The Winter Wedding (3 page)

‘Thank you. How are things going with the casting?’

‘Good. Mostly. We’ve got some new talent in for the Christmas episode. Amy Strachan to play one of Edward’s sisters.’

‘Oh yes – I’ve heard of her. She was the assistant in the last
Doctor Who
, right? Petite, big eyes?’

‘That’s her. She’s great – I think we’ve caught her at a really interesting time in her career, and she and Matt have good on-screen chemistry.’

‘I look forward to meeting her soon.’

‘Come along and watch us film next time. I’ll clear it with Emma.’

‘That would be great.’

‘Hopefully soon I won’t have to. It’s about time you had a bit more freedom around here.’

‘It won’t be long, I’m sure.’

Later that day, Lila and I met for lunch in a café on the Regent’s Canal. It was a sunny morning in March, and joggers and dog-walkers passed us by on the towpath.
I’d got her text first thing in the morning:

Lila was holding out her hand toward me, a red and yellow Haribo ring on the fourth finger. Her hooded green eyes – mine, genes courtesy of our mum – danced with
excitement, a trace of bronze shadow on the lids. ‘This is just a stand-in, obviously,’ she said, a smile playing on her lips. ‘He’s going to pick out a real one.’

Woah. This was really happening. My sister was engaged.

‘Congratulations!’ I hugged her.

It made sense. She and Ollie had been living together for four months now, and everything seemed to have worked out well. They were as compatible as hot chocolate and marsh-mallows, raisins and
scones, red velvet cupcakes and vanilla icing . . . you get the picture. Ollie was starry-eyed over my sister, and it had been clear for a while that things were heading in a particular direction.
With church bells.

But it still hit me hard. Lila was getting married. Lila, my little sister, if only by a few minutes, was going to walk down the aisle with Ollie. I was happy for her. And yet – God, this
is kind of embarrassing to admit – I was a bit jealous.

It wasn’t that I wanted to be in her position – getting married had always appealed more to her than me. And like I said, I don’t mind Ollie. I actually kind of like him. But I
guess I realised that perhaps the reason I hadn’t quite been able to face filling the spare room with someone new, even though it was breaking me financially, was because I’d wondered
if there was the chance she might, one day, come back.

And now? There was no way that would be happening.

Where would I be without Lila? I mean
really
without Lila? This was permanent.

The other side of her coin was Ollie, now. Who am I kidding, it had been for a while now. But the other side of mine . . . Can a coin even exist if it doesn’t have another side?

Oblivious, Lila started to tell me the story.

‘We went to Cabana, you know the rooftop bar overlooking Covent Garden, and he’d got us a table in the corner, really quiet and candlelit. We had dinner there, and we were talking
about this and that, nothing important – an audition I did yesterday – and then he asked me.’

‘Was it a surprise?’

‘Mostly. I mean we’d talked about marriage – but I didn’t see the proposal coming, not when it did.’

‘He did well, then. And you seem happy.’

‘I am,’ she said. And it showed, it had done ever since she met Ollie – in the brightness of her green eyes, the sway in her step, everything that a string of rejections from
dance companies and shows had almost knocked out of her. ‘I think when you know, you know, don’t you?’

‘That’s great.’ I hugged her again. ‘And I know what you mean. There’s something about you and Ollie – you just
fit.
Have you talked about
when?’

‘I don’t know . . . we didn’t talk about dates, but neither of us wants to wait long.’ She paused and looked at me. ‘I’ve heard about a great wedding planner
– Suzanne. A couple of friends have used her. Reasonable rates and apparently she makes the whole thing completely stress-free.’

‘Sounds ideal,’ I said. ‘You sure you can afford it, though?’

‘Yes. I’ve been putting a little aside for a while. Ollie has too. I guess we were both considering this as a possibility, and we want to do it properly.’

‘Have you told Mum and Dad yet?’

‘Not yet,’ she said, with an excited smile. ‘I want to do it in person. Care to join us this weekend?’

‘Back to Bidcombe?’

Lila nodded.

‘Sure. That would be fun. Will Ben be there?’

‘I hope so. I’ve called him, left a couple of messages. So hopefully he’ll be able to make it.’

Leaving our brother messages hadn’t got me very far over the past couple of months, but I didn’t want to dampen Lila’s enthusiasm.

‘Hazel. Changing the subject I know, but do you think we should talk about . . .’

‘The flat?’ I said. I knew this was coming. But I just wasn’t quite ready to face the idea of living in our flat with anyone but my twin sister. ‘It’ll work itself
out . . .’

I tried not to think of the pile of unpaid bills by the door.

Lila’s expression softened. ‘It’s been four months, Haze. It’s not going to work itself out.’

I couldn’t go on living in a two-bedroom flat much longer, I knew that. It was crazy. One more month was all I had before I had to go to my parents to borrow money – and I really
didn’t want to do that. But the idea of living with someone other than Lila was still weird for me.

‘I’ll look around. And who knows, hopefully when I get this promotion, I won’t need anyone else for the second room. I might even be able to pay for the flat myself.’

‘OK, OK,’ Lila said, apologetically. ‘It’s your business. Sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.’

I sipped my drink. If I really had to, I’d start looking. But I was confident it wouldn’t come to that.

The next day at work, the CEO of Twenty-One, Aaron, waved us all into the boardroom first thing in the morning. ‘Quick meeting, guys – come on in. And don’t
look so worried, it’s good news.’

I walked with the others, joining the rest of the company in the steel and glass meeting room.

‘Morning everyone, grab yourselves some coffee,’ Aaron said more brightly, once everyone – about thirty of us – was in there. Was this it? Would this be the morning he
announced my promotion?

‘As you all know, Twenty-One is entering an exciting period of growth, and I’ve brought you all here this morning to talk about the creation of two new positions.’

A flush of excitement came to my cheeks. So, today was the day. I looked around for Emma, and could just make her out at the back of the crowd. I turned back.

Aaron caught my eye, and I smiled. He then looked to his right. ‘I’m delighted to introduce you to Tim Graham.’

Tim was in his mid-thirties, with a hipster beard and short-sleeved shirt rolled up to his shoulders and an anchor tattoo just visible underneath.

Who was this guy? My chest grew tight.

‘Tim’s going to be our newest Set Designer.’

The punch of his words hit me in the stomach. Then, a wave of disbelief. Emma had promised me – she’d been certain, she’d said all along that they’d recruit
internally.

Perhaps I was jumping the gun. Aaron had said two jobs, hadn’t he?

‘Tim joins us from Hetrodox TV with his assistant, Amber McGuire.’

My gaze went to the woman at Tim’s side. Amber was about my age, maybe a year or two older, with glossy dyed black hair and tortoiseshell glasses. She was wearing a vintage jade blouse
with cocktail glasses on it and flared skirt.

So we’d both be assistants. Working in parallel. So, in the unlikely event that a new position opened up again, I guess she’d now also be in the running. I felt the future I’d
envisioned slip away. The salary I’d thought I’d be on, that would enable me to keep living on my own, now seemed out of reach.

‘Should take some of the heat off you, Hazel,’ Aaron said cheerfully. ‘We all know how busy you are.’

I nodded, feeling numb. I didn’t want to speak in case the tears that were prickling at my eyes spilled over.

‘And what’s more,’ Aaron said, jubilantly, ‘Amber’s brought us cakes! She must have heard a rumour about what we run on round here.’

Shyly, Amber brought forth a plate of iced cupcakes, decorated with silver balls. The cakes were perfect. Absolutely perfect.

‘Pssst. Haze, come in for a chat?’ Emma said, beckoning me into her office as I passed.

I ducked inside and closed the door behind me.

‘Bloody hell. Well, this is awkward,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘So sorry about that. I had no idea they’d look outside the company.’

I felt shell-shocked from the news, and tears welled in my eyes.

‘For some weird reason they left me out of the decision,’ Emma said, frowning, ‘which obviously I’m not at all happy about.’

‘Right,’ I said, willing the tears not to fall. ‘Well, you weren’t to know then. I’m sure something else will come up.’

‘That’s the spirit,’ Emma said, hurriedly. ‘Anyway, I’m sure that hipster dude, whatever his name is . . .’

‘Tim,’ I said.

‘I bet Tim won’t last five minutes,’ Emma said. ‘You’ll get your promotion, Haze. I’m sure of it.’

Back at the flat, I poured myself a glass of red wine. I still felt dazed by Aaron’s announcement. The new reality was starting to sink in and I wanted to talk to
someone. I glanced over at Lila’s empty room. She and Ollie would probably be out celebrating tonight.

I thought through my other options – Sam. We’d barely spoken since Christmas. I longed to hear his voice now, but I couldn’t call him. I didn’t want him to hear me like
this.

I don’t like to have regrets, but I guess I did regret this one thing. We’d been at a Christmas party, hosted by Edie and Joe, schoolfriends of mine and Sam’s. A few glasses of
mulled wine down, I’d got the idea into my head that now was the time. I’d had feelings for Sam for years. I’d needed to know if he felt the same way. I’d moved a little
closer to him on the sofa, as we talked.

He’d looked into my eyes and in that split-second I’d seen our lives coming together in a new way. It had made my heart leap, and the moment felt full of potential.

Then I’d leaned in towards him and Sam’s face had paled.

‘I’m sorry,’ he’d said, mumbling and pushing his hair away from his face. ‘Haze. I didn’t . . . This is weird.’ He had practically rushed out of the
room, turning his back on the party. Through the living room window I’d watched him walking away down the snow-covered street, snowflakes settling in his hair, and I’d felt sick to my
stomach at what I’d done.

Since then we hadn’t talked, save the occasional text. He told me he was back in Bidcombe, living with his parents again. He’d got a job as a P.E. teacher at our old school. We still
hadn’t discussed what had happened.

It wasn’t the rejection that hurt most. It was feeling like I’d lost my best friend. I missed Sam, badly. Remembering that night, and the stupid mistake I’d made, I drank
slowly, until, fuzzy-headed, I fell asleep.

That weekend, Lila, Ollie and I took a train back to Bidcombe, and then walked from the station to the cottage. I tried not to think about Sam. That wasn’t why we were
here. I was relieved when we passed his street, and moved on towards the one we’d grown up on.

Mum greeted us at the cottage door, with a smile and hug. ‘Come in, come in,’ she said. She squeezed Ollie’s hands. ‘It’s great to see you again, Ollie. It’s
been a while since you came up this way, hasn’t it?’

She ushered us in, and started pouring us all mugs of tea and putting some Hobnobs on a plate.

I’m making her sound like the perfect mother and housewife, aren’t I? The biscuits, the warm welcome. I love my mum, and she’s always been there for me. But if I left it at
that – well, it wouldn’t be giving the full picture.

Our mum, Alison, is the kind of woman who stands out in a village like Bidcombe. It’s not just her unruly brown hair, or her clothes – charity-shop finds mixed with jeans and Indian
headscarves. It’s more the way she’s never thought twice about telling it how it is, or hesitated for a moment considering what someone would think of her.

Sometimes I’ve wondered why she had ever chosen the cottage, this place – but she always said that having grown up in a city herself she wanted something different – for
herself, and then for us. Her job, as a counsellor, was based in the nearest town, a half-hour’s drive away. She had a treatment room there, working mainly with young people. Before
she’d had me and Lila, she’d been a journalist at the same tabloid Dad had once done accounts for, but, her edges softened a little by having children (she said), she never went back to
Fleet Street. Dad set up his own firm in the village, and she retrained, starting up work properly when Ben was in school. I hadn’t appreciated it at the time, but now I saw that her time on
the school run had never been easy. While the other mothers chatted easily together, I think our mum always felt a bit like an outsider.

Mum would often be thinking about the case she was working on, and she’d forget to say the right thing to the right person about their new Yorkshire terrier or planned kitchen extension.
She rarely got round to making things for the village bake sale. But she loved us, always had. The people she was close to she looked after with endless loyalty.

Dad was in our living room, and jumped quickly to his feet when we came in. He hugged Lila, then me. It always made me feel complete, hugging Dad. The man who’d responded to our cries at
night, cooked us fish fingers and alphabetti spaghetti, allayed our fears of spiders, bullies, then, as we took tentative steps into our twenties, professional failure. He looked smaller, somehow,
since we’d all left home. His life and Mum’s – once big and sprawling and loud with the three of us – must be much quieter now.

‘Well we did rather hope Ben would be able to make it,’ Mum said apologetically. ‘When you said it was important, I asked if he’d come back too, but he said he was too
busy.’

I turned to Lila. ‘I already guessed as much,’ she said, with an air of resignation. ‘When he didn’t call me back I assumed that was the case.’