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But she’s not listening, because she’s flinging open the door. ‘Fred, do come in, there’s someone here I’m dying for you to meet.’ That old line. ‘No need to take off your boots.’

What? Who gets in here in their outdoor shoes? What’s more, why has my heart done the tiniest cartwheel in my chest when I’m having no part of this?

She presses a pair of bright blue shoe covers into Fred’s hand so fast, she must have had them up her sleeve. Then she seizes a tartan throw from under a cushion, and with one flap it’s open, and covering half a sofa. As Fred’s blue feet slither across the shiny oak floor, and my mum escorts him to his mud-proofed area, he sends me a grin over the top of her choppy blonde streaks. It’s obvious he’s done this before.

David has too, given he’s arrived at Fred’s elbow with a mug of tea, a plate and the tea trolley.

My mum waits until Fred unzips his hoodie and eases back onto his rug, then she launches the Exocet. ‘So, this is my daughter Lily, she’s currently on her own, and she’d love you to take her out for a drink. Or better still, dinner and a drink. Or even …’

If I cut in rudely, it’s to shut her up. ‘Or a mini-break in London would work for me. Or even a romantic trip to New York if you’re up for that?’ I only hope my mum’s happy I’ve been reunited with my sense of humour. And note how she flagged up my status without mentioning the ‘D’ word. Then I put on my best ‘appalled of Rose Hill’ face – I get a lot of practice at that with my mum – and shake my head at Fred. ‘I’m divorced, by the way. Excuse me while I crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment.’

From the way Fred’s choking behind his hand, he has to be laughing. Eventually he stops shaking, and smiles. ‘I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you, Barbara. Matchmaking isn’t the best look for mums. In any case, you’re too late, I’m already taken.’

My insides deflate like a popped balloon. Which really isn’t my style. Not that I was interested in Fred. Because I wasn’t at all. But whatever.

‘B-b-but …?’ My mum’s even more confused than my flattened ego.

Fred’s lips twitch, and one eye narrows as he catches mine. ‘I met a lovely girl last night. Given she went home wearing my shirt, I’d say I’m well in there. Wouldn’t you, Lily?’ As he holds my gaze, a tiny part of me melts. Then he dips to adjust a foot cover, and slides me a wink.

It takes a few seconds for my ego to brush itself down. Then it does a skip and canters back to where I can’t see it. ‘Absolutely right, Fred. I’d say the shirt’s a clincher.’ I’m getting out of my mum’s proverbial frying pan here, but who knows what hot place I’m ending up in.

Okay, I know I said winks were tacky. But it does depend on the wink. And who it comes from. And Poppy was so right when she said I could do with a wingman here. Right now, times are desperate. I’ll take whatever friendly support I can get.

‘So you’re saying she’ll be up for a mini-break, then, maybe New York?’ Fred laughs, and gives me a significant grin.

There’s no point leading him on when I’ve no intention of going. ‘That sounds like quite a lot of logs.’

‘Good thing I’ve got a chainsaw then.’

This kind of banter could go on all day. If I don’t make a run for it now, my mum will claim her cupid stripes, regardless of women with prior claims. And Fred will be another on her long list of men delivered on plates that got away.

I slide my French Fancy into my bag for later. ‘Well I’ll leave you guys to your wood delivery. Let me know about the Rose Hill Manor visit.’

Hopefully that gets me off every hook, and leaves the next move up to everyone else.

I’m half way back to St Aidan when I realise. I still haven’t seen the ring.

Chapter 6 (#ulink_16dae993-c166-5416-ae6c-8e23880747cd)

Tuesday, 21st Feb

At Brides by the Sea: Bare branches and customer service

When I told my mum I’d be back in St Aidan so soon, it didn’t feel real. But the up-side of living in a hotel room is there’s nothing much to move. My worldly belongings fit into Gucci, and there’s still left room for a trip to Ikea to pick up bedding on the way. Less than a week later, I’m clattering down the stairs from the attic flat at Brides by the Sea, to fill in for Jess down in the shop.

‘Tuesday morning’s our quietest time, as there aren’t any appointments. Acclimatise yourself, we’ll see you after lunch,’ she says, as she rushes off with Sera the dress designer, for an ‘at home’ appointment with a couture client. As Poppy’s not in yet either, I really am ‘home alone’.

Creating a new job and a new department, it’s hard to know where to begin. But given Jess has promised there won’t be any customers, I take my laptop over to the table in the White Room. I’ve decided to start by sourcing storm lanterns to add to the displays, and looking for a dressing table to offer as a cake table for vintage weddings. But I’ve barely settled into my Louis Quatorze chair, when the shop door rattles. A perfume cloud arrives first, carried on a gust from the sea. Whoever’s on their way down the hall, they haven’t stinted on the YSL Black Opium. And from the way they’re stamping across the boards, they’re either wearing tap dancing shoes or dizzy high heels.

‘Hello, coooo-ey, surprise …’

There’s a tinkling laugh. Then a clenched fist appears around the door frame. Along with the hugest rock of an engagement ring. In the world. Ever. Like Kardashian size, or bigger. As the diamonds waggle on the arm end, they don’t just twinkle in the light from chandeliers. They literally flash. If Jess had warned me, I’d have brought my sunnies down. I tiptoe to the front of the desk, bracing myself for whatever’s coming.

‘It’s sooooooo wonderful to be back.’

A figure storms towards me. A second later I’m squeezed into a mega hug, and I’m fighting for breath through fur and a perfume fug.

‘Is this real?’ I tug on the sleeve. When it comes to wearing animals, I’m a die-hard vegetarian.

‘Don’t be silly, fox hunting’s banned dahling.’ The hugger staggers backwards. ‘Omigod, where’s Jess? And who the hell are you?’

Looks like I’m not the only surprised one here. ‘Delighted to meet you too.’ Crap. Way too sarcastic. My first brush with a client, and it couldn’t be a bigger fail. I rush in to smooth things over. ‘I’m Lily. I’m working in styling, we’re making a brand-new department.’ Hopefully the gush will make up for the lack of expertise, and my grimace at almost saying my new job title out loud. ‘Sorry, Jess is out.’

‘Omigod, you’re a stylist? In that case I need to book you. Immediately. Like now.’ She’s flapping her hands so hard her scarlet nails are a blur.

‘Shit.’ I wince as something heavy thuds onto my foot. A bloody massive handbag. I bite my tongue, and think of the styling booking as I stoop to move it. ‘Oh, it’s a Gucci. That’s nice. And you are …?’

As she slides a knife edge of bottom into the chaise longue, and arranges her legs, I get my first proper view. She’s pretty much everything my mum wants from me, but doesn’t get. Groomed. Glossy as a race horse. Accessories that coordinate. Rocking the red lips and floral silk thing.

‘I’m one of Seraphina East’s biggest fans, and I’m here for a rematch.’ The laugh she lets out is almost a neigh. ‘It’s my second time around.’

‘Fabulous.’ Another divorcee. Despite my crushed toes and the horsey giggle, I’m warming to her.

‘When I called my wedding off last summer who’d have thought I’d be shopping for a dress again so soon? Or that I’d find my very own James Bond.’ A moment later her phone’s out, and the proof’s under my nose. ‘Isn’t my fiancé, Miles gorgeous? He’s a C.E.O. with his own coatings company.’

Daniel Craig could have made me well jel. Pierce Brosnan with added wrinkles, not so much. Whatever a C.E.O. is – I can never remember – I can see the professional coatings contacts could come in handy.

‘Lush.’ I sense it’s not enough. ‘Phwoar … to die for.’ Still more needed. ‘What a catch.’ Phew to not going on about ex-husbands then, given this one hardly looks first hand. I’m picking my jaw off the floor, and counting on my fingers. ‘A new man and a new ring all in six months. Well done you.’ You have to admire the tenacity. And the speed. ‘Was it a Valentine’s proposal?’

She nods, and drops her voice. ‘My dress from last year is still in the store. I haven’t got an appointment, but we’re going for a summer wedding. This year. I was hoping for a teensy look at some of Seraphina’s dresses. Seeing as Tuesday’s your quiet day.’

It’s not as quiet as it was, given how her laugh is warming up. No idea why, but my ‘tricky customer’ alarm bells are ringing. ‘It’s my first day, and I’m not sure how fast the dresses can be delivered. You might prefer to see Jess later?’ I open the appointment book, because I don’t want to mess this up. ‘She’s free from one?’ Hopefully my grin will make up for the deferral.

The disapproving sniff is loud. ‘I’m one of Jess’s most prolific customers, and “now” works for me. I know all about Seraphina’s range, so if you get the drinks, I’ll make a start.’ She’s scooped up her bag and she’s already making a bee-line for the Seraphina East Room, shouting over her shoulder. ‘Prosecco’s in the kitchen fridge, flutes are on the shelf. And if there’s any Valentine’s chocolates left, we’ll have those too.’

Whatever happened to ‘no’? Although, let’s face it, not many people buy two wedding dresses in the space of a year. And Jess is big on seizing the moment with customers. By the time I go through with the fizz, there’s a row of dresses hanging in the fitting room. And the customer’s on her knees, unwrapping a box.

‘Last summer I had these darling shoes from White White White Weddings. A total snip, at six hundred. Do tell me I’ll able to wear them this time.’

That’s Bristol’s swankiest bridal shop, with prices to match. But I hold in my whistle, because at Brides by the Sea we try not to judge. ‘So long as you’re comfortable wearing them, go for it.’ Although I doubt anyone could be that comfy in the heels she pulls out. ‘The bride makes the rules,’ I say, then instantly regret it. I’m not sure this bride needs encouragement. As for the emerald beaded flowers snaking over the sandals? Carp ponds and waterweed tangles spring to mind.

‘I’m so totally in love with Seraphina’s Country Collection, I may need to try every dress.’ The jewel encrusted watch she glances at as she takes a slug of fizz could almost have dropped off one of her shoes. ‘I need to be at the hair salon in four hours. So snip snap! Pass the chocolates, we’d better get started.’

Despite reeling at the Mary Poppins hand claps, I do as I’m told.

Her nose wrinkles as she peers into the basket I offer her. ‘You can’t fob me off with foil covered hearts, even if they are pink. Where’s the handmade confectionery?’ Disgusted doesn’t begin to cover it. ‘You do realise White White White give their brides smoked salmon blinis?’

I’m sensing the canape gauntlet is being thrown down here.