3
~
I’m panicking. Where on earth is it? I’m sure I put it in this drawer, but I can’t have because it’s not there now. ‘Shit!’ I open the other drawers and rummage around, but I can’t find it anywhere. ‘Bollocks!’
Julie and Hannah come into my bedroom to see what all the swearing is about. I fill them in. ‘But don’t tell Alex,’ I hiss at them. ‘He wants me to wear it tomorrow. He’ll be upset.’
I check my jewellery box again before giving up the hunt. With a sigh, I plop down on the bed, feeling a stab of guilt about misplacing his gift.
‘We’ll look for it later,’ Julie says. ‘It has to be here somewhere.’
‘Yeah, don’t worry, sweetie.’ Hannah puts one reassuring hand on my arm and pushes her dark frizzy hair away from her face with her other hand. ‘Wait until he’s out of the house this evening, then we’ll ransack it if we need to. We’ll find it.’
‘OK,’ I say. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
The three of us are keen to escape and do our last-minute shopping in Keswick, a local town, which I know my sister and my best friend will fall in love with, as I have. Before leaving, we pop into the kitchen, where Alex and my dad are talking, to say goodbye. Dad is sitting at the table, smiling and seemingly more carefree than I’ve seen him in a long time, and Alex is standing at the worktop, his hands covered in flour, making an apple crumble.
A mixture of love and pride suddenly surges inside me. Here are the two men I adore most, in my kitchen, chatting as if they’ve known each other for more than ten years instead of less than one day. I take six mugs out of the cupboard, stealing a glance at Alex. He looks incredibly attractive, even in an apron. And, evidently, he has made my dad feel welcome. Alex catches me staring at him and winks.
Jet, my dad’s black Labrador, is lying on the floor with his nose on his owner’s feet.
Alex kisses my cheek as he waits for me to fill up the kettle, and then he washes his hands at the sink.
‘All right, fella?’ he says, bending down to pat Jet on the head.
I turn away, hiding my grin from Alex, as he pulls out a chair and sits down at the table with Dad. Images flash before my eyes of our walk a few weeks ago and I remember Alex confessing that he was scared of that woman’s little dog. Yet here he is, making an effort to get on with my dad by making friends with Jet. A sure way to Dad’s heart.
Jet was Julie’s idea. A rescue dog, it was in fact Jet that rescued my dad. He was about two years old when we chose him from the RSPCA shelter seven or eight years ago. Julie’s sons had given Dad a reason to go on after Mum’s death, but although his smile was as permanent a feature on Dad’s face as his deep worry lines, it wasn’t until he had Jet that Dad’s smile reached his eyes.
Watching Alex, who is still stroking the dog, I feel very grateful to him for all he has done for my family since they arrived last night. He has gone to great lengths to impress them all and he has been punctilious in providing every comfort he can think of for our guests. Yesterday, he cooked a delicious dinner, topped up everyone’s glasses with wine throughout the meal, and was charming and witty the whole evening. He has even won over my best friend Hannah, who usually takes a while to warm to people she has just met, particularly men.
Julie saunters back into the kitchen after taking a mug of tea into the living room for Daniel, her husband, who is watching a DVD of Rogue One with their two sons. ‘What are you going to do while we’re out, Dad?’ she asks.
‘We men are all going for a walk,’ Alex answers for him. ‘I’d like to show everyone around Grasmere and we’ll all get some fresh air.’
‘Jet could do with some exercise,’ Dad adds. ‘He was stuck in the car for hours yesterday.’
Julie, Hannah and I finally speed away in my getaway Citroën C3, gravel flying up as I accelerate down the drive. Hannah has made me a playlist with Eighties and Nineties music as, like her, I grew up during those decades. She has plugged her iPod into the car stereo and all three of us are rocking the Casbah at the tops of our respective lungs. I am happy, excited, and, if I’m honest, a little anxious as well.
Twenty minutes later, Julie voices what is still niggling me as I pull into a space in the car park.
‘You’re certain about getting married, are you?’ she asks. I’ve always admired my elder sister for her frankness. She speaks her mind and sometimes it’s not easy to hear, but I appreciate her open honesty. ‘I know you want your child to grow up with both parents, but this isn’t just a shotgun wedding, is it?’
‘I’m nervous about the big day,’ I reply, ‘but I love Alex so much.’
It’s a bit more than pre-wedding nerves. I keep thinking I’m rushing into this marriage blindfolded, even though everything feels so right with Alex. Most of the time.
‘Hmm, I can understand why,’ my sister says, her eyes sparkling, and I can tell she’s satisfied with my answer.
‘He’s perfect for you,’ Hannah agrees. Her words move me because she’s always been very fond of Kevin and she gave me a hard time when I left him for Alex. I understood where she was coming from. Kevin is such a loving person; I can’t explain – to Hannah or even to myself – why I didn’t love him enough.
A lump comes to my throat and I give Hannah’s hand a quick squeeze, not trusting myself to speak. We all get out of the car and I head for the Pay & Display machine, putting an end to the conversation.
As I’d predicted, both my sister and my friend adore Keswick. It’s a shame they didn’t arrive earlier yesterday; they would have loved the market. A chocolate fountain in a shop window catches Hannah’s eye and she gives in to temptation and buys a box of chocolate fudge. Julie and I have a facial and get manicures while Hannah chatters away, her mouth full of her recent purchase. Hannah is a hairdresser, and although her hair is usually an unruly mess, her skin is flawless and her nails are always impeccable.
The beauty salon is not far from Alex’s shop, and it also happens to be opposite a pub, so we have a late lunch there. Afterwards, we wander around town a bit more, then decide to head back to the Old Vicarage.
As I open the front door, a wonderful smell floats towards us – a mixture of cinnamon and thyme. It’s not long before we’re sitting at the table eating again. I’m still full from lunch, but Alex has gone to a lot of trouble cooking and I eat as much of the roast dinner and crumble as I can. My round tummy has been protruding very noticeably for a couple of months now, so it’s not as if I was trying to keep slim for my wedding day.
After dinner, Alex gets his overnight bag ready and slings his suit, in a protective cover, over his shoulder. He has made arrangements to stay at his best man’s house.
‘You won’t change your mind?’ I ask hopefully.
‘A groom shouldn’t see his bride on the big day before she walks down the aisle – or, in our case, into the register office,’ he says. ‘It’s bad luck.’
I know he’s not superstitious, any more than I am, but I expect he’ll go out for a few drinks with his mates and enjoy his last few hours of bachelorhood.
‘As
