Now definitely in full flush, Auntie Rosemary crossed her arms. ‘I am going to change the subject, Harriet, because I’m guessing there’s a reason you decided to come and see me today.’
Harri’s mirth extinguished quicker than a lit match in an ice bucket. It occurred to her that, while she was aware of her need to chat with her aunt, she hadn’t really thought through exactly what she wanted to talk about. In lieu of anything resembling a plan, she just decided to start somewhere in the midst of the mess, hoping that the rest would form an orderly queue behind it. So, she began with the Alex and Jack conversation and, inevitably, ended up with the vision in Lycra known as Chelsea Buckden.
‘. . . Honestly, Auntie Ro, you have to see her to believe it. And that scent that she’d smothered her letter in? She reeks of it! She’s everything awful that she wrote in her letter and more.’
Auntie Rosemary dunked a HobNob in her tea, her expression grave. ‘I must say, sweetheart, I’m surprised at you.’
Harri’s face fell. ‘Why?’
‘This isn’t like you to be planning revenge. This isn’t who you are.’
‘But I told you what Alex said . . .’
Dismissing this with a wave of her hand, Rosemary fixed Harri with a stern look. ‘That doesn’t matter. The point is, you overheard a conversation you weren’t supposed to hear . . .’
‘Exactly!’
‘Wait – let me finish, Harriet. You heard part of a conversation, with no clue as to its context. It’s highly likely you misunderstood what Alex meant.’
‘He called me a charity case! He mocked the fact that I haven’t travelled. How, exactly, could I have missed the meaning of that?’
‘Well, I admit it doesn’t sound very nice.’
‘Nice? It’s the most horrible, hurtful thing anyone’s ever said to me! And he’s meant to be my friend, Auntie Ro. Besides, me setting him up with Chelsea will just make him squirm a bit.’ Harri let out a sigh of exasperation. ‘Anyway, it’s all arranged now. There’s nothing I can do about it.’
‘Fair enough. Personally, I think you should just confront him about what you heard.’
‘He’d only deny it. If that’s the way he really feels about me I don’t want him to pretend otherwise.’
Auntie Rosemary tutted. ‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Harriet. That young man thinks the world of you – it’s blatantly obvious. My guess is that his friend put him on the spot so he simply resorted to the classic male tactic of joking his way out of the conversation.’
‘Auntie Ro, you didn’t hear what he said.’
‘You’re right. I didn’t,’ Auntie Rosemary replied, picking up the empty mugs to return them to the kitchen. ‘All the same, I think it’s a daft thing to lose a friendship over.’
As Rosemary disappeared through the bead curtain, Harri stared through the steamed-up windows at the darkening sky over Stone Yardley. Whatever her aunt said, Harri knew that setting Alex up with Chelsea was a mild comeback compared with how much he had upset her. Besides, after his date from hell she would probably find someone nice to take away some of the sting – and it would be back to business as usual for the ‘Free to a Good Home’ dates. Satisfied with her reasoning, Harri hopped off the stool and went to find her aunt.
To placate the tenaciously disapproving voice of her conscience, when she returned home that afternoon Harri threw herself into the task of finding Alex’s ‘date after Chelsea’. After an hour of sorting through the remaining letters in the contenders pile later that afternoon, Harri decided to take a break, grabbing her new Hidden Venice book to lose herself in its pages for a while.
There is a delicious, intoxicating otherworldliness about Venice that sweeps your heart into another realm, never to return . . . Walk her streets and you pass people going about their day: children running and laughing, safe from the threat of traffic in this carless realm; couples huddled cosily over coffee and zaletti in street cafés, or entwined on stone benches overlooking the canals. But you will find no such thing as an ‘ordinary day’ in this city of serenity. Turn around and discover an elaborately attired street performer, or a shop window filled with opulent splendour. Where else in the world would a confectioner display their wares nestled amidst rich swathes of velvet, exquisitely painted Venetian masks and dew-fresh roses—
The shrill ring of her phone brought her careering back to the damp autumn afternoon in her tiny cottage, and she hastily dug around underneath the letters and magazines strewn across the sofa to find it.
‘Hello?’
‘Hey, Red. How’s my favourite travel agent?’
The sound of Rob’s voice sent a shiver of delight through her. ‘Hey, you. I didn’t know if I’d hear from you today – how’s Preston going?’
‘Ah, not so good, I’m afraid.’
Harri could hear the disappointment in his voice and it made her want to hug him. Jovial voices were murmuring in the background and she thought she heard somebody call his name. ‘Seems busy there.’
He laughed, the sound warming her ear. ‘Yeah, we’ve been flat out. We’re just – you know – taking a breather before we start again.’
‘So I’m guessing you’re there all weekend, then?’
‘Yeah. I’m sorry, baby. I don’t think I’ll be home till Wednesday.’
Disappointment dropped like a medicine ball in her heart. ‘Right. Well, just try not to work too hard, OK?’
‘Will do. And, hey, just keep thinking about that Scottish castle at Christmas, yeah? You know you’re my favourite girl, right?’
Harri stared out of the front window to the damp fields shrouded in grey autumnal mist. ‘Of course I do. You take care and text me when you get home.’ A thought occurred to her. ‘How come you didn’t call me on my mobile?’
Rob’s answer was singularly damning in its simplicity. ‘I knew you’d be at home.’
As Harri hung up she sighed and looked over at Ron Howard, who was hinting he might just be sociable if she gave him a cat treat. ‘Great, Ron. So I’m not only on my own this weekend but thoroughly predictable as well.’
It was going to be a long weekend.
On Monday morning, Alex called Harri at work to run over the details of his date for the evening.
‘So, what’s she like?’ he asked.
Harri stifled a grin. ‘Different. She’s unlike anyone you’ve met before.’
‘Unique, huh? Excellent. And her name is . . . ?’
‘Chelsea.’
‘Right. Haven’t dated a Chelsea before, so this should be interesting.’
Oh yes, Harri thought to herself, it will definitely be interesting, Alex.
That evening, Harri was surprised to find that she had developed butterflies about the possible events unfolding at the Star and Highwayman. Odd, she thought. She decided that distraction was the best course of action: the last thing she wanted was to start obsessing over what might be happening. When tidying her house didn’t succeed in removing the frustrating fluttering within, she drove over to Rob’s house to pick up his post, then slowly drove home.
The traffic lights turned red as she reached the crossroads where High Street met Market Street, bringing her car to a standstill outside Wātea. Casting a glance at the darkened windows of the coffee shop and the flat above, her curiosity grew. Alex had said earlier that he would only be able to spend an hour with Chelsea, due to the fact that he had an early delivery in the morning. So why wasn’t he home yet? Perhaps he had gone to see Jack, or Steve, or one of his other mates, after his terrible date . . . Or maybe Chelsea had imprisoned him in her acrylic-taloned clutches and it was impossible for him to escape . . . Worse still, the experience may have been so awful that he was now wandering the streets of Stone Yardley, a wild-eyed, gibbering wreck . . .
The sharp honk of a car horn behind her made Harri realise that the lights had changed to green and she quickly drove off, smiling at her own melodramatics.
Next morning, Harri could bear the suspense no longer
. She decided to call in at Wātea before work and face Alex. After such a dreadful date, he was bound to have plenty to say to her – good or bad – so this, Harri concluded, as the coffee shop came into view through the heavy rain that had been pummelling Stone Yardley since the early hours, was the sensible option.
The red and white delivery van from Hickson & Butler was just pulling away when Harri arrived, revealing Alex hastily stacking boxes on the pavement. He looked up but didn’t smile when he saw her.
‘Hi, Al.’
‘Hey, do me a favour and grab these, would you? I need to get them out of the rain.’
Harri accepted three boxes from his outstretched hands and followed him into the coffee lounge. She could feel anticipation tingling through her as she watched him placing boxes in the storeroom, the muscles in his broad back flexing beneath his rain-splattered pale blue T-shirt. She waited in the doorway to the work kitchen with the boxes in her arms, trying to gauge his mood from the hunch of his shoulders. Finally, he turned back and relieved her of them.
‘I’m glad you came,’ Alex said, after a long time. ‘We need to talk.’
He’s mad, thought Harri. She flashed a bright smile at him. ‘The date was a mistake, wasn’t it?’
He closed the storeroom door and turned to face her – and for the first time she could see a vulnerability in his expression that she wasn’t expecting. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, at the time I thought Chelsea would be different for you. But I have to admit, last night I realised I’d made a terrible mistake. I’m just so sorry that I realised too late to stop it.’ She could feel a rush of satisfaction as she saw the confusion on his face. And now you know how you made me feel, Alex . . . ‘But I’ll find someone really nice for your next date, I promise.’
His eyes fell away. ‘There’s no point . . .’
This was more fun than she’d imagined. ‘Oh, come on, Al. Was the date really that bad? I’m sure the next one will be amazing.’
Slowly, he lifted his head, his chocolate eyes meeting hers. ‘No, Harri,’ he said softly. ‘There really is no point . . . because I’m in love.’
‘What?’
An enormous smile appeared on his face. ‘Completely, utterly, totally in love!’
Shock robbed her mouth of words, leaving her gawping.
‘I know! Mad or what! She’s amazing, H – and it’s just like you said: she’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. Everything about her fascinates me. I couldn’t stop staring at her all night.’ His eyes searched her face. ‘Well, come on – say something!’
‘You – you can’t be serious?’
‘I can and I am. I love her.’
‘But – but she’s not your type!’
‘Type schmype, H! I know it isn’t logical, but then when was love ever ruled by logic? I’m telling you, she’s the one I’ve been looking for. And I have you to thank for it!’ He gathered Harri up in an enthusiastic bear hug, holding on to her for longer than she expected. Unable to break free, she remained helpless with her face pressed against his chest, his thumping heart beating furiously by her ear.
Her thoughts raced at high speed as she tried to make sense of what Alex was saying. Surely he couldn’t be serious? Everything about Chelsea screamed against every quality Alex had said he wanted in a woman: she was only interested in Alex’s bank balance and couldn’t care less about the man behind it, his hopes, his dreams or his character.
Or maybe – Harri’s mind made a handbrake turn as another explanation took to the floor for a spin – maybe he’d rumbled her plan to set him up with the worst possible date and all this was merely an elaborate double bluff to place the joke firmly on her. Alex the joker, getting his own back on her for the date to end all dates.
‘OK, very funny. You win.’
Alex broke the hug and stared at her. ‘I win what?’
Harri shook her head. ‘You know, you really had me going for a moment there. Very clever.’
‘H, what are you talking about?’
‘You got me back – for setting you up with a terrible date. And I almost believed you. But come on, I mean, seriously, you were never going to fall in love with someone like Chelsea, were you?’
Alex was looking at Harri like she had just accused him of murder. His smile was gone, his face frozen in disbelief. Suddenly, Harri’s shiny new theory began to shatter into a million fragments.
‘I’m not joking, H. You didn’t set me up with a terrible date. I’m in love. And it’s all your fault.’
Chapter Sixteen
Anyone but Her . . .
It is becoming scarily clear that Viv has no intention of leaving anytime soon.
‘Are you cold in there? You must be cold in there – it’s freezing.’ Harri shivers. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Well, anyway, you might need this.’
A plum-coloured pashmina flops over the top of the door to Harri’s cubicle. She takes it gratefully and wraps it around her shoulders. ‘Thank you, Viv.’
‘You’re welcome. Have you eaten?’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘No, well, neither would I be if I was sitting in a toilet cubicle. Won’t you come out, darling? You being in here isn’t doing anyone any good.’
Harri’s head is beginning to pound. She rests her elbows on her lap and massages her temples with slow, circular movements. ‘I’m not ready. Not yet.’
‘But most people have gone now, Harriet. And those that are left probably didn’t even notice you leave.’
‘Viv, everyone saw me leave, remember? They all watched the humiliating spectacle right before all hell broke loose.’
‘That’s as maybe, but the fact remains you can’t stay in there indefinitely.’
She’s right, of course. Harri knows she has inadvertently backed herself into a corner by her choice of sanctuary and she wishes she had just walked out of the village hall instead. But she wasn’t thinking clearly: all that mattered was getting away from the pitying eyes of Stone Yardley’s finest. If only she’d never confided in Stella . . .
From:[email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Surprise!
Hey sweets
Yes it’s me! A little later than planned, but then you know me, always fashionably late for everything. Well, I was. Now I’m travelling with Dan and his kamikaze camera crew who think six a.m. is a lie-in, I can’t remember the last time I was late for anything.
Anyhow, how on earth are you? Still vetting women for Alex? I really hope not, for your sake, but I have a feeling it’s still going on, knowing you. Don’t suppose his mum’s helping much either.
Things here are phenomenal! Dan is just amazing, but then I guess you knew that already. We’ve been travelling for a couple of months, filming his new series, so that’s why it’s taken me so long to find somewhere with a halfway decent internet connection. We’re here in Kathmandu for at least the next three weeks and fully online, so email me back with all the goss, OK? I’m loving what I’m learning here, but I could do with a bit of light relief from Stone Yardley
Email me!
Luvya tons
Stel xxx
Harri read and reread the email. She had convinced herself by now that she was unlikely to hear from Stella. While the granite lump of hurt still refused to budge inside her at Stella’s sudden departure, Harri found herself needing to confide in someone so, unusually for Stella, her timing couldn’t have been more perfect.
It was early November and any hopes Harri had entertained of Alex becoming tired of Chelsea had faded into obscurity. It was worse than she could ever have imagined: her spur-ofthe-moment decision had led to a relationship that threatened to steal her best friend away forever.
Chelsea was everywhere, making her orange-hued presence felt in all areas of Alex’s life – her influence seeping in like an insipid flood, silently intoxicating him and imperceptibly moving him away from everyone else. He seemed to spend
every available minute with his new girlfriend, much to the frustration of his mates. Even his once regular attendance at the Star and Highwayman’s Sunday night pub quiz began to wane. He started to dress differently, his vintage T-shirts, faded jeans and hoodies began to disappear in favour of a smarter, if less original GAP and French Connection wardrobe. In an effort to involve Chelsea with his business he had let her change the décor, so some of his travel photographs had been removed in favour of contrived IKEA ‘art’. He was every inch the man in love and clearly very happy, but to Harri it seemed as if his identity was slowly being eroded away.
Unfortunately for Harri, Alex and Chelsea’s splendid isolation from his friends didn’t extend to her. Quite the opposite, in fact: Alex’s thankfulness at her introducing him to Chelsea knew no bounds, so he was constantly looking for opportunit ies to invite her to spend time with them. Worst of all, he happily informed Harri that Chelsea liked her and tried to encourage the friendship of ‘my two favourite ladies’.
Chelsea liked her. The phrase made Harri shudder whenever she heard it. She had nothing in common with the woman and found very little endearing about her, yet she couldn’t bring herself to be rude to Chelsea. After all, she was Alex’s girlfriend now and, whatever she might think, Harri wanted to support her best friend.
As far as Chelsea was concerned, however, the situation was slightly different from the picture she presented to Alex. When Harri was in the room it was an opportunity for Chelsea to compete – to make sure that Alex could see how superior she was to any other woman. No matter what Harri talked about, Chelsea could top it. Whatever Harri had done, Chelsea had done it better; whatever Harri had experienced, Chelsea had experienced it ten times more. In fact, it was quickly getting to the stage where Harri was choosing increasingly random topics of conversation just to see what Chelsea would come up with to challenge them. Of course, Alex couldn’t see it. Alex couldn’t see anything other than the woman who had stolen his heart.
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