Page 50 of Matilda’s Summer of New Beginnings

‘Both of you love me? Ugh. When’s the wedding, by the way? Maybe I should have asked that earlier, actually. I don’t know how long I’ve got. If it’s a shotgun wedding, I need to be bloody quick at sewing.’

‘It won’t be shotgun.’ I could hear the smile in her voice. ‘I’m thinking Halloween. All Goth and Wednesday Adams. Dior has a fantastic Gothic collection — I could channel some of those designs. And actually, Damien can probably get something suitable from my contacts at work, but me — no, I want something special, something black and frothy and lacy and made by you. Triple M Designs. Matilda Margaret Matthews’ first collection. Ooh and a bouquet of Queen of the Night tulips . . .’

‘Thank you.’ I could see where this was going, so I cut her off before she started asking me where we could get out of season flowers to create her bouquet. ‘But why Halloween? You’ve never been particularly Goth, if you don’t mind me saying.’ I visualized her patchwork dirndl skirt with the massive pockets.

‘I’ve never been six months pregnant before,’ she said ironically. ‘And I think I’ll be about that at Halloween. And black is slimming. So there.’

Dear Rosie. I loved her so much, I really did. And yes, I could see her, with her dark hair and pale skin absolutely rocking that look on her wedding day. But we’d have a few months to think about it. She still had time to change her mind and end up being an ivory princess instead, if that was what she wanted.

Honestly, it had been so good to talk to her. Again, I realized how silly I’d been over the last couple of days, and by the time we’d finished our long, long conversation, I felt a ridiculously massive, huge amount happier.

Chapter Eighteen

As I continued my walk, I remembered there was a deli and farm shop outside the village near the canal. So, for lunch, I grabbed something to eat there (they had lots of cheese — very delicious cheese) and then headed back to the Spatchcock.

I picked up my sketching and plein air painting things from my room — that had been the first lot of stuff to go in my case, followed by the curling tongs — and wandered back to the canal to do some bits and pieces before it was time to go back to the pub.

By the time I returned and walked in, I felt cheerful and very refreshed . . .

And oh my goodness, there was an absolute sea of pink. Everywhere.

‘You’ve been busy!’ I cried, looking around in wonder, as Jay balanced on the top of a stepladder, trying to put a banner up.

‘I had to go into town,’ he said, and I hid a smile. ‘Sally had a few tired old balloons, but they didn’t blow up very well, and looked a bit — well — indecent.’ He pulled a face. ‘Pink, saggy things — I can’t even describe them . . .’

I held up a hand. ‘Please don’t even try,’ I said.

‘Suits me. Might have been better hanging in Julio’s gallery.’ He turned and gave me a wink. I burst out laughing, and, placing my art equipment on a table, I hurried over and caught the edge of the banner as it fluttered downwards.

‘Damn,’ Jay muttered. ‘It’s not easy, this. I thought the Christmas decorations were bad enough, but I think tonight I’m going to dream of drowning in candy floss. Or bubble-gum.’

‘But Sam and Cerys will love it.’ I handed the corner of the banner up to him and he stretched up to pin it in place, giving me a sneaky view of the skin above his right hip as his t-shirt rode up. What was it with Jay’s t-shirts creeping up? I’d possibly have to tell him to wear long jumpers instead.

I averted my gaze, even as I felt my cheeks flush and the rest of my primal-self appreciate the view.

‘That should do it,’ he said, and climbed down. ‘Thanks, Tilds. You are multi-talented. And what a great idea.’

‘I do have them occasionally.’

‘You do. And also, you look happy. Are you genuinely this happy to be working with me again this evening? Even as we cling together on a life raft made of beermats and float away from the pinkness.’

I knew he was joking, but I desperately wanted to say: ‘Yes! Yes, that’s a huuuuuuge part of it! I’ll float wherever you want me to. And if you and I had been on that stupid panel of wood Rose and Jack were on in Titanic, I would have squished you on it next to me!’

But instead I smiled and gave him the potted version. ‘I’ve had a good long chat with Rosie. And I’ve done some arting so I’m pretty chilled, thank you very much.’

‘Nice one.’ He grinned and folded up the stepladder. ‘I do think they’ll like this — pink stuff. Is she okay? Rosie, I mean.’

I nodded. ‘Yep. I’m making her dress, apparently. Oh, and I’m her bridesmaid.’

‘Oh God, she’s definitely marrying him?’ Jay pulled a comical face. ‘I’m gaining a Damien as my brother-in-law.’

‘Yup. Seems like it. Hey — maybe you’ll be best man and we get to smile in the wedding pics together.’

‘Doesn’t Damien have any other friends? Or brothers? Or — anybody else? At all?’ Jay pulled a face. ‘I mean, who are those “babbies” your Aunty Una had — the ones who weren’t you and your siblings?’

‘He has got four brothers, but they’ll all squabble and his mum will get the vapours if her boys are arguing, so he won’t choose any of them. Nope.’

I thought for a moment, considering Damien’s life, then shook my head. ‘He’s usually with us, so no. I don’t think there’s anyone else, really. Not a best mate, anyway.’ A horrified realization came over me. ‘Good grief. I think I’m actually his best mate. That’s terrifying. Maybe he’ll want me as his best man? I can’t be bridesmaid and best man!’