The Wedding Invite (Lakeview) (Lakeview Contemporary Romance Book 6) (36 page)

I
t was a glorious afternoon
, the air was cold and crisp, and there was barely a cloud in the sky.

Helen wrapped her scarf tightly around her neck, and savoured the sharp breeze on her cheeks and the sun in her face. Talking these long walks with Kerry had become a habit of hers lately and, not for the first time, she wondered why she hadn’t done this before. Just ahead of her, she heard Kerry call happily after the newest member of the family – a white and tan, floppy-eared beagle called Fuzzy.

Kerry was a different child these days, Helen thought, watching her daughter racing along in the grass. While she had made no major inroads with her speech problems in general, Helen could see it in her eyes that she was becoming that little bit more confident, especially around her mother. Kerry hardly stuttered at all in front of Helen now, sensing her support, and the fact that she wouldn’t be annoyed if Kerry didn’t speak properly.

The taunts at school hadn’t stopped, but the physical side of the bullying had – Mrs Cleary had taken steps to give the culprits little excuse as possible for jeering, by moving them to another class and away from Kerry. In the meantime, Kerry had made a friend, a tiny little thing called Fiona, who – according to the teachers – had also been given a hard time in class because of the fact that she was adopted, and sometimes had to wear glasses. If it weren’t so serious, Helen would have laughed. Who would have thought that the daughter of self-assured, confident Helen Jackson would end up as one of the class nerds?

But apparently, Fiona was anything but nerdy – rather a tough little cookie who had one day stood up to one of her tormentors, a bulky brat called Dean. Some of Fiona’s daring had begun to rub off on Kerry, Mrs Cleary having told her that only the other day Kerry had an answer for a brat that made fun of her by imitating her stutter.

“If you call that a s-s-stutter,” she said, “I think I’ll h-h-have to give you l-l-l-lessons.”

But the change in her daughter, Helen believed, was mainly due to the change in their mother/daughter relationship. These days, Helen not only spoke to her daughter, she actually
listened
to her. Helen had to admit that Kerry was quite good fun, and she had lately begun to see her more as a person, rather than a burden. She was bright, quick-witted and easily amused.

She raced after Kerry and the ever-hyper Fuzzy. He wasn’t quite a pup, but he was easily as silly and playful as any young dog Helen had ever come across. There he was barking and racing after birds that he hadn’t a hope in hell of catching, Kerry trying her best to keep up with him.

“Look, Mummy, F-F-F–” Kerry struggled, and Helen wondered again if she had made a mistake calling the dog something that was difficult for her to pronounce, but her speech therapist had advised that this could be most beneficial. That way, Kerry couldn’t avoid difficult consonants. So when one day Helen brought the young dog home from the local animal shelter, and had declared he already had a name, Kerry had no choice but to work on her f’s and z’s.

“Fuzzy w-w-wants to play football!” she cried, pointing happily to where the dog was now hijacking the ball from a game of soccer already in full swing.

“Fuzzy, come here,” Helen ordered, mortified. The game wasn’t exactly a kick-around – both teams were in full gear and there were plenty of spectators.

The dog continued wrestling the ball from the corner-forward, acting as though Helen wasn’t even there.

“I’m so, so sorry.” Helen was all apologies to the other players as, lead in hand, she ran out onto the pitch.

“Fuzzy, come
here
,” she repeated in a tone that this time had the desired effect on her daughter’s errant pet. Fuzzy dropped the ball and – with what Helen could have sworn was one last mournful look towards goal – allowed her to lead him away to the sidelines. Kerry stood there, hand over her mouth, tittering.

“Bad dog, Fuzzy,” Kerry said with no conviction whatsoever, while at the same time reaching down and tickling him under the ears.

A spectator standing immediately beside them looked on in amusement.

“That dog might play for Ireland, yet,” he joked, and Kerry giggled.

Helen, embarrassed and more than a little out of breath from running, stood quietly for a moment and watched the play continue. The game, judging by the age of the players, was an Under-15’s match of some kind – possibly a Sunday league game.

One player in particular though caught her eye. He seemed to be playing just above midfield in a sort of floating role – and when necessary, tracked back to defend – but in the few minutes Helen had seen him play, she knew he was something special. At that moment he won the ball in his own penalty area, and raced up along the wing, fast as lightning. The spectators rippled with excitement as, easily stepping past three defenders, he moved towards goal. Because he was so far wide, Helen was sure he was about to cross the ball to his forward-moving teammate – but no – this kid checked his man, did a little shimmy and within seconds of striking it, the ball was in the back of the net. The crowd roared with applause, Helen included. It was one of the most skilful and spectacular goals she had ever seen.

Kerry too, clapped her hands excitedly. “He’s good, Mommy,” she shouted over the crowd.”

“Spoken like a woman who knows her football.” Kerry looked up at the man standing beside them and smiled shyly, amused – and more than a little pleased – to be referred to as ‘a woman’.

Helen smiled at this and soon she and Kerry found themselves chatting easily to the bystander, who eventually introduced himself as Cormac. He was tall and wiry and, as Nicola would say, ‘certainly no oil painting’. But he had striking green eyes, eyes that sparkled when he laughed and somehow instinctively made you warm to him. That was how Helen felt anyway, but Kerry must have felt the same way as, normally shy, she was now chatting merrily to him with little sign of her stutter.

Helen looked back towards the pitch. “That winger – he’s terrific.”

“Greg?” he said in a tone that suggested the lad was local. “He certainly is. And,” he bent down towards Kerry, “if you promise you won’t tell anyone, I’ll tell you a secret about Greg – well, you can tell your mommy if you like, but that’s all.”

Helen smiled, watching Kerry’s eyes widen as Cormac whispered in her ear. Then Kerry motioned for Helen to bend down, and when she did she said, “He’s goin to play in the Pwemiership, Mommy!”

“Ooooh,” Helen said breathlessly, then she fixed Cormac with a questioning look. “Is that true?”

“True as I’m standing here. United signed him right after his first trial.”

“Wow although I can’t say I’m surprised he’s been scouted. When he is going over?”

“After the season ends – June possibly.”

“Will he settle there, do you think?” Helen knew that a lot of Irish footballers sometimes had problems being away from home so young.

“Oh, I’d be almost positive of it,” he said knowledgably, as the referee blew for full time.

“A friend of yours or something then?” Helen asked over the applause, and then watched surprised as match-winning Greg began to approach them.

Cormac was smiling. “He’s my son,” he replied proudly.

O
n a cold afternoon in January
, and dressed in full snow-queen regalia, Chloe prepared to walk up the aisle of St Anthony’s Church.

Her father, dressed handsomely in top-hat and tails stood back to let the photographer get some shots of the bride on her own.

“Such a shame we don’t have the snow,” the photographer was saying and if Chloe didn’t know better she’d have sworn there was mockery behind his words.

She turned slightly to the side and gave him a beaming smile. At least, it was supposed to be a beaming smile. Chloe wondered if the lens would pick up on her nervousness, capturing it on film forever. Yet it didn’t feel quite the same as nervousness, she decided, it was more like … like uncertainty.

Why was she feeling like this? Chloe wasn’t quite sure. She had been looking forward to this day for so long, and despite all the setbacks and the chopping and changing, her wedding day was finally happening.

Why then, did she not feel what she was supposed to feel – elation, excitement, anticipation? Where were all of those feelings?

Chloe followed the bridesmaids inside. Now, standing at the back of church with her mother with Lynne fussing over the hem of her cloak, she felt …unsure.

Just then, Lynne looked up at her and smiled. Chloe wondered if she was just imagining the faint look of anxiety on her friend’s face. Was Lynne feeling uncertain too? Had she made a mistake confiding in her? But what else could she do?

After her meeting with Nicola, Chloe hadn’t known what to make of her fiancé’s behaviour. She knew that there were two sides to every story but Dan had all but admitted that he had abandoned his wife when she needed him most.

“What’s to say that he wouldn’t do the same to you?” Lynne had said. “What’s to say that he wouldn’t go running at the first sign of trouble?”

But Dan hadn’t gone running though, had he? He had just admitted that he couldn’t continue with the way things were.

“I just couldn’t cope with it, Chlo,” he had said. “There was no point in pretending otherwise, it wouldn’t have done Nicola any good in the long run.”

It was true that Nicola seemed to have got on just fine without him but then, she hadn’t had much of a choice, had she?

“It’s not so much his leaving her that should worry you, but the fact that he had no intention of telling you about it
is
a problem,” Lynne had said.

Or had she?

No, Chloe thought, Lynne
hadn’t
said that, it was the little voice inside herself that had said it.

The little voice that at this very moment was doing its best to make Chloe feel incredibly nervous.

The opening bars of the bridal march began. This was it. Chloe felt a sudden rush of adrenaline – or was it panic? She exhaled deeply, and flinched when her father touched her elbow.

“This is us, darling,” he whispered, entwining Chloe’s right arm in his left.

As she followed her bridesmaids up the aisle, Chloe’s gaze travelled past the rows of smiling guests and flashing cameras and settled at the top of the church. She didn’t see the elaborate flower arrangements, she didn’t hear the harpist – she didn’t even care how she looked. Somehow Chloe thought she would be blown away by all the romance and excitement of it all, blown away by being a princess for a day.

But Chloe didn’t feel like that at all.

If anything, she felt as though all of this was very, very wrong.

She looked up and saw Dan standing with his back to the congregation, stiffly awaiting his new bride’s arrival.

Chloe exhaled, resisting the urge to quite literally shake the uncertainty out of her head. She loved Dan. Surely that was all that mattered? And everything that had happened in the past was simply that – the past.

They were getting closer now and Chloe’s heart was knocking hard against her ribs, pounding in her chest. Suddenly, white spots appeared before her eyes and she felt her throat close over and her mouth go …

Then the bridesmaids stopped walking, and Lynne turned around to take the bridal bouquet for the duration of the ceremony.

Dan was smiling.

Her father was smiling.

The priest was smiling.

Then …

Chloe looked up. What was
wrong
with her?
Nobody
knew what the future held, did they? Nobody could be a hundred percent certain. Could any bride on the day, what with all the fuss, pomp and spectacle – really,
honestly
say that they were completely certain?

Chloe thought about it.

Could anybody
ever
be absolutely certain?

The bride moved forward to take her place before the altar.

Probably not.

L
aura was walking on air
. She was still waiting for the alarm-clock to ring, for Neil to call her name and wake her out of sleep, anything that would finally convince her that all of this was just a dream.

But months later, that still hadn’t happened.

Now she was sitting directly in front of the catwalk, waiting to view Amanda Verveen’s long-awaited Collection. It hadn’t been easy, and Amanda could be a temperamental battle-axe, but despite all the late nights designing and altering – in her own opinion – some of the most spectacular jewellery she had ever produced, Laura had enjoyed every second.

On one side of her Neil sat proudly. On the other side …

“Wouldn’t you think with all the money she makes, that she’d be able to afford a watch, Laura? I make it well gone half four. Honestly, you’d think we’ve nothing better to be doing after coming all the way over to London and – ”

Joe patted his wife’s hand. “Sure we’re in no rush, are we, Maureen? And if I were you I’d stop looking at your watch, and start smiling for that photographer.” He winked at Laura. “He probably wants a photo of us.”

“And who’ll see us?”

Laura couldn’t help but smile. There was no changing her mother – that was for sure. She looked at her father. Since learning of Joe’s love of writing, Laura had bought him a second-hand word processor and had tentatively showed him how to use it. She didn’t know if her father would ever get the hang of the machine, or indeed rediscover his passion for writing but she wasn’t going to push it. If Joe had a story to tell, it would come out in its own good time. Maureen didn’t have much to say about the subject either way, which Laura took as a very good sign.

She looked at her own watch and scanned the room. No sign of the others yet. Laura really hoped that they would make it here in time. She couldn’t imagine Helen missing something like this. London Fashion week? Helen would be in her element.

Laura smiled. Her friend was in her element all the time these days. She had been spending more and more time with Cormac Doyle, and although she was still maintaining they were ‘just good friends’ Laura thought that they were perfect together. In fact, she couldn’t think of anyone more perfect for Helen. He was mature easygoing, adored children and had an up-and-coming footballer for a son. Helen and Cormac’s son, Greg, got on famously – Greg regarding Helen with intense awe as being the first woman he had ever met who ‘really understood football’. And most important of all, Kerry adored them both. Lately, she and Helen had made a lot more time for one another as mother and daughter, and the results were satisfying.

Laura was thrilled for Helen. Her friend had finally found exactly what she was looking for, and just when she wasn’t looking for it.

Laura felt a tap on her shoulder from behind. She looked around and smiled.

“Missus, can I please have your autograph?” Ken teased, and Laura shushed him away as Nicola reached across and hugged her.

“Nic, I’m sorry I couldn’t get you or Helen seats up front but …” Laura gestured across the way, “those ladies are kind of hard to shift.”

Nicola followed Laura’s gaze around the catwalk. “Oh my goodness, I must be seeing things,” she gasped, putting her hand to her mouth.

“Either that or Kate and Gwyneth have doubles,” Ken added.

“And is that
Madonna
over there?” Nicola couldn’t hide her awe.

Maureen sat forward and peered over the top of her glasses. “Is that who that blondie one is?” she said. “Well, I really feel like giving her a piece of my mind over that song she had out a few years ago – making a mockery of Our Lady, she was. I think I might go over now before the show starts.”

“Where’s Helen?” Nicola asked Laura. “I think the show’s about to start.”

Sure enough, the lights dimmed and the music boomed from the speakers. Laura sat forward in her seat and felt a rush of excitement like never before. Then a thought struck her. What if at the last minute Amanda decided to leave the jewellery out altogether, that it wasn’t good enough? Her throat felt dry. But surely she wouldn’t do that, not after all the work …

“Ladies and Gentleman – The Amanda Verveen Collection.” The announcer’s voice boomed around the room, and soon the first model appeared on the catwalk.

Laura couldn’t bring herself to look as she felt Neil give her hand a little squeeze. Then she raised her eyes, and for a split second, Laura couldn’t see – she couldn’t focus on the girl, never mind what she was wearing. There were just too many tears.

Alongside her, Laura heard her father whisper. “This is your moment, pet, savour it.”

She looked up just in time to see the first model do a little pirouette on the bottom of the catwalk. The girl turned back, and as she did, the lights caught the choker around her neck.
Her
choker. For one long moment, Laura couldn’t breathe.

It was the same for the next two – even three girls, until finally Laura began to relax and enjoy herself. There was simply no describing the feeling of unqualified pride and achievement she felt in all of this. Laura knew that even if nothing ever came of this – if she never had another commission again – it wouldn’t matter. This, today, was all she ever dreamed about and so much more.

From behind, she felt someone give her a shoulder a little squeeze. “Sorry we’re late,” Helen whispered.

Laura smiled up at her. Her friend looked beautiful and, in the style stakes, easily matched any of the celebrities in the room – if not on the catwalk.

She was dressed in slim fitting trousers and a sparkling fitted bustier, to which she had added one of Laura’s vintage-style pendants. Helen had been insistent Laura make her one for ages, Laura never knowing what it was for. Now she knew it was Helen’s way of showing her some support today. Either that or Helen as usual wanted to be one step ahead of the fashion posse. She found that either scenario was equally satisfying.

Laura sat back and savoured the rest of the show, and it seemed no time at all until Amanda Verveen, all glamorous and smiling, stepped out to greet her adoring public. The room thundered with rapturous applause, and a few people began to stand up one by one until Amanda was given a complete standing ovation.

Laura clapped madly, proud to have been a tiny part of it all and delighted for the designer. Then, somehow in the darkness, she caught Amanda’s eye, and all of a sudden Laura was hauled up on the catwalk with her, and her name was being called from somewhere in the background, and she could see Neil and Nicola and Helen and her mum and dad all smiling and applauding her.

Laura thought then that she would surely burst with joy.

Eventually, Amanda stepped back inside, the lights brightened, and the show was over almost as quickly as it had begun. Laura rejoined her still-clapping family and friends. Afterwards she was unable to keep the smile from her face.

“It was brilliant!” Nicola enthused, reaching upwards to give her a hug. “You are brilliant.”

“Thank you.” Laura wiped tears from her eyes.

“You certainly are.”

She looked up to see a smiling Pamela standing beside her. “I didn’t know you’d be here!”

“And miss my favourite daughter-in-law’s big moment?” Pamela hugged her. “You must be joking.”

Laura was thrilled to see her mother-in-law look so well. She had recently completed her chemotherapy, and according to her latest scan, was in remission. Her hair hadn’t yet grown back but there was colour in her face and she had put on a little weight since the last time Laura had seen her.

“She was always brilliant at that kind of thing, wasn’t she, Joe?” Maureen piped up. “But I have to admit that everything looks a lot nicer under all those lights.”

Pamela gave her daughter-in-law a conspiratorial wink. “I think that might be your mother’s way of saying congratulations,” she whispered.

Laura smiled.

“Right,” Neil put an arm around her. “I think my wife deserves a little celebration after all that,” he said, “so I’m taking you all out to dinner – just give me a second and I’ll Dad where we’re going.” He went across to where his father and Joe were sitting together, laughing over something.

Laura stood back for a moment and savoured the scene around her. Her mother was in deep conversation with Pamela, telling her how she and Joe had always known Laura was that little bit different. “It was hard to tell what Laura had going on in her head most of the time, you see, because she always had some quare notions. Still, we knew she’d go down the right road eventually.”

Still seated in the second row, Helen was flanked by a very dapper-looking Cormac (Helen had obviously done a quick job on his wardrobe) and was conversing happily with Ken, who Laura noticed could hardly take his eyes off Nicola. These days they were busy making plans for their wedding, and Laura didn’t think she had ever seen Nicola so happy.

She shook her head. The three of them had come a long way since this time last year and despite everything, had each found exactly what she was looking for – albeit in ways they hadn’t expected.

Just then, Nicola looked up and caught Laura’s eye.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said, moving towards her. “It was fantastic, and you really deserve it.”

“Did you not hear?” Laura cocked her head toward her mother, but there was a smile in her voice. “
I
didn’t do anything – it was the lights!”

“No – really,” Nicola said, “you should be very proud of yourself.”

“I am.”

The two women were silent for a moment.

“Nic, I never asked … did you –” Laura began.

“Go to the wedding?” She shook her head. “You didn’t really think I would, did you?”

Laura didn’t know what to say. She thought Dan had had a cheek ringing up and inviting Nicola and Ken to the wedding in the first place. “Seeing as we’re all friends now,” he had said, apparently.

“Although I must admit, I was very tempted,” Nicola continued, a smile playing about her lips, “but I think poor Chloe would have enough to worry about without me turning up and putting her off.”

“Would
you
?” Laura asked. “Go ahead with marrying Dan after what you’d learned about him – if you were Chloe, I mean?”

“I’m not really the right one to ask,” Nicola laughed easily. “But no, I don’t think I would.”

“Me neither.”

“What are you two gabbing about?” Helen appeared alongside them, her face lively and eyes sparkling. Since meeting Cormac she was positively glowing. Same old Helen.

Laura was on her way back to her seat when she was waylaid by Amanda.

“Laura darling, fantastic show, wasn’t it? I’ve been getting such a reaction from your jewellery. People just adore your work!”

“I think it went well.”

“Went well! Nobody even noticed the clothes! It was your day, darling, your success!” And with that Amanda was off again, having spied someone else to fuss over. Laura shook her head, smiling. She had worked with the woman just long enough to know that while Amanda was a fantastic designer, she was invariably false and you couldn’t believe a word that came out of her mouth.

“You’re Laura?” an Irish male voice piped up from behind her. “The jewellery designer for the show?”

“Yes.”

Whoever he was, Laura thought, he certainly belonged here. Dressed head to toe in what was undoubtedly Jean Paul Gaultier, the guy screamed fashion victim.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said extending a hand. “I’ve been trying to find you since the show finished.”

“And you are?” Laura asked, wondering why a camp guy like this could possibly be interested in handcrafted jewellery.

He flashed her a beaming smile. “You don’t know me,” he said, “but you might know my boss.”

“Your boss?”

“Yes,” he smiled giddily at her. “You know, she just
adore
the whole gothic thing, and the fact that you’re Irish – well, that’s even better. You know it’s so difficult for me to find hip Irish jewellery – all those Celtic crosses and Ogham stones are so passé these days.”

“O - K.” Laura began to slowly back away. This guy seemed a bit of a nutter.

“Anyway,” he went on, “Ms Connolly, I really don’t want to delay you as I’m sure you’re very busy, but it would be really great if your people could give us a call some time soon. We’d love to have you do something especially for us – Gaga’s delirious about the stuff you designed for Amanda’s show.”

“I’m sorry I don’t understand… ?”

“Well, yes.” Mr Trendy stood still, puzzled by Laura’s apathetic reaction, and then instantly seemed to recollect himself. “Oh gosh!” he exclaimed. “I still haven’t introduced myself, have I? I’m a stylist, Ms Connolly,” he said, handing her his card with a beaming smile. “For Lady Gaga.”

Laura’s mouth dropped open.