Love at the Little Wedding Shop by the Sea - Jane Linfoot Page 0,34
paying to have the camper towed out of fields suddenly seem worthwhile, if only for this. ‘Not only that, I know where my towing bracket is too.’
Nic’s laughing. ‘That goes a long way towards making up for those missing qualifications of yours. Two minutes from now we’ll be back out on the lane and you can have a second try at turning into the right gateway. Then we can all see your star venue.’
I know I should be grateful for how accommodating he’s been here. But it would be so much easier if he wasn’t such a super-brain. Everything other than weddings, he seems to be an expert. And now he’s being reasonable and considerate as well, it makes it ten times worse. As for those soulful, puppy-dog eyes and that deep reverberation in his voice when he sounds remorseful. Let’s just say, he was a whole lot easier to handle when he was just plain awkward.
I’ve already lost count of the number of times I’ve regretted ever setting eyes on that windcheater of his. And as I watch Poppy chugging towards us in her Land Rover something tells me, this won’t be the last.
Chapter 9
Later that Monday.
At Rose Hill Manor.
Winter gardens and hit singles.
For once Nic isn’t right – it takes way longer than two minutes to pull the van free. In fact, we wouldn’t have done it at all without him. Poppy and me are all about girl power, but I reckon even Beyoncé would have struggled here. Nic’s one of those guys, like the farm workers, who effortlessly knows what machines are for and how to use them, which Poppy and I were grateful for. And he did it all without once being condescending. Even if Poppy and I knew the basic principles of ‘hitch up and pull’, it’s useful to have experienced hands that know exactly which switches to push when.
After how negative Nic’s been all morning, it would have been no surprise if things had gone downhill at the speed of jumping off a cliff. They do say putting someone in a tricky situation is a fast-forward way to show you a person’s true character, and as Nic lay jammed under the rear axle, he showed us a whole new, less arsey side to his personality. He also had the same thing going on as Mel Gibson in Braveheart, where the muddier he got the bigger his phwoar factor became. Which was less good news for me. But, hell, if it means getting my van out of the mud, I’m happy to deal with a racing heart rate.
And then, rather than turning up at Rose Hill Manor looking like we’re on a mud run, we whip back to Poppy’s for a clean-up while Rafe’s farm guys very kindly hose down the van for me.
By the time we go again, the paintwork is back to being all pink and beautiful and I’m wearing Poppy’s tights and some borrowed hiking boots, so I’m certainly rocking the chunky foot style. And this time – just to be sure – we’re travelling in convoy, with Poppy leading the way.
As we wind down the lane, I’ve given up caring so much that I flick the CD player on and tap my fingers to the sound of Always on My Mind.
Nic lets out a squawk. ‘The Pet Shop Boys?’
‘It’s upbeat and wedding-y. What’s not to like?’ It’s also one of the tracks off my mum’s favourite Get Up and Dance playlist. She loved to party, and when she reached the stage when she couldn’t move or talk anymore and all she could do was lie on her back, listening to it never failed to cheer her up. Quite a few of those tracks have made it onto this CD I made. It used to be my personal challenge to sneak it past Phoebe; at some point in every wedding fair I’d always lift the mood with my upbeat compilation of less obvious love songs.
I flash Nic a fierce stare. ‘I love trashy pop and I refuse to apologise for that.’ The fast tempo and words of regret are just what I need to bolster me for what’s ahead.
Nic’s eyes are wide with surprise. ‘It’s not a criticism, I just haven’t heard them lately.’
I blink away my own prickles, relax slightly. Then stick with my plan to let the house make its own impression. As we approach the manor entrance for the second time, I bump the CD onto the next track