The Wedding Shop on Wexley Street

by Rachel Dove

  ‘Oh?’ That was what she said. What she actually wanted to say was don’t leave. Why are you going, now?

  ‘Yeah.’ Tucker cleared his throat. ‘My business partner has been coping pretty well, and fine about letting me have the time off, but he’s wanting me back. Light duties of course, and I’m pretty sure all my plants are dead at the flat. Plus my roommate is a huge slob.’

  ‘Really?’ she said, thinking about how her house had been before he came to stay. ‘What an animal. How do people live like that, eh?’

  He chuckled. ‘I know, right? Anyway, I was thinking I’d start back tonight, get out of your hair. It’s quieter in January, it’ll ease me back in. My shift starts before you get home, though, so I thought I’d better let you know.’

  ‘No problem, thanks,’ she said, pushing down the huge slab of hurt she felt in her chest, and digging deep from her tough persona. Woman up, Cass. ‘I’ll see you around then. I have to go.’

  She ended the call, threw her phone and bags on the passenger seat and slumped down into her driver door. She looked around, but the car park was deserted, just empty cars around her.

  Still, she waited till the first set of traffic lights had gone before she started to cry. He rang her phone again, the personalised Crocodile Dundee theme tune he had programmed in as a joke ringing out in the interior of the car. She drove straight to the off-licence and let it go to voicemail.

  Yet another charity ball, and his mother was once again planning his life like a puppet show. He half-expected to see strings sewn into one of the suits that she forced him to wear, passive-aggressively sending his tailor ‘suggested’ designs for his bespoke clothing. He thought of the suit Maria had made him, how lovely it was, and how at the time he had been too preoccupied worrying about what his mother would make of it to thank her. He’d slept at his mother’s that night, before the wedding, and left the suit there. No doubt it wasn’t there now. His mother never would have kept it.

  He was in his apartment in Harrogate now, and it was eerily quiet. He’d never been bothered by his own company before Maria moved in, grateful to be out of his parents’ house, but he had got used to her being there, her humming as she sewed on the couch, the strangled garble of her singing Motown in the shower. He hadn’t expected to feel her loss so much, given his urgent need to run away from her. From her, and their unborn child, it seemed. Did she know on the day? Was she planning to surprise him on the honeymoon? More to the point, the question Darcy kept asking himself, over and over, rattled around inside his skull. The question he knew he didn’t like his own answer to.

  If she had told me before the wedding, would I have gone through with it, or would I have run that little bit faster?

  The buzzer for the foyer rang, and Darcy was brought back into his empty apartment.

  ‘Hello?’ he said, pressing the intercom.

  ‘Your guest is here, sir. Shall I send her up?’

  Darcy sighed inwardly. Another night out with the PR woman – Victoria Shaw, he now knew her as – to prolong this wounded-bachelor-finds-solace angle that bit more, till the press could focus on some other scandal. The new range of weight-loss teas would be launching soon, and then his mother might actually ease off him a little. Just a few more events. He had tried to call Maria, but her phone always went unanswered, and Lynn would just hang up if he rang the shop.

  He went to answer the door, and there she was. Perfect blonde coiffed hair as usual, her boobs looking pushed up and perky in the red velvet gown she had been poured into. Darcy thought he saw the hint of a nipple but looked away quickly. Hopefully she would pull a fashion faux pas and wap one out just as a photographer came past. That would piss his mother off.

  ‘Hey,’ she said, looking him up and down. ‘Your bow tie’s not tied.’

  ‘Full marks for observation, minion,’ he said, ignoring her shocked expression and heading to the mirror in his bedroom to sort it out. She followed him, and he tutted his annoyance.

  ‘I don’t need a babysitter, I would have met you there.’

  She went and sat on his bed, the slash in her gown showing off her tanned, muscular thigh.

  ‘That wouldn’t do, would it? We need to appear together. Your mother ordered a car to collect us from here.’

  Darcy groaned. He’d been planning to take the Porsche, giving him an excuse not to drink and a means of slipping away early. Now he would probably end up getting battered just to have something to take the edge off the long night of being on show. His mother’s prize specimen.

  ‘Something wrong?’ she purred, and he felt her behind him. She was looking at him in the mirror, a predatory stance. She wound her hands around him, her long talons stroking down his sides, till one rested on the bulge in his trousers. ‘You seem so stressed. I can help, you know.’

  She squeezed him, and he gasped involuntarily, making her smile triumphantly. She went to put her hand down the front of his trousers, and he stopped her, pushing her hands away from him.

  ‘What’s this, a bonus from Mother?’ She rolled her eyes at him. ‘For you, or me?’

  ‘Oh, come on, we have to work together for a while yet. Why don’t we both get something out of it?’

  Darcy scowled at her. ‘You get paid, and I’m a captive little performing monkey. That’s the deal, isn’t it? I don’t need to be fed a peanut, thanks.’

  She stood in front of him, changing tack, walking her fingertips up the button track on his crisp white shirt. ‘Yes, but it’s not like we can date anyone else, is it? We’re supposed to be dating each other, remember? So why not just do it? It will make our public interactions more believable.’

  She ran her finger along his jawline, her fingernail making a scraping sound along his stubble. He watched her, saying nothing, and she moved her thumb pad over his bottom lip, making him quiver. She smiled, moving closer, till their lips were almost touching.

  ‘Just another little piece of the puzzle,’ she whispered seductively. ‘Like a jigsaw, fitting together. Don’t you think we would fit together well?’

  She leaned in, just that fraction of a bit closer, and flicked her tongue out to taste him. He considered kissing her back for half a second, before he saw their reflection in the mirror. No. It didn’t look right, and he thought of Maria. How they had looked together. A photo on the nightstand taunted him in the reflection. A picture of the two of them, post-coital in bed, looking pink-cheeked and happy, laughing into the camera, wrapped up in his bedsheets. He pulled Victoria’s hand away, taking a step back. His erection betrayed him, pushing against the fabric of his trousers painfully. Her face dropped, turning to a thunderous look.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m not free.’

  She jutted her jaw out, fluffing her already perfect hair with one hand.

  ‘Oh, baby, I think you’ll find you’ve already been bought. I’ll wait in the car.’

  She waggled out, her Kim Kardashian arse leaving a good few seconds after her cleavage.

  Darcy sighed with relief, looking down at his waist.

  ‘We’ll have no more of that,’ he scolded. ‘It’s time to pay the piper, I think.’

  Chapter 16

  March

  Walking back from Foxley Street, huge bunches of daffodils in her arms, Maria smiled to herself. Lily had been on top form at Love Blooms, giving her the best flowers for the shop window, laughing along with Roger, and asking about her growing baby bump. She had suddenly popped, her belly making her do that waddle thing all expectant mothers did at some point, and her ankles were often swollen after days in the shop. Add to that the fact that her appetite was that of a pro boxer, and she wanted to pee every five minutes, and she was definitely feeling pregnant these days. Happily pregnant, in fact, despite herself. Taking all of her vitamins, and no more dizzy spells, thankfully.

  She had been keeping herself busy, and the shop was full of clothes. Racks and racks of clothes, and her christening gowns now hung alongside her wedding dresses. She had even star
ted renovating upstairs. Simon, the handyman in the village, was coming most nights after helping his dad in the shop, and he had managed to separate out a small room, aside from the flat, so they could store her stock. He was doing it ridiculously cheap, not that he admitted it, and she was really grateful to him. Their families had always been kind to each other, so now she was in the process of making him some clothes to thank him. He wasn’t really the suit type, but Lynn had knitted him a few nice warm jumpers from some Aran wool, and Maria had made him some nice shirts based on the latest designer trends, minus the designer label and price tag of course. She hoped he liked them. Money was still a little tight, but after she had started stocking the baby clothes in her online shop, things had started to improve. Cassie was a bloody genius. Maria had even had a couple of bespoke orders for wedding gowns and christening gowns. She had also had the brilliant idea of offering to match wedding gown designs to christening gowns, and her online enquiry service had gone bananas. Lynn was a machine, sitting at the laptop most mornings dealing with customers, leaving her to sit in the back room and get on with the orders. Media-intrusion-free, touch wood. Her social media had gone quiet. She was still hiding, and she knew it, but since the day she had told James to leave, Lynn hadn’t tried to push her any further.

  She walked slowly back to the shop, enjoying the fresh air as she left Foxley Street, turning onto Carrington Street and finally onto Wexley Street. As she turned the corner, her heart stopped, and she almost dropped the flowers. A van she recognised well was outside. Chance Electrical. Her heart thudded in her chest. Why was he here?

  She couldn’t escape. Her handbag and car keys were in the shop, by her desk, and he had parked right next to her. Lily always invoiced her for the flowers, so she hadn’t needed any money. He knew she was there, or had been. Why hadn’t Lynn sent him away?

  He’d left her alone since that day, but she had the feeling Lynn had been less than impressed with her behaviour. Maybe he had just come to see Lynn? They were friends too. She couldn’t stop that. It wouldn’t be fair.

  She sighed and, keeping a tight hold on the flowers, walked slowly across the road.

  She couldn’t see James through the window. Perhaps it was a coincidence. Maybe he had another job on the street, at one of the cottages, or the shops. She went to walk in and was startled by a voice.

  ‘Maria?’

  Spinning around, she saw James, opening his van door and stepping out.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, for lack of something better to say. He looked a bit pale, a bit less than the wall of man he usually was. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked, suddenly worried.

  His lips twisted into a rueful smile.

  ‘Not bad. You?’

  He looked her up and down, and she flushed, knowing she looked very different from the last time they had seen each other.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ he said, and her guts twisted. The baby kicked then, as if saying hello itself.

  ‘I doubt that, I’m getting so big.’

  He looked straight at her, his blue-green eyes fixed on hers. ‘You look great. Are you both okay?’

  She nodded, shifting the flowers into one arm so she could rub the spot where the baby was kicking madly.

  ‘Here, let me,’ he said, taking the flowers from her without giving her chance to object.

  ‘Thanks, the little one is kicking me like mad.’

  His face lit up. ‘Aww, little Sparky!’ He put a hand out towards her belly, then dropped it back to his side. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered. ‘Habit.’

  Maria tried to slow her heartbeat down. She wanted to cry, hearing his nickname, seeing his happiness about the baby.

  ‘You had a job nearby? Is that why you’re here?’

  He looked awkward for a moment, and then nodded, glancing into the shop momentarily.

  ‘Yeah, something like that,’ he said. ‘I’d better go actually.’

  She took the flowers back from him, and their fingers brushed against each other’s. The baby went for a hat-trick in her uterus. Sure, move now, little one. You haven’t made a peep all morning.

  ‘Okay, well, nice to see you.’ She swallowed down the torrent of unspoken words she could feel threatening to erupt from her throat.

  ‘You too,’ he said, looking at her once more, just a beat too long, before getting into his van. She watched him pull away and then walked into the shop.

  Lynn was sitting at her desk, tapping away on the laptop. She rose, taking the flowers from her.

  ‘Kettle’s on,’ she said, pushing a large plastic bag under her desk discreetly with her foot. It went unnoticed by Maria, who was trying to fight the urge to run after the van and its occupant.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘James was outside.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ Lynn said, busying herself with arranging the flowers into various vases.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said, flumping down on the sofa. ‘He had a job nearby, I think.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Lynn replied noncommittally. ‘Simon coming tonight to work on upstairs again?’

  ‘No, he’s out with Elaine tonight. He’s coming tomorrow instead.’

  Lynn nodded, saying nothing further.

  James drove through Westfield, looking at the people in the village going about their day. It really was lovely here. The people were friendly, vehicles were secondary to walkers, and he felt less stressed every time he came here. He thought of his home in Harrogate, a lovely family home, with no family in it. Every day he went home and sat on his own, his neighbours all having their own busy lives and families to occupy themselves with. He always felt like the odd one out on a weekend, while their children played in the street, and they washed their family cars. He was normally on the couch with a beer in his hand, contemplating going to the pub for another pint and a solo carvery dinner.

  He thought back to Christmas, the dinner he had shared with Maria and her friends. He wondered what Maria would be doing this Sunday. He pulled into a side street, turning off the engine and reaching for his phone.

  Dialling a number from his contacts, he braced himself.

  ‘Tucker?’ he said. ‘It’s James, James Chance. Listen, do you fancy a beer tonight?’

  Cassie finishing dictating her letter and put down the Dictaphone. She sagged in her wingbacked office chair and looked out of the window at the view outside. She normally kept the blinds open just a crack, but lately she had felt stifled in her little office, choosing to open them wide and let the light in. She was antsy, and had been for a while, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She was on the case-closing streak of her life, billing mega hours for her firm and settling case after case, all in favour of her clients. The men of Harrogate were quaking in their designer shoes when they even heard her name, and Cassie should have been in her element. She was, for the most part, but then she had to leave work. Just the drive home to Sanctuary Cottage filled her with dread, and she was terrified Maria was going to move out when the baby was born. She’d been working on the upstairs of the shop, and Cassie knew that eventually she’d have to make a home for herself and the baby, and that was fine. She wanted Maria to be happy and God knew, after the last few months, she needed some stability.

  She knew she should feel glad to be getting her home back, after months of pregnant jilted brides and injured Australians, but the thought of going back to living on her own depressed her.

  She would be fine, she knew that. It wasn’t like she needed anyone else, and she would still have Maria, even when she was a new mother. Best friends for ever, that would never change. She was even looking forward to being an auntie. She was used to being on her own, and she was a master at it. The difference was that now she wouldn’t necessarily choose to be. That was the difference. The fact was, when her little cottage was full of life, so was she, and she wasn’t very happy at the prospect of going backwards.

  John, one of the senior partners, knocked and she turned to greet him.

  ‘Hi, John,’ she said, sitting up straigh
ter in her chair.

  ‘Hello, Cassie,’ he said, rather formal as always. He looked a little awkward, sheepish even.

  ‘Is there something I can help you with?’ she asked.

  ‘Er, well…’ He rubbed a nervous hand down his spotted tie. ‘There’s a delivery for you, in reception.’

  Cassie gasped when she walked into the reception area. Gerald from accounts was grappling with a large floral arrangement, and Brad from the mailroom was shouting, ‘Move it left a bit, bit more!’

  John placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  ‘They’re trying to get it into the mailroom out of sight till we can get the florists to pick the damn thing back up.’

  Cassie nodded, walking forward to inspect it more closely. Written in flowers, in a large floral arrangement akin to the ones you had for funeral cars, was written one word.

  TRAMP.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘The florist is refusing to hand over the details of the sender; apparently it was anonymous, and they paid cash. God knows why they even took the damn booking. We should sue. Shall we call the police?’

  Cassie shook her head. ‘No, John, it’s fine. Just another unsatisfied ex of a client. I’ll phone her now, check she’s okay. I’m pretty sure it’s him, given the wording. It’s the spitter from court, remember?’

  John nodded. ‘I do, and I am sorry,’ he said awkwardly. ‘Some awful people out there.’

  Cassie nodded, brushing it off and heading back to her office.

  ‘Comes with the job, John. Thanks.’

  She waited till she got back to her office, door closed, before she allowed herself to show any emotion at all. Here, the sharks could smell blood in the water, and word soon got around.

  The saddest thing was, it was the closest she’d come to a man sending her flowers in a long while.

  Once she had pulled herself together, she got her mobile out and texted a number. She had to do something to improve her day. Maybe she should try making the next move.

  ‘So you stood her up, for me?’ James asked, shocked. ‘You didn’t have to do that, mate.’