Willow's Wedding Vows: a laugh out loud romantic comedy with a twist!

by Debbie Viggiano

  ‘Or, to be more precise, a big fat bonus,’ Drummond added.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Ben was flushed with pleasure. He looked like he’d been presented with a Euro Millions cheque.

  ‘Good morning, Charlie,’ said Drummond, now looking over at him.

  Charlie pretended to be startled out of deep concentration.

  ‘Ah, hello there, Mr Drummond.’

  He straightened up. His spine gave a series of cracks, as if he’d been bent over paperwork for hours, rather than pulverised by Kev’s earlier bedroom workout.

  ‘Your dedication hasn’t escaped me either,’ said Drummond, beaming away.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Drummond, but’ – Charlie decided a bit of bum-licking would be beneficial since the “bonus” word had been mentioned – ‘it’s easy to be dedicated. After all, I love my job and it’s a pleasure to work for you.’

  Out of the corner of his eye, Charlie spotted Ben rolling his eyes and making puke-in-a-bag gestures.

  ‘That’s what I like to hear.’ Drummond chuckled appreciatively. ‘Carry on, lads.’

  Their boss swaggered off, a smug smile on his face.

  Charlie grinned and picked up the mug on his desk. Taking a large gulp, he immediately regretted it. The coffee wasn’t just stone cold, it was disgustingly scummy too.

  ‘Bleurgh,’ he said, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

  ‘Almost as “bleurgh” as your little speech,’ said Ben.

  ‘He’s in a good mood,’ said Charlie, nodding at Drummond’s departing back. ‘Do you think Mrs D let him get his leg over last night?’

  ‘Shh,’ Ben shushed. ‘Definitely not. I’ve heard his wife has left him. Rumours are rife. Apparently Mrs D has served Drummond with divorce papers. According to the office grapevine, old Drummers isn’t remotely upset because he has a new woman, and she’s almost half his age.’

  Charlie gave a theatrical shudder.

  ‘Well whoever she is, she must be desperate. I mean, the guy isn’t exactly a stunner.’

  ‘Ah, but he has something else that makes him attractive,’ said Ben knowingly.

  ‘Please don’t tell me you’ve seen Drummond naked in the office showers, and his todger is bigger than the boardroom table.’

  Ben tutted.

  ‘No. And anyway, Drummond doesn’t ever use the office gym. He has no need to worry about workouts when he’s attractive to the opposite sex for entirely different reasons.’

  Charlie looked puzzled.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Money, of course. He’s flipping loaded. And his position in a company like this means he oozes power. It’s a total babe magnet. And talking of babes’ – Ben lowered his voice – ‘how did last night go? Have you extricated yourself from whatsername… Kev?’

  ‘Sort of,’ said Charlie.

  ‘I don’t want to know the details.’

  ‘I’ve managed to get rid of her for a month.’

  ‘I said I don’t want to know the details.’

  ‘Blasted woman won’t leave me alone.’

  ‘Mate, I said–’

  ‘Yeah, I know. You don’t want the details. And that’s fine.’

  Charlie picked up his pen, and then put it down again.

  ‘You know, I can’t carry on living like this.’

  ‘What, getting into the office late and me covering your backside, or drinking coffee that the cleaner forgot to clear away? That wasn’t a prop put there by me. It was yesterday afternoon’s leftovers that you swigged.’

  Charlie shuddered.

  ‘I don’t want to know the details,’ he said, parodying Ben.

  ‘Well nobody is forcing you to carry on the way you do.’

  Ben was now gearing himself up to lecture Charlie.

  ‘I spent a very pleasant evening with Willow. And a very pleasant morning too,’ he added as an afterthought.

  ‘Good to hear. Just so long as you didn’t spend a very pleasant night with her,’ Charlie quipped.

  ‘I wouldn’t say no if the offer was there,’ said Ben slyly.

  ‘Hands off, mate. She’s mine.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really. You know, now that I’ve finally extricated myself from she-who-shall-not-be-named–’

  ‘For a month,’ Ben scoffed.

  ‘That’s all I need,’ Charlie retorted. ‘I think I’ve had an epiphany.’

  ‘Do you even know what that word means?’ said Ben sarcastically.

  ‘Yes, it’s a light-bulb moment,’ said Charlie triumphantly.

  ‘Make sure you don’t bang your head on it,’ Ben muttered.

  ‘I’ve decided to enjoy this weekend’s convention in Birmingham and, er, you know’ – Charlie winked – ‘make the most of being far away from home.’

  ‘Oh God,’ Ben sighed.

  ‘And then I shall hang up my condom and return to the bosom of my home… and Willow’s bosom too…’

  Ben rolled his eyes.

  ‘And become a reformed man,’ Charlie added.

  ‘Yeah, right.’

  ‘I mean it,’ Charlie nodded. ‘Well, I think I mean it. I mean it for now. Enough to do a monumental U-turn and seriously think about asking Willow to marry me.’

  ‘You WHAT?’ Ben gasped.

  ‘Well, it’s just a thought,’ Charlie shrugged.

  ‘Is that your grand plan to finally get this Kev woman out of your hair?’

  ‘Sort of,’ Charlie grimaced. ‘I think it is actually going to take a marriage certificate to penetrate her brain that I’m not interested in pursuing things long-term.’

  ‘Wow, what a romantic reason to get married,’ Ben tutted.

  ‘Hey, I can be romantic when required,’ Charlie protested. ‘You should have seen me last night letting Kev loose in the restaurant with a fillet steak and two bottles of Bollinger and–’

  ‘I said I didn’t want to know the details.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ said Charlie putting his palms up.

  ‘And what about Willow? Do you think she would accept your proposal?’

  ‘Of course,’ Charlie laughed, as if the very idea of Willow turning him down was preposterous.

  ‘Right. Fab.’

  ‘Hey, try not to sound too enthusiastic.’

  Charlie leant over and gave Ben a good-natured slap on the back.

  But Ben reckoned his best mate wouldn’t be laughing if Willow asked who Kev was.

  Twenty-Eight

  When Willow arrived at work, Jean was already in and fussing about with the noticeboard.

  ‘If you’re making yourself coffee, do me one too.’

  Please, Willow silently added, although she didn’t dare voice the word aloud.

  ‘Sure,’ she nodded.

  Shrugging off her coat, Willow headed over to her locker. She slipped her jacket and bag inside. Willow was just about to shut the door when her handbag vibrated. Reaching inside, she pulled out her mobile which had been switched to silent so as not to annoy Jean. Glancing at the screen, she was pleased to see she had a text from Emma.

  Sorry not to pick up when you rang last night. Wasn’t in a great place. Suspect my fella is dumping me. He wants to cool things for a bit. Spent the whole night crying. But never mind me and my meltdown. What’s all this about Charlie being elsewhere and you having another man in the house? Want details! Call me when you haven’t got battle-axe Jean watching your every move. Xxx

  Her boss’s voice made Willow jump so violently, she banged her head on the open locker door.

  ‘Battle-axe Jean would like to know how long it takes to make coffee?’

  Furious at having a private message read over her shoulder, Willow lobbed the phone into the locker and slammed the door.

  ‘Coffee coming right up,’ said Willow ignoring Jean’s “battle-axe” reference.

  She walked off to the kitchenette feeling her superior’s eyes like twin laser beams upon her back. Blasted woman. Who did she think she was creepi
ng up on her like that and, even worse, sneakily reading a personal message? It served the old biddy right spotting a disparaging comment about herself.

  Filling the kettle, Willow set about making the drinks. She might as well do coffees for Theresa and Fiona too. Thankfully, the library was currently quiet, with only a couple of people using the IT resources. As Willow poured scalding water into the mugs, the library phone rang. Seconds later, Jean’s over-elocuted telephone voice could be heard.

  ‘Mosley Librair, hellair?’

  Transferring the mugs to a tray, Willow headed towards reception. She found Jean clutching the handset to her vast bosom and doing an impression of an angry bullfrog. Willow instantly had a sinking feeling in her stomach. What now? She didn’t have long to find out.

  ‘I thought I told you’ – Jean hissed – ‘that it’s forbidden to have personal calls at the library?’

  ‘You did,’ said Willow, setting Jean’s coffee down on the personalised coaster next to her keyboard.

  ‘Then why have you got a personal call?’ Jean demanded.

  ‘Maybe it’s because the caller doesn’t know the library rules,’ said Willow calmly.

  ‘Then perhaps’ – Jean wasn’t prepared to be outdone – ‘you’d like to enlighten the lady who is asking for you?’

  Glaring at Willow, Jean thrust the handset at her.

  ‘I would like to point out’ – Willow’s tone was quiet but firm as she looked Jean in the eye – ‘that I’m taking this call because you’ve instructed me to advise the lady accordingly, and not because I wish to engage in a personal call.’

  Jean’s eyes bulged and her mouth dropped open. She wasn’t used to being answered back. Especially from Willow, who was usually like a little mouse. How dare she cheek her.

  ‘When you’ve finished your personal call’ – Jean’s eyes flashed with anger – ‘I’ll see you in my office.’

  ‘Gladly,’ said Willow.

  She’d had enough of Jean’s bullying. If Willow had deliberately behaved in such a way as to justify the endless digs and rebukes, then fair enough. But friends and family generally didn’t call her at work. Okay, Charlie had phoned at the start of the week, but that had been a one-off. If Jean wanted to see Willow in her office to issue another verbal warning, then Willow would just have to stand up for herself. Enough was enough.

  Turning her back on Jean, she put the handset to one ear.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  Silence.

  ‘Hello?’

  Silence.

  ‘Is anybody there?’ said Willow in annoyance.

  Well wasn’t today turning out to be peachy. First, she’d been rudely awoken by the phone a whole hour before she needed to get up. Second, she’d had to listen to Anna bizarrely demanding a promise that Willow never marry Charlie. Third, Jean was clearly gunning for a row, and now, fourth, she had a silent caller.

  ‘I don’t know who you are’ – Willow sounded far more authoritative than she felt – ‘but please don’t ring me at my workplace, especially if you have nothing to say.’

  Willow was about to hand the phone back to an eavesdropping Jean, when the caller finally spoke. It was a woman. She whispered two words which left Willow shocked. The emotion must have registered on Willow’s face, because Jean’s own expression changed from fury to curiosity.

  ‘I b-beg your pardon?’ Willow stuttered.

  The caller repeated herself.

  ‘Leave Charlie.’

  And then the line went dead.

  Twenty-Nine

  ‘Bad news?’ asked Jean.

  She eyed Willow speculatively. The muscles in Willow’s face were moving so much, they appeared to be doing a work-out.

  ‘I-I’ve just had an anonymous phone call,’ said Willow shrilly.

  ‘What did she want?’ said Jean curiously.

  ‘I’d rather not say,’ said Willow, as two red marks suddenly stained her cheeks.

  The shock was blurring into rising anger.

  ‘And now you’re going to order me into your office to give a second disciplinary over some unknown idiot calling me. There’s nothing to say this woman won’t ring again. And again and again and again. No doubt you’ll then take the greatest pleasure in firing me.’

  Willow was aware that her voice was rising, but she didn’t seem able to stop. A huge outpouring of frustration at the injustice of it all was rising up and spilling out in a wordy jumbly mess. People were now looking her way. A young mother with two pre-school children was listening with interest, as were the two people using the library’s computers. Theresa and Fiona were both trying and failing not to hang on to every word of Willow’s rant.

  ‘Come into my office,’ said Jean abruptly.

  She stood up, pausing for a moment to grab the coffees Willow had made only moments earlier.

  Here goes, thought Willow as she followed Jean’s swaying backside.

  Suddenly she didn’t care about her job. All she was concerned about was Charlie. Or, more particularly, what might be going on in her relationship that she didn’t know about. It was too much of a coincidence that, only hours earlier, Anna had telephoned with a ridiculous request that Willow promise to never marry Charlie. And now another female had got in touch, this time telling her to leave him. Or was it the same woman? Was it Anna who had just made that call?

  Willow’s mind whirred. No. The caller had sounded nothing like Anna. Perhaps Anna had got a friend to make the call? Unlikely. After all, Anna could have simply incorporated “leave Charlie” into her early morning speech of “don’t marry Charlie”. So, if it wasn’t Anna who’d whispered in her ear, who the heck had it been? Willow didn’t have the foggiest.

  ‘Sit down,’ said Jean, indicating the chair by her desk.

  So this was it. Willow could only guess at how Jean’s sermon was going to roll out. Perhaps she should give as good as she got? Maybe she could make an allegation against Jean? Say that her boss was a bully? As Willow flopped down heavily on the chair, all the fight went out of her.

  ‘I’m not going to give you a verbal warning,’ said Jean, although her upper lip was quivering ominously. ‘Anonymous calls don’t count. The caller was mindful and withheld her number, more’s the pity. But just to set the record straight, the only reason I’m hard on you, Willow, is because I think you’re a great little worker. I believe you have the potential to one day run Mosley Library yourself.’

  Willow blinked. Was she hearing things?

  ‘R-Really?’

  ‘Yes, really,’ said Jean, not quite managing to smile, but at least no longer grimacing disdainfully. ‘Now I don’t know what was said in that call, but it clearly upset you. What about you have the rest of the day off, just to demonstrate what a sympathetic, magnanimous person your battle-axe boss can be, eh?’

  Jean’s mouth gave the smallest of twitches.

  ‘Oh, but there’s no need for…’

  Willow trailed off.

  She wasn’t a flake by any means but, if the offer was there, why not take advantage? After all, Ben was at work. Charlie too. Neither of them would be home for hours. Leaving the library early would give Willow an opportunity to carry out what she suddenly had an overwhelming urge to do.

  ‘Actually, I do have a bit of a headache,’ she said. ‘It’s probably all the nervous energy I’ve just expended. Especially when I thought you were revving up to give me another verbal warning or, even worse, the bullet.’

  ‘Go home,’ said Jean, picking up her coffee. ‘But have your drink first. Shame to waste it.’

  ‘Okay. Thank you,’ said Willow, picking up her mug.

  Her mind raced ahead. As she sipped on autopilot, her brain had already jumped in her car, started up the engine, let out the clutch too soon and kangarooed off down the High Street, heading out towards North Mosley.

  She had the germ of an idea, but the thought of carrying it out made her heart pound unpleasantly. It was a preposterous plan. Well, certainly for her. The
concept filled her with revulsion. And then she found herself mentally back-pedalling. Nope, she couldn’t do it. Better to stay at work after all. It simply wasn’t in her nature to carry out such a thing.

  Willow gave a strangled whimper causing Jean to peer over the rim of her cup in consternation.

  But then again, if she didn’t do this, she might never get the opportunity again. Right, okay, she would go home. She could do this. And if her fears proved to be unfounded then… then… psychologically speaking, for the rest of her life she’d wear a hair shirt and give herself twenty lashes every day.

  Willow shook her head imperceptibly. Last night, if someone had said – just before she’d turned out the light – that in less than twelve hours she’d be back home and on a mission, she’d have laughed in their face. However, the anonymous caller had planted a nagging doubt in her brain which wouldn’t go away. Not until she’d done this thing that she would never, ever, tell another soul about. Not even her best friend Emma.

  Thirty

  Willow shoved the key into the lock. As the front door swung open, she paused for a moment, surveying the hallway. Even though this was her home, she felt like a burglar. After all, she was going to behave just like one. The only difference was, she wouldn’t leave a mess.

  Cautiously, she stepped inside.

  ‘Hello?’ she called out, and immediately felt foolish. Nobody was home.

  Shutting the door behind her, on impulse Willow drew the safety chain. She didn’t want to tempt the Law of Sod and have Charlie or Ben turn up claiming sudden man flu and an urgent need to crawl under the bedcovers so they could die in peace. Even though she knew in her heart that the likelihood of this was remote, Willow didn’t trust the Law of Sod one little bit. She stood uncertainly on the doormat, listening to the thick silence. You could have heard the proverbial pin drop.

  The doorbell ripped apart the stillness, zigzagging into her brain like a shrieking pneumatic drill. She screamed and leapt off the doormat as if it were suddenly a dangerous animal. Heart thumping, she turned and peered through the spyhole. A courier was standing on the other side. Keeping the chain on, she inched the door open and peered suspiciously at the man.