Page 71 of The Tangled Life of Tabitha Grey

I giggled. ‘It’s going to get turned inside out, it’ll be less pointy – you’ll see.’

‘Hey, it’s your dress, not mine,’ Emma shrugged, going back to work while I rattled mugs and hunted around for tea bags. ‘When’re you two tying the knot anyway?’

‘Hopefully, before Christmas – once the house is finished and we have time to plan. Thankfully, Mum’s already got literally every supply we could ever need on hand so it shouldn’t be too hard to book a slot at the registry office and get things sorted. Then we’re doing an outdoor ceremony in the woods behind my aunt’s old cottage.’ It had just seemed right, as that was the place where I’d finally decided what it was I wanted. I’d told Cooper the whole story and he’d surprised me with a painting of the little hut Aunt Lou and I had built. That place meant so much to me, and Cooper said it felt special when he went there – reminding him of one of the few good memories he had of growing up with his dad and making bows and arrows out of sticks on holiday.

Mum thought I was mad for not having a big wedding, but Cooper’s savings were already ploughed into the house and land. I’d contributed what I could from the shop’s profits, now that the classes and kits were in full swing. I also wasn’t paying half the rent on a fancy ‘apartment’ or spending money on cashmere yarn to try and ‘earn’ my boyfriend’s approval. Cooper loved me for me and, no matter what they were made out of, he wore anything I made him with pride. Even the silly things that weren’t for public consumption.

‘Do you think they’ll come? You know, his family?’ Emma asked, lowering her voice.

‘Addy will, with her husband Eric – and their dogs – I think his parents will too but, it’s going to be a little bit tense.’

I’d only met Cooper’s parents once, when we went up to Wiltshire so he could see them in person for the first time since disappearing. They’d exchanged letters, emails and a few calls but it was clear that things were frosty between him and his dad. That didn’t look as if it was going to change, but they’d reached a sort of truce, where they tiptoed around the subject of Cooper’s career. Though he did send them a link to his art show at the town hall, where he’d exhibited twenty paintings of Leaford. The one of me in the wool shop was wrapped up, ready to hang in our new house.

I knew I wasn’t the person Cooper’s dad wanted him to marry. A country girl with a little shop, my parents in their former council house. But I didn’t let it get to me. I wasn’t ashamed of who I was or where I came from. The good thing was that Cooper’s mum liked to make lace, so we had plenty to talk about and were in regular email contact. Cooper also loved my mum and dad. He actually had a monthly meet-up with Dad to watch football, now that he had his shed back.

Mum was another story. It had taken a few visits for her to warm up to Cooper. It helped that Margaret hated him, and that Cooper was polite and charming. The pair of them had also met accidentally at a beginners’ cooking class after Mum’s microwave exploded, and now had weird little inside jokes about it. It was adorable.

‘You’ll have gorgeous babies,’ she told me last time I met her for coffee on my lunch break.

‘Probably, yeah,’ I’d responded, refusing to be drawn into that conversation. It was funny really. I’d stressed myself out so much about marriage and babies with Richard, had this invisible deadline in my head. Now it was just gone. It was weird how little I worried about the future now that I was content in the present. Cooper and I had talked about kids but, even if it never happened for us, I’d still be happy as we were. Well, once we were living in the house anyway.

I took his coffee out to him in a thermal cup and he leant down to take it from me. I handed him an extra blanket to put over his knees as well, in the misty morning chill, then climbed up to see what he was working on. We had plans to keep the boat as a floating studio-cum-shop for his artwork, which was doing well online and in a few local bookshops. It was repainted now, in classic red and green, with its new name in gold on the side – Cooper’s Rest.

‘Gorgeous, thanks!’ Cooper set the tea to the side, pink cheeked and fresh-faced in the cool air. ‘Speaking of, I was thinking of adding us into this one – about there?’ He gestured to the painting.

‘Hmm… a little to the left,’ I said, wrapping an arm around him and stooping to kiss the top of his head. ‘Perfect.’