Tuesday 12th December
At the Fun Palace at the Crab and Pilchard: Rock bottom and other happy places
Piped music with a kids’ choir singing Jingle Bells. Tinsel garlands strung across the room. Dangling fold-out bells strategically placed to hit you in the face. A ten foot tree, groaning under the weight of decorations, complete with multi-coloured chaser lights. Last December, I admit, I’d have gasped at the ombré rainbow effect they’ve created by zoning the bauble colours in bands on the tree and rushed home to create a mini version of my own. If I’d seen this brave berry palette last year, with additions of lime, Tiffany blue, and shrimp, it would have been snapped and posted on my Pinterest pages and Insta within seconds of me arriving. But as I stand this year, if I’d asked the elf interior decorators from hell to create my ‘worst-case scenario’ festive backdrop, the Fun Palace at the Crab and Pilchard pub has gone one better. It really is a case of not being able to see the ball cage or the soft play area for the baubles. Add in a mechanical Santa, riding on a humungous sleigh of toys, pulled by eight animated reindeer, and it’s top of the pole so far for my personal nightmare environment this December.
On the other hand, I can completely understand why the Christmas explosion and singing reindeer are striking a chord with the kids. Gracie’s standing transfixed at the edge of a small group, joggling both Immie’s snowmen.
Poppy wheels Teddie’s pushchair to a halt, puts their apple juices down on the table next to the bouncy castle and sinks into a chair. ‘How cute is that? Gracie’s singing along and Rudolf’s actually dancing in time to the music.’
She was never this mushy or susceptible before she fell in love and got pregnant. Her eyes widen as she catches sight of Immie’s soft drink. ‘Not having a beer today?’
She’s right to be surprised. The Crab and Pilchard’s real ale selection is the main reason we’re in this particular beachside bar. Not that we usually hit the alcohol this early in the afternoon. But once Immie mentioned a play area attached to a pub, suddenly Rory couldn’t wait to visit. Although, true to form, as soon as he’d roped the three of us into coming along as well, he delivered us to the door, then remembered an urgent errand he had to dash off on. We all know he’s got a lot on, running the wine business and the brewery at arm’s length, and we all sympathise. As a rule of thumb, the second he hands the changing bag to someone else, you know he’s about to make a break for freedom. Not that any of us mind, but we still laugh about it all the same. At least if Poppy’s away from the farm and the shop she’s more likely to have a sit down. And Immie’s overseen all her cottage changeovers for the day. As for me, I picked out some pictures for Nancy and Scott’s Best Moments Mini-Album and sent them to Jules to forward yesterday. Since then I’ve been messing with the rest pretty much non-stop. After all that screen work, Poppy’s offer of an hour in a play zone, complete with chat, sounded like bliss. In fact, Rory buggering off and leaving us on our own is the icing on my own personal afternoon cupcake.
Immie takes a sip of her raspberry coloured drink and pulls a face. ‘However bleugh they taste, I’m sticking to the J2Os, at least until the boys arrive.’ Rafe’s supposed to be dropping in too. As she turns to me she seems anxious to move the conversation on. ‘What’s the news from the Alps today, Hols?’
As I push the nappy bag under the table and put down my coffee I can’t help smiling. ‘Poor Jess. Bart hauled her out of bed so early this morning, it was practically the middle of the night. Then they went trekking across this mountainside to see the dawn breaking before breakfast. She froze her butt off and marched for an hour, all to see a peachy sunrise over the snowcapped peaks.’
Poppy chimes in. ‘And she still didn’t get her ring. It’s driving her wild. But she has given in on one thing – she’s wearing her salopettes now. And swapped her linen slacks for ski leggings.’
Immie gives a chortle. ‘If I know Kip’s Uncle Bart, he’ll be loving this. Although he’s definitely right with his tactics. Prolonging the anticipation has been scientifically proved to increase levels of eventual happiness.’ It’s always useful to have a psychologist’s view. Even if she hasn’t done many modules of her degree yet, Immie’s always great for her insights.
I laugh. ‘If that’s true, Jess is going to be beside herself by the time he does pop the question. So long as she doesn’t snap and push him off the mountain first.’ I was the one talking to her this morning, so I know how wound up she is.
Poppy shakes her head. ‘Bart’s so naughty. You should have seen him last summer. He literally teased Jess into submission to make her go out with him.’ She gives Immie a nod. ‘She’s also managed to talk to Jules on Skype.’
Immie dives forward as she hears this. ‘Really. How did he look?’
‘Still very spotty.’ If Poppy’s laughing, it’s only because she knows how delighted Immie’s going to be because Mr Perfect Complexion has tumbled off his pedestal.
I’m fumbling with my phone, hesitating to spill the beans. ‘She did send us the secret screen shot she took of him. She was very proud to have pulled that one off.’
‘Make my day, why don’t you?’ Immie’s punching the air, then an anxious look passes across her face. ‘You are going to show me?’
I pass my phone across. ‘Just a quick flash.’ Despite sitting back in the shadows, Jules is still looking very peaky.
Immie lets out a whoop. ‘Trumping frog bollocks, now that’s what I call spotty. At this rate he won’t be coming out of the house again till spring.’
Poppy’s already seen it, but she still comes back for seconds. ‘He has got it badly. But the good news is he was over the moon with the pictures his stand-in delivered from Port Giles.’ Thankfully she’s moved Immie on before she had time to demand a copy of her own. ‘And the bride and groom love the rushes too. So well done for that, Hols.’
Immie’s nudge on my arm is so forceful I nearly fall off my chair. ‘There, what did we tell you? We knew you’d do brilliantly. With Jules’s spots as they are, you might have got a job for life, Hols.’
‘Totally not.’ I can’t help jumping straight in, because I can’t make this clear enough. ‘Once my beach wedding’s done I’m never going near another one again. When I agreed to that one, it was like a challenge to stretch myself. But now I’m landed with the others, truly, I already know I’m not cut out for the stress.’
Immie lets out another chortle. ‘There won’t be that many brides out there with camera-eating dogs, you know. Mind, you have to watch out for pigs around here too. When the porkers we had as our ring bearers got loose they nearly totalled the wedding down the yard.’ In fact, before they went on the rampage Immie’s piggie ring bearers were so cute their pictures went viral and that brought in a lot of business for Rafe and Poppy.
Poppy gives a shudder. ‘Never work with animals. Two pigs almost running riot through the farmhouse when it was all set out for a wedding was such a near miss. By the way, is Gracie okay?’
Immie gives a nod. ‘Fine, I’ve got my eye on her, she’s still singing with Santa. When she moves on we can all go with her.’ Immie takes another swig from her bottle and chokes. ‘Jeez, bat piss would taste better than this.’
Poppy sends her a puzzled glance. ‘So why not have a bitter? It’s not as if you’re driving.’
Immie’s frown is so intense, her eyebrows end up somewhere near her top lip. ‘Don’t tempt me.’ The sigh she lets out couldn’t be deeper. ‘Chas and I have made a pact. We’re both cutting back on the booze.’
Poppy’s jaw drops. ‘Frigging heck, what happened there? You have remembered Christmas party time’s coming up?’
Immie grunts. ‘We’ve gone alcohol free to help our fertility. But I had no idea it would be this hard.’
It must be tough for someone who enjoys her beer as much as Immie does. Especially when she works at a pub. ‘So how long since you started?’ I ask, ready to jump in with congratulations for how long it’s been.
Immie gives a groan. ‘About twelve hours.’
‘That long?’ Poppy and I exchange hopeless shrugs behind Immie’s head.
Poppy makes her tone bright. ‘It’s really good practice for when you get lucky. You’ll have to give up then.’ She didn’t go through any of this, because she was already quite a few months pregnant by the time she found out.
‘If cutting out the alcohol helps it to be sooner rather than later, I’m happy to make the sacrifice.’ Immie forces a smile. ‘We’re giving up getting stressed too. It’s statistically proven – conceiving is easier if you’re relaxed.’
There’s a supervisor dressed in a dirndl dress walking past our table, and from the way her eyebrows shoot upwards, it’s obvious she’s heard. She leans towards us, speaking in a loud whisper. ‘Very true. The minute you stop worrying about them, that’s when babies show up. Just ask Jenny-on-pots.’ Then she waltzes away.
Due to having a voice like a foghorn, Immie’s comments often resonate beyond our group. Her loud cough of complaint is very restrained, considering it’s Immie. ‘Who the eff does she think she is, joining in our conversation? And what the jeez is she wearing?’
I jump in to smooth things over. ‘She’s meant to be Snow White. There’s a matching set of dwarves too, but they’re mostly in the other bar.’
Before her struggle to find a dress for her wedding last summer, Immie never noticed what people wore. She gives a snort. ‘In that case, I’ll let her off, then.’ For once Immie’s guffawing voice goes so small we have to lean in to hear. ‘I’m really lucky, because I’ve already got Morgan. But it was different with him, because he was a happy accident. And I know Chas and I have only been trying to get pregnant since August. But every time I’m a day late, I can’t help thinking we’re on our way. For that one day, in my head I’ve already had the baby and got it as far as school. Then when it doesn’t happen there’s this crushing disappointment. And I know it’s early days, and it’s nothing compared to what a lot of people go through trying to have kids, but it kills me every time.’
‘Poor Immie.’ I’m aching for her. I squeeze her hand, because I know exactly what she means. ‘It’s true. As soon as you’re late, it’s like your whole world perspective changes. By the time it’s a week, you feel like you’re practically ready to give birth.’ As I hear the words come out, and both Immie and Poppy turn to me, my face goes hot. And damn for oversharing here. At least Snow White isn’t joining in this time.
Poppy leans forward and puts her hand on mine. ‘You know that feeling?’ Her voice is a low whisper.
I sigh. ‘It happened after Luc left. Looking back, it was probably the shock of the break-up. I emailed him to warn him I was late and going to do a test, but he didn’t ever get back to me. I spent ten days trying to get up the courage to pee on that stick. In the end my period came before I did it.’ I blow out a long breath. Even now the disappointment makes me strangely raw inside. Like my heart is being twisted in my chest. ‘Those ten days were the longest of my life. Waiting to hear back from Luc, then when I didn’t, planning how I was going to manage on my own. But then I didn’t need to anyway. It was something and nothing. But I do know how you feel, Immie.’
Immie blows out her cheeks. ‘Maybe he didn’t get the email, if he was between countries?’ We both know she’s only making excuses for him to make me feel better.
I pull down the corners of my mouth. ‘It had to be a mix-up with the emails. But when you’ve sent one with news like that, you don’t want to send another to check the first arrived.’ Somehow I couldn’t get over the feeling he’d made his new start, and he wasn’t turning back whatever happened. ‘It doesn’t matter now. There wasn’t a baby, and Luc is a hundred per cent in the past. We’ve both moved on.’ Poppy’s the only one I’ve told I haven’t completely let go.
‘Yeah, right.’ Immie purses her lips in obvious disbelief.
‘I wish we’d been there with you.’ Poppy leans over to give me a hug. When she eventually lets me go, she’s straight in with her bright voice. ‘You certainly have moved on with your weddings, though. From Jules’s reaction, it sounds like you’ve cracked them. Which is exactly what I was hoping.’ She gives me an eyebrow wiggle.
I screw up my face, glad to change the subject. Although somewhere other than here would have been better. ‘Cracked up, more like. They’re so high pressure.’ I consider for a moment. ‘I hate to admit it, but if it hadn’t been for Rory, I don’t think I’d have managed to take any pictures at all at the Old Lifeboat Station. You know what he’s like with that mix of charm, enthusiasm and genuine friendliness. He just smoothed everyone into the right places, including me. All I had to do was point the camera and press the button.’ It crosses my mind that now might be a good time to ask. ‘So why did Rory stop going out with women?’
Immie narrows her eyes as she thinks. ‘There was some kind of accident back in Bristol. Way before he came back here and took over Huntley and Handsome. Can you remember what happened to Rory, Pops?’
I’m on the edge of my seat, when Poppy cuts in.
‘Maybe that needs to wait, given Rory and Rafe are coming now.’ Although however enthusiastic her wave is, it might not be enough of a cover-up for Immie’s foghorn voice.
I watch as they pick their way past the happy crowd of kids singing along to Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer. Whereas Rafe’s obviously a hundred per cent the hunky farmer, with his hollow cheeks and his Barbour, Rory’s looking for all the world like he raided Kurt Kobain’s charity shop bag to find something to wear to come out in.
Rafe swoops in to give Poppy a kiss on the cheek, as Rory finds a beer mat for his bottle of Coke, and shrugs under the rags that are passing for a t-shirt. ‘Someone talking about me, then?’
If I’d managed to keep my cool by doing long, slow breaths, I lose it at that, but luckily Poppy jumps in. ‘We were discussing your great crowd-control tactics at the wedding, Rory.’
He takes that on board with a smile. ‘Berry and I definitely smashed it. Best day I’ve had for ages.’ This is Rory all over. He takes the compliment in his stride, then expands it. ‘When’s the next one? I’m definitely up for it if you want me.’
If my sweaty neck wasn’t enough, now my stomach’s imploding. The twins are marrying twins later this week and I know I need help. I just hadn’t thought as far ahead as that help possibly coming from Rory.
Poppy steps in. ‘Travis and Taylor are getting married on Friday at the Manor. Aren’t you invited to that?’
Rory scratches his head. ‘Jeez, you could be right.’
Immie’s straight in. ‘If you’re there as a guest anyway, it makes sense to help Hols while you’re there, then.’
I butt in. ‘If Rory’s a guest, maybe someone else could come along with me?’ It’s a long shot, but anyone else would do.
From the way Rory’s looking at me, it’s like he’s taking pity on me. ‘If the kids are still here, I’d obviously need someone to look after them.’ He turns to Poppy and Immie. ‘How are you two fixed?’
‘Maybe if you ask very nicely.’ Poppy’s grinning at him. ‘Seeing as you’re helping Hols and the team, you’re on.’
‘That’s not definite.’ I’m still fighting them. ‘Jules’s friends might be back from holiday.’ I might be able to get my dad back from Spain. Or persuade one of Rafe’s workers from the farm. Or I could even borrow a dwarf from the Crab and Pilchard.
‘It’ll cost you.’ Immie laughs at Rory. ‘Depends how many cases of Bad Ass Santa you’re offering?’
As he turns, Gracie is approaching, a snowman trailing from each hand. ‘Would you like to make some more snowman cakes, Gracie?’ Rory talking to Gracie directly has to be a first, even if she won’t have a clue what he’s on about.
Gracie looks almost as bemused as he does, but she manages a solemn reply. ‘Actually … I want to go on the slide next.’
All us adults look across the room to where the slide sweeps down and lands in the ball cage, but I’m the first to seize my chance to get away.
I hold out my hand to her. ‘I’ll take you.’ Obviously no one else is listening to me here.
She thinks for a few seconds then her hand slides into mine. ‘I had snowman cakes at Poppy’s house. We put carrots on for noses. And chocolate buttons.’
Rory cuts in. ‘It’s fine, we can all come over to the slide.’
I have to argue. ‘Really, it doesn’t take five adults to look after one child.’ However ridiculous it sounds, they’re all traipsing after me in a line, Rafe coming up the rear, pushing Teddie.
‘Have you been in a ball cage before, Gracie?’ Poppy sounds concerned as we reach the netting enclosure with literally thousands – if not millions – of brightly coloured balls inside.
Gracie nods back at her. ‘All the time. Mummy lets me.’ She drops her snowmen at the bottom of the slide steps, then begins to scramble up.
Immie’s laughing. ‘At Morgan’s fourth birthday, we had to evacuate the area when some kid from another party did a poo in the ball pit.’
Rory pulls a face. ‘Gross.’
Rafe laughs. ‘Sounds more like a House of Horrors than a Fun Palace.’
Gracie looks down from where she’s poised at the top of the slide. ‘My snowmans want to come too.’
Rory picks them up and delivers them to her lap. ‘Jeez, anything else?’
Gracie stares down at him. ‘Mummy says “one two three go”.’
‘Christmas crackers.’ Rory’s muttering under his breath. ‘Is that all, your majesty?’
‘She does clapping too.’
‘What?’ Rory groans. ‘It’s a slide, not the frigging Cresta Run.’
‘Maybe just do it, Rory.’ From where I’m standing the slide looks pretty high for a three-year-old. I remember one time when Freya queued with me all the way to the top of this huge slide in the park. And when I got to the top it looked such a long way down, I lost my bottle. The entire queue behind me had to go back down the steps to let me climb off. It might have been the ultimate humiliation for me and Freya, but for once I didn’t care. I’d have happily suffered the embarrassment ten times over if it meant I didn’t have to whoosh down that polished stainless-steel channel. As Gracie pushes off, I shout, ‘One two three, go!’ By the time she whizzes round and flops into the ball pile, most of us are clapping. As I glare at Rory, he joins in too.
Gracie flounders around, then struggles the length of the cage and clambers out of the hole in the netting. ‘Again.’
‘Great,’ I say, catching Poppy’s eye. ‘Why not?’
Half an hour later, Gracie’s still doing her circuits, cheered on by her own personal fan club. Even the single kids with their grandparents in tow don’t have quite as many supporters in their crowd as Gracie does.
‘So are you free tomorrow afternoon, Berry?’ Rory breaking the cycle of clapping and sliding takes me by surprise.
I exchange glances with Immie, who’s spooning food into Teddie from a jar, and give Rory a superior ‘told you so’ smirk. ‘See, we knew once you came to a play zone you wouldn’t be able to stay away.’ Even if Gracie hasn’t smiled yet, I’m sure I’ve caught the occasional twitching at the corner of Rory’s mouth. Who knows, his face might even crack into a beam before we trundle back out past Santa and his bobbing reindeer. ‘Coming again might be fun. Maybe Gracie’ll try the bouncy castle tomorrow, for a variation.’ An hour by the ball cage, surrounded by whooping kids might be noisy. But even though it’s horribly Christmassy, it’s relaxing enough for me to be tempted to come again.
Rory looks at me as if I’m totally crazy. ‘Jeez, I don’t mean we’re coming here. If I hear Frosty The Snowman one more time my head might implode. But if the next wedding’s on Friday, we need to stake out the Manor ASAP.’
For a few happy moments back there the spectre of Friday’s wedding had slipped my mind. I’m just about to curse Rory for bringing me hurtling back to reality when Gracie comes towards us.
She’s waggling her snowman at me. ‘Snowman’s gone down.’ From the dark shadows under her eyes, I’m guessing she’ll sleep tonight.
I beam at her, willing her to smile back. ‘Yes, Gracie, Snowman’s gone down the slide a hundred times at least.’
But rather than smiling, her mouth corners droop. ‘Snowman’s gone. Snowman’s gone …’ Her voice gets more urgent, then rises to a shriek as she shakes him at me. ‘Snowman’s gone!…’
Rory winces at her howl. ‘Christmas, weren’t there two of them?’ He frowns down at her. ‘Where’s your other snowman, Gracie?’
As a large tear rolls down Gracie’s cheek, she points at the cage. ‘B-b-balls …’
Rory rolls his eyes. ‘For once I couldn’t have put it better myself.’
‘Oh my. Is Snowman Two in the ball pit?’ Poppy’s shaking her head. ‘We can’t leave him there, he’s like part of the family.’ Even if she sounds a tad sentimental, we all know what she means.
Rafe’s scrunching up his face. ‘Can’t we just buy another?’
Poppy’s eyes widen in shock. ‘Please tell me you didn’t say that.’
Immie’s got her hands on her hips. ‘Too right. There’s only one thing for it. I’m going in.’ A minute later, she’s horizontal and wriggling through the gap in the netting, swimming her way into the balls. ‘Come on, Hols, we’ll do a systematic sweep of the cage.’
There are some people you can ignore, but Immie isn’t one of them. Next thing I know, I’m diving head-first after her.
‘How the heck do the kids do it?’ Wading through a sea of plastic balls that comes well up my thighs is harder than you’d imagine.
Immie’s sifting through the spheres as if she’s doing back skulling, while I’m already on my knees, raking through, like some kind of frenzied mole.
Rory’s laughing. ‘Shout if you need a poop scoop, Immie.’
Beyond the netting, Poppy turns on Rory. ‘Tell me I didn’t hear that, either.’
‘Is this impossible?’ Now I’m inside there are so many balls, it’s hard to imagine ever finding one small soft toy in here, however systematic our approach is.
Immie shakes her head at me and mutters under her breath. ‘About as likely as finding a snowman in hell, I’d say, but given the levels of Poppy’s pregnancy hormones, we have to look like we’re trying.’ She staggers backwards as she comes across a small child, then shouts at Rafe and Rory. ‘Come on, you guys. If you want to get home this side of midnight, don’t just stand there. You need to get in here.’
They don’t need asking twice. ‘Chocs away!’ ‘Tally ho!’ As Rafe dives off a platform at the far end, Rory comes sailing down on a zip wire.
Rafe’s launching himself as if he’s crowd surfing, his dark cashmere sweater submerging in the mass of brightly coloured plastic. ‘How much fun is this?’ Talk about men reverting to boys. They just turned the clock back thirty years.
Rory’s whooping back. ‘Next on my wish list is a massive bouncy castle. A customised Roaring Waves one has to be great for publicity. We could take it down the beach and hire it out for weddings.’
Immie’s chiding them. ‘Watch out! Don’t squash any kids.’
As I notice Snow White on the other side of the netting she’s scowling at me as if I’m the Wicked Queen. ‘We’re looking for the snowman, don’t forget.’ I shout it mainly for her benefit. Which is just as well as Rafe and Rory have started pelting each other with balls and are completely ignoring me. Luckily the playing children have mostly moved away.
Seeing as I’m hardly getting anywhere with my digging, I stand up and start kicking through the balls, moving towards Immie. ‘You’d think a white snowman would be easy to find.’
Immie dips. ‘Trumping toad bottoms, dwarves on the warpath!’
I look to where she’s nodding and, sure enough, Snow White is marching, with a posse of guys wearing stripey hats, leggings and curly grey beards.
As the piped music choir gets cut off in mid-sentence halfway through ‘Silent Night’, one of the guys clears his throat and shouts. ‘Okay, adults out of the ball cage! That area is for under-tens only.’ It’s hard to take him seriously when his nose is painted red.
If anyone was going to argue, it would have to be Rory. ‘Lighten up, Sneezy, we’re only messing around while we look for a lost toy.’
The dwarf puts his hands on his hips and pulls himself up to what has to be a full six foot four. ‘Don’t push me to bar you, mate. Because I will.’
Rory’s voice resonates with disbelief. ‘You can’t eject me, I’m your biggest real-ale supplier.’
The dwarf pulls on his beard and his voice rises to a nasty shout. ‘I don’t care if you’re Santa’s main dealer, just get the hell out of my ball pit. NOW!’
‘Okay, no need to get your knickerbockers in a twist, we’re on our way.’ If Rory’s conceding defeat, it can only be because he’s worried about his beer orders.
You know that reaction as a kid, when getting yelled at automatically makes you run? This is me now. Before I know it, I’m lolloping towards the hole in the netting, sending balls flying in all directions. As I glance over my shoulder, Rory and Rafe are coolly ambling behind me. As I scrabble and scramble, I’m getting more and more frantic, and more and more unbalanced. I’m within a whisker of the gap in the fence when my foot catches, and next thing I know, I’m falling. It’s more of a saggy sideways collapse than a heavy fall. But as I twist onto my back, my shoulders sink, and my knees and feet go upwards.
Immie’s doubled up. ‘Full-blown flight response you had there, Hols. Seeing you plunging under the balls there is so funny it’s making me wee.’
I’m wailing at her. ‘Stop laughing, Immie, and pull me out.’ But that sets her off again.
‘Damsel in distress?’ Rory reaches me first, and surprise, surprise, he’s smirking down at me.
As I hiss at him, I’m aware of a crowd of small faces pressed up against the netting. ‘Thanks, but I’m absolutely fine. Immie’s got this.’
That seems to amuse him even more. ‘Sorry, Holly B, Immie’s too busy peeing herself. Looks like it’s a handsome prince, or nothing.’ He half closes one eye. ‘Unless you’d prefer an angry dwarf to haul you out, of course?’
I take a few seconds to abandon every last vestige of pride and then I wave my arm in his direction. ‘Go on, then.’ It comes out very grudgingly. But a moment later it turns to a scream. All I needed was a simple yank to get me onto my feet, but Rory’s scooping me up from underneath.
As he strides through the balls, he’s clamping me so close to his chest, I get not only the full benefit of the delicious scent of his body spray going right up my nose in a way that’s much too swoony for comfort, but also his low laugh resonating through his sternum. ‘Who’d have thought I’d have this much fun at the Fun Palace?’
I’m talking through gritted teeth, wondering how anyone in such a ragged t-shirt can smell so good. ‘Eff off, Rory. And PUT ME DOWN!’
‘No need to panic.’ He lurches all the way to the edge, then slides me straight through the entrance hole.
There’s a thud as I land. ‘Lovely, great.’ The felt tiles are so rough under my palms, I’m lucky not to have carpet burns. It’s hard to scramble to your feet with any dignity at all when there are twenty-odd three and four-year-olds staring down at you.
As Rafe, Rory and Immie arrive beside me and we shuffle like a line of naughty school kids the dwarf is already coming over, pointing at our feet with a horrified look on his face. ‘You went in wearing outdoor shoes?’
As if the humiliation of me falling over and getting dragged out by Rory isn’t enough, now we’ve got to be told off in front of a crowd of kids. If their wide eyes are anything to go by, they’re obviously finding four adults getting ordered out of the play area a lot more riveting than the bouncy castle or the singing Santa show.
Rory’s nodding at the dwarf’s feet. ‘Not everyone’s lucky enough to have plimsolls with cardboard buckles covered in tin foil, mate. You might like to take this opportunity to change the CD. We could work with Wizard?’
Snow White looks at the Head Dwarf. ‘What do you say, Darren? Now That’s What I Call Christmas would make a change. Those singing seven-year-olds are getting right on my nips.’ She barely waits for his nod before she rushes off, and then the music starts up again.
Rory listens to the first couple of bars, then lets out a groan. ‘Just my luck to get Mariah frigging Carey.’
I perk up. ‘Ooooh, I love this one. All I want for Christmas is yoooooooooooou.’ Freya and I used to go wild singing along to this in the mirror with our hairbrushes. Although obviously I won’t be doing that this year, due to my festive ban.
Rory gives a snort of disgust at me, then turns back to the dwarf. As he gestures towards Gracie he seems to have slipped into courtroom speak. ‘We were actually locating a lost toy, like the one the little girl is holding. You might like to keep an eye out for it when you next do a ball wash.’
The dwarf winces. Then he bobs down behind the pushchair. ‘There’s a snowman here. Is this the one you’re looking for?’
There’s a ripple along our line. ‘Crap … shit … jeez … what the frig?’ How the hell did we end up in the ball pit when the snowman was under the pushchair the whole time?
As the dwarf holds out the snowman to Gracie her lips twist. I have to comment, because it’s the first time I’ve seen it. ‘That’s a lovely smile, Gracie.’ It might only be tiny, but it’s definitely there, if only fleetingly. ‘Are you going to say “thank you” to the dwarf, then?’
Her serious frown’s already back as she hugs both snowmen close to her chest. ‘Actually he’s not a dwarf. ’Cos his beard’s falling off.’ She wrinkles her nose in distaste. ‘And he’s not little enough. Or happy, even.’
Rory looks delighted by her candour. ‘Okay, how about you say thanks to the big guy in the fake beard, then? And maybe hold onto the snowmen tighter next time.’
She’s mumbling, ‘Thank you’ when I hear a phone ping.
Poppy picks up my bag from the pile and passes it across to me. ‘Might as well make the most of the pub’s wifi hotspot. It doesn’t happen very often round here.’
I’m pleased to have an excuse to retreat from the front line so I can take cover next to Poppy behind the buggy. ‘Just an email from Nate and Becky. They’re probably sending me their list of groups for the photos.’ Hard to believe that at one time I was dreading this list arriving, but now there’s a million things to worry about before we even get to it. ‘Weird, it looks like she’s forgotten the attachment.’
Even as I read the first line of text in the inbox window my throat feels like someone’s put a tourniquet around it.
Hi Holly, just to let you know the fab news, Luc’s flying in for the wedding.
Poppy’s leaning towards me. ‘Everything alright there, Hols?’
I open my mouth, but all that comes out is a rasp. ‘E-rrr …’ For a few seconds it feels like my heart’s dropped through the floor. When it bounces back into place, it’s clattering against my ribs so hard I feel like I could run out of the pub, onto the beach and only stop when I reached Australia.
Rory crashes down on the bench next to me and leans in for a look. ‘Ewww, is that Luc with a “c” not a “k”? I knew that guy was a no-good poseur.’
Immie’s over like a shot. ‘The same Luc who thought you were pregnant, but didn’t get back to you?’
Poppy scowls at Immie. ‘Or even better, the Luc who Hols once went out with but has now moved on from. Are you sure you’re okay, Hols? You’ve gone very pale.’
Rory chimes in. ‘What kind of a shit would behave like that? Nothing red about those cheeks of yours now, HB. You’re whiter than you were on toothpaste day.’
Which is a shame as I’m not going to make the most of it. But just this once, there’s something I’m more bothered about than the colour of my face.
‘So Luc’s coming to the beach wedding after all?’ Poppy’s probing, very gently.
Immie’s not giving up, either. ‘Did you two ever have closure? At least you might get a chance for that now. It’s very beneficial to have a proper full stop at the end.’
I open the email and skim down it. ‘He’s flying in … in just over a week’s time.’ My voice is like sandpaper scraping on wood, but my mind’s racing. Not that there’s any chance of getting him back at all. But at least I want to give it my best shot. ‘How am I ever going to be ready? I need to lose two stone and have a complete make-over.’ Luc always preferred me to skip carbs and puddings. How many of those have I eaten in the last year that I wouldn’t have had if I’d stayed with him? My mouth’s watering at the thought.
Immie’s got her ‘disgusted of St Aidan’ face on. ‘You’re not seriously wanting him back, are you?’
I ignore the voice in my head yelling ‘yes, yes, yes!’ and try to steady my voice. ‘Totally not.’
Immie shakes her head. ‘If you need to show the tosser you’ve moved on, you could always borrow Rory as your fabulous new “boyfriend”.’ Her face splits into a grin as she adds the inverted commas with her fingers.
If my stomach was squishing before, this finishes the job. Horrifying doesn’t begin to cover it. ‘Thanks, but Rory’s already got his hands full enough.’ Even if Immie’s only joking, the old cliché of frying pans and fires springs to mind. I don’t want to make a difficult situation horrendous.
Poppy sends me an ‘Oh My God’ eye roll that moves into a bright smile. ‘What we actually need to show the world is that you’ve bounced back as a strong, independent woman, who’s got her shit together. Any decent guy will find that very attractive.’ Her voice is firm and calming. ‘There’s a lot we can do in a week. We’ll make sure you’re as prepared as you can be in the time. We’ll all help, won’t we?’
Rory’s rubbing the ragged denim on his thigh. ‘Good thinking on that, Pops. You and Immie can concentrate on the pretty stuff and I’ll take charge of your motivational development and self-esteem. In ten days, I promise, you’ll be so kick-ass the guy won’t recognise you. You might want to order that Pocahontas onesie now.’
‘What’s this about a onesie?’ Poppy asks.
I shake my head. ‘Believe me, you don’t want to know.’ Every time I think things can’t get any worse, another bombshell drops. Pocahontas onesies being the icing on my own personal drip cake of doom.
Immie chuckles. ‘Whatever happens with Luc, it can’t be any more embarrassing than getting thrown out of a ball pit by a six-foot-four dwarf.’
And then the first bars of Wham! singing Last Christmas play out across the bar and I plunge again. Sometime soon I have to reach my proverbial rock bottom.