by Melissa Hill
“Well, what’s your target market then?”
“Sorry?”
Helen sat forward. “Your target market – are you going to sell directly to the general public, or are you hoping to be stocked by gift stores, accessory stores, etc?”
“Well, both, I think.”
“You think? Laura, you should know.”
Laura looked doubtful. “I do know – it’s just, I need to find my feet to begin with and . . .”
Her voice trailed off and Nicola knew that Helen’s reaction was now making Laura doubt herself. Typical bloody Helen. What the hell was wrong with her? She was in really bad form today. Obviously things hadn’t gone well on her date last night but she didn’t have to take it out on Laura.
She sat forward in her chair and touched Laura’s arm. “Again, I think it’s a fantastic idea,” she said pleasantly. “Don’t mind that one, you know what she’s like – she just has a bee in her bonnet about something or other.” She made a face at Helen, hoping to lighten the mood.
Helen sighed and sat back in her chair. “Oh, she’s right, you know,” she said, topping up Laura’s wineglass. “Sorry, Laura, I am being unfair. I’m just worried, that’s all. Look, don’t mind me – if you’d come in here and told me you’d won the Lotto I’d still probably challenge you about it.”
“It’s OK,” Laura smiled graciously at her. “When I walked in I knew you were in a bad mood. I wasn’t going to say anything, but then I couldn’t help myself.” She gleefully rubbed her hands together again. “I’ve kept it to myself for long enough and I’m just so excited!”
Nicola saw Helen arrange her features into something resembling a smile, and raised a silent prayer of thanks. She would eventually come round, and any fool alive could see that Laura had real talent. OK, Nicola too was worried about how someone as timid as Laura would survive in an often ruthless and unforgiving business world, but she was sure that with good advice and plenty of support, Laura would be fine. Either way, it was certainly worth taking the chance. Didn’t she know only too well that life was what you made it?
And in fairness, with all that Laura was about to undertake, if she couldn’t rely upon the support of the people closest to her, then who could she rely upon?
Chapter 4
FRUSTRATED, DAN HUNT snatched up the telephone receiver.
“What?” he barked down the line at yet another anonymous office junior. Jesus, he thought. What was the bloody point of bringing in these school-leavers at the end of June to make things harder for everyone else? They weren’t running a bloody crèche here after all.
“Um,” Dan heard the girl swallow hard, “Mr Dooley from Dooley Interiors is on line two asking to speak to you.”
Bloody Lorcan Dooley again! The same Lorcan Dooley that had been tormenting Dan for the past two weeks, because his office had somehow lost the majority of their staff Tax Deduction cards, and couldn’t Dan have a word in the Revenue’s ear? As if the Revenue was a living breathing person, instead of a crowd of bored civil servants well used to hearing the same tired excuses over and over again . . . ? Well, Lorcan Dooley could go jump, if he thought that Dan was going to spend the next three hours on hold trying to sort it out. He could already feel a knot of tension form in his brain as he hit line two.
“Lorcan, how are you?” Dan said cordially, trying his best not to sound like he felt. Despite everything, Dooley Interiors were still very good customers, and in fairness Lorcan had recommended Dan’s accountancy practice to all and sundry in the Bray area.
“Dan, still no joy with those tax cards. Is there any chance you could sort it out for us?”
Dan bristled. “Lorcan, like I said already, there’s not a lot I can do about it. You must have some records available. I know there’s little point in saying it now, but as I’ve told you before, a company your size should really think about getting your wages system computerised.”
A long telephone conversation later, a highly pissed-off Dan hung up. He was just about to dial the Revenue’s number when his extension buzzed again.
“Yes?” he hissed through gritted teeth.
“That’s a nice way to greet your fiancée,” a female voice said huffily.
Dan sighed. The last thing he needed now was Chloe in one of her moods.
“Sorry, love, I’m just having a bummer of a day. How are you?”
“Fine. Listen, I need a favour.”
“Go on.” Dan groaned inwardly, while kneading his aching brain. Couldn’t anyone do anything for themselves these days?
“I know you’re up to your eyes, but I just got a call from Debbie.”
“Debbie?”
“About the wedding invitations!” she exclaimed, knowing full well that he hadn’t the first clue as to who Debbie might be. “Dan, do you ever listen to a word I say?”
“Oh right, I forgot. What about them?”
“Well, they’re finally ready, and I hoped that you’d pop down later to collect them – you’re only about twenty minutes from there.”
Dan groaned. “Do I have to, Chlo? I was really hoping to get in a game of golf with John this evening. Can’t you collect them yourself – or we could pop down tomorrow?”
“I have a fitting for my wedding dress tomorrow, Dan, you know that,” Chloe was petulant, “and didn’t I already tell you that tonight I’m meeting Lynne for cocktails? I simply won’t have the time to call all that way down to Wicklow, and we need to send them out soon.”
“OK, OK,” Dan conceded. Anything for a quiet life. “Where is this place, anyway?”
At five thirty, a weary Dan picked up his briefcase and walked out of the office. The last thing he wanted to do on a Friday evening was battle the traffic from Wicklow back to their place in Stillorgan. It would be a bloody nightmare. Still, he supposed he’d better do as he was told. He adored Chloe, but it really was amazing how preparations for a simple wedding could turn a normally reasonable woman into something resembling a rabid dog. And lately, as the big day drew ever closer, Chloe was behaving like the pit bull variety.
To Dan’s surprise, the traffic on the N11 was light, apart from a few caravan-pulling Jeeps, no doubt on their way to the coast for the weekend. Lucky bastards, he thought. He could do with a few days off. He had been working like crazy these last few months, and all Chloe’s wedding preparations were driving him demented. You’d swear they were the only ones who were ever going to get married, with all her fussing and foostering about the flowers, the cake, the dress and these blasted invitations. He supposed he should be a little more supportive, and maybe a little more enthusiastic about it all, but it just didn’t feel the same.
Not this time.
Stop it, he told himself. You’re getting married to a great girl in a couple of months’ time. No point in thinking about the past now. And Chloe was a stunner and a half. Dan just wished she’d lay off on the wedding talk.
He found the Amazing Days store with little difficulty.
“I’m here to collect the wedding invitations – Hunt is the name,” he announced to the sales assistant, who looked no older than ten, but was wearing the most hideous make-up he had ever seen. She wore purple sparkly eye-shadow, deep red lipstick, and it seemed to Dan as though every piece of exposed skin had been covered with a thick coat of some new, and obviously trendy, fluorescent orange foundation. The girl’s jaws stopped chewing for a second, as she regarded Dan with an interested look. Dan was used to the attention. Over six foot tall, and often told he resembled a young Mel Gibson, he knew women found him attractive, despite the fact that he was heading for thirty-five and beginning to develop a bit of a beer-gut, which Chloe had been on at him to do something about before the wedding.
Having had a good look, the girl eventually bent down behind the counter, exposing a non-existent cleavage, ostensibly for Dan’s benefit. “When’s the weddin’?”
“Sorry?”
“The weddin’,” the girl repeated wearily, “when is it?”
&
nbsp; “Oh – September 15th,” Dan answered, panicking as he realised he wasn’t quite sure. “No, no, it’s September 25th – yes, definitely September 25th.” He puffed out his chest in an attempt to appear more assertive.
“Well, there’s no Hunt here for Septemba,” she said, fiddling with a strand of her hair.
“Well, try Fallon then – my fiancée may have given her maiden name.”
“Righ’.” The girl disappeared beneath the counter again and seconds later produced an ivory cardboard box.
“Thanks, Ms Fallon told me that she’s already paid for them?” Dan put the box under his arm.
The girl nodded mutely, looking disappointed as her good-looking customer quickly disappeared out the door.
A relieved Dan unlocked his Saab, and tossed the heavy cardboard box onto the passenger seat. It was well after six and the traffic was bound to be mental. Maybe he should go back to Bray and join the others for a pint until the traffic cleared. One pint wouldn’t do him any harm, and he’d drink it slowly. Better than having to sit in a two-mile-long tailback just to get out of Ashford, and having nothing to entertain him but a bunch of fancy wedding invitations.
* * *
Nicola was enjoying her Saturday off. It had been a brainwave of Laura’s to suggest that the two of them head to Wicklow for the day. They had spent most of the morning wandering around the local shops and, even though the day was cloudy, it was very mild. Now they were heading towards a cosy little café for lunch.
In the café, Laura looked enviously at Nicola’s plate and grimaced towards her own salad. “I can’t wait until I can get back to eating lasagne and chips again,” she said ruefully.
“Keep imagining how gorgeous you’ll look in your wedding dress,” Nicola teased, tucking shamelessly into her food. “So tell me, how are your business plans going? Any news from the Enterprise Board?”
Laura’s eyes lit up instantly at this, and Nicola smiled.
“Not yet,” she said ruefully, “and I think it’ll be a long wait. Still, everything else is coming along very well. I’m going to use one of the downstairs bedrooms as a mini-office until Neil organises a proper workshop for me in the garage.”
“So you’re going to work from the house until then?”
Laura nodded. “I’ve faxed some press releases to the newspapers and magazines that might be interested and I’m in the Golden Pages, so you’d never know . . .”
“And what about the website? Did you get someone to organise that for you?”
Laura hoped to display and sell a selection of her designs online.
“Neil’s cousin. He’s only fifteen but he’s an absolute whiz kid on the web. You should see the logos and animations he’s come up with. I’m sure he has a big future ahead of him in graphic design or something like that.”
“A website will be a big help starting out, particularly if people can order from you directly.”
Laura sat forward, her eyes shining with excitement. “I still can’t quite get my head around the fact that I’m going out on my own. I’m almost afraid to say it out loud in case I jinx it, or something. Nicola, my very own business!”
“Just imagine – you could be the next Anita Roddick!” Nicola teased. “No, seriously, Laura, it is a brave thing that you’re doing, and you should be very proud of yourself.”
Laura bit her lip. “Let’s just hope I don’t fall flat on my face.”
“And what does it matter if you do?” Nicola shrugged. “At least you’re willing to make a go of it. There aren’t many of us who would have the courage to do what you’re doing, and that’s an achievement in itself. Anyway, I can’t see that happening. Your jewellery is great and it’s a terrific idea. Ken was over the moon when I told him.”
“Was he?” Laura smiled bashfully.
“Yep. And he said to tell you that if you need any help with finding a decent accountant or anything like that, you should give him a shout.”
“He’s such a sweetheart, Nicola. You’re really very lucky.”
“I am, aren’t I?” Nicola grinned. “Anyway, you’re not doing too badly yourself, with your big wedding and your big business, are you?”
“True.” Laura smiled and sat back as the waiter collected their empty plates. “It’s very exciting though, Nic. For the first time ever, I really feel as though I know where I’m going with my life.” She giggled. “Sorry, I know I’m probably boring you to tears with all this talk, but sometimes I get so excited, I can hardly help myself!”
Nicola nodded sagely. “So you’ve noticed my eyes glazing over every time you open your mouth?” she teased.
Laura threw a napkin at her. “Shall we go? I need to collect my wedding invites, and I thought that on the way back to Dublin we should drop in to Mount Usher Gardens for a while – they should be really beautiful at this time of year.”
Nicola gathered her things, and followed her friend out towards the busy main street.
They were in and out of Amazing Day Designs within minutes, Laura eagerly clutching the white cardboard box she had collected from the sulky counter assistant – the same one, she informed Nicola, who had been blatantly eyeing Neil throughout their first visit to the store a few weeks earlier.
“Give me a look!” Nicola urged, trying to keep up with her as they hurried along the narrow, crowded street.
“No, not until we get back to the car.”
“Oh come on – please! I’m dying to see them.”
“Nicola Peters, you are the most annoying, the most impatient –”
“OK, OK, I’ll wait ’til we get back to the bloody car!”
When the two girls had reached the public carpark, and were safely inside Nicola’s Ford Focus, Laura excitedly opened the box. Nicola reached across to take a look, and as she did, she saw Laura’s expression wrinkle in confusion.
“These aren’t mine,” Laura said irritably. She pointed at the name on the lid. “Look, they’re labelled Fallon.”
“Oh dear, the girl obviously misheard your surname.” Nicola reached for the driver’s door. “Come on. We’d better go back.”
She was halfway out of the car but stopped short when she saw Laura staring fixedly at the contents of the open box, her eyes wide with alarm.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Laura looked up, her expression uneasy.
“The groom . . .” she said quietly. “It has to be . . . it’s Dan – your Dan. Nicola . . . he’s getting married again.”
Chapter 5
DAN WAS NOT impressed.
“What do you mean, it was an ‘easy mistake’? How could it be ‘an easy mistake’? Don’t tell me the bloody girl can’t read?”
“Mr Hunt, I believe that you were in quite a hurry yesterday afternoon and –”
“That’s not the bloody point!” Dan was becoming more agitated by the second. “You gave me the wrong box, and you gave our invitations to somebody else.”
That was the terrible part, he thought. It was bad enough finding out that he had taken the wrong box, but the fact that Laura had his, well . . . that was even worse.
He hadn’t noticed anything himself, not having given the invitations a second glance at the time. In fact, they were still in the car until Chloe returned to the apartment this morning. She’d stayed the previous night at Lynne’s, the two of them having gone out on the town the night before. She was in great form, today’s dress fitting having apparently ‘gone well’. Dan wondered how a simple fitting for a dress could go any other way but he didn’t bother to ask. Chloe would simply sigh, give him one of her withering looks, and tell him that he didn’t understand. And she was right. Dan didn’t understand, he couldn’t understand what all the bloody fuss was about. It was strange, but he couldn’t quite get it into his head that he was actually marrying Chloe, and that she was no longer just his girlfriend, but his fiancée.
It had all happened so quickly, he supposed. They had only been together for eight months or so, before
Dan had begun literally falling over the numerous hints that Chloe had dropped about marriage proposals and engagement rings. Most of the other women in her circle of friends were married, and he knew that Chloe was determined not to be the one left behind. Dan didn’t want to spend the rest of his life being single either, although it wasn’t just that – he did love Chloe. She was bright, gorgeous, great fun (when she wasn’t organising weddings) and Dan had to admit that the two of them were well matched.
But he just didn’t feel the same enthusiasm about this wedding as Chloe did. Still, he supposed it was because he had been through the whole thing already. Although back then, things had been different.
Shortly after her return from Lynne’s, Chloe had let out a screech that Dan thought would not only awaken the dead, but have them covering their ears in pain.
“These aren’t ours!” she yelled, waving the box lid frantically above her head.
“What? Of course, they’re ours,” Dan didn’t bother to look away from the newspaper he was reading. “Who else’s would they be?”
Chloe’s shrill tones pierced his eardrums. “Well, unless you’ve suddenly changed your name to Neil Connolly, and you’re marrying someone called . . .” She read the invitation again, “Laura Fanning without telling me, then, yes, they might be ours after all.”
It was only then that Dan looked up from his newspaper.
“What did you say?” he asked, getting up from his armchair.
“I said, unless you’ve changed your name to –” Chloe trailed off surprised, as Dan abruptly grabbed the invite and read it intently from beginning to end.
He couldn’t believe this. What a bloody coincidence! They were finally tying the knot, then.
Dan swallowed hard. Nicola would almost certainly be one of the bridesmaids. She and Laura had been best friends for years. Then, a thought struck him, and heart pounding, he read the date of Laura and Neil’s wedding: September 26th. The bloody day after his own. What if . . . ?