Love at the Little Wedding Shop by the Sea - Jane Linfoot Page 0,103

attitude from, Milla, but it’s completely unacceptable!’

Poppy’s eyes are bright, and her hands are clenched. ‘Go on, Millsy Vanillsy, tell her where to get off!’

I pull myself up to my full height and for the first time in my life I’m almost on a level with her. Brilliant doesn’t begin to cover it. And better still, I know exactly what I’m going to say.

‘Let’s revisit this at a time and place that’s more appropriate. And as you’re spoiling things for the other guests, not to mention the brand, I suggest you either stop your shouting or leave.’

There’s a hush in the huddle by the pushchair. Phoebe’s mouth wrinkles under her pointy nose, but she stays silent.

In my head I’m already punching the air for making her shut the eff up. For saving a situation which was careering off the edge of a cliff. But most of all, for stopping her in her tracks when she was hell bent on ruining this wonderful wedding fair with a scene. I’ve told her where to go and I still have my dignity. I’m already anticipating Immie’s thump on the back. Poppy’s hug. Nic’s high five. Clemmie’s excited hand clapping …

But then the film reel in my head stops. As I tumble back to reality, Phoebe takes a big step towards me.

Her lippy’s flawless, her nails are beautifully shaped and painted russet brown, her dress and her stomach are as flat as the board it was ironed on, and I can see she thinks every single thing about her is better than me. But for some reason, I’m not intimidated any more. And I really wouldn’t want to be like that anyway. I feel liberated.

I’ve still got this. All I have to do is take two steps away so I can see her better. And this time, I’ll be so quietly fierce that she won’t dare come back for more.

But as I take my giant strides sideways the lull is broken by a strange gurgling rumble.

I catch Nic’s eye. ‘What the hell is that?’ Not being alarmist, but it sounds major enough to wreck a wedding fair.

His eyes narrow. ‘Drains being unblocked? A farmer pumping slurry?’ There’s another muffled explosion and his puzzled frown deepens. ‘An elephant that’s overdosed on laxatives?’

Behind the pushchair, Poppy’s holding her nose and Immie hoots. ‘I know that noise blindfolded at a hundred yards – that’s a nappy being filled.’

We all turn to look at Hunter, his popping cheeks as red as his chariot.

Phoebe lets out a squeal. ‘Hunter’s done poopies, Ben.’ Her voice rises to a shriek. ‘Poop, Ben, I said poooooooop! This one’s yours.’

Ben takes a leap backwards down the lawn. ‘I don’t think so!’

‘It totally is.’ Phoebe grits her teeth and shoves the pushchair at him. Somehow, the force that hits him is so strong, it accelerates his backwards leap. His arms are spread-eagled as he flies over the grass, straight over the little wall, and he drops like a stone, and flops straight down into the pond.

He hits the lily pads and the pond surface with such force that the water flies up into the air, splats Phoebe, and soaks her from neck to calf.

As Ben groans and disappears under the lily pads, Phoebe stiffens and shoots bolt upright as the slick of pondweed slimes her cream linen dress.

She lets out a shriek and staggers forwards holding out her arm to Ben. But instead of hauling Ben out, she face-plants in there beside him.

There seem to be a lot more arms and legs in the water than just Ben and Phoebe’s, and they’re lashing out in all directions.

Not that I’m mean or have ever been looking for payback, but standing there watching them flailing together in the murky water, knowing how much they’ll both hate it, it finally feels like I’ve found some kind of closure.

I can see Nic’s enjoying it as much as I am, but eventually he steps forward. As he starts to haul them out, Phoebe’s shaking her head so violently the drops are flying off her like diamonds in the late afternoon sunlight.

Nic steps back. ‘Is there a problem, Phoebe?’ Then he laughs and reaches for the high neckline of her dress. When he stands back he’s holding up a goldfish and grinning straight at me. ‘Definitely better back in the water than down a customer’s top. Starfleet captain to the rescue, call again any time, Thisbe.’

By the time Ben and Phoebe are side by side and dripping like waterfalls, I’m