Love at the Little Wedding Shop by the Sea - Jane Linfoot Page 0,1
didn’t think twice about lending her my fiancé Ben. They were my two most trusted people, in business and in life. The last thing I imagined was them ending up in bed together when she’d been so meticulous about showing me the separate rooms on the booking.
What’s the old saying? One kiss is all it takes. Admittedly it was a bit more than that. A lot more. Enough to throw a wrecking ball through my relationship with Ben. But we were all very adult about it. Or at least, they were. However much I kicked and yelled, it wasn’t going to help – the damage was done, what I’d had was already gone. He moved his stuff around the corner into her place. And we went on from there.
But after those long years literally spending all my waking hours scrambling to make a go of our Brides Go West wedding company, and borrowing to the hilt, I couldn’t afford to let the business slide and lose that as well. But it was more than that. As my life imploded and my self-esteem went with it, Brides Go West became my one refuge. I might feel like a worm in every other area, but an award-winning business lets me hold my head high. Phoebe and Ben might have whipped every other metaphorical carpet out from under me, but I refuse to let them run away with the business too.
So, for the last nine months I’ve watched Phoebe’s bump growing across the office desk like a slow-motion horror movie. In the end I decided if I actually had to be there for the birth, my screams were going to be louder than the ones coming from the labour ward. So after a whole year of gritting my teeth so hard they’re stumps of their former selves, I left town for a couple of weeks around the baby’s due date.
Poppy’s arm slides around my shoulder. ‘You do know you are worth more than this?’ Her voice is low in my ear. ‘It might feel like the end of the world now …’
I’ve heard it so many times I can finish it myself. ‘… but it will get better.’ The problem is, deep down, I can’t imagine ever getting to a place where there isn’t a stone in my gut and my chest isn’t aching. When I can look at a wedding dress and not have my mouth fill with the taste of sour lemons. Which isn’t the most practical thing to happen when I write about the damn things most days on our blog.
Poppy lets out a groan. ‘Sorry, it’s not the best timing, but you’re about to meet Gary and Ken. They’re doing a great job giving out flyers for our Brides by the Sea cocktail event later, but they’re insatiably curious too.’ She pulls a face. ‘Remember what it’s like in small-town St Aidan?’
I grimace. ‘Where everybody knows, and everybody cares?’ It’s very different from Bristol where I’ve been happily anonymous for the last twelve years. As a teenager growing up here, I dodged the worst of the spotlight because my mum was ill and I was her carer. When you barely leave the house, you become pretty invisible. But even if I don’t recognise many of the faces in the crowd here tonight, the reason I’ve run back here now is to be with my oldest friends.
As Poppy and I are both in the wedding business, we’re often in touch. And as my life unravelled, Poppy’s the one who’s been there for me, texting and messaging. And she was the one who literally saved my sanity when she suggested I take this working holiday. I know if Ben were the last guy in the world on a desert island, I’d actually have to make a boat and leave. And that’s saying a lot from me, who came bottom of the class in woodwork. But however much I don’t want Ben anymore, this baby moment is still so monumental it’s a relief to be three hours down the road.
‘So who are Ken and Gary?’ So far as I can see they have great taste in tight, spangly shorts and are experts at elbowing their way through a crowd while rocking their Cupid costumes.
‘They run a highly decorated local B&B, and they’re also stars of the Hungry Shark’s karaoke nights and the Chamber of Commerce.’
I shake my head. ‘They were never going to let a fancy-dress Valentine’s pub crawl pass quietly.’