by Katey Lovell
The ceremony drew to a close with a harpist playing an angelic melodious tune. I was partnered with Darius as we filed down the aisle two by two, like animals heading into the ark, as we exited the church, but I kept my distance. Even on a day of love and celebration I couldn’t quite bring myself to forgive his lies.
We formed a guard of honour ready to shower confetti over the new Mr and Mrs Hamilton, Summer jumping up and down excitedly next to me as she clutched a cone of deep-pink dried rose petals. As Tawna and Johnny stepped squinting into the sunshine, petals rained down on them. My friend clutched her new husband’s arm, and I didn’t think I’d ever seen such a wonderful advert for love before. They were besotted with each other, the bond between them so obvious and strong. By the time they passed me, petals were tangled in Tawna’s hair so she looked like a gorgeous flower fairy.
“Happy wedding day!” Summer shouted, throwing a handful of petals.
Johnny held out his hand for a high five, Summer beaming as her godfather’s hand connected with hers.
“That was lovely, wasn’t it?” Max said.
“It was beautiful,” I agreed, as the photographer instructed the guests to congregate in front of the church for one of the few structured photographs – a shot of everyone together surrounding Johnny and Tawna.
“Everybody say cheese,” the photographer barked. We did as we were told.
The flash of the camera dazzled me, stars flickering in front of my eyes. I tried to blink it away but a wave of nausea washed over me. One of my legs buckled, and I was glad I was holding on to Max.
“Sophie? Are you okay?”
“I don’t feel so good,” I admitted, deliberately trying to keep my tones hushed. “Can I keep hold of you?”
Max put a supportive arm around my waist which made me feel more stable. “You look pale. Do you feel sick?”
“I feel a bit dizzy, that’s all. It’s nothing.”
“Maybe you’ll feel better when you’ve eaten. I’ve been thinking about that slow dance you promised me all service.”
That made me smile. “I’ll be fine. Probably just all the excitement.”
“Well, I’m right by your side.”
“Nurse Oakley,” I joked. “And I know all about your bedside manner.”
“I have a very good bedside manner, thank you very much. Whenever you’ve had too much to drink I’m on hand with fluids. And when you had that toothache I was ever so patient.”
“You were. And I was a real misery. I’ve never known pain like it. It felt as though my whole jaw was on fire.”
“You did mention it, once or twice.” He laughed. “But seriously, if you’re not feeling good, let me know. I don’t want you keeling over.”
“I’ll be fine.”
An old-fashioned double-decker bus ferried us to the reception venue, Tawna’s great-aunt reminiscing about how her dad used to drive the exact same buses. They wouldn’t have had the dulcet tones of Ed Sheeran’s “Thinking Out Loud” playing on repeat though.
The twisty country roads bended and waned, and I peered out of the window at the barren fields to try to distract myself from the pressure that was building in my temples. Max’s hand, firmly placed on mine, reassured me.
I hoped Max was right and that food would sort me out. I’d not eaten all day, no wonder I was tired and emotional. A wedge of wedding cake with a thick layer of royal icing would provide me with a much-needed sugar rush. If only the cake cutting was the first thing that would happen when we got to the venue rather than the welcome line and obligatory canapes.
The bus pulled up outside the venue, a typical country house that belonged in a Jane Austen adaptation. The trees were dressed in a thousand shades of green, the flowerbeds a multicoloured blast. The scenery was, quite simply, beautiful.
“You’re sure you’re all right to stand?” Max checked, before we disembarked.
“Stop fussing,” I said, but I was grateful his hand stayed firmly pressed against the small of my back.
A waiter with a tray of champagne-filled flutes greeted us, and I took one to be polite although I wasn’t sure alcohol was a good idea when I wasn’t feeling at my sparkling best.
Max, picking up on my discomfort, guided me to a table in the wonderfully ornate entrance lobby. The walls were a bright-red that would look hideous in a smaller room but managed to look majestic when contrasted with the dark-wood furniture and golden trimmings. It had an old-fashioned elegance.
“Sit down,” he said, helping me onto a regency-striped chair. “Before you fall down.”
“I’m not going to fall,” I said, but as I lowered myself a wooziness hit. My vision was warped, a darkness closing in around me, and as I slid off the seat and to the floor, my hand sliding along the plush carpet and burning with the friction, I wondered if this was how it felt to faint.
And it was, because the next thing I knew everything was blindingly bright and people crowded around me, propping me up with silky gold cushions like I was royalty.
“Sophie? My name’s June, and I’m the registered first aider on the premises. That was quite a fall you had. Does anywhere hurt?”
Nothing hurt, I just felt like a fool. “No, I’m fine. My head’s throbbing though.”
“She suffers from migraines,” Max explained.
“Have some water.” June offered me a plastic cup. “Sip at it though, in case it makes you feel sick.”
I tentatively drank, as everyone watched on.
“That’s the way,” June encouraged. “I’ve sent someone to get you a biscuit too. Nothing exciting, just a plain one, but it’ll give you a bit of energy.”
“Thanks.”
People stopped nebbing once they knew I wasn’t in a critical condition, and soon just Max and June were alongside me.
“Did it come on quickly?” June asked.
“I’ve been a bit dizzy but I put it down to rushing about. I’m the bridesmaid,” I explained. “This is my best friend’s wedding.”
I could see Tawna and Johnny standing in a welcome line, hugging people as they filed through for the sit-down meal.
“That’s probably it,” June agreed. “When I saw you go down like that it brought back all kinds of memories. When I was pregnant with my youngest I fainted three times in a week. I didn’t have a clue why I kept passing out. It was only when I went to the doctors and she asked if I could be pregnant that I realised,” she chortled.
A look of panic flashed across Max’s face.
“It’s just a migraine,” I blurted. That said, my unpredictable cycles were never easy to track. It was a pain never knowing when my period would arrive, but my hormones affected my migraines so I’d probably come on over the next few days. I’d half expected to be in full flow for the wedding, but nothing had come to fruition, thankfully.
“You don’t need my whole family history,” June clucked as she headed back to the reception desk, “but don’t you go overdoing it. Stay sat there for a bit longer, and get your husband to help you when you go through to the main hall.”
Neither of us corrected her.
“You scared me half to death there, Soph. You went down like a ton of bricks.”
“I’m sorry.” He did look like I’d given him a fright.
“I’m just glad you didn’t hurt yourself when you fell. Your head came dangerously close to the edge of the table. You still look pale too. Do you want me to fetch you something to eat? Find the biscuits June was talking about?”
I pulled myself up, using the chair to help me, even though spots were floating in front of my eyes. “I want to go and join everyone else. I can’t miss today, not after all the planning.”
After an unsteady walk, Max pushed the door to the impressive hall open, the tinkle of Darius striking a fork against a glass welcoming us.
“Food will be served in five minutes,” he announced. “And speeches will follow after the meal. But let’s start as we mean to go on by raising a toast, to the new Mr and Mrs Ha
milton, and to the future.”
“To Mr and Mrs Hamilton, and to the future,” everyone echoed.
I raised my glassless hand into the air. The future.
Chapter 32
The migraine I’d been fighting on Tawna’s wedding day hung around, dizziness not only making me feel as though my head was split in two but also affecting my appetite. I couldn’t keep anything down, not even water.
I spent five days in bed, my mum and Max looking after me in shifts, while I complained the room was too bright despite the curtains being permanently drawn.
Max had gone above and beyond, ensuring I had hot water bottles, ice packs and whatever else I demanded in my poorly diva state. He’d driven to the supermarket at eleven at night to fetch me lollies to suck in a bid to keep me hydrated, and literally mopped my fevered brow. He was everything an ill girlfriend would wish for in her boyfriend, which is why when he’d told me he “needed to talk” I’d been baffled as to what was on his mind.
It transpired that after the wedding reception (which I’d been forced to leave early, my willingness to be the last woman standing beaten by the worst migraine of my life) Chris had gone to a casino with a group of people, and it had been Darius leading the way. Apparently he’d been throwing chips around with abandon, and when his lucky black 13 had come up trumps on the roulette wheel, not just the once, but twice, he’d been flashing the cash, insisting on buying drinks for the whole party. Chris said that hadn’t put even the slightest dent in his winnings. Put simply, Darius wasn’t short of money at present, but paying me back what he owed me wasn’t at the top of his agenda.
“He’s never going to change,” Max said. “You’ll never see that money again.”
“Probably not,” I agreed. “But I had to give it him. What if he hadn’t been lying about Nadia bribing him? She might have taken Summer to the other end of the country. He’s not a good man, but he’s a good dad to her, mostly. I didn’t want to let her down.”
“You didn’t let her down,” Max replied fiercely, without so much as a flicker of his usually jokey, smiley expression. “There’s only one person who’s done that, and that’s Darius.”
“We’ll have to go and visit her in Liverpool one weekend when I’m better. She’s the closest I’ve got to a daughter.”
“I’ll need to practise my hula-hooping.” At the wedding Summer had taken great delight in telling Max exactly how long she could keep a hoop spinning for, challenging him to a duel next time they were together.
“You really want to come?”
“I’d like to. She’s a great kid.”
We were giggling about her enthusiastic storytelling when my phone rang. I answered with trepidation. “Nick? Is everything all right?”
I held my breath. Chantel was thirty-three weeks pregnant, and still under the watchful eye of the hospital consultants who’d told her to prepare for an early delivery. They’d felt the smaller twin would have a better chance out of the womb than in and a planned C-section had been scheduled.
“They’re here,” he said, through sobs of happiness. “My girls are here safe and sound.”
“Oh, Nick, that’s wonderful!” I said, choking back my own tears.
“Alicia and Imogen. They’re so beautiful, Soph.”
“And they’re doing okay? And Chantel?”
“Chantel was amazing. She was so calm, even the nurses commented on how relaxed she was. And the girls are doing really well. Imogen’s tiny, as expected, and they’re both on the neonatal intensive care ward, but they’re little fighters, even the doctors say so. I can’t wait for you to meet them. You’ll adore them.”
“I already do.”
“Anyway, I’d better go. I’ve got to ring Anna and Jakob to tell them the news.”
“They’ll be over the moon. Congratulations, Dad of Three.”
“Congratulations to you too, Auntie of Three.”
My smile was enormous as I shared the news with Max, my heart surging with love for the new additions to my family.
It was only when Max spooned me as we were drifting off to sleep that I realised Nick had called me before he’d called Anna. That gave me such a glow of contentment that if Max had told me I was shining luminous, I wouldn’t have been surprised. It was the ultimate seal of approval from my brother.
November
Chapter 33
If March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb, November must be the reverse. The dip in temperature was sudden and unwelcome, a bluster of snow flurries a reminder that winter had well and truly arrived.
Most people had been grumbling about the bitter winds and frosty mornings, but I embraced the new season with a creative gusto. I’d felt rotten for so much of the autumn, a tiredness seeping through my bones that I’d put down to the change of seasons and being wiped out after recovering from the migraine from hell. It was good to feel stronger as the year came to a close, but I was starting to suspect that my symptoms hadn’t just been a result of the migraine, and I wasn’t yet ready to face up to what that might mean.
I’d got into the habit of coming home from work and treating myself to a hot chocolate, lighting a candle (one of my latest projects) and settling myself down to some serious crafting. Most nights Max would keep me company, often cooking up a storm in my kitchen (with Scrat Cat for company) because I’d discovered Max was a surprisingly adventurous cook. I probably wouldn’t eat at all if it wasn’t for him making me taste his flavoursome curries and spicy soups, because having plenty of stock for the forthcoming Christmas fayres was my priority.
Our evenings were very hygge, spending time enjoying our own hobbies before finally curling up together on the settee, Max’s arm draped around my shoulder and a shared blanket wrapped around our legs. Our evenings were productive but never stressful, and although we were busy, the pace of life never got to be too much to bear.
We made time to enjoy the company of our families, going for meals at the Oakleys’ each Sunday and visiting Mum and Dad, and Nick, Chantel, Noah and the twins, who were home after a six-week stint in hospital. We’d even been to Liverpool for a weekend to see Nadia and Summer, where we’d met Rob for the first time. I could see why Darius’s ego would be threatened by him. He was very like my ex in looks, but with a naturally generous heart.
Everyone had warmed to Max immediately which mattered to me more than I’d realised.
With just three days left in November I was setting up my first ever craft stall in a draughty community centre.
“It looks great,” Max assured me, as I moved the stock around for the hundred-millionth time. “Stop panicking.”
“I can’t help it. What if no one buys anything? I might have made all this for nothing.”
“People will buy them, believe me. You sold all those candles online, didn’t you? And that Christmas bunting. I’m sure there will be plenty of customers, and anything you don’t sell today you can sell at another event. That’s the great thing about it. Imagine if you were a baker.” He nodded discreetly in the direction of a couple setting out trays of pastel-topped cupcakes. “They can’t just shove any unsold buns in a box for another day.”
“They probably eat them.” I laughed, thinking it wouldn’t be much of a hardship having to eat tons of cupcakes. They looked delicious.
“Maybe you should start selling cakes after all,” Max joked.
“You’re the one who’s handy in the kitchen,” I reminded him. “If anyone’s going to be selling cupcakes it’ll be you.”
“I’ll stick to buying us some, support other small businesses. Any preference on a flavour?”
“Carrot cake?” I screwed my nose up hopefully. “Or just good old vanilla.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” He smiled, making his way towards the cake stall. The couple beamed in delight at their first customer of the day, as I straightened a pile of business cards. I’d had them printed especially for the occasion, and although I felt a bit like an imposter for having th
em, I was pleased with how they’d turned out. If they brought custom my way they’d be well worth the money I’d spent on them. Speculate to accumulate, and all that.
My most recent credit card statement had shown huge improvements, and it was cheering to see my efforts paying off. They’d even lowered the minimum demands, which suggested I was no longer one of their worst cases.
The money I’d made from crafting had been saved in a separate account ready for when it was time to file my tax return, but with overtime hours at the office and some hardcore eBaying, my debts no longer scared me shitless. The amount I owed had halved within the past eight months thanks predominantly to my selling sprees (my clothes acting as an investment of sorts). As my thirty-first birthday approached I was feeling confident about the future.
“We’ll be opening up to the public in five minutes,” called the efficient gent with a swirling grey moustache who was organising the event. “If you want to go to the loo or grab a cup of tea, now’s your chance.”
“Do you want a drink?” Max asked, placing a cake iced with yellow frosting and a small purple flower on top of it in front of me. “I can go and get you one?”
“No,” I replied quickly. “Stay here with me for a bit, just until the doors open. I’m getting nervous now.”
“Stop it,” he said, kindly but firmly gripping my wrists as he looked me in the eye. “I’ve seen what other people are selling here and it’s all right, but your stuff blows it out of the water. Believe in yourself, Sophie. You can do this, because I believe in you.”