As she parked the car in the designated parking bay behind the boutique, Lexie craved to hear the sound of her mother’s voice. She grabbed her bag, stuffed Marley’s bulging folder inside and ran up the stairs to her new home, tossing her keys onto the Formica kitchen table, flicking on the coffee-maker and grabbing her phone.
‘Hi Mum, how’s Majorca?’
‘Beautiful, darling, but let’s talk about you. How are you feeling?’
‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’
Maybe it was tiredness, or maybe it was because she was talking to her mum whose voice was filled with maternal sympathy, but Lexie was suddenly ambushed by a surge of emotion and it took all her energy to grapple with her feelings. The last thing she wanted to do was worry her mum because she knew she’d drop everything to be on the next plane back to England if she thought Lexie wasn’t coping with what life had tossed in her path. She inhaled a steadying breath, swallowed down a gulp of black coffee, then shoved one of her favourite chocolate Hobnobs into her mouth – whole.
‘Just hungry, that’s all, and tired. I’ve been on my feet all day at the manor, but you’ll be pleased to know that the orangery where the wedding reception is being held has been transformed from chilly Victorian conservatory to an exotic, tropical glasshouse that wouldn’t look out of place in an Antiguan or St Lucian Kew Gardens. Jasper has done a stunning job with the flowers – I’ll send you a few photographs. And you have to see the table linen, Mum.’
‘I’m sure the place looks amazing, darling, but what I want to know is how you are coping – not with all the organising and the flower-arranging and the taste-testing of the menus, and all that stuff which I have absolutely no doubt you will handle with the same aplomb as you do when you stage those catwalk shows. What I’m asking is; how are you feeling about handling a wedding when yours has so recently had to be cancelled? I’m worried about you, Lexie. I know you wanted to help Freya out – she’s been a good friend to you – but I think you need to take some time to come to terms with the end of your relationship with Elliot.’
‘Mum, I’m fine. In fact, to be honest with you, being down here in Cornwall is the perfect antidote for getting over a break-up. I’m with my best friend who’s making sure I’m fed and plied with copious amounts of prosecco and pink gin, and I’m also being kept so busy that I’ve not had one single moment to sit and wallow in sadness.’
‘I’m not sure that’s entirely healthy, darling. I’ve always found that the best way to deal with heartbreak is to deal with it head-on, take some time to wail at the injustice of it all, and then accept that life goes on and if you want to take an active part in it, you have to dust yourself down and plunge back in.’
‘That’s exactly what I’m doing!’
‘Lexie, you’ll not be able to move on until you’ve spoken to Elliot, as awful as that sounds. You have to face him. You have to listen to his side of the story, hear his excuses, his reasons, whatever it is he has to say for himself. You don’t have like what he says – you probably won’t – and you don’t have to agree with him, you don’t even have to reply, but you have to hear him out. Until you do that, his betrayal is going to whittle away at your nerves until you’re clinging to the edge of your sanity. Trust me, I’ve seen it happen.’
Lexie sighed. She knew her mum was right; she always was.
‘I know, Mum. Look, there so much going on here at the moment, what with the—’
Lexie had been about to launch into the mystery of the appearing gin bottle and the spoiled bridesmaid dress but managed to swerve away from that can of worms at the last minute – the fewer people who knew about the incidents the better, and that included her chatterbox mum who could hold an audience’s attention for hours on the subject of paint-drying and make it sound like the plot of a thriller. It’s a skill she’d learned from the twenty-five years she’d spent lecturing university students on the intricacies of textile design. And yet she wanted to share some of the goings on with her mum.
‘—with the fraught relationship between not just Zara and her mother-in-law-to-be, Nadia Jones, but between Nadia and her ex-husband, George, as well.’
‘Oh, so her in-laws are divorced, are they?’
‘Yes, George has come on his own, which I think was the sensible option, but Nadia has brought her current squeeze.’
‘Awkward.’
‘You’re telling me, but what’s ruffling everyone’s feathers is that he’s younger than Jason!’
‘Lucky woman!’ laughed Anthea. ‘Greta from my salsa class has a toy-boy – Juan – and she looks ten years, no, twenty years younger than her fifty-two years! Maybe I should give it a whirl?’
‘Mum!’ Lexie giggled. She had no objections whatsoever to her mother resuming her love life, in fact she had positively encouraged her to dip her toe in the shark-infested dating pool and would be happy to see her with someone who made her eyes sparkle like her father had done. When she had asked her mum to walk her down the aisle in the drafty Lancashire village church, she had asked her whether she wanted to bring anyone as a plus one, but the answer had been a resounding no.
Lexie knew it was her mother’s decision, but was gratified that until that happened, her mum was forging a new life in the Spanish sunshine surrounded by new friends who hadn’t known her late husband. Lexie didn’t like to say anything, this was her mum after all, but in her own way Anthea had done the same as Lexie herself had done – run away to hide from the devastation and manufactured a busy, full-on life so as to avoid the loneliness that would inevitably poke its head above the parapet in those quiet moments during a sleepless night when the loss of their soulmate was more acutely felt.
‘So, will you come over to the villa after this wedding?’
Lexie sighed.
‘I wish I could Mum, but there’s another wedding in three weeks’ time, this one has a village-fête-cum-music-festival theme, would you believe! The wedding couple have even ordered one of those old-fashioned carousels as well as a whole host of sideshow games like hook-a-duck and shove-a-penny! Then there’s another wedding the following month…’
‘Sounds like this job at The Cornish Confetti Agency is right up your street, darling! You might not get to drool over the latest cutting-edge fashions, or design those wonderful catwalk shows you’re famous for, but staging extravagantly themed weddings is certainly up there in the show-biz stakes! Do you know when Marley might come back?’
‘I spoke to her yesterday. Her sister is out of hospital, but she needs round-the-clock care. Marley said it could be six weeks, it could be eight, or more, before she’s able to do even the basic things for herself, but the accident has hit them both hard emotionally and she sounded really upset on the phone. They’re twins, so they’re really close and I know Marley’s going through every single ache, pain, sting, prick and twinge with Missy.’
‘Poor Missy, it sounds terrible. Remind me not to take Sergio up on his offer to go hang-gliding!’
‘Mum! You didn’t tell me about that!’
‘Well, I don’t tell you everything, darling,’ her mother laughed. ‘Okay, I’m going to let you get something to eat, and an early night, and Lexie?’