Sunday, 3rd December
At Brides by the Sea: Snowflakes, wind cheaters and yoga for mums
‘Sorry, there’s no leopard ones, but you can have a monkey, a zebra, a lion or a cat.’
It’s Poppy, and she’s talking about the cupcakes she’s been making while Jess and I have been busy downstairs. It’s no surprise that Jess doesn’t do hangovers. So we started early and moved straight on from helping the crack team clearing up in the basement to poring over the appointments book in the White Room. Jess talking me through every bride booked in for December is ideal displacement activity for both of us, because, realistically, Sera, Poppy and Lily are going to be in charge at the shop. But it keeps my mind off the engagement shoot – or more specifically Luc – and hers off her impending departure.
As I pore over the box Poppy pushes towards me and see the perfectly iced cake tops, my mouth waters. ‘I’ll have an orange cat, please. Which lucky person’s ordered these?’
‘A lion for me.’ From the way Jess strides across the room to take one, she’s momentarily forgotten her holiday wobbles. And Poppy still hasn’t answered my question.
‘Mmmm, totally delish, there’s zest in the icing too.’ It’s only when I open my eyes again, after peeling back my paper case and taking a bite, then letting the tangy icing melt on my tongue, that I realise Poppy’s hesitating. ‘Aren’t you having one, Pops?’ She eats for England, even when she’s not pregnant. I’d have put money on her going for a chocolate monkey first. Then a zebra.
She wrinkles her nose and looks down at her cropped sweatshirt, which is hiding a neat, yet surprisingly sizable, bump. ‘I didn’t have a muffin yesterday either. Midwife’s orders. I’ve cut back on carbs, and taken up Pregnancy Pilates, and Yoga for Mums.’
‘That’s harsh.’ I don’t mean to sound negative. It’s just hard to think of nine low-sugar months, with that much exercise.
‘It’s not for long.’ Poppy’s frown deepens as she shrugs it off. ‘Although there is something else I’ve been meaning to mention. About who the cakes are for.’
As the sound of the shop door opening echoes along the hallway, Jess beams at me over the top of her lion. ‘You’ve got a complete treat in store here, Holly. Poppy’s been baking for the owner of Huntley and Handsome. A lovely boy, he gives us the most fabulous deal on our Prosecco …’ Those words sound like a horribly familiar echo of what Santa said yesterday.
My mouth drops open midbite as her words sink in. Surely she can’t mean … Rory? As I gasp in disbelief, a lump of sponge goes straight down my windpipe, and a second later I’m coughing into my fist, eyes watering as I struggle to breathe. If you’ve ever had a violent choking fit that turns into a humungous sneeze, you’ll know what I’m going through. Even as I’m fighting for air, I’m desperate not to expel a throat full of chewed up cupcake, and spatter the entire rail of exquisite bridal dresses with bright orange cake crumbs.
Through my half closed eyes, I see Poppy, launching herself across the room. Then there’s a noise like flapping angel wings and she’s thrusting a handful of tissues into my hands to catch my sneeze. By the time I look up from blowing my nose, the dresses are saved. And Jess’s beam is wide enough to stretch from one chandelier to the other.
Poppy’s voice is a low murmur as her hand lands on my shoulder. ‘Sorry, Hols, there’s a blast from the past coming that I know you’re going to hate. Rory Sanderson’s come for his cupcakes horribly early. I promise I’ll explain it all later.’
It’s my own fault. If I’d had the guts to admit about bumping into him twice before, no doubt Poppy would have told me. At least this time I get to watch him walk in from the high ground of the mother-of-the-bride throne where I’m sitting. And I’m already a hundred per cent scarlet due to choking. Even so, his footfalls on the floorboards send prickles up the back of my neck. Whoever said attack is the best form of defence, I’m going to take their advice.
As I see the first, horribly familiar, weathered brown Timberland come through the doorway, I jam my mouth into a smile, scrape the last stray cake crumbs off my mouth, look up at the approximate place where his head is about to appear, and fire.
‘Rory Sanderson, one more time. Just when I thought I’d waved goodbye to you for another twenty years, too.’ I sink back against the cushions, but the hurtling retort I’m bracing myself for doesn’t come.
Instead of storming in, tearing up the the White Room with his super-confident swagger, Rory’s coming in at a shuffle. Leaning over to one side, so he can reach down to hold the hand of a small girl.
‘Wow.’ I’m not sure if I say that in my head or out loud.
At a guess, looking at his daughter’s pale silky hair, Rory’s partner’s a blonde. As if a rock god would settle for anything less. If her disagreeable pout came from her mum, it’s obvious he’s chosen looks over personality. Although for once Rory’s incessant grin has given way to a frown too as he clasps a rather over-sized baby tightly against the folds of his Superdry windcheater.
He pulls a ‘holy crap’ face at me over the top of the baby’s head and blinks. ‘Holly, right, great, hi.’ It’s a big change to see Mr Sanderson looking less than delighted with himself. Although the bad side is that when his dimples disappear, it makes the hollows under his cheekbones look even deeper.
Now I’ve seen who’s actually arriving here, I’m regretting my over-explosive ‘hello’. Somehow, even though I saw the car seats, the small people come as a complete shock. If I’d hoped for something to wipe Nate and Becky and Luc out of my mind, it definitely wasn’t this. Kids have that strange effect of making everyone around them more gentle. And although Rory doesn’t exactly look like a relaxed dad, having children hanging off him has certainly taken the fire power out of his smart-arse replies. As for Jess, she isn’t hanging round for an air kiss with her favourite Huntley and Handsome hunk either. Her expression is equal parts terror and horror as she shoots behind the desk. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything make Jess recoil this fast backwards before. Retreating isn’t her style.
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.’
Poppy makes her voice bright. ‘Another Frozen fangirl moment there, I’m afraid, Immie. My cupcakes got the thumbs-down too. We clearly can’t win them all with a three-year-old.’
As for Rory, I’m quietly delighted to witness him being brought to his knees by two kids so fast. It’s heartening to know Rory Sanderson has an Achilles heel after all.
Rory gives a grunt. ‘From where I’m kneeling, I’d say we haven’t won any yet. But it’s very early days.’ Now he’s coming head to head with the same headstrong genes he’s got himself, he sounds less than delighted. ‘I might be temporarily troubled by the technicalities of nappy changing. But give me a couple of hours to read the manual, I’m hoping to be across the whole game.’
‘Which game’s that?’ I can’t believe I actually said that out loud either. My mouthy side is certainly working overtime today. I might have zero experience looking after children, but I’m still incredulous he can sound so sure of himself, and that he thinks this is going to be easy.
Rory gives a snort. ‘I’ve overseen billion pound corporate contracts. I’m the South West’s biggest quality wine importer. I brew barrels of magnificent pints every day. Throwing a couple of kids into the mix for a week should be child’s play.’ He stares around the circle of disbelieving expressions. ‘What? How hard can it be? It’s great you women are all crowding around to help, but I’ll be coming at this from a no-nonsense male perspective. Just watch me. I’ll crack it in no time.’
Immie makes a choking sound. ‘Snorting toad bottoms, now I’ve heard it all.’ She catches sight of Gracie’s wide-eyed surprise and grins down at her. ‘There’s nothing wrong with a woman speaking her mind. It’s important to say what you think, Gracie.’ A second later she’s picked up the mat, scooped up Teddie and plonked herself down on the grey striped bridesmaids’ chaise longue.
Rory’s jaw is sagging. ‘Whatever happened to showing me what to do?’
‘Gracie, pass me the wipes, please, a nappy and the scented bags.’ Immie shakes her head at Rory as she peels off Teddie’s wet joggers. She raises her voice over Teddie’s sudden howls. ‘In the interest of not turning Jess’s lovely shop into any more of a disaster area than you’ve already made it, you can have your tutorial back at the cottage. Meantime, get that lot folded up and back in the hold-all.’
Rory still hasn’t moved, but he’s grinning back at her. ‘A “please” might be nice. Just saying. If we’re teaching little people to be polite.’ This is exactly why he drove the teachers round the bend at school.
Immie ignores him, then turns to Gracie, who’s bobbing backwards and forwards. ‘Cream, please. Then clean trousers and hand sanitiser.’
Poppy and I have got the strewn bag contents collected and packed. Rory’s still standing where he was, as Immie shoves first the changed baby, then the snowman, into his arms.
He staggers backwards. ‘Great. Thanks for that. It looks like we’re ready to hit the road, then.’
As Teddie’s screams of protest subside, Immie gives Gracie a play punch on the arm. ‘Yay, well done, we’re Team Teddie.’
As I hook the changing bag over Rory’s shoulder, another comment slips out. ‘If you’re going to be completely manly about this you might want to get a changing bag with stripes on, or beer labels.’ I can only blame my spontaneous banter on Immie’s influence. A moment later, I’m hooking the bag of wet clothes over his finger. ‘And don’t forget this. Thirty degree wash. Cool tumble. I take it anyone who can make fabulous home brew also knows how to use a washing machine?’
From the mystified look on his face, as he backs towards the door, that’s not necessarily true. ‘Never heard of a service wash, Holly Berry? You should try them. For an extra tenner, they iron for you too.’
Which just goes to remind me – Luc did all his own ironing. And washing. Once you’ve lived with it, it’s a great quality in a guy, especially one who regularly got through four shirts a day. Although he did once go overboard and spend three hours taking every single crease out of one of my favourite crinkle silk dresses.
We’re all waving at Teddie and Gracie, who’s managed to overcome her disapproval enough to be clutching both snowmen.
Poppy shakes her head as they finally edge out into the hallway. ‘See you all soon, up at the farm.’
‘Did someone mention cupcakes?’ Immie’s rubbing sanitiser into her hands. ‘In which case I may need a couple to keep me going on the drive back.’
Poppy opens the box. ‘One more for you, Hols, too, to keep your strength up for this afternoon’s shoot?’
I flip out my phone to check the time. ‘It’s only an hour away.’ Now it’s hurtling towards me so fast, I’m getting twitchy. ‘I need a large injection of instant courage.’ It’s not that I’m stalking Luc, and I’ve no hopes of getting him back. But when someone you love walks out of your life so abruptly, it’s hard to turn those feelings off. When you don’t quite understand what went wrong, it’s very difficult to let go.
Immie dives in and grabs a monkey, then shoves a cake into my hand too. ‘Have a lion. That should do the trick.’
But it could take a lot more than butter cream to save me this afternoon.