Читать книгу: «Crazy Little Thing Called Love», страница 2
Later that afternoon, when the sun had disappeared for the day, two empty champagne bottles were upended in the ice bucket and Tasha had reluctantly left, Leila thought about what her sister had said. She was known amongst her friends as the Bounce Back Queen, never letting anything get her down, being ridiculously cheerful in the face of adversity, but she absolutely never wanted to feel as stupid as she did leaving that hotel in Jaipur again. It was mid-afternoon on Christmas Day in England when she had skyped her parents from India. Her mum, dad, sister, brother, nephew and nieces all squashed their faces onto the small screen, colourful cracker hats adorning each one of them. She should have been there. She should have been working her way through her dad’s wine cellar with them, playing silly board games and listening to Radio Devon’s festive party mix. But instead she spent the day alone, huddled on a grimy corner of the airport praying for a standby ticket to get her home.
She had stayed awake for every minute of the thirty-hour journey from Freddie’s hotel room in India to her own bed in London, where she slept for almost two days straight. She didn’t cry. She didn’t even drink herself into oblivion with the free booze on board the flight. She just felt numb. And foolish. And she knew that she didn’t want a man to make her feel like that ever again.
Chapter 2
A few weeks later…
‘I reckon his photo was easily taken twenty years ago.’
‘No!’ Jayne cried. ‘Who would do that?’
‘What did he think?’ Amanda asked, blowing the froth off her cappuccino. ‘That you wouldn’t notice that he looked nothing like his advert?’
‘Profile,’ Shelley sniffed, looking affronted. ‘It’s not an advert, I’m not advertising for dates, like you would a car, it’s a profile. Anyway, thankfully he didn’t see me as I’d chosen a table behind a pillar – thanks to Leila’s suggestion – so I was able to leg it before having to spend an evening with him.’
Although this time it was her friend Shelley recounting this story of dating woe, it was a carbon copy of numerous blind date disasters Leila had suffered in her time. Brad Pitt morphing into Danny DeVito, Single Solvent Lawyer mutating into Married Bankrupt Loser.
‘Do you remember me telling you about that guy who, when the bill came, put down a coupon he’d cut out of the paper for his half of the meal?’ Leila added, to the shrieks of hilarity from her best friends. ‘And he didn’t even know why I didn’t want to see him again!’
Shelley picked up the baton, ‘What about those twins we met at that dating in the dark night, Leila, who said they were thirty-something bankers who lived in Canary Wharf and then at the end of the night we saw their mum picking them up?’
‘Are you sure you two don’t make some of these stories up to make me and Amanda a little bit envious of your exciting single lives?’ Jayne asked smiling. ‘I mean it puts my normal night of watching box sets in my pyjamas with Will a little in the shade.’
‘And me and Paul. The most excited we’ve been in months is when a new series of 24 was announced.’
‘Exciting single lives?’ Leila yelped. ‘Have you not been listening? Nothing about being a thirty-something, single woman in London is remotely exciting. Soul-destroying yes, exciting, no.’
‘Oh I don’t know, it has its moments.’ As Shelley was a statuesque redhead with measurements Marilyn would weep for, her experiences tended to sometimes be a tad different to Leila’s.
‘Honestly, you two don’t know how good you have it,’ Leila said, pointing the end of her croissant at Jayne and Amanda. What she wouldn’t give to spend evenings in her pyjamas with the love of her life rather than trundling down to a personality-less wine bar to speed date, or spending hours swiping left and right on Tinder. Trying to locate her future husband was more or less a full-time job, and she was sick of it.
‘You know what?’ Leila said, slamming her croissant down on the table. ‘I’m done. Finito. Caput. No more, I’m taking some time out from dating.’
‘You always say that. Every time you have a bad date, or your boyfriend turns out to be a dick, you say that that’s the last time,’ Amanda said. ‘You’re still in shock about careering halfway across the world for Freddie, you’ll be fine in a few weeks.’
To be fair, her friends had tried to warn her not to follow Freddie to India. ‘Men don’t like to be surprised,’ Amanda had said, ignorant of the irony in her statement seeing as she had proposed to Paul, and not the other way round. And Jayne didn’t understand either, with her perfect marriage to Will, Richmond’s very own Mr Darcy. It was only a matter of time before Shelley joined their cosy married club and Leila would have to fly the spinster flag alone.
***
As Leila walked the few streets back to her flat after their breakfast her phone vibrated in her bag. ‘Layles, flying back to London in a couple of weeks, let’s hook up and I can explain. Miss you XOXO’
Her stomach lurched and she didn’t know whether to hurl the phone into the nearest wall or hug it close to her body in relief. In the first few weeks after coming back from India she’d replayed the hotel room scene over and over in her mind constantly, even sometimes concluding that maybe, just maybe, she might have been too quick to flounce off in a huff. Perhaps the girl wasn’t completely naked, she could have been wearing one of those nude catsuits, so she was actually fully dressed, and possibly she worked at the hotel and had just delivered his room service and then was trying to fix his TV for him, which is why she was sat on his bed with the remote. Put like that, she occasionally felt a bit sorry for the short shrift she’d given him. She had even gone as far as to punch out a text to him that remained unsent, wondering if maybe she did owe him the opportunity to explain. But for him to suddenly get in touch now, a couple of weeks before his arrival in London, with his fancy bit thousands of miles away, just made her mad and not in the slightest bit sentimental.
‘No thanks.’ She pressed Send.
‘Don’t be like that babe, doesn’t suit you. See you in a couple of weeks XOXO’
Her fingers hovered over the keypad. If she was angry before, it was nothing compared to the white-hot rage that coursed through her veins now. How dare he? What planet was he on that he thought it was ok to treat her like that, then have complete radio silence for two months and then resurface like nothing had happened? She wouldn’t rise to it and send him a message back. Shaking, Leila slammed her front door behind her and threw her coat and keys down on the floor in the hallway. She was worth so much more than him. More than this ridiculous, fruitless man-search that made a little bit of her die inside with every unhappy ending. She’d had enough.
***
‘Celibacy?’ Thomas heaped two more roast potatoes onto her outstretched plate. ‘As in, become a nun?’
Leila rolled her eyes, ‘No, Dad, as in a man ban. I have taken a vow of chastity to sort my life out.’ She ignored her older brother Marcus’s immature guffawing next to her and passed the gravy boat on to her mum, Judy, who was sat on the other side, remaining uncharacteristically silent.
‘Well I think it’s a great idea. You’ve been like a beacon for complete prats for the last two decades, and it’s time you concentrated on understanding your own energy field and what you’re putting out to the universe.’ Ever since her sister Tasha had decided to study Mindfulness and Visualisation to fill the void left by her youngest child reaching school age, she’d been peppering all her sentences with words like ‘emotional intelligence’ and ‘cognitive defusion’.
‘Thanks Tash. I feel very positive about it actually, it’s going well.’
‘So, when did you start this man-ban?’ Judy finally ventured, rolling the last two words around her mouth as though they were part of a foreign language.
‘Last Tuesday.’ Leila replied.
They all erupted in the type of laughter that makes furniture shake. Even Tasha’s three children joined in, the younger two, being only four and seven, had no idea what the hell they were howling about, but that didn’t stop them. Marcus’s annoying new girlfriend Lucy was chuckling away with the rest of them too, her perfect flicky-out hair bobbing along in time with her giggles.
‘I’m glad that I amuse you all so much.’ Leila huffed. ‘Next time one of you makes an important life choice remind me to be equally as supportive.’
‘Sorry darling,’ Judy rested her hand on her daughter’s arm. ‘We are supportive, it’s just that you haven’t got a great track record with seeing things through.’
Leila put her hand on her chest in mock disgust. ‘I am offended by that, Mother.’
‘Violin. Ice skating. Veganism. Boot camp. Spanish. Watercolour painting. Salsa. Am I missing anything Thomas?’ Judy had seven fingers outstretched in front of her as she counted off all the pursuits Leila had let trail off after getting bored.
‘Ryan. Carlos. Simon. Steve. Robbie. Luke. Oliver. Liam. Freddie.’ Marcus added. He always took sides with Judy. Such a mummy’s boy. ‘And those are the only ones you introduced us to. There must be more that never got to the meet-the-family stage.’
‘That’s not the same! At all! I have been very unlucky in love, and I haven’t found the right hobby yet. Two completely different things.’
‘You are a bit fickle sweetheart,’ Thomas topped up her wine glass.
‘Adding the word “sweetheart” at the end of that damning insult does not lessen it Dad. And I am not fickle. I am merely seeking perfection in everything I do.’
‘And every one,’ Alex, Tasha’s husband chimed in.
‘Alex!’ Tasha and Judy exclaimed at the same time.
‘Let’s not lower the tone, Alex, it is Sunday after all.’ Leila thought Tasha’s remonstration based on it being the Sabbath was a tad hypocritical – the last time her sister had attended church was her own wedding fifteen years ago.
‘Right, let’s change the subject. Yummy roast Mum, new chef?’ It was a running joke in the family that because Leila’s mum and dad ran a hotel, they got all their meals cooked for them, whereas in fact, apart from the occasional Ploughman’s that Thomas would surreptitiously steal from the kitchen downstairs, Judy made all their meals.
It wasn’t a spur of the moment decision, becoming celibate, despite what her family thought. Leila had always been interested in reading about women embarking on periods of self-discovery and contemplation, but had always measured her own sense of self-worth by leaping from one relationship straight into another rather than taking some time out. Admittedly, when she’d called for silence by pinging her mobile against her wine glass and giving her impassioned declaration to Jayne, Amanda and Shelley last Tuesday, she was fuelled by a few gin and tonics, but that was coincidental.
They too had followed a stunned silence with stomach-grabbing laughter. Then they’d laid bets on the table about how long she’d last. It was perhaps testament to her track record of inconsistency that there was currently £4000 in the pot. ‘This is a bet I have to take!’ her former flatmate Amanda had squealed. ‘So if by some miracle and personality transplant, you pull it off, we give you a grand each, and if you don’t then you have to pay each of us a grand.’
‘Which basically means you’ll have to sell a kidney,’ Jayne warned. ‘Don’t take the bet Leila, you’re just reeling because of what twatty Freddie did, in a couple of weeks, you’ll think differently.’
‘I will not,’ Leila replied haughtily. ‘My mind is set, and ladies, I take your bets. Start saving your pennies.’ Leila had told them what she found herself trying to articulate to her family now. This man-ban was not a whim. And although she usually thought most of what her sister spouted about ‘sending messages to the universe’ was a bit far-fetched, Leila completely recognised that something needed to change, and this seemed a good place to start.
***
As much as Leila would like to think that it was her cooking and fantastic hosting skills that prompted Tasha to pop around unannounced later that week after work, she knew that her sister had an ulterior motive, which she wasted no time in spelling out.
‘Now look, I want to talk to you about this celibacy thing.’
Leila leant her head back on the sofa and moaned. ‘Oh no, not you as well, I’ve already had Mum’s take on how ridiculous I’m being, I don’t need you joining in the chorus too.’
‘Far from it! I’m completely supportive of you, I actually think you should step it up a gear.’
‘In what way?’
‘Well if you’re serious about remaining single, and are genuinely doing it for reasons of empowerment and regaining control of your life, and getting to know yourself better, and all the other reasons you got on your soapbox about at the last Sunday lunch, then take it more seriously. Do something that’s going to change your life, rather than sitting at home being celibate listening to sad songs and lamenting your crap choice in boyfriends.’
‘I am not listening to sad songs! I have a very upbeat music collection.’
‘But put an end date on it, so that you have a period of time for self-discovery. You and I both know that you’re not intending to be single forever, but why not do it for six months, or a year even. Twelve months of finding yourself. Make it formal. Write a blog about it, start a group. Make this year count.’
‘You know what? I really like that idea. A year of me. Starting tomorrow. April 1st. April Fool’s day. How ironic.’
‘Maybe there’s a group nearby you can join?’
‘I’ll have a look this week.’
‘Have a look now.’
‘I’ll have a look later.’
‘Now.’
Leila threw a cushion at her sister’s head. ‘If we’re going to do this, can we do it in the garden? That’s my happy place.’
‘It’s still March. Do we have to?’
‘It’s the last day of March, which is Spring time, and if you’re making me do this, then yes, we do.’
Leila pulled on a sweater, lit a couple of candles in lanterns that were dotted around the courtyard and sat down next to her sister. She opened the computer and started typing. Celibacy London. Chastity. Sisterhood. Female solidarity. The sisters navigated their way through a bottle of red wine and sites selling promise rings written by the Christian far right and web pages for spurned women vehemently (and often violently) advocating a life of no-sex after vicious break ups. But they couldn’t find a site, or group, or club for women like Leila who wanted the happy ever after, but just wanted to dedicate a chapter of the fairy tale to themselves first.
‘So what now?’ Leila asked.
‘You make your own.’
‘Just like that?’
‘Just like that. It’s very easy. I made a blog recently for my Mindfulness group. It’s amazing how like-minded people find you if you put yourself out there.’
Leila drained her glass, and rested her chin on her hand. ‘But I don’t know that I want to be a beacon for every single woman out there.’
‘It’s not about everyone else, it’s about your own journey and documenting it, and learning from it, and sharing it with other women who are in the same position. Do it. I think it would be really good for you.’
‘You’re so bossy.’
‘I know. Now do it.’
Hello. My name is Leila, I am 32 years old and this is my first blog post.
‘You shouldn’t really give out personal information like your name and your age. And it’s obvious that it’s your first blog post as it’s the first post on the blog.’
Leila slammed the laptop shut and glared at her sister. ‘See? I knew I’d be rubbish at this.’
Tasha leaned across and prised open the screen again. ‘As you were.’
‘I used to think that it was you that was the saint, but now I realise it’s Alex.’
‘Leila,’ Tasha said gently, ‘Carry on.’
Leila gingerly started typing. Somewhere around the fourth line Tasha started stroking her sister’s hair and by the time the last full stop was added, both sisters had tears pricking their eyes.
In the last fifteen years I’ve dated two cheaters, one closet homosexual, a man that spat out watermelon pips across a restaurant, another that referred to his man parts as Peter Pecker. One that cried like a baby during love-making, another that had four tattoos of different women’s names on his arm (he wasn’t related to any of them), one that tried it on with my friends, one that tried it on with my sister, and one that used to follow me home from work ‘to keep me safe’. There was one that broke my toe (very bad dancer), another that broke my nose (very bad temper), and two that broke my heart. There was one that proposed to me every day for 87 days then married someone else two weeks after my final no, one that wanted me to wee on him, and in the process of chasing the last one across India I contracted amoebic dysentery and lost my luggage. I think it’s fair to say me and dating aren’t natural companions. Which is why I’m opting out for a year. Celibate. Chaste. Call it what you will, I’m staying single for 365 days to give my sanity a rest. I don’t know what this year of self-discovery is going to be like, but I know one thing - it’s going to be a whole lot more fulfilling and fun than being with, and getting over, all the men listed above. The journey begins here…
Chapter 3
‘Jesus Layles, what have you done with your hair?’
It was almost seven thirty at night, the shutters were down on the shops flanking her smart Notting Hill office and the after-work crowd that normally hung about at the pub opposite had already dispersed. If it hadn’t persistently drizzled all day perhaps the faded benches outside the pub would still have a few stragglers on them. Leila had stayed late to help a colleague on a community project they were working on, and the last thing she wanted was the now-cold latte that was being offered by Freddie’s outstretched hand.
‘Where have you been? Thought you clocked off at six, been waiting here ages for you.’
Leila sighed, ‘Why are you here Freddie?’ It surprised her that the only emotion to course through her was irritation.
‘I came back.’
‘Evidently. But why?’ Leila shook her head again as Freddie motioned for her to take the paper cup, which he then balanced on a bus stop bench.
‘You can’t just leave it there, find a bin.’
‘It’s a gift for the next person to wait for a bus.’
‘It’s cold coffee Freddie, find a bin.’ Leila stopped walking. ‘Don’t be a prat.’
‘Is this about what happened in Jaipur?’
‘It’s about you littering up the streets of London for no reason other than not being bothered to find a bin.’
‘You’re still angry with me.’
Leila reflected on this for a moment, ‘You know what, Freddie, I’m really not. I’m just grateful for finding out when I did that you are a monumental waste of my time and energy. Now, if you don’t mind I’ve had a really long day and I want to go home. Pick up the cup, put it in the bin and go away.’
‘I only came back from India to explain. You owe me that at least.’
If Leila had been a violent sort of person she would have slapped him at that moment. She did toy with the idea of rescuing the cold coffee from the bus stop purely to fling it in his gormless grinning face, but she resisted. ‘Freddie. There is nothing to explain. You screwed up. I’ve moved on. Good night.’ She stuck out her hand and hailed a passing cab. She slammed the car door leaving Freddie standing open-mouthed in the street. It was a dramatic statement more than anything else – she wasn’t even sure she had any cash on her to pay for the cab. A quick rummage through her purse discovered that nope, she didn’t. ‘Um, sorry mate, can you just drop me here?’ The cab had just rounded the corner, less than 50 metres from where she’d got in. In the driver’s eyes, she must seem either deranged or extremely lazy. She looked in the rear view mirror and gave the cabbie a winning smile. ‘And will you accept a three quid Pret a Manger voucher for the fare?’
My ex surprised me outside work today with a cold coffee and a bucketful of hard-done-by-ness. The old me may have relented a little. May have agreed to go for a drink. At the very least the old me may have listened to his attempts to explain why he felt the need to entertain a naked buxom blonde in my absence. But the new me didn’t. The new me felt no stirring of emotion at all, no flicker of remorse or wistfulness. The new me is currently toasting myself with a well-deserved glass of cheap wine. Go new me.
***
There was never normally enough room in Alex’s car for Leila to get a lift with them down to Dartmouth for the monthly family roast. Despite it being a Range Rover, once you’d piled in two adults, three kids – two of them in bulky car seats – and bags full of the necessary detritus to keep three kids amused for a long car journey and a weekend with the grandparents, the car was full. Which Leila thanked the Lord for every time she stretched out on the train, ordered a cheese croissant and cappuccino from the buffet car and read half a book. But fifteen-year old Mia had special dispensation to stay at a friend’s this weekend, leaving a ten-inch gap between the two car seats that, according to her sister, had Leila’s name on it.
‘Remind me how Mia managed to get out of this, when I’ve been trying for the last fifteen years?’ Alex said, at the same time as craning his neck around trying to go across three lanes of traffic to his exit.
‘It’s Imogen’s birthday.’ Tasha replied, flicking through the Saturday supplements that were weighing on her knees. ‘And if we didn’t let Mia go to the sleepover she was going to die. And I didn’t want that on my conscience.’
‘Aunty LaLa?’
‘Yes Oscar?’ Leila turned her head to answer her little nephew, who was staring back at her keenly.
‘Play I-Spy wiv me pease.’
Leila loved her sister’s kids, she did. But they were less than eight minutes into a four-hour car journey. On a Saturday morning when all her friends were having lie-ins with their husbands or drinking coffee out of impossibly small cups at a pavement cafe, she was feeding a constant stream of cheesy wotsits to two little monkeys. One of whom had a trickle of green slime oozing from his left nostril.
Just as the M25 turned into the M4 Leila put a Peppa Pig DVD in the player on the back of the passenger seat which seemed to distract Oscar from a never-ending round of I-Spy. ‘Is Lucy coming as well?’ Leila asked her sister. She obviously didn’t do a good enough job at cloaking the disdain in her question because Tasha span around and asked her why.
‘No reason, I just find her a bit, um, cold,’ Leila shrugged.
‘She’s perfect for Marcus.’
‘He’s not cold!’
‘No, but he is a bit nice but dim. She’s the perfect trophy girlfriend, isn’t she? With her perfect nails and perfect blow-dried hair.’
‘She’s wonderful. What’s not to like?’ Alex interrupted. ‘Ow!’ he said, rubbing his arm where Tasha had punched him. ‘There’s no need for that, I just mean, she’s a bit of a looker, isn’t she? Way above Marcus’s league.’
‘I’m not even going to respond to that. Ignore me, I shouldn’t have mentioned anything,’ shrugged Leila.
‘I thought you were all about female solidarity and sisters doing it for themselves these days Leila?’ Alex looked in the rear view mirror at his sister-in-law.
He was annoyingly right. ‘I am, you’re completely correct. I shouldn’t speak ill of one of my own. Consider myself castigated.’
‘Speaking of your man-ban—’
‘We weren’t.’
Alex ignored her and carried on, ‘Speaking of your man-ban, I think I’ve found the perfect bloke for you. Name’s Andy, new guy in the office, a real laugh, rugby player, single, loves a good time, likes his booze, he’s not looking for anything serious, just a bit of fun—’
He wasn’t the first to assume that her celibacy vow was down to not meeting the right man, that she was just treading water until the next bloke came along. Shelley wasn’t getting it either, and still expected Leila to accompany her to those horrific blind date nights where desperate men made rubbish jokes and you were expected to laugh. She’d got really shirty with her last week when Leila had turned down yet another offer of warm wine and stilted speed-dating chat in a Mexican restaurant.
‘Andy sounds charming.’ Leila replied from the back seat. ‘But the whole point of a man-ban is to ban men, not sleep with them.’
‘Who mentioned anything about sleeping with them? But you’re only doing this because you’re lonely, and I’m just pointing out someone to stop you being lonely, that’s all.’
‘Is that what you think? That I’m just trying to fill my time before the next man comes into my life? Oh my God Alex, you’re so annoying.’ After fifteen years of having Alex as her brother-in-law, Leila felt justified in speaking to him the same way she would her own brother. ‘That just shows your complete lack of depth and understanding of women. I am doing this year – a whole year – to prove to myself and everyone else that I do not need to be attached to someone else to be happy.’
‘There’s no way you’re going to last a year. How long has it been so far?’
‘Forty-one days.’
‘So on day forty-one of three hundred and sixty-five you’re still going strong. By day one hundred you’ll be doing the walk of shame from someone like Andy’s house. Five grand says so.’
‘I haven’t got five grand.’
‘According to you, you’re not going to need it. So take the bet.’
‘Fine.’ Leila said, ignoring her sister’s clucks of disapproval from the passenger seat. ‘I’ll take your bet, and raise you five.’
Alex accelerated down the motorway. ‘Game on. Leila, Game on.’
The next day, Judy had just cleared away the remains of the sticky toffee pudding and placed the tray with coffee, and Lucy’s peppermint tea, in the middle of the table when Marcus gave a little cough. ‘Um, everyone,’ he placed his hand on top of Lucy’s. ‘We have some news.’
Everyone jumped up from the table and loud declarations of ‘Congratulations!’ ‘Fantastic news!’ were exclaimed amid a flurry of hugs and kisses. Leila caught Tasha’s warning eyes over Marcus’s shoulder, as if she was going to drop in the middle of her congratulations mention of his fiancée’s frostiness.
‘Where’s the ring?’ Judy asked excitedly.
Marcus looked a little uncomfortable, but Lucy didn’t flinch, ‘It wasn’t exactly to my taste, so Marcus took it back and we’re going ring shopping together this week to get something more suitable.’
‘Bigger.’ Leila mouthed to Tasha across the table.
‘Oh, well, that’s nice.’ Judy said. It was very obvious to Leila and Tasha that their mother did not in fact think that was nice. In fact, her words of platitude were so fake, she may well have said, ‘you made my son return the ring he painstakingly chose for you, you selfish, greedy mare.’
Tasha hurriedly butted in. ‘So, any ideas for the wedding?’
Again, Marcus shifted uneasily in his seat, ‘Um, well actually, Mum, Dad, we wondered if we could have it here?’ Since the refurbishment three years previously, the hotel had been featured in all the wedding magazines as a must-visit location, and they had a booming bookings book filled with brides and grooms-to-be eager to celebrate their nuptials in the oak-beamed dining hall. The outdoor terrace, built into the hillside, enjoyed panoramic vistas over the harbour and River Dart below and was the perfect spot for pre-dinner Pimms and a jazz band.
‘That would be wonderful!’ Thomas said, ‘We’d be delighted to have it here!’ We’ve got a lot of weekends left after October, or a couple in June next year if you want better weather, so let us know soon what dates you were thinking of.’
‘July 1st this year,’ Lucy said.
Judy laughed, ‘Oh, this summer is completely chocka, I’m afraid, and that’s only six weeks away! But I think we do have a weekend in September and then, like Thomas said, most after October?’
‘No, we definitely want July 1st this year.’
‘But that’s a Saturday! We can certainly do a midweek wedding in July if you fancy it though? But I don’t see what the rush is? It would be nice to take your time over planning it, rather than doing it all in a rush? Oh! Unless you’re pregnant?’
Leila and Tasha cringed at their mother’s lack of subtlety, but Lucy didn’t flinch, ‘No, I’m not pregnant Judy, but neither of us are getting any younger, particularly Marcus, so we don’t see the point in dragging it out unnecessarily.’
‘And we definitely want a Saturday Mum, there’ll be people travelling all over for it, and midweek wouldn’t work,’ Marcus added.
‘I’m sure you can shuffle some things around for us Judy? It is your son’s wedding day after all.’ Lucy’s smile made Leila itchy. The table had lost its joviality of a few minutes before and everyone’s eyes were darting between Lucy and Judy and Thomas to see who would talk first.
‘Let me look in the book, and we’ll see what can be done.’ Judy replied with a pinched smile.
This was absurd. ‘You can’t cancel someone’s wedding just because Marcus has decided to get married then!’ Leila heard herself exclaim. ‘Those people had booked it last year, or the one before!’
Judy flashed warning eyes at her youngest daughter, while maintaining her slightly twitchy composure and smile. ‘I didn’t say I was going to cancel someone’s wedding, just to see what could be done. Maybe we could ask a couple to move to the Sheldrake, or the Winbourne, but let’s look in the book first shall we?’
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