by Daisy James
As Callie sipped at her wine she had the strangest feeling she was intruding. Something about the way Craig’s eyes held Flora’s, the way his body language screamed sexual desire. She wasn’t sure whether Flora herself had realised it yet, but he was certainly besotted. She decided to grant them some alone time.
‘Scarlet, Nikki, come on. Let’s check everything we brought with us has found its way safely back into the hire car.’
‘Callie, I haven’t finished my… oh, yes, right, okay.’
They trotted from the bar but Flora and Craig barely noticed. As Callie closed the door she heard Craig say, ‘As Lilac is incapacitated, would you mind helping me out by posing as a stand-in for a few shots in the gardens out front? I need to check the variety of backdrops that are available. I could give you a tour of the house and grounds afterwards. The gardens are beautiful, designed by Capability Brown…’
‘I’m starving. Do you think they do afternoon tea here?’ asked Scarlet.
‘Well, if you think we should risk it,’ smirked Nikki, ‘I’ll join you.’
‘I’m not hungry. You two go ahead. I’ll go check the car and be with you shortly.’ Callie jogged outside.
A gentle summer breeze wafted through the canopy of trees that hugged the rear of the house. It really was a stunningly romantic setting for a country wedding. Down to her right, the surface of the lake glimmered like a piece of tin foil reflecting the clear blue sky above. Her eyes picked out a tiny boathouse on the lake’s shore from which a short wooden jetty led, with a rowing boat bobbing serenely on the water next to it.
For the first time in years, her surroundings made her wish she had someone to share this day with. Someone she could link arms with and saunter around the estate, exclaiming at the blossoming flowers, marvelling at the works of art dotted around the estate, taking in the bird garden and chasing around the maze. Preferably Mr Darcy, if he was available – well, there was the lake, and maybe he could…
She returned to the house and sought out the bathroom. All that wine had gone to her head. She could do with splashing her face with cold water and retouching her make-up. She’d not had any spare time lately for personal grooming. Her hair had grown longer than she’d worn it since she was fifteen years old and she’d simply taken to wearing it pinned up. And Scarlet, the undisputed queen of waxing, would have palpitations if she could have seen the state of her legs.
She mounted the stairs, smiling to herself as she envisioned Flora whizzing down the sweeping banister, her hair flying behind her as she whooped for joy. When she reached the top, she paused at the vast window overlooking the pristine gardens to drink in the view out over the rolling hills of Yorkshire and her heart ballooned. How could she have stayed away from her spiritual home for so long? How could she have been content to live amongst the urban sprawl and swirling smog of pollution in London?
Her eyes fell on Flora and Craig in the gardens below the window. Flora stood on a stone bench giggling as she twirled left then right in a variety of increasingly comedic poses as Craig scampered around in front of her clicking his camera. He reached up to help her down and together they wandered to the edge of the balustrade. As Callie watched, Flora spun round to say something to Craig, but instead, her hand flew to her mouth and she burst into laughter, pointing at the bronze statue of Orpheus that stood as the magnificent centrepiece of the garden, a leopard draped over his shoulders. From where she stood, Callie only had a rear view of the naked Greek god, but that was certainly impressive. She made a point of adding a swift detour to her itinerary to appreciate the full splendour of the sculpture from the front.
It was the first time for months she’d seen Flora relaxed and having fun. The smile on the young girl’s face as she posed wide-eyed in front of the statue was a joy to witness. A rush of pleasure surged through Callie’s veins. She hoped that when this circus of a wedding was over she could resume her easy-going friendship with her ditzy trainee who professed to be vegetarian but whom she’d seen devouring a chicken tikka salad on more than one occasion, not to mention the illicit bacon sandwiches dripping with brown sauce.
As she turned away from the window, she tried to think back to the last time she’d had fun. A wave of melancholy swept over her but she shoved it from her mind with a grimace of irritation. She had no time to indulge in such self-focused introspection today. She pushed open the door to what she thought was the bathroom and immediately found herself enveloped in a cloud of swirling fog.
What was going on? The door swung shut behind her and clicked. She peered to her left and then her right, trying to see through the murkiness.
‘Hello?’
‘Sorry,’ called out a voice. ‘The ice machine has gone haywire. Just give us a couple of minutes, love. We’ve opened the windows and it should clear shortly.’
She recognised the room now. It was the ballroom where the tech guys had been setting up a sound stage. She was reaching for the brass door knob when her eye caught on a figure emerging from the smoke like a ghostly apparition alighting from a steam train; six-foot-two, slender, his hair tufted into familiar spikes, a grin stretching his cheeks, those dimples evidencing the delight he experienced at seeing her.
‘Callie! I thought it was you I saw on the steps earlier. What are you doing here?’
‘I could ask you the same question.’ Her heart hammered a concerto of pleasure against her ribcage and her mouth had suddenly become dry.
‘We’ve been given permission to set up the stage and do a sound-check. Finn’s here with Lilac so I thought I’d drop in and we could have a beer and a catch up before I hotfoot it over to my gig in Leeds tonight. He’s not had time to sort out a stag night so it’ll be the last opportunity we have before the wedding.’
Theo was standing so close to her she could feel his breath on her cheek. He hadn’t touched her – no welcoming peck on the cheek, no grabbing her hand to guide her from the room. He simply stood in front of her, his steel-grey eyes concentrated on hers, his lips parted slightly, waiting.
Callie’s thoughts ricocheted around her brain. She had no idea what to do, but she knew Theo was waiting for her to make the first move. She could smile and make small talk about Lilac’s predicament. She could ask about his family, his band, the concert in London next week; tell him she’d invited Nessa and they were both excited. But if she was honest, in that precise moment, she had no interest in his answers. Throughout her life, her head had always ruled her heart. Was now the time to experiment with allowing her heart a chance to star in the decision-making show instead? Would that lead to a happier existence? How would she know until she tried it?
She inhaled a deep breath, clenched her fists and took a tiny step forward. She sought his lips with hers and when they met she experienced a crash of such pure happiness her knees weakened. She grabbed Theo’s forearms and leaned into his chest, desperate to prolong their kiss as sparks of desire shot out to her extremities and sent tingles to her fingertips. Their bodies still melded together perfectly, their embrace as familiar as ever. Callie felt like the last three years had evaporated with the dry ice and they were still together, still in love, still a couple.
Callie and Theo. Theo and Callie.
She broke away for a second to scour his face, picking out the blemishes, the freckles, the tiny scar on his left temple, to reassure herself that this was still her Theo. She was surprised but relieved to see that nothing had changed. A feeling of total security enveloped her, as if all her troubles had been snuffed out simply by Theo’s presence; that the safety net which had been whipped from under her by her aunt’s death had been rolled back out by Theo.
‘Theo, we’re late. We need to get… Oh, sorry, I thought…’
‘Callie, we have to talk before we…’
‘I know.’
‘I have to go. I’ve got my gig in Leeds. Can I call you? Or were you thinking of coming to the concert in London next week?’
Callie nodded. She didn’t trust hersel
f to speak. It took all her willpower, such as it was, to keep the lid on her emotions and not crumble into an embarrassing heap of tears in front of Theo and his crew, who stood in a line only six feet away, staring expectantly at him.
‘Then perhaps I can take you out to dinner afterwards?’
‘Great.’
Callie watched Theo turn, slap one of the tech guys on his back and stride from the ballroom. Was her heart, which had been an enemy for so long as far as Theo was concerned, now her friend? If the warm feelings swirling around her chest were any kind of barometer, then it was.
But one thing she knew now with absolute certainty. She still loved Theo. Always had. He was the first person she’d kissed all those years ago and she wanted him to be the last.
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘Do you need me to model one of these for you again, Callie?’ asked Tish as she ran her fingertips over the delicate embroidery of a pale lilac bustier that hung on a rail in Callie’s workshop alongside a selection of bridal lingerie that had just been delivered to the Callie-Louise in Pimlico from its Yorkshire branch.
Every piece was perfect. The women of the Cupcakes & Couture sewing group had proved to be true maestros with a needle and thread and they had followed her intricate designs to the letter. The resulting garments were beautiful and Callie was not surprised Tish couldn’t resist the urge to touch them. She hoped others would feel the same way, too, as she had surrendered to Scarlet and Flora’s nagging and agreed to deliver a selection of the teddies and chemises and cami sets to one of the luxury lingerie boutiques in Knightsbridge. If they liked them, then the future of Gingerberry would be secure. Did this mean she intended to keep it?
Despite the dark smudges under her cobalt eyes, Tish still possessed an inexhaustible vigour for the wedding arrangements which had now moved on to the ‘final frenzy’ stage. Panic had set in and she had taken to zooming around the streets of London on a second-hand moped, checking that every order was on schedule, every detail had been adhered to, right down to the individual sugar-craft flowers on the wedding cake, which had caused a near catastrophe when the lilac blossoms had not been the right shade of purple.
Callie experienced a surge of sympathy for the young girl. Tish had told her that, out of necessity, she had to eat, sleep and breathe Lilac’s wedding. She’d even had to turn down a date with a potential Prince Charming, despite being so keen to find ‘the one’ and star in her own dream ceremony. There wasn’t a bridal supplier in the capital she hadn’t scoured for inspiration. She had even taken to emulating Nikki’s penchant for extreme list-making and made copious notes that grew longer by the day. But despite her frantic schedule she had still found the time to call in to see Callie and shop for her future wedding lingerie.
‘No thanks, Tish. It’s kind of you to offer but Lilac’s trousseau has been finalised. It’s just the dress that needs a last fitting. But if you pop next door to my office you might find something to put a smile back on your face,’ teased Callie.
Tish screwed up her nose questioningly but obediently trotted off into the office.
Scarlet smiled at Callie as she adjusted one of the most expensive diamanté tiaras Callie-Louise had to offer and inspected her appearance in the mirror. The headpiece looked amazing nestled in her halo of auburn curls. ‘Don’t you think Jules is a millinery genius? This is his most fabulous artistic creation to date.’
‘Scarlet, do I detect…’
Before Callie could finish her question, a squeal of delight erupted from the room next door and Tish came running back into the workshop holding aloft a gorgeous satin teddy fashioned from the same pattern as Lilac’s but in a delicate blush pink – Tish’s favourite colour.
‘Oh, my God, thank you, thank you so much. That’s another item I can strike off my “must-have” list. I love it! I’m trying it on now!’ And she disappeared into the changing room.
Callie exchanged a smirk with Scarlet and Flora as they waited for her to reappear. When she did, tears were trickling down her pale cheeks.
‘It’s gorgeous, Callie. You are so talented. Thank you a thousand times.’
‘Oh, don’t thank me – thank the ladies from Gingerberry who made it up for you.’
Tish rushed forward and flung her arms around each of the girls in turn as the door to the boutique swung open with a gust of warm summer air and a dense waft of Chanel Pour Monsieur cologne.
‘What? Another hugfest? What is it with you girls? Can’t you get through a day without succumbing to a bout of excessive physical contact?’ Jules Gallieri rolled his eyes but then fixed them on Tish’s svelte figure and gave an appreciative whistle. ‘And I don’t just mean the millinery masterpiece!’
The girls giggled and Tish shot from the room to get dressed.
‘Are you planning to wear that tiara anywhere special?’ Jules enquired, experimenting with a nonchalant look but failing to pull it off.
‘No,’ said Scarlet, gently removing the headpiece from her hair.
‘Why do you ask, Jules?’ said Callie, a mischievous glint in her eye.
‘Erm…’
Callie laughed. It had been a long time since she’d seen the handsome Jules blush.
Tish appeared fully clothed and ready to leave. She reached for her handbag and waited whilst Callie slotted the lingerie into one of the Callie-Louise peppermint-and-gold bags and tied the ribbons into a bow.
‘Thanks again, Callie.’
‘You are welcome, Tish. I’ll see you in just over a week’s time at the hotel in York on the morning of the wedding.’
‘Sure. Bye.’
‘Hey, Scarlet, seeing as you like that tiara so much, why don’t you permit me to escort you round the corner to my humble establishment and talk you through some of my other designs for the more budget-conscious consumer of all things sparkling? It would be my pleasure.’
‘Oh, yes, please!’
‘Your wish is my command.’
The expression on Scarlet’s face as Jules raised her fingers to his lips told Callie that Scarlet might just have found her prince.
Chapter Twenty-Three
July was Callie’s favourite month, not least because it included her birthday. The day of the concert, from its first breath of crystal light bursting through the blinds of her flat above her studio in Pimlico, promised warmth and exhilaration. As if directed by the concert’s organisers, a cerulean sky, dotted with wisps of spun cotton, had appeared arched over the London rooftops, casting angular shadows over the streets and pavements and lifting its residents’ mood.
‘Hey, girls!’ A bearded stranger leapt out from a shop doorway into their path.
Nessa let out a cry of alarm and reached out to grasp hold of Callie’s arm.
‘Bet you’ve got tickets for The Razorclaws’ gig tonight, haven’t you? Want to sell them? I can go up to three hundred quid.’
‘No, thanks,’ Callie said, not daring to meet the man’s eye. She tucked Nessa’s arm through hers and guided her down the narrow alleyway to the stage door of the West End theatre where Theo had assured her their names would be on the backstage guest list.
They were late. Scarlet, Flora and Lizzie had insisted on a belated celebration of the Callie-Louise competition win with copious champagne cocktails in Covent Garden. Her friends were tinged green with envy that she and Nessa were specially invited guests of The Razorclaws. Flora had asked if Callie would sneak her in under her coat.
The doorman squinted at them like a hunched vulture eyeing his lunch having forgone breakfast. He took an inordinate amount of time scrutinising their passes before reluctantly waving them through. A surge of excitement coiled through Callie’s veins as an explosion of memories of all the concerts she’d attended with Theo and the band came screaming back. But those gigs in the backrooms and basements of pubs and social clubs around Yorkshire had been nothing like this.
The support band had just leapt onto the stage and the level of excitement in the theatre had reached
fever pitch. The place was so crammed with screaming girls that the security guys were already stalking the aisles muttering about fire regulations and ticket fraud. Backstage buzzed with technicians, backing musicians, even a TV crew, and a sprinkling of dignitaries and hangers-on anxious to be seen where the action was.
Callie glanced down the corridors hoping for a glimpse of Theo. She knew he would be waiting in the wings and, despite the awkwardness when she’d spoken to him on the phone the previous night to arrange dinner, she wanted to wish him luck. After their meeting at Harewood House she had spent a lot of time wondering if forgiveness of Theo’s actions three years ago would be the route to salvaging some kind of relationship. Hope had been an elusive friend these last few months, but she still retained her belief in its restorative power. However, as she peered round the corner towards the band’s dressing room, she saw they were protected from the braying public by several burly security guards.
‘I’m sorry, ladies, this is a sterile area. No one goes in, not even the band’s mothers. You’d better go find your seats. Late arrivals will be locked out,’ the guy threatened with a soupçon of glee.
‘Come on, Cal. Let’s grab a drink in the bar whilst the support band’s playing.’
They made their way up the majestic staircase swathed in plush claret-and-gold carpet, to the Grand Circle bar where they ordered two glasses of Prosecco rosé, which produced no change from a twenty-pound note.
‘Hey, Nessa? Is that you?’
A gloriously handsome man in his late twenties with bouffant blond hair and startlingly blue eyes strode over to where the girls were perched on bar stools sipping their drinks. He held his palm outstretched to greet Nessa who smirked at Callie’s raised eyebrows.
‘Harvey! What are you doing here?’
‘Oh, God, I’m in desperate need of an alcoholic injection of strength to endure the privations of the next hour. I’m here with my niece and two of her friends. My brother took out a mortgage to pay for the tickets for them to see The Razorclaws and it turns out he’s away on business in Germany tonight so he couldn’t come. I suspect foul play.’ Harvey smiled and tiny dimples appeared in his cheeks like commas around his plump pink lips. ‘I have to admit, I’m surprised to see you here, though. A sporting event at Wembley or Twickenham or Lord’s, yes, but not at a rock gig filled with screaming adolescents! Don’t you see enough of them at school?’