The Wedding Shop on Wexley Street: A laugh out loud romance to curl up with in 2018. Rachel Dove

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СКАЧАТЬ just about forgive him for going on their honeymoon, if she really willed herself to. The honeymoon she had booked, planned and helped pay for, given that he and his family had paid for the wedding. The honeymoon had been her contribution, her small way of exerting her independence. But it was fine. He needed to get away, escape the flak for what he’d done.

      Fair enough. She could swallow that, in time. It was the arm in the photo that bothered her. What did it mean? Had he used her ticket to take someone else? Had he met someone there? Was it all for the press? They didn’t seem to know who she was, and as it was just an arm, they didn’t have much to go on. If it had been staged for the press, wouldn’t Darcy have made sure they could actually see her? At least with a face, a body, there would be more context. Maybe she was wearing a resort uniform? Perhaps she was just a member of staff, passing him a cocktail to cheer him up. Maybe she was minging. She could be a moose for all Maria knew. Anyone could have attractive-looking arms. Look at Madonna. Her arms were epic, but looking at them disembodied in a photo, you couldn’t tell whether it was the Queen of Pop or Iggy Pop. The crazy thought cheered her no end. The owner of the arm could indeed be no one, just a passing holidaymaker. The thought that Darcy could be that cruel didn’t bear thinking about. She’d loved the man he was. It felt like he had died too, in a way. The thought of him being out there, kissing another person with his lips, cradling someone in the arms that used to encircle her, was damn near killing her.

      She felt the physical pain of her loss, and took a moment to will her body to breathe again. Grief and a hangover. Never great. She lowered herself to the floor, pulling the phone book onto her lap. Thumbing through, she looked for an electrician who wouldn’t charge the earth for a Saturday-morning callout. They didn’t have one in Westfield, tending to fix what they could themselves, but this was out of her league. She could call one of the villagers, but given that everyone seemed to be giving her a wide berth, she didn’t relish playing the jilted bride and damsel in distress. That would be one step too far in terms of feeling pathetic. She needed to prove to everyone, and herself for that matter, that she could still stand on her own two feet. She’d done it before, and she would again. She had to. And it was then that she saw it. The little box advert, staring out at her from the paper. Chance Electrics. Chance. It spoke to her. That’s what she needed. Hope. A chance to solve this problem, get her business back up and running and the home lights burning so she could at least keep the wolves from the door while she recovered.

      This is it, Maria. She could hear her mother’s voice in her head, spurring her on. You can do this, my girl. You don’t need anything else. Use what you already hold. She nodded at her mother’s photo and picked herself up off the floor. Thank goodness there were still phone boxes in the village, she thought to herself as she headed to the nearest one. Pressing in the number, she smiled to herself. No weekend callout fee either. It really was a sign.

      Cassie was hiding in her bathroom, pretending to get ready. She had applied her liquid eyeliner three times already. Any more and she was going to end up looking like Marilyn Manson. She could still hear Tucker in the kitchen, humming along to the radio and banging things around. Why was he still here? Robbers made less noise. She half-hoped he was robbing her, because then at least he would go and she could avoid the awkward conversation she knew was coming. This was precisely the reason why she never brought people home. Sanctuary Cottage was just that to her, a sanctuary from her parents at first, and then her job, and now she had a rogue Australian running around, rummaging in her cupboards. She couldn’t even ring Maria because her phone was on charge in the living room. She needed to fake a work emergency or something, but what would she say? A carrier pigeon had flown in through the bathroom window? Hogwarts owl? She couldn’t hide in here all day, that was certain. She needed to woman up, go out there and face him. Say ‘thanks for the hot sex, don’t forget to wipe me from your memory on your way out of the door’. What kind of weirdo hung around in the morning anyway, let alone made breakfast? It was definitely bad man code, she was sure of it.

      A polite knock came at the door, making her jump.

      ‘Cassie, you okay in there?’ His Aussie twang reverberated through the wood.

      ‘Er, yeah, I’m fine. Do you need something?’ She tiptoed to the door, listening for sounds of movement.

      ‘Well, I thought we could maybe get lunch, if you like? I don’t have to work till later. Do you fancy it?’

      ‘Lunch?’ Cassie said, incredulous. ‘Why?’

      An amused chuckle came back. ‘It’s what people do, eat at certain times of day. Sometimes they even do it together, have a conversation or two.’

      Cassie cringed. She couldn’t think of anything more toe curling, aside from turning up to court dressed as a pirate.

       What have you come dressed as today, Cass? Professional suicide? Arrgghhhh, me hearties!

      ‘Er, no, sorry, I can’t. I have a lot of work coming up, I have to work. All weekend. And next week. The whole month, actually.’

      He said nothing, so she put her ear to the door. She couldn’t hear anything.

      ‘Okay, so lunch next week then. You eat lunch at work, right? I’ll call you…’

       Oh God. What was his deal? Did he feel bad? He obviously didn’t do this very often.

      ‘Er, yeah?’

      ‘Right, it’s a date then. I’m going to go now, let you get on with work and stop listening behind doors.’

      Cassie sprang back from the entrance, cursing under her breath.

      ‘Nice mouth,’ he laughed. ‘See you next week! I left you something in the fridge.’

      She stared at the door, head cocked to one side till she heard the front door open and close. She came out of the bathroom, heading to her bedroom to look out of the window. Looking out from behind the blinds, she saw him heading down her path. He looked like he was walking down a catwalk. Weird or not, Cassie did have to recognise that the man was an absolute hottie. Shame she wasn’t the type to do second dates. Or even first ones. Hell, having breakfast with him had been a first, even with Maria as a buffer. She was just admiring his butt wistfully when he stopped at the gate, turned and looked straight at her.

      ‘Shit!’ she said, jumping back behind the curtain. Sneaking a peek, she saw him blow her a kiss before walking off towards Westfield centre. Uber hadn’t quite hit the village yet. The villagers were still getting over high-speed internet arriving. Summoning a taxi with the click of a button was more than some of them could take, for now. Hopefully he wouldn’t go shooting his mouth off in the village about where he had spent the night. With Maria already in the spotlight, the last thing she needed was for people to think she was hanging around with random men. But as Cassie herself always said, the best way to get over a man was to get under another. It would have done Maria some good, something to take her mind off Arsy Darcy. As long as it wasn’t a regular thing. Maria wasn’t like that anyway. All she had ever wanted to be was happy and married.

      Cassie watched Tucker walk away till he was out of sight, and then headed downstairs. It was like stepping into the twilight zone. It didn’t even feel like her house. She looked into the lounge. Same in there. He had cleaned up. Really cleaned. She could smell polish, cleaning sprays. Walking into the kitchen she was hit by a horrible smell. She gagged and headed to the window, throwing it open. What the hell had he done? She looked around and saw the bottle on the side. Bleach. The man was insane. She’d pulled Mr Mop. Every surface had been cleared, wiped clean. She could see her work surfaces for once. It felt like she had been robbed. Flicking her foot on the pedal bin, she only saw an empty bin liner. He had even taken СКАЧАТЬ