Christmas Promises at the Little Wedding Shop: Celebrate Christmas in Cornwall with this magical romance!

Poppy is the one person in the room who looks delighted, as she clasps her hands and moves towards them. ‘So are you going to introduce us, Rory?’ Her eyes are shining as she smiles down at the girl. Which might well be down to her baby hormones. ‘We don’t often have visitors as exciting as you in the wedding shop. Although we do have lots of children at our farm. And I think you’re going to like the animals there too.’

I wonder where the hell she’s going with this, because the frown she’s sending me is equal parts worry and guilt.

Rory shakes his head, as if he’s trying to wake himself up. ‘Er, right ladies, this is Gracie. And Eddie.’

The girl pats his arm with her free hand and mumbles into his sleeve. ‘No, it’s Teddie.’

Rory gives a sheepish grin. ‘Oh shit, fine, okay. What she said.’ Even for a prat like Rory, this is taking disinterested fatherhood to a new level.

‘We’ve got some mini cupcakes here for you.’ Poppy holds out the box to the child.

Gracie hangs back. ‘Teddie isn’t allowed icing … he’s too small. And Mummy doesn’t let me say shit. Plops is gooder.’ She sounds like she’s channelling her inner disapproving headmistress.

Poppy, undeterred, flips up the box lid to reveal a whole miniature set of what we were tucking into. ‘They’re animals. Holly just ate a cat and Jess had a lion.’

Gracie wrinkles her nose. ‘I mainly have Frozen cupcakes … blue ones with snowflakes … and pictures of Anna and Elsa.’

Poppy’s holding back her amusement. ‘Maybe you’d better take these for later, then.’

Rory lets out an exasperated sigh. ‘Well, this is going well. Not.’ He looks at the baby in the crook of his arm, then down at the girl squirming behind his knee. Then at me. ‘C’mon Gracie, I’m running out of hands here, the least you can do is hold the box.’ A second later, the weight of a large baby lands in my lap, and he’s picked Gracie up with both hands and dumped her down in front of Poppy.

‘Eeeek!’ When it comes to babies this near, I’m with Jess. Although as I close my fingers round Teddie’s hoodie, and the scent of fabric conditioner drifts up my nose, I can’t believe how soft and squishy he feels. Or how heavy he is. ‘You do know I might drop him?’ I’m not sure I ever held a baby before. One of Rory’s is making me extra shaky. My cheeks burning up are only to be expected.

Poppy’s biting her lip. ‘When did you pick them up, Rory? Even Rafe thought you’d last more than ten minutes before you tried to pass them on.’

Jess is mellowing. ‘You’ll have to do better than this, Uncle Rory.’

I’m trying to work out what’s going on here. ‘So they’re not yours, then?’

For the first time since he walked in, the corners of Rory’s eyes crinkle. ‘Hell no! Jeez, Holly North, how would I end up with two of these?’ At least that explains the name blunder. ‘On second thoughts, given there are children here, don’t answer that.’

I know not meeting his eye isn’t the best way forward. I’m staring down, marvelling at how warm the baby feels when I notice a dark splodge spreading across my left thigh. What is it about me and water? ‘Is Teddie leaking?’ If I carry on at this rate I’ll have run out of clothes by teatime. Lucky for me we had guinea pigs when we were kids, so wee on my knee is no big deal. Whereas judging by Jess’s apoplectic expression five yards away, if these had been her chinos, she might have exploded.

Rory’s voice rises. ‘You’re joking? He can’t need changing. Not already.’

Poppy wanders over to give a second opinion. ‘Something here’s very wet. That’s babies for you, they pee and eat and … plop.’

Gracie’s expression is solemn. ‘Teddie’s got clean joggers in his nappy bag.’

Poppy laughs. ‘You’re right, Gracie. I knew something was missing when you walked in.’ She turns to Rory. ‘Lesson one – wherever the baby goes, the changing bag goes too.’

Rory prises the cake box from Gracie’s hands, and as he shakes his car keys the miniature beer bottles on his key ring jiggle. ‘Jeez, the good news keeps on coming today. I’ll be two minutes. And no accusing me of child desertion, either.’

I turn to Poppy, keeping my voice low. ‘Rory babysitting? Isn’t that like hiring Edward Cullen as a childminder? And when did you two get so friendly, anyway?’

Poppy raises her eyebrows. ‘He’s one of Rafe’s besties from way back. He’s a lot better for knowing. He’s also our main wine and beer supplier for weddings at the farm. Rory’s sister Erin’s gone in for an emergency heart op, and their mum’s in Australia. As there’s no one else, the poor guy’s had to step in at short notice and look after the small ones.’ She lets out a sigh. ‘They’re staying in one of the holiday cottages at the farm, so we can all help out. I’m sorry if it’s awkward for you, but it’s all happened at the last minute.’

Worse and worse. My heart sinks. Not that I’ll be involved. But I could do without the thought of Rory popping up around every barn corner when I’m at the farm helping Poppy. Who knew industrial quantities of concealer foundation would be top of my shopping list? Although, even if I live to be a hundred, Rory will never fit into any ‘poor guy’ box in my head.

‘Edward Scissorhands might have been safer.’ As I mutter to myself, Rory’s stomping back along the hallway so hard his footfalls are making the sleigh bells on the Christmas tree jangle. If he looked uncomfortable dragging two children in, that’s nothing to how incongruous he looks with a peony-print Cath Kidston holdall slung over his shoulder.

Gracie waits until Rory swings back into the room, then she eyeballs him. ‘Who’s Edward Scissors?’

Poppy’s straight in there. ‘Edward has scissors for hands, and he’s my favourite character from a film, in the same way you like Elsa. He’s great at cutting up paper, and trimming garden plants.’ She’s certainly going the extra mile here. For all of us.

I seize baby Teddie around the waist and hold him at arm’s length. ‘Okay, who’s doing the honours?’ Obviously not Jess. ‘Rory? Poppy?’ I look from one to the other, as Teddie sags back down onto my knee.

Rory hands Poppy the bag. ‘Be my guest. The bag’s flowery, it has to be you.’

Poppy shakes her head. ‘Sorry, but the antenatal classes haven’t got that far yet. Didn’t Erin show you what to do? Are you using terries or disposables?’

‘No idea.’

Dropping to his knees in the middle of the White Room might not be the ideal place, judging by Jess’s eyebrows hitting the ceiling. But he’s flipped out the changing mat before we can stop him.

‘You’re looking like a pro there, Sanderson.’ I’ve no idea why I’m being so mouthy either. Unless I’m unconsciously limbering up for my wedding work. Or hitting back for yesterday evening.

He shrugs. ‘Sorry, that’s as far as it goes. Erin wrote me a hundred page Operating Manual, but she showed me the nappy change, and it looked easy. But I’m damned if I can remember any of it.’ Baby clothes, plastic bags, creams, bottles, nappies, potions and muslin squares are skidding across the floor as he tosses them out of the bag.

Jess gives a groan. ‘This is our second best bridal area. You’re making a terrible mess down there, Rory.’ It’s lucky for Rory that Jess thinks the sun shines out of his butt. She’s run people out of town for less.

He lets out a grunt. ‘I thought it might jog my memory if I saw the equipment. But I’m none the wiser. Anyone got any bright ideas?’

It’s in my interest for me to rack my brains, as I’m the one whose knees are getting soggier by the second. ‘We could ask at the chemists. Or Google it. Or find someone with a baby out on the street and drag them in to show us. Or Gracie might know?’ As I try to catch her eye, her scowl tells me what she thinks of that idea.

‘Jeez, I was hoping for suggestions that weren’t going to embarrass the shit out of me. And why would a three-year-old know when I don’t?’ Typical Rory. Still the same straight A-star student, with a gaping hole when it comes to common sense. Probably why he ends up letting cars fall off cliffs and being entirely unsuitable for childcare. I mean, he’s said shit so many times even Gracie’s picking him up on it. At this rate she’s going to go home swearing like a trooper.

Poppy’s got a smile lilting about her lips as she peers out of the window. ‘Or maybe Immie might be able to help? It’s our lucky day, she’s on her way down the mews now.’

Immie grew up with us all in Rose Hill village. She may only be five foot nothing in her high- heeled Doccies, but she’s queen of spiky hair, belly laughs and straight talking. Back when we were kids she was the one tough enough and loyal enough to fight all our battles, single-handed, from the age of three onwards. Thinking about it, Rory was the one guy she failed to bring into line. When Immie squared up to him for embarrassing me, he took no notice whatsoever. And although she never did give the reason, she had to admit defeat. Which says a lot about how impossible and out of hand Rory is.

She and Poppy see each other every day now, because Immie looks after the holiday lets at Daisy Hill Farm. And Immie and her hunky new husband, Chas the fireman, live in one of Rafe’s cottages in the village, along with her son Morgan.

I laugh. ‘Brainwave. Immie’s got a teenager, she’ll definitely know about nappies.’ The one thing I assume about baby changing is it’s like riding a bike. However long it’s been, you never forget how to do it. So long as you knew in the first place. I can’t believe that there are four adults in the room and we’re all clueless.

From the way Immie’s hammering along the hall, she can’t wait to see this either. ‘Rory Sanderson, what the eff? And, hello, Holly too.’ Her husky laugh sets the chandelier jangling as she bursts in, then takes my breath away with a bear hug as she passes. ‘I spotted the beer-mobile parked up in the mews with a baby-on-board sticker.’ She pauses long enough to make an ‘OMG!’ face. ‘So I thought I’d call in and see how you were all getting on. Lovely to meet you, Gracie and Teddie. Anyone like a gender-neutral fluffy snowman to play with? Or should that be snow person?’ Immie, who’s still wearing her sparkly I’m getting married at Daisy Hill Farm t-shirt, four months after the event, hands one incredibly cute cuddly toy to Gracie and drops another on the floor next to the changing mat. Obviously bought specially. With a ton of thought and insight, seeing as Immie is studying psychology part time at uni. Then she retreats with her hands on her hips to take in the scene.

‘Isn’t there a snowman for me?’ Rory sounds like he’s used to joshing with Immie.

Immie sniffs. ‘They’re suitable for under-threes, Rory. You’ll have to grow up a bit before you have yours.’ And given she’s name perfect with the kids, she’s well briefed, as well as having Rory down to a T.

‘You two know each other too?’ There’s a lot I’ve missed out on since I was last home.

Immie pulls a face. ‘Not only does he hang round the farm incessantly with Rafe but since he got his own bottling plant, he’s always at the Goose and Duck too.’ For anyone who’s not local, that’s the pub in Rose Hill, where Immie does glass collecting in return for pints and other favours. Like catering at her wedding reception.

Poppy sends Immie and Rory a warning frown. ‘Are you going to say thank you to Immie, Gracie?’

Gracie’s pout deepens. ‘Actually, mostly I like proper snowmen … like Olaf.’