Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
“With walls this thin?” Ronny grins as she sets her can of energy drink on a doily in the center of a small nest of tables. “Who was it, then?”
I swallow back a sigh. May as well get it over with. “My husband.”
“What?” Her eyes fly wide. “Spill the tea, sis!” Then she playfully punches me in the arm.
“That’s all I’m saying.” I pivot and make my way into the kitchen.
“Nah. No way!” she says, bounding in behind me. “Is he a big-time dealer?”
“A drug dealer, Ronny? No!” I turn to the pantry, pulling open the yellowing melamine door.
“So, he’s like, just rich?” Her expression scrunches. “Regular rich. Come on, he must be rich if he drives a Bentley. Did you get hitched on holiday?”
“Do you know that spices were first brought to England in the Middle Ages?”
“What?”
“I’m pretty sure there are some in the back of this cupboard with date codes from then.”
“Oldies, man.” She shakes her head. “They keep everything. My nan has jerk seasoning from way back when.”
I’m pretty sure Ronny’s gran is about fifty-five. At least, she looks around that age. And so glamorous.
“I have a job for you,” I begin, knowing that’ll catch her attention before it spins elsewhere. Whirlwind Veronica—so her mother calls her.
“Yeah? What is it?”
“Business is picking up.” Seriously. I was amazed when I checked my message bank to see I had three messages. Three booking inquiries! And now I have three introductory meetings next week. Yippee! The downside is I’ll have to schlep them, as I no longer have an office but each couple (or bride, in these three cases) preferred an actual meeting to a virtual one.
“You never explained what happened to your business. You know, why you moved in with Roza and gave up your flat and stuff.”
“I had a run of bad luck after me and Adam split up.” I pull out the first of a dozen tins of tomatoes. Checking the dates, I sort them into two piles on the two-seat kitchen table. Bad date code and donate to the food kitchen. I turn back to the pantry, which is filled to the brim with tins and packets and boxes, some of which are a dozen years old. Treacle might not go out of date, but crackers go soft. She can’t really have been eating these, can she?
My heart is heavy as I glance around the small space. There is so much to sort through before I can hand back the keys, and yet another letter arrived from the housing association while I was away. I haven’t opened it, as I know it’s just another threat.
“Seems a bit sus.”
My attention drops to Ronny. “Sorry?”
“A bit suspect.” She shrugs and begins sifting through the old foodstuffs. Picking up a packet of single-serve oatmeal, she screws her nose as she reads the date. “The wedding industry is booming,” she says, dropping the oatmeal back. “I don’t see what luck has to do with it.”
“Booming?” I try to keep my amusement from my voice.
“Yeah. I’ve been doin’ a bit of research. You know, after you said you might have something for me. Beats working in a factory.”
“You work in a sports shop. Part time.”
“Selling running shoes.” Her lip curls. “And you know I hate feet.”
Ah, Ronny. She makes me laugh.
“Anyway, the revenue for the wedding industry is up twenty-two percent on last year.” As she says this, she swings her backpack from her shoulder, pulling out a notepad. “Do you know the vicar charges when you get married in church?”
“Yeah.”
“If there’s a God, I hope he’s paying tax.”
Ronny pulls back a kitchen chair and opens her notepad, all business, as she slides away my neatly stacked piles with her forearm, oblivious. She goes on to explain how she’s been hanging around some of the online wedding forums, taking notes of trends and what brides are looking for. I take the seat opposite, impressed. A lot of the information she’s gathered doesn’t really pertain to me; I have my preferred vendors and venues, but Ronny wouldn’t know that.
“What was your wedding like?” she asks quite suddenly, reaching up to tighten her ponytail, jet spirals spilling over her shoulders as she does.
“It was beautiful.” What I remember of it. And what I remember most isn’t the decor or the setting or even the dress. It’s the way Fin looked at me as he lifted my veil. My heart hammered, and my knees were shaking like crazy, but that all faded when he took my face in his hands and whispered how beautiful I was. It went a bit pear shaped after that, but it was mostly nerves.
Specifically mine, which he seemed intent on getting on.
When I think about Fin . . . I quickly remind myself not to.
“The ceremony was held in a place overlooking the ocean. The sun was shining, and everything was just perfect.”