Homecoming. Cathy Kelly

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      The man at the roadworks looked back suspiciously. It was unheard of for gorgeous blonde women with glossy red lips to grin at him with delight when he was on kango-hammer detail for roadworks that brought the traffic down Amiens Street to a standstill.

      He chanced a wink at her as the lights finally turned green and she managed to edge her Mini Cooper forward and off down the bare expanse of road ahead.

      And she winked back! He decided he’d chance the lottery at lunchtime. It was definitely his lucky day.

      Nicky wanted to wink and smile at everyone today. Not that she didn’t smile a lot anyway: she had a lot to smile about, she knew. But today was special.

      Today was her first day as an engaged woman. Last night, after the book launch, Freddie had taken her out to a late dinner.

      There was rarely much in the way of food at book launches, just nibbles and wine, so if you stayed too long, you ate nothing, drank too much and made a holy show of yourself in front of your colleagues, your boss, and if you were spectacularly unlucky, press photographers too. Nicky was far too clever to fall into that trap, so she drank water at launches and ate afterwards.

      She’d been telling Freddie all about the author’s speech, and how gratifying it was to have been thanked by the author.

      ‘Scarlett’s the first author I’ve edited from the start of her career. I feel like I’ve been a part of everything that’s happened, I can’t tell you, Freddie, how amazing that feels…’

      When she’d started in Peony as an editorial assistant five years ago, she’d had to prove herself by spending a lot of time doing the vital but painstaking copy-editing work that took place after the author and their main editor had agreed on a final manuscript. Scarlett Ryan was the first author she’d been let loose on, so to speak, and when Scarlett’s debut novel had been a success, she’d insisted that Nicky was part of that success.

      ‘Dominic, the managing director, was there and Scarlett kept saying how much she owed me and what a fabulous editor I was! She said I’d showed her how to find her true voice. It was wonderful.’ She stopped long enough to take a sip of wine.

      ‘This is delicious,’ she remarked appreciatively. ‘Expensive, I bet. I thought you were broke, Freddie. Are we celebrating something?’

      And that’s when it had happened. Freddie, wunderkind of Mesmer Marketing, boyishly handsome with his floppy dark fringe, hopeless at laundry but sterling when it came to doing dishes, had slipped off his chair in the fashionable Le Pinot Noir bistro, got to his knees and whipped a small box from his inside breast pocket.

      Normally, nothing surprised Nicky. She was legendary for it. She noticed everything, from how low they were on milk in the office fridge, to how up-to-date the department was with getting through the slush pile of manuscripts. But in the excitement over Scarlett, she hadn’t registered Freddie’s air of excitement. She noticed it now, along with the glint of something that sparkled.

      ‘It’s a diamond,’ she said in shock, fingers brushing Freddie’s as she held the small blue box.

      ‘Do you like it?’

      The ring was clearly new but made to look old, with a small round diamond surrounded by teenier specks of diamonds in a platinum band. For all her fondness for labels and fashionable clothes, Nicky was a romantic at heart. Huge diamonds meant nothing. This tiny but beautiful ring was proof of Freddie’s love for her. He’d gone and chosen it himself, which was quite something because Nicky had strong opinions on such things.

      ‘Here,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘Put it on.’

      With shaky fingers, he took the ring from the velvet surround and slid it on to Nicky’s delicate finger.

      ‘Oh.’ They both sighed as they admired it.

      Nicky was so petite that on her finger, the tiny ring looked totally at home.

      ‘I was thinking,’ said Freddie, ‘let’s get married soon. We don’t have the money for a big bash, so we could have a small wedding. Nobody will mind, everyone’s broke, things are different now.’ He rushed on. ‘That way, we can save money for somewhere to live. What do you think?’

      She touched her newly beringed hand to his cheek.

      ‘I think that’s a great idea. I was never a fan of those big, expensive weddings,’ she said gently, she, who had once upon a time dreamed of two hundred guests, a live band, wall-to-wall cream roses and a marquee decorated in floaty white muslin. Now that the time was here, all that seemed quite immaterial. They would be married and that was all that mattered.

      People in the restaurant clapped as they watched Nicky gently kiss her fiancé.

      Neither of the pair took a blind bit of notice of the rest of their meal. They talked about limited guest lists and how they’d present the plan to their respective parents to ensure there was no griping over endless second cousins once removed who now wouldn’t be invited.

      In the taxi on the way home, they sat in joyous silence and held each other. Nicky honestly had never felt such peace.

      Now all that remained was to tell her sister. Nicky knew that Connie would never begrudge her happiness. On the contrary, Connie had always wanted everything for her little sister. But this was different. This was telling the person she loved second best in the world that she was getting married – something Connie had always longed to do but had the opportunity snatched away from her by that waster Keith.

      Connie had always done everything first: moved away from the family home in Wexford, gone to college, got a job, bought her own place. Now, for once, Nicky would be breaking new ground first and for Connie that was bound to be hard.

      She’d be abandoning Connie too. The apartment in Golden Square belonged to Connie, although Nicky paid rent, but they’d lived there together since Connie had bought it ten years before.

      For the first time in years, Connie would be totally on her own. Would she be all right? Nicky wondered.

      When she got home after the hen night, Connie went into Nicky’s bedroom where her sister was half-watching an old film, and lay down on the bed next to her. Several unaccustomed glasses of wine sloshed around inside her, along with dessert wine – Sylvie had insisted, although it was sickly sweet – and what with the wine and the melancholy, she began to cry.

      ‘I’m so happy for her about the wedding and everything,’ Connie sobbed. ‘I love Sylvie and she deserves to be happy, but Nicky, don’t I deserve it too?’

      Nicky had looked so stricken that Connie sobered up at high speed, and apologised.

      ‘I’m fine, honestly. Everyone was getting maudlin by the end of the night, and I kept thinking about Keith – not that I’d want him back, or anything, but you know, it was my chance to settle down and…’ She stopped talking. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, say anything about her diminishing chance to have a baby. It was too painful to speak out loud, even to Nicky. Better to keep it hidden in her heart.

      ‘Oh, Connie, I’m so sorry.’ Nicky still looked stricken.

      Connie clambered up the bed to hug her sister. ‘Don’t mind me, I’m a mad old lady, I’ll turn into one of СКАЧАТЬ