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‘Twenty-second?’
‘Great. That’s perfect. Right, well could you book me out that Saturday and the whole of the following week?’
‘Are you taking a vacation?’
‘Holiday, Sasha. Yes I am: a honeymoon.’ She smiled to herself. A honeymoon.
‘Oh. Well, that’s great, congratulations.’
‘Thank you. Well, I shall see you a bit later and if Milo at the patisserie has any new recipes he’d like me to try out, save me something for this afternoon,’ Freya finished.
‘Sure. See you.’
Freya returned to the kitchen and replaced the phone on the wall.
‘Everything OK?’ Nicholas asked. He buttered toast.
‘Everything’s fine. In fact, you’d better call your brother later and make sure he can get here for the twenty-second of December.’
‘You’ve decided on a date.’ He turned to face her.
‘Can you make it?’
‘I think I’m supposed to be meeting with Arnold Schwarzenegger that day, but I’m sure he’ll understand,’ Nicholas replied, slipping his arms around her waist.
‘Tell him you’ll be back,’ Freya suggested with a laugh.
‘I’ll tell him I can’t meet him because I’m going to be made the happiest man alive.’
‘You’ll make me blush and you know I hate blushing in front of Willis.’
‘He’s gotten used to it. Come on, let’s eat breakfast and then I’ll call Matt, tell him the good news.’
He let her go and picked up the plates from the work top.
Twenty-second of December. She was going to be a winter bride. Now the date was set, she had to think about what she wanted and where she wanted it. Where did she start?
‘So, who’s Jonny?’ Nicholas asked, sitting down at the table.
‘Jonny?’ She swallowed. She should have told him yesterday. Whatever she told him now, after the event, was going to sound lame. Unless she lied to buy time. Why did she need to lie? There was nothing between her and Jonny.
‘Yeah, Sasha said something to you on the phone and you said Jonny in kind of a weird way.’
‘Oh, Jonny! That Jonny! Oh, that’s Sasha’s latest guy. He’s nothing to write home about and if you ask me, she could do a lot better than him. He stood her up last week with no good excuse.’
There was the lie, tripping from her tongue. She sat at the table with a thump.
‘She seems quite a nice girl. She certainly likes to talk.’
‘She is nice and talented. Obviously not as talented as me, but I’m trying to pass on a few things to her,’ Freya told him.
‘So, December twenty-second.’ He looked across the table at her, a smile on his face.
‘Yep, twenty-second of December, it’s a date.’
If God didn’t smite her for the lying.
10
