Something Borrowed

by Louisa George

  The strawberries that Vaughn had brought over—and that they hadn’t eaten or… anything—were sitting in the middle of the table. Jenna had dipped them in chocolate. Chloe reached out for one but decided she hadn’t the appetite for them anymore. Too many memories. ‘For the record, ladies, I dumped Vaughn before things got too serious. Actually, we were very grown up about it. And, Mum, do we need to broadcast our lives to everyone?’

  ‘These are your friends, love. They all just want to help. Don’t you, girls? A problem shared is a problem halved and all that.’ Mum sat back, her knitting needles clicking, in some sort of righteous assumption that she was in the right.

  Faith, Kat and Saskia all nodded, eyes bright with an interest none of them had shown in the books either.

  Chloe looked at them all sitting there expectantly and tried for a diversion. ‘Okay. Well, in good news, Jenna is looking to secure a contract for a florist’s shop next to The Duke. So you have to make sure you all buy fresh flowers every week, at the very least. If everything goes to plan, it’ll be opening in a month or so.’ She winked at her sister, whose cheeks were pink and flush.

  Jenna took up the story, her voice light and excited. Talking about this new venture made her the most animated she’d been in years, apart from last night when she’d first set eyes on Nick. ‘Yes, it’s going to be called Something Fragrant. I wanted to keep the poem idea going: Something old, Something new, Something borrowed, Something blue. Something… Something Fragrant works, I think. Something Fresh? Unless anyone can think of anything better?’

  ‘Something Better? Something Sexy? Something Sweet?’ Mrs Singh laughed and tucked into the strawberries. ‘I’m good at this. I’m wasted in a hardware shop.’

  ‘You most certainly are. You have many talents, Mrs Singh. Actually, you should become a Private Investigator. You know more about everyone’s lives before they know themselves.’ Chloe gave her a smile. ‘There are a few details we need to iron out, first. Jenna went round to have a look at the place this morning. There’s a small room out back which I can use as an office, and I can even advertise right there on the main thoroughfare. Plus, I can work in the shop when Jenna needs to drop off or pick up Evie.’ It was all worked out, and Chloe had started to look forward to this next phase.

  She reached into her bag and dug out some printed papers she’d been working on all afternoon, trying to keep Vaughn from hopping into her head and making her regret the words she’d said to him.

  Why couldn’t she have just strung him along? At least that way she’d have had more fun and more time with him. ‘Here’s some proofs I’ve done for some new flyers. I’m moving into event planning too, so anything you need a hand with, let me know. Bar Mitzvahs, birthdays, funerals, whatever. I’m your girl. Diversification is the key, right? We have to be Jills of all trades these days.’

  After they’d all passed the flyers around and made comments and suggestions, there was a satisfied silence. For a short minute. Then Mum sat forward. ‘Right you are. I’ve been mulling things over, and I’ve decided there’re some things I need to say to my girls.’

  Faith frowned softly with concern and stood up. ‘Should we leave you to it?’

  Bridget raised her hand and forced Faith back down in her seat. ‘Oh no, you stay right there. I’m going to say it here because you all were there when the news broke.’

  Even though her Mum was deadly serious, Chloe couldn’t help smiling. Mum thought she was an international news item. Breaking news… parents split up twenty-odd years ago.

  It happened. Chloe had come to realise, once the shock had worn off, that bending the truth a little just to make someone feel better wasn’t the worst sin someone could commit. Shit happens, as Vaughn said. And you dust yourself off and get up and face another day. Over and over on repeat until you find a slice of sunshine that makes everything seem just a little bit better; a smile from a toddler, a group of women having wine and talking nonsense, sisters, flowers, summer.

  And having her mum here, instead of taking to her bed, and trying to make her peace. That meant so much. Another bit of sunshine right there—forgiveness and reconciliation.

  Bridget was saying, ‘I wish I could say he tried to get in contact with you, but he didn’t. I wish I had letters for you from him, but I don’t. I couldn’t understand how someone could do that, girls; just walk away from their own children and never want to be part of their lives. But he did.’ She cleared her throat again; there was a husk to it infused with sadness and regret and embarrassment. ‘It hurt me so much to see you and think of what you were missing out on. It was hard not to talk about what he’d done, to tell you the truth, but I didn’t want to see that in your eyes. You were the most beautiful things in my life, you still are, and I didn’t want to see your faith in love broken because of him. So I told you he was dead. I know I shouldn’t have, but once I’d said it, I couldn’t ever go back, could I? And then he did die… so it didn’t become a problem. I’m sorry, loves. I really am.’

  There was a rock in Chloe’s throat, and she stumbled over and gave her a hug, tight. ‘It’s okay, Mum. I get it. It’s amazing the things you can do when you love someone, right?’ Like walking away. And being happy that you’d held him just for a little while.

  ‘I love you both. To bits. Although sometimes you drive me mad with frustration.’ Jenna squeezed their hands. ‘Right, now, who’s for wine? And Chloe’s made something. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s very… pink.’

  Chloe leant over and gave the goo a swirl with a carrot stick and took a bite. ‘It’s beetroot and feta dip. It’s just missing something. I never did get the proper recipe.’ And then her heart started hurting a little again at the thought of Vaughn and the kiss in his office. But it was okay. Jenna had told her the hurt came in waves, but it got easier. Chloe knew that herself, though, too. She would survive. Especially with these women around her.

  There was a muddle of hands with carrot sticks and pink dip and someone mumbled, ‘Well, it’s the first time she’s ever bought food to book club, so that’s a start.’

  ‘Now…’ It was Kat, the book group leader, who never led. Or read a book. ‘About the books…?’

  ‘Not a chance. I want to hear about Jenna’s date.’ Mrs Singh licked her lips and grinned.

  Mum’s eyes widened. ‘Jenna had a date? Now how did I not know about that?’

  ‘Mrs Singh, how do you know about that?’ The woman was a walking miracle.

  There was a glint in her eyes. ‘I have my sources.’

  But Jenna’s mouth was all pouty, and her ears were red. ‘It wasn’t a date. It was just a friend. You know, Mum, the one I told you about, the soldier.’

  Mrs Singh, again. ‘I’m told he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.’

  ‘Probably struggling to see around me.’

  ‘Will you ever stop talking about your weight? Hey, have you heard about the latest superfood? It’s got a weird name, but don’t they all. Apparently it’s from the Amazon and the women there have been eating it for centuries…’

  Chloe leant back in her chair and let the rush of musical chatter wash over her. Yes, it was noisy and chaotic, and they never ever talked about books, but she loved these women. There was a camaraderie here, a sisterhood that supported each other, that lifted each other up when they needed it, that made her laugh, and cry at times.

  Things were going to get better. Jenna had a dream that was becoming a reality. Things were settling down between Chloe and her mum. There was a future for them, a good future if they all stuck together.

  But there was still that little tug, the empty bed that was calling her, the scent of him still on her sheets and the twinge of pain in her heart.

  The strawberries on the table mocked her: We could have been something.

  Something better, something sexy, and something very special indeed.

  CHAPTER 21

  ‘I THINK it’s coffee time. Anjini, I need a hand. Come with me. I spotted
a kiosk somewhere over by the entrance.’ Bridget was bristling and bubbly and bruising for a fight, judging by the tight way she pulled her cardigan around her shoulders. Chloe hoped there was sufficient security here at the wedding fayre to deal with two middle-aged women who could raise merry hell when they wanted.

  ‘That means you’re going to bite my head off about spilling the peas on that curse. Again.’ Mrs Singh folded her arms across her chest and steadfastly refused to move. ‘No, thank you. I’ve had it twice now, and I don’t want to hear another word. I’ve apologised over and over, and that should be enough. I’m staying here. Chloe needs me, don’t you?’

  Mum being feisty, Mrs Singh being petulant. Chloe grinned. So good to see things almost back to normal. ‘Whoa, ladies, don’t drag me into this. And it’s beans. Spilling the beans, Mrs Singh. Jenna and I can manage quite well here, thanks. I’d like a black coffee, please. Jen usually has a cappuccino, and get a hot chocolate for Evie if you can carry it. Go and sort yourselves out, ladies. Talk. Fight. Shout. Then come back as friends again. Please? I like it better when we’re all friends.’

  Her mum gave her a weary smile and patted Chloe’s hand. ‘We are friends, Chloe. Don’t worry. You are allowed to have fights with friends and family without everything turning into a complete disaster forever. It’s what makes things stronger.’

  ‘Yes, she’s right.’ There was humour in Mrs Singh’s eyes. ‘She’ll make a fuss. I’ll make a good pretence of listening. Then we’ll be done. Right, Bridget?’

  ‘Right you are.’ Mum grinned at her oldest friend. ‘You’re nothing but trouble, you know that?’

  ‘Indeed, I do. And proud of it.’

  Chloe watched them walk away, arm in arm, Mum’s mouth working ten to the dozen. Anjini nodding and laughing and, no doubt, taking no crap whatsoever. Things were healing. Although, she expected it would take more than that to make her own heart a little less sore.

  Two weeks, and still no word from Vaughn, apart from short emails about the business, and nothing… nothing… about what they’d shared. He was still in Paris, with a trip up to Manchester planned for next week. No diversion via London. She knew because she’d organised the damned flights.

  She closed her eyes briefly and let the hurt wash through her. Acknowledging it, and then letting it go. Getting over Vaughn would be a long path, she realised, but one she could definitely walk. And she didn’t miss the irony of being at a wedding fayre with a broken heart.

  ‘Excuse me, do I know you from somewhere?’ A young woman, standing in front of Chloe, was breathless and excited. Her eyes were as bright as the lighting in the large exhibition room. ‘There’s something… familiar.’

  ‘I just gave a presentation on the expectations of the wedding planner and the couple, in the western hall. Maybe you were there?’ Chloe smiled. So far, so good. The fayre had brought in hundreds of happy couples looking for their own unique wedding experience, and there was a steady footfall of people stopping to chat with her.

  Groups of bridesmaids giggled hysterically over the free vodka at a hen party company booth further down the aisle. The huge exhibition hall hummed with chatter and laughter and the giddiness of expectation and celebration. There was a cluster of people around the Something Borrowed stall, people interested in the photographs on the wall, the one of the yellow road and the close ups of the Marilyn Monroe dress that still made Chloe’s heart ache. Because he’d taken the shots. Because he’d been there with her, trying to make her feel better.

  God, she wished he was here now to make her feel better all over again. Every bit of her ached to hold him again. Every cell in her body missed him and craved his touch.

  Focus.

  And she did. No man was ever going to distract her from her work again.

  The woman was still looking at her, clearly trying to remember where she knew her from. Chloe smiled. ‘Is there anything in particular I can help you with? Are you planning a wedding? We have lots of experience and great ideas to make your day extra special. Anything. We specialise in the extraordinary.’ She’d decided not to use the word quirky as that may put people off.

  ‘Hmmm.’ The woman gave her a friendly smile back. There was nothing in her that Chloe recognised. ‘Not sure… really. Something Borrowed. Something Borrowed… the name’s very familiar.’

  ‘It’s probably because of the poem. Maybe? Look, I know it’s totally overwhelming in here with so much on offer. Had much luck so far? Found anything that appeals to you?’ Chloe glanced over to Jenna, who was grinning as she wiggled Evie on her knee, simultaneously handing out flyers and chatting to potential customers. Evie was a great draw card with her cute button nose and gorgeous floor-length ivory silk flower-girl dress.

  They’d used the exhibition opportunity to showcase examples of Mum’s handiwork, which were displayed on mannequins. The booth was decorated with pretty summer flowers to highlight Jenna’s floristry business. The rental contract had been signed, and things were happening. Next week she’d be in her new shop.

  After thinking about what Vaughn had said about her not shouldering everything, Chloe had told them about the cash flow problems, and they’d taken out a joint bank loan to cover everything. They’d also decided they’d have equal shares in the business and equal responsibility. Both her mum and her sister had stepped up to the challenge. With every passing day, she’d felt the weight of responsibility fall just a little away from her shoulders.

  Chloe handed the woman a leaflet and a pen. ‘There’s a sign-up form here. Would you like to leave your name? One of the team can get back to you later in the week. That way you’ll have had time to digest all the information and have a better idea of what you want. I’d love to hear what you’re planning.’

  Jenna gave her a discreet thumbs-up and a wink. Good. Positivity. Fun. And the strange thing was, Chloe actually felt a little of it too. Some of the shiny, happy people thing. She wasn’t destined for love ever after, but others were. She was okay with that and determined to give them the best wedding experience she could.

  ‘No, thanks. I remember now. Yes. Something Borrowed. That’s right.’ The woman’s eyes narrowed as she nodded, and Chloe’s gut started in free fall. ‘Weren’t you the wedding planner who was stood up at the altar?’

  ‘Er… yes. That was me.’ What was the point in denying it? ‘Good memory.’

  ‘That’s right. I edit the Portobello Local newspaper. I’m covering the show,’ The bride-to-be who clearly wasn’t a bride-to-be explained, with glee. ‘Great story, by the way. Especially beating up the best man. With the flowers! We had a few laughs about that in the office.’

  ‘Oh. Good. Glad someone did.’ Not even a client, just another nosy reporter wanting to cash in.

  The woman put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, God, you didn’t get back together with the groom, did you?’

  ‘No. I didn’t. He’s still with the bridesmaid. But it’s all in the past. Life goes on, right?’ Chloe glanced nervously around at the crowd who was straining to listen. The murmur of chatter went silent, and tens of pairs of eyes were all looking at her. Was this how it was going to be? Would she never be allowed to forget? She raised her voice and infused it with as much shiny shimmer as she could. Laughing. Yes, laughing to make light of it. ‘It wasn’t the crowning moment of my career, I’ll give you that. But we have to make lemonade when life hands us lemons, right? I have safeguards in place now, and always recommend taking out insurance for the big day. But rest assured, you’ll get hitched without a hitch with us.’ She cringed inside. Had she really just said that? She sounded like a bad advert on the Shopping Channel.

  There was a snort from Jenna. And Chloe glared at her.

  ‘So.’ The woman went on. God, she was nosy. Or thorough. Or something. ‘How are things for you now?’

  ‘Great. Couldn’t be better, actually. Business is thriving. We’re soooo busy.’ Chloe had crossed her fingers as she said that. What of it? ‘But, of course, we’ll alway
s make room for any new clients.’

  ‘Could have gone either way, I guess. At the office, we had bets you’d be closed down within a month.’ The woman rummaged through her purse and handed a card to Chloe. ‘Marnie Fitzpatrick. I do love a happy ending, especially for our local businesses. Call me, and we can arrange a follow-up feel-good story. It’ll be good advertising for you.’

  ‘Thanks. I will.’ When things actually got better. Although, there had been interest and most of the flyers had been taken. Hopefully, they were going to be very busy indeed. No time to wallow in self-pity over Vaughn Bloody Brooks and wishful thinking.

  Marnie looked very pleased with herself. ‘Oh, and I always wondered, what happened to the best man afterwards?’

  We had sex. I fell in love. He broke my heart. He left. ‘He—’

  ‘He’s right here.’

  ‘Vaughn?’

  The voice was dark and smooth and washed through her, warming bits that had been ice since he’d gone. Her heart jumped and jittered as she looked for him across the heads of the little crowd.

  And there he was. Head and shoulders above them all, pushing his way through the wide-eyed, open-mouthed audience until he was standing in front of her.

  ‘Vaughn.’ It was the only word she could say. The rest were stuck in her throat, wedged in with the tight lump that seemed to be making breathing quite difficult.

  ‘Hey, Chloe.’ He looked around at all the eyes that had moved from her to him, even wider now and glittering with even more excitement. ‘Hello, everybody.’

  There was a collective intake of breath. A few ‘hi’s’ and ‘hellos.’ Then silence.

  ‘Chloe, love, here’s your coffee.’ Her mum was nudging her way through with a lot less panache than Vaughn had. Seeing him, she stopped short and glowered. Her hand still outstretched with coffee that, Chloe thought for a moment, might have been flung over his very nice Parisian dark blue jacket. ‘Oh. Well, look at that. It’s your man.’