Читать книгу If The Dress Fits: a delightfully uplifting romantic comedy! - Daisy James - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Callie was too exhausted to disguise her emotions from her friend and she could feel her face colour. The look of sadness that washed across Scarlet’s pretty features sent a spasm of irritation into her chest at being sussed so easily.

‘I knew it. You still love Theo, don’t you? After all this time?’

‘No I don’t…’

‘It’s understandable that you still have feelings for him, Cal. You dated him right through high school and university. Hey, and wasn’t he the first guy you kissed when you were, like, twelve or something? But I thought you said you’d moved on?’

‘I have.’

‘So why is your face the same shade as my nail polish?’

‘It’s not. Anyway, Scarlet…’

‘And isn’t Theo’s band playing at Lilac and Finn’s reception? It was a real coup when Finn announced he’d pulled that one off. The Razorclaws will be on tour in Germany at the end of July so they’ve interrupted their schedule as a special favour to Finn. Wasn’t he at music school in Manchester with Theo?’

‘Yes,’ murmured Callie. She felt like a deer caught in the headlights of Scarlet’s examination technique. She hadn’t mentioned the fact that Theo and his band would be playing at the wedding to her friend for exactly this reason. Nothing got past Scarlet.

‘So you’ll get to see him again.’

‘Only if our design wins the competition and that’s by no means a given.’

Callie watched the cogs turn behind Scarlet’s emerald eyes.

‘So there’s a lot more than I thought resting on Callie-Louise Bridal Couture winning this competition.’

‘Look, Scarlet, you know I have no desire to see Theo again. I had to think long and hard about continuing with the entry when it was announced his band would be a part of the wedding arrangements. But I’ve worked my butt off to make it as a fashion designer and I couldn’t let an old relationship stand in the way of achieving my dream. If we do win, yes, I’ll need to be at the ceremony, but Theo won’t be there and my services won’t be required at the evening reception.’

‘So you’re still avoiding him?’

‘No, I just…’

‘Yes, you are. Which means you are not over him.’

‘Scarlet, you know what happened. You know what he did.’

‘Yes, but there are two sides to every argument.’ Scarlet affected an American accent. ‘I’ve heard your submission, Counsellor, now let me consider the case for the opposition.’

‘Oh, no…’ Callie buried her head in her hands and massaged her temples with her fingertips. She didn’t want to hear this right now. She didn’t have the strength to fight back.

‘Let’s see, these are the facts, Your Honour. A rep from a record company was attending one of The Razorclaws’ gigs. It was the most important night of Theo’s life and his girlfriend had promised to be there cheering him on from the wings. Said girlfriend was, once again, so engrossed in fulfilling her own dreams that she was late to the party. The Razorclaws got the contract, the champagne flowed, and they had been celebrating for hours before Theo’s neglectful girlfriend arrived to witness a drunken clinch with an anonymous girl groupie whom he said had thrown herself at him. What was Theo to do, Cal?’

Callie swallowed down her agony. Every time his name was mentioned it surprised her that the pain was still so raw and near the surface three years later. After that fateful night, she had escaped back to London and used the money her parents had left her to set up Callie-Louise Bridal Couture. She’d refused every one of Theo’s calls and made her Aunt Hannah, who had brought her up after her parents’ death, and her best friend, Nessa, swear they wouldn’t disclose her new address to Theo.

She had never thought she could experience such a kaleidoscope of emotions. Theo had always been there for her. He knew every detail of her history; they’d shared the same highs and lows, the same friends, the same dreams, or so she’d thought. When she was thirteen, Theo had borrowed his father’s spade and dug up one of his mother’s prize rose bushes. He’d raced round to collect her from her aunt’s house and dragged her to the local churchyard where he proceeded to plant the white rose bush next to the headstone of her parents’ grave. When she was fourteen, Theo had kissed her under the canopy of the old oak tree in the garden behind her Aunt Hannah’s haberdashery shop, Gingerberry Yarns, and then he’d carved her initials into the knobbly trunk. The entwined initials ‘CLH’ had, years later, become the logo for her bridal boutique. She had loved him and it still hurt a great deal that he was no longer in her life.

But he’d never understood her need to sever the rural guy ropes and branch out on her own, to forge a life for herself away from the Dales. She had been so adamant about her desire to leave Allthorpe that she had expected Theo to share her ambition, with the clamorous draw of city music venues proving too tempting to refuse. But refuse he had. He remained at home with his parents and insisted on commuting to his degree course in Manchester, crashing at his friends’ digs when he had to. He had also remained loyal to their childhood friends – four of them made up his band – but whom, apart from Nessa, she’d not seen for years. Tears always gathered on her lashes whenever she recalled the nights they had spent together in Archie’s parents’ garage, jamming and tossing around suggestions of what to call the band. The Razorclaws had been an amalgamation of Theo’s suggestion of The Northern Claws and hers of The Razors.

The three years she’d spent studying at Northumbria University’s prestigious School of Fashion and Textiles had been the best years of her life. She’d loved the people, the nightlife, the restaurants, the theatres, the fashion opportunities, even the football club. She had emerged from her time in Newcastle with a first-class honours degree in Fashion Design and Textiles and won a coveted place at the Royal College of Art to study for her MA in textiles.

Whilst in London she had striven to put her dreams of becoming a fashion designer first and had embraced the freedom of the individual creative design philosophy her MA allowed her to explore. She had served her apprenticeship with Christianna Boulet, the well-respected doyenne of haute couture with a penchant for geometric print fabric edged with neon-woven tweeds. At Christianna’s insistence, she had learnt the more mundane aspects of the fashion business as well as the techniques required to produce a glittering showcase of catwalk-quality garments.

But it had all come at a price when, after years of religiously returning to Allthorpe to fan the flames of their courtship, she had returned that night, albeit late, to stumble upon the scene that had remained scorched on the inside of her eyelids ever since. The shock had galvanised her into taking her dreams to a new level and the eponymous Callie-Louise Couture had been born.

Every spare crumb of her love and affection had been lavished on her business. It was her baby and craved every moment of her attention. She was grateful for that as it meant she had no time to dwell on what had happened. But she had never forgotten Theo’s betrayal of their relationship.

However, Scarlet was also right. What was Theo to do when girls threw themselves at him? And things could only have got worse now that The Razorclaws had topped the charts with their recent album. She just couldn’t see herself as part of that itinerant lifestyle. And she definitely couldn’t handle the roller coaster of emotions that went along with dating a famous rock musician.

And, anyway, wasn’t Callie-Louise Henshaw about to become the most celebrated fashion designer in the country?