Summer at the Little Wedding Shop

by Jane Linfoot

  Jess hears and jerks back towards us. ‘Don’t you dare, Kip. If you won’t join in, Lily, at least come and cheer. If I’m going to smash that Bart into the ground, I want witnesses.’

  Kip’s laughing at me. ‘Looks like you’re here for the long haul. I’ll grab something from the Landy for you to sit on.’

  If anyone told me I’d spend the evening talking to Kip, I’d probably have stayed at home. If they’d said I’d end up watching ball games on the beach, I’d have expired. But when the alternative is joining in, you can find yourself getting a long way out of your comfort zone very fast.

  Chapter 31

  Tuesday, 27th June

  On the beach at Huntley and Handsome Wines: Under a starry sky

  ‘You are playing, aren’t you?’

  As Kip kicks his way across the soft sand to where I’m standing watching the players warm up, he bats an escaping ball back into the melee. In front of us women have hitched up their frocks and are leaping and whooping, and the guys are shouldering each other out of the way either side of a head-high net which was already waiting as we wandered down the sand.

  ‘Definitely not,’ Kip laughs. ‘Unlike Jess, I’ll be taking the opposition down in business, not on the beach.’

  Great. Just what I didn’t want to hear. For Poppy in the long term. And for me getting stuck spending yet more time with Kip this evening. I go for a bit of persuasion. ‘It’s a shame to miss out on the – whoah …’ I stagger as Kip suddenly drags me sideways, and a stocky guy making a wild lunge thumps down full length onto the exact piece of sand I was standing on.

  ‘C’mon, Water Lily.’ He grabs my wrist and hauls me back up the beach. ‘Unless you want to get well and truly squished here, this is when we run like hell to a safe distance.’ Twenty yards up the sand, he throws out the tartan blanket that’s under his arm, drops down onto it, then stares up at me expectantly. ‘There’s no point waiting for half time, you can sit down now.’

  ‘Fine.’ Even if he’s comfortable cosying up, I’m not, so I kneel as close to the edge as I can. You know when your skirt is practically knee length standing up, then you sit on the floor, and find it’s barely the length of a T-shirt? That’s what I’m struggling with as I tug my hem as far down as it’ll go – a pitiful amount – and tuck my legs sideways.

  Ideally the rug would be twice the size, but at least Kip’s keeping to his side. Knees bent, chin propped on his fist. Watching the game, rather than my legs. Other than his white cotton shirt pulling out of his chinos at the back, where he’s stretching forward, he’s looking remarkably neat for a Penryn. And at least we’re out of the firing line of the volleyball game, which is getting louder and rougher by the minute.

  He gathers a pile of pebbles, and throws them at a smooth rock, stone by stone. When they run out at last he turns to look at me. ‘So with the weddings, I’ve noticed it’s always the women taking the lead.’ At least he’s chosen a neutral subject there. And stopped the stone clicking which was starting to get annoying.

  The handful of sand I grab is silky as it runs through my fingers. ‘The guys do the asking, then often it tends to be the girls with the ideas and the imagination. Some of them know exactly what they want years before they meet the guy they end up marrying.’

  ‘Really?’ The fact Kip’s eyes go wide show he’s still got a lot to learn. ‘So you’ve already worked out what you’re doing then?’ He sounds fascinated and appalled in equal amounts.

  Who’d have thought we’d get here so fast, when I never intended to talk about it. Suddenly there’s nowhere else to go. I clear my throat and take the plunge. ‘Actually I’ve been there, got the T-shirt, and come out the other side.’ I’d almost rather be playing volleyball. If I let myself get backed into this particular corner, it’s only because it’s the end of a very long day.

  ‘What?’ He’s blinking and screwing up his face.

  I shrug. ‘I had my own big day ages ago. The marriage barely lasted a year.’

  ‘Shit, what the hell happened there?’ Kip shakes his head, and bangs his fist on his skull. ‘Sorry, no, you don’t have to answer that. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.’

  Do you ever find drinking champagne makes you a hundred times more likely to bare your soul? In the same way it makes you more bouncy. Like when the world takes on that amber tinge and feels all warm and sun bathed. Although that bit might be down to the glow in the sky where the sun’s sliding down past the horizon.

  I take a deep breath. ‘We had a long distance relationship that always left us wanting more. But when we moved in with each other full time after the wedding, we found out there wasn’t much we agreed on.’ A fast forward view of our marriage. Thom was the one to come out and say it. Just like that. He’d made a mistake, I wasn’t what he wanted. He was right, of course. But it was still devastating to face what a big mistake I’d made. And worse still when all our plans for the future fell away, and I was left with nothing.

  Kip takes a deep breath. ‘Awful. So it doesn’t upset you working with brides?’

  I scrunch up my face. ‘It’s fine with people I don’t know.’ That’s true. I’m concentrating on the details, not the emotions. ‘With close friends’ weddings it’s harder. We all remember mine, and how hopeful I was, and how it all came crashing down.’ Although looking back, it’s easy to see the cracks were there all along. I was too in love with the idea of my happy-ever-after to see them. What’s more, I can’t think why I’m sitting here, spilling all this to Kip, when I could have shut up.

  He’s staring at me with the fascination of a scientist examining a specimen. ‘I’m so far away from it I can’t begin to imagine what it must have felt like. Although for what it’s worth, I’m sorry you went through it.’

  Seeing how frank I’ve been, I figure I’m entitled to ask. ‘So you’ve never been close to taking the plunge yourself then?’ Although as soon as the words are out, I know how ridiculous they are. We’re talking to a serial sleep-around Penryn here, after all. But at least I get to see him squirm at the thought.

  He tugs his fingers through his hair as he pales. ‘I’ve been far too busy for a serious commitment. More importantly, I’m entirely happy as I am.’

  The last bit sounds like perfect sense to me. ‘Good point. Since the divorce, I’m pretty much the same. On my own and loving every minute.’ Sitting on the sand, agreeing with Kip? How unnerving is that?

  He’s still staring at me like his eyes are boring into my soul. ‘So this explains why you ended up here doing a job you aren’t trained for, living in a matchbox over the shop?’

  I sigh. It’s a typical view of a guy who lives in a house with twenty bedrooms. ‘In a roundabout way. It’s a bit more complicated than that.’ There’s no point sharing how much I love my attic, because he wouldn’t have the first clue how to understand. I see his eyebrows rising expectantly. But dammit, I’ve spilled enough here. ‘But actually, it’s your turn now.’

  ‘Right.’ From the way he blinks I’ve caught him by surprise.

  And given what I’ve just shared, to even things up, I need to go in for the kill. ‘So, how did you break your company?’ Now it’s out there, it sounds horribly bleak. I throw in a few metaphors to soften it. ‘I mean, there are six in your family, so how come you were the only brother working on the ship that sank? And why the hell did they leave you to steer it in the first place, if you were going to run it onto the rocks?’

  Kip’s eyes widen as he hesitates. ‘I take it you don’t read the financial papers then?’

  ‘Not unless I want to go to sleep.’

  Kip sighs. ‘In that case I’ll give you the short version. All six of us tried the family business at one time or another, but my dad wasn’t easy to work with. I was the only one who stayed.’

  ‘You got on with your dad then?’

  Kip pulls a face. ‘I was less hot headed than the others, so I was better at dealing with his moods, and taking the flack. I understoo
d how badly he coped without our mother, because I missed her too. Then after three generations of success, one bad decision brought the company down. We were finished in one failed deal. The others had trusted me to look after things, and I let them down, big time. That’s why it’s so good of them to give me another chance at The Manor.’

  ‘Oh my.’ So I’m not the only one here with a complicated back story.

  ‘As soon as Quinn mentioned weddings at Rose Hill, the rest of them couldn’t wait to come on board.’

  ‘So they’re all backing you with your brand-new business?’ I’m starting to see why he’s so keen to push the Vegas model as far as he can go.

  He nods. ‘It’s my first time away from Penryn Trading. I’m very lucky they’ve got my back on this.’ So he’s got every reason to try and make this huge.

  I bite my lip, and think of how comfortable I am with the work I do. And how like a jelly fish stranded on the sand he is, when it comes to all things bridal. ‘It’s a shame it’s not an area you enjoy more.’

  He wrinkles his nose. ‘I have to work with what I’ve been given. But I’ve got our flowers too. That’s the first project I’ve done without Penryn involvement.’

  Mostly I try to blank out those flowers. Although to be realistic, they are in a Penryn garden, so they aren’t completely outside the Penryn domain. ‘I can’t imagine being so tied in with family. Don’t you ever ache to be free?’ If I was a hundredth as beholden to my mother, my life would be hell.

  The furrows in his brow deepen. ‘Being tied to the family company is all I’ve ever known. And it was a great life, while it lasted. If I ever manage to make up for my epic fail, I can take the chance to move on then.’

  The way he’s talking that will be when he’s run Rafe and Poppy out of business, grabbed every wedding ceremony in the south west for the Manor, and put in a manager.

  ‘So what will you do then?’ It may sound nosey. But it never struck me that Kip might have dreams. Or that I’d ever be interested in hearing them. I can only blame the champagne. And the volleyball.

  Kip swallows hard, then there’s a growl in his throat that turns out to be a laugh. ‘Signing up to hear the Kip Penryn life plan? I didn’t know you were planning on sticking around all night.’

  What? ‘Absolutely not. I’m heading off at the first opportunity.’ Which neatly lets him off the interrogation hook. And will hopefully be a.s.a.p. As I’m scanning the sky, I see the spot of light, like a diamond in the smoky orange blue of the dusk. ‘Hey, look, the first star. That means it’ll be dark in no time, and the game will be over.’

  As I lean backwards on my elbows, hoping for more evidence of nightfall, I let myself flop onto my back. As the sand beneath the rug moulds to my back I’m trying hard to wrench my gaze away from Kip’s throat as he stares up at the sky too. When my eyeballs refuse to be unglued, the only alternative is to shut them. It’s only for a second. Then because it’s so comfy, I roll over onto my side, and cup my cheek in my hand. This shift dress wasn’t meant for curling up in, but as the noise of the volleyball drifts further away, I haul the hem as far down as it’ll go.

  Kip’s hand lands on my shoulder. ‘Hey, Water Lily are you going to sleep? See, I did bore you with my business talk.’

  Sleep? I give a long sigh. ‘Definitely not.’ I’m only closing my eyes for a moment, but the denial comes out as a mumble. I’m too tired to talk, but my eyes are open again, so I’m one hundred per cent awake. And I’m listening to the sound of the waves lapping up the shore.

  * * * * *

  The next time I open my eyes, if anything the sky is paler not darker. But the blanket I was lying on is tucked around me and as I put my hand onto my shoulder, I feel the silky lining, and the structure of a jacket.

  ‘Kip, where are the stars?’ I know he’s here, because I’ve got a view of his rolled up chinos, and his deck shoes next to his bare feet. What I’m less happy about is the sudden cloud cover. A view of the Milky Way against a blue velvet sky was the one compensation for having to stay here until way past bed time.

  He responds with a yawn. ‘Sorry, Water Lily, the stars have been and gone.’ He has to be joking.

  As I lift my head the crick in my neck is killing me. ‘So the volleyball’s finished?’ That’s my first concern.

  He pulls out his phone, and glances at it. ‘Approximately four hours ago. Jess and Uncle Bart went on to town. I managed to bore you to sleep, but I promised we’d join them as soon as you woke up.’ He lets out a low laugh. ‘Unless you’d rather have an early morning swim?’

  Worse and worse. ‘Hell no.’ Waking up on a beach with a Penryn? Talk about sleeping with the enemy. Even if I’m the only one who ever knows about this, I’ll never live it down. I sniff, and grab my head. ‘How’s my hair?’ As I drag my fingers through the tangles, it’s feeling horribly wavy.

  He rubs his chin and frowns slightly. ‘I reckon it’s about as good as you’d expect after half a night asleep on the beach in a force four gale.’

  ‘Damn, is it all curly?’

  He’s biting back his smile. ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘Shit.’ He doesn’t have to. I can already feel it’s exploded from smooth and glossy, into totally wild. I bundle it up in a twist on top of my head as best I can.

  ‘I reckon windswept and sand blasted suits you.’

  One thing is clear. ‘I can’t go to Jaggers to meet Jess looking a mess like this.’

  That brings out a full-blown laugh. ‘It’s four a.m. Aren’t we going home?’

  I laugh at that idea. ‘Jess will party until the morning. But what’s she doing with Bart? Wasn’t she hell bent on avoiding him?’

  Considering he’s intent on rushing off, Kip still hasn’t got up yet. ‘They’re on a challenge. Jess is going to drink Bart under the table apparently.’ He lets out a weary sigh.

  ‘Heaven help us there then.’ No-one takes Jess on and has any brain cells left to remember it with.

  Kip shrugs. ‘You know he flew in specially?’

  There has to be something I’m missing here. ‘Half way round the world to drink three-for-two Sex on the beach cocktails and end up rat arsed under a purple plastic chair?’ I sniff. ‘Maybe we can skip Jaggers?’ Whatever’s going on, we’re hours too late to join in.

  Kip finally sticks his feet into his shoes, springs to his feet, and offers me his hand. ‘I can work with that.’

  I put his jacket into his hand, and scramble to my feet on my own. As I pull the blanket around me, I stifle a yawn. ‘In that case, next stop is Brides by the Sea, Kipling.’

  I’m not sure if it’s the wine drinking, my stiff neck, the unscheduled soul-baring we might accidentally have done, or the sheer delayed shock-horror at waking up next to Kip. But by the time we’ve bounced back into town in Kip’s beaten up Landy, my brain’s throbbing and my head feels fit to explode. And just when the day – or rather the night – can’t get any more strange, we see a figure weaving up the mews. A sudden flash of silver on the feet is the giveaway.

  ‘Oh my giddy aunt, it’s Jess.’ No doubt on her way home, to her house a few doors along the mews from the shop.

  Kip slams the Landy to a halt, and slides back the window. ‘Morning Jess, what happened to Uncle Bart?’

  Jess rolls her eyes. ‘He lost, of course. Don’t worry, I poured him into a taxi. Who’d have thought he’d be such a lightweight?’

  Which explains Jess’s early homecoming.

  I fling open the Landy door, and see it’s a million miles to the ground. No wonder the Landy motto is ‘one life, live it.’ I take mine in my hands, and hurl myself all the way down onto the cobbles. ‘See you later, Jess,’ I say, as I pick myself up. No point saying ‘in the morning’ when it already is.

  ‘Ditto.’ Kip rakes his fingers through his hair, and despite his sunken cheeks and exhausted pallor, as he slams off up the mews, his face breaks into a grin.

  I’m left open mouthed, remembering all the stuff I should
have thanked him for and haven’t. I really hate being this much in debt to a Penryn.

  Chapter 32

  Wednesday, 28th June

  In the kitchen at Brides by the Sea: The morning after the night before

  ‘If I’d had more sleep last night, it wouldn’t have been such a shock to wake up to.’

  Poppy and I are in the tiny attic kitchen, and she’s whizzing around, whipping up an instant emergency rescue to the shock I just had when I woke this morning after three hours’ sleep, and looked at my phone. Only this is a lot more than a hangover cure. This is full-blown after-shock resuscitation.

  ‘Having to deal with Nicole’s early appointment can’t have helped either.’ Poppy frowns as she pulls a bowl down from the shelf, and the icing sugar rises in a cloud as it falls through the sieve. ‘Leave this to me. There are plain cupcakes at the ready. I prescribe something very pink and very sweet to go on top.’

  She adds soft butter, a couple of drops of colouring, dribbles in the strawberry puree she just mashed, and gets to work with her hand mixer. A few minutes later she’s scooping butter cream into her piping bag. I watch mesmerised, sucking back the drool as extra-pink buttercream curls out to land on top of cupcakes in red spotty cases.

  Then she slices a strawberry into four, and pops the pieces on top. ‘Just when it feels like Facebook can read our minds, they stuff up massively.’ Poppy’s tirade against Facebook is heartfelt and personal. That was how she found out her ex had cheated on her at a stag party the week after he’d proposed to her. ‘But this has to be effing Facebook blunder of the year.’

  ‘I’m fine with people giving their Chihuahuas their own Facebook identities. But unborn children?’ Flicking onto my phone first thing and finding Facebook suggesting I might like to be Facebook friends with Thom’s pre-natal child’s ultra sound picture almost made me swallow my tongue. Apparently, we have three mutual friends. Lucky for me I was saved from choking entirely by my mouth being drier than the Sahara. ‘Seeing my ex and his new wife in X ray, waving baby scan pictures isn’t the best start to a Wednesday.’