Читать книгу A Summer to Remember - Victoria Cooke - Страница 10

Chapter 1

2018

‘Eurgh.’ I slam the pearlescent invite down by the kettle. ‘Plus one,’ I say in a mocking tone. Coco cocks her head to the side like she’s trying to understand me, and I cup her fluffy face.

‘I know, I don’t get it either.’ My cat’s emerald eyes are still intent on me so, glad of an audience, I carry on.

‘Why Bridget has to assume I need someone by my side is beyond me. As if I’m not capable of going to a wedding without a plus one. It’s not nineteen blooming twenty. I don’t need a chaperone. Perhaps I’ll take you, Coco. That’ll teach her.’ I tickle her under her chin and she stretches out lazily. I’m only half joking.

As I pour my first coffee of the day, my phone rings. ‘Someone’s ears are burning,’ I say on answering.

‘Really?’ Bridget also ignores the need for pleasantries.

‘I got your wedding invite,’ I say dryly.

‘Well, don’t sound too enthusiastic about the happiest day of your best friend’s life,’ she retorts.

‘Aren’t we a bit old for best friends?’

‘Don’t change the subject.’

I rub my temples with my thumb and forefinger. ‘I’m sorry, Bridge. I just, well … I’d specifically told you I didn’t need a plus one.’

‘It’s just a formality, Sam. Don’t be so sensitive. I just wanted you to know the option is there if you did want to bring someone.’

‘Well, I don’t,’ I say, before feeling a little guilty. ‘It just seems so old-fashioned, like, the lil lady needs a gentleman to escort her.’ I put on my best ‘Southern Belle’ accent, and Bridget giggles.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘It wasn’t meant to offend you.’

‘I did warn you,’ I scold. ‘Look, I’m not on the lookout for a man, nor am I resigned to being alone – I’m happy with it. People need to stop assuming I need someone. I got the bloody cat everyone thought I should get, okay!’

‘I know, I’m sorry. Everyone else will be coupled up, so I just thought if you wanted to bring a friend, then you could, that’s all.’

‘All of my friends will already be there.’ I’m aware of my exasperated tone so I soften it a little. ‘I was just telling Coco that she could be my plus one.’

‘You’d better bloody well not.’ Bridget’s stern tone amuses me. I sense that she wouldn’t put it past me.

‘Oh, now you’ve made her sad.’ Coco looks far from sad as she rubs her face on my balled-up fist. ‘I’ve seen some gorgeous cat dresses on eBay.’

‘Bring her and I’ll have you both escorted out,’ Bridget replies.

‘Then stop assuming I can’t be single and happy.’

‘Fine!’ she sighs. ‘But send me a picture of one of those cat dresses, it’s been a miserable week.’

I’m happy it’s time to drop the subject. It may seem like an overreaction, but Bridget knows as well as my other friends do that my frustrations are the result of a good seven years’ worth of do-gooders trying to set me up with brothers, colleagues, friends of friends, and even a sister at one point. I’m happy on my own. It’s like the saying goes, ‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.’ All I need are my memories and my cat.

‘How’s work?’ she asks.

I groan, wondering where to start. ‘I’m still working my backside off to make the US team. Seventh time lucky, hey?’ Every year five people from our offices are chosen to go to Boston for three months to work on a global marketing project with the American head office team. I’ve tried for seven years – yes, seven years – to make the cut. It’s become my obsession.

‘Oh Sam, this year has to be your year,’ she says sympathetically.

‘It’s like no matter how hard I try, someone else shines brighter. This year I’ve worked my backside off and if I’m not chosen, I might start looking somewhere else.’ It sounds like I’m being a drama queen, but I’ve given everything to Pink Apple Advertising and I’ve been pretty open about wanting to go to Boston. If they don’t choose me this year, I don’t think they ever will, and that Boston trip is the only real catalyst to a promotion.

‘Well, if they don’t pick you this time, they don’t deserve you.’ Bridget sounds distracted, like most people do when I talk about work.

I stifle a sigh. My friends will never understand how much it means to me. ‘The invites are gorgeous, by the way,’ I say, stroking the silver ribbon running down the thick, shimmery cream card with embossed dusky pink lettering. She was right when she said it will be the best day of her life.

2003

My breath catches in my throat. There he is, chewing the corner of his thumbnail nervously. He looks so vulnerable standing there in his navy suit and tie. When his eyes set upon mine, I can feel their warmth envelop me. His head tilts ever-so-slightly to the side and his watery eyes crinkle when he smiles. I glance down at my simple ivory dress, self-consciously smoothing out non-existent wrinkles. My mum had steamed the thing to death, fussing about invisible creases and generally adding to my overall nervousness.

The music starts, a piano instrumental of Canon in D, and butterflies beat venomously in my stomach when the expectant faces turn towards me. My mum is there, at the front with her new olive-coloured organza hat on. She’s clutching a tissue to her face.

‘Are you ready, pumpkin?’ my dad whispers in my ear. Normally, I’d tell him not to call me that, but today I’m too nervous to care.

I grip my dad’s arm tighter in mine, clutch my bouquet of white lilies with the other and take a deep breath before setting off. It’s a blur as we walk down the small aisle, past a handful of close friends and family, to where Kev is waiting. When I join him, he gives my hand a gentle squeeze and leans in close and breathes into my ear.

‘You … are … beautiful.’

I feel his words.

Suddenly the room is ours and ours alone.