain she saw him roll his eyes at one of the other band members, although he didn’t look particularly shocked by the fact that Theo had stopped playing mid-song.

  Her gaze flicked back to Theo, who was making his way through the dancers until he reached Emma. He bent low to speak to her and her face lit up, then he took her hand and led her in a dance. Lara stared at them, though nobody else seemed to think it was odd – at least, they didn’t seem to be taking any notice. He wasn’t really very good either, and it clearly wasn’t the sort of dancing he was used to, but Emma didn’t seem to mind at all when he got the steps wrong. She beamed, like the sun bursting through a cloud as she looked up at him, and he smiled down at her.

  Lara found herself conflicted as she watched, strange and unexpected feelings sweeping over her. This couldn’t be the same man who had been so scornful the night they’d argued over Fluffy. It couldn’t be the same man who’d mocked her earlier as she’d tried to iron out their booking. This was someone kind and gentle, thoughtful and concerned. Lara didn’t know another man alive who would have seen so clearly Great-Aunt Emma’s loneliness and who would have been considerate enough to do something about it.

  The song finally came to an end, and a laughing Chas requested that their saxophonist join them back on the stage for a song that absolutely required him to play a hefty solo. With a broad smile, Theo tipped an imaginary cap to the stage. But before he returned, he offered Great-Aunt Emma an arm and led her back to her seat. Then, with a quick grin, he left her to jog back to the stage and pick up his saxophone, the band immediately launching into a more uptempo song.

  Lara took the opportunity to hurry over to Emma. She didn’t know why she felt the need to go over and talk to her; she only felt an overwhelming curiosity about what had just happened. Not that she had a clue what she’d ask Emma. Does he smell nice? Do his arms feel as good as they look? Do you feel like you’re melting when he looks at you too?

  She shook her head to shake the questions. Wrong questions and very annoying questions. Not the sort of questions she ought to be asking about Theo the Cat-Nabber.

  ‘Are you alright?’ Lara asked as Emma looked up at her approach. ‘Having a nice evening?’

  ‘Oh yes, lovely, thank you.’

  ‘You’re not too lonely? I mean, I saw…’

  ‘I was a little bit, to be honest. I lost my husband this year and he did love to dance. He’d have worn my feet off on a night like this. But I’ve just had a lovely dance with a very nice boy.’

  Lara glanced at the stage. Theo was in the zone now, his eyes closed as his fingers raced back and forth over his instrument.

  ‘Do you know him?’ Lara asked, suddenly finding that she was unable to take her eyes off him and not knowing why.

  ‘No – not from Adam,’ Emma said. ‘But he’s lovely, isn’t he? Quite a dish. Not a very good dancer,’ she added in a loud stage whisper, but then, most of the conversation had been a bit like that anyway. ‘But that doesn’t matter,’ she continued. ‘It was nice of him to dance with an old lady. I’m sure he’d rather have danced with someone young and pretty like you.’

  ‘You’re not that old, surely,’ Lara said automatically.

  ‘Tsk, I’m eighty-five next week,’ Emma said with a chuckle. ‘Old enough to be his great-grandma. Mind you, if I’d been sixty years younger he’s the sort of boy I’d have been happy to take home to meet my
papa… And then we’d have done things Papa wouldn’t have approved of…’

  Lara looked down at Emma now and caught her winking quite violently, which was a little disconcerting to say the least.

  ‘Well, I’m glad you enjoyed your dance,’ Lara said, not knowing what else to say.

  Emma began a response but had only got about two words of it out when Lara stopped listening. Because she’d seen new people arrive, and a great wave of dread and nausea rushed her.

  Just as she’d feared: Lucien and Siobhan had entered the fray.

  Lucien strode in like the cock of the walk he’d always regarded himself to be, while at his side Siobhan was looking a little nervous. She was wearing more make-up than Lara had ever seen her wear, her long blonde hair curling luxuriously around her shoulders.

  Lucien stopped and scanned the room, and Lara felt herself instinctively duck into a chair at Emma’s table and lower her face. When she dared sneak another look, his gaze had gone off in another direction. He seemed to recognise someone he knew and raised a hand in greeting, Siobhan still attached to the other one like a prize he’d won in a raffle. With some unwelcome bitterness, Lara had to admit that they both looked incredible and were a handsomely matched couple. They were like the sort of celebrity couple you saw in Hello! magazine, showing off their country house with its spot-lit kitchen island and hot tub in the garden. Lucien wore slacks and a pink shirt, open slightly at the neck, while Siobhan had gone for a classy black number that showed off her hourglass figure.

  ‘… don’t you think?’

  Lara looked down at Great-Aunt Emma, whose insistent voice had pulled her back to the room. She looked up again at Lucien and Siobhan. Lucien seemed to be scouting for a table they could sit at, but they hadn’t seen her yet – at least, Lara didn’t think so. They certainly wouldn’t be looking for her either – as far as Lara was aware Lucien didn’t know anything about her new career as a wedding planner. Well, maybe he had been told by someone at some point, but he was so self-absorbed that he probably wouldn’t have remembered. It would have to be some pretty seismic information to have registered, when so much of his thoughts were consumed by the things that were important to him – namely him.