Eve Devon

The Wedding Planner


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together. Joking like she and Seth weren’t friends … so much as its next victims.

      Which was fine, she reminded herself, relaxing her jaw, because they weren’t.

      She didn’t believe in magic and fairytale endings.

      And you didn’t have to be a Strictly super-fan to know it took two to tango.

      Plus, she shouldn’t forget that she was on a strict tangoing break.

      She didn’t need to worry about Seth.

      Seth was …

      She fumbled for a proper definition – a label – anything helpful at all to stick on what they were and feel okay about it.

      She came up blank.

      Back to five friends then.

      She thought of the Famous Five books.

       Five Friend Gloria Pavey.

      Bloody hell.

      She supposed it was a start.

      ‘You really think I don’t need to keep coming to see you?’ she checked.

      ‘I really don’t.’

      Bloody hell, again.

      Fortuna obviously favoured the brave.

      Gloria released a sigh and stood up. ‘Okay. Well, I guess Thank You for all your patience with me.’

      ‘Not at all, you’re the one who’s done the hard work.’

      Gloria tried to be honest with herself.

      And brave.

      Even in those early hours before dawn she was now able to poke and prod at all the Before-She’d-Married-Bob stuff and all the After-She’d-Married-Bob stuff and feel less governed, less defined and less stigmatised by it all.

      She did feel more even-tempered. More balanced. Less worried about all the wedding talk.

      Sort of.

      That insidious worry that had been flirting so maddeningly with her started up its banter proper.

      ‘Nope,’ she announced, promptly sitting back down, ‘I can’t have you signing off on me when I’m still able to feel that anger.’

      ‘That’s not anger you’re feeling,’ Fortuna promised. ‘It’s a little anxiety, maybe.’

      ‘Do all your patients come in with one thing and leave with another?’

      ‘It’s only natural to be feeling anxious. We all do when things come to an end.’

      ‘Well, on the grounds that I’m better attuned to others’ feelings these days, how about I come back next week. I wouldn’t want you to have to feel anxious about our relationship coming to an end.’

      Fortuna laughed. ‘Keep on being brave, Gloria.’

      ‘I don’t feel very brave.’ The words came out small, hoarse and reluctantly.

      ‘It was brave to admit to being worried about repeating old behaviours and ruining new friendships. It’s brave to change how you react to things. If you persevere it will become habit-forming and some of the anxiety you’re going to revert to previous behaviours will ease.’

      ‘So, this is really it, then?’

      ‘You know where I am if you need me, but for now I think it’s time to simply: Go Forth and Be Yourself.’

      You, do you – that’s what she was being told, here? Well, she supposed it was better than being told she needed to try forest bathing because she’d been walking through the woods of Whispers Wood for years and had still ended up needing therapy.

      Be herself.

      Herself without blowing up at a little wedding talk.

      It was said with such simple belief that Gloria rose to her feet, slightly shocked to discover the stress ball had been simply sitting in her hand unclenched for the last ten minutes. With a smile, she held out the ball and said, ‘I’m taking this with me,’ and after a moment’s hesitation, she reached into the bowl she’d been staring at for twelve weeks and took a second ball and said, ‘this one too.’

      For luck, she thought walking out into the sunshine.

       Chapter 3

       The ‘F’ Word

       Gloria

      Pulling up outside the school gates where her daughter was about to finish summer Day Camp for the day, she switched off the engine and glanced at her watch. She was early so she’d sit in her car for a while.

      Breathe in the quiet.

      This was the first year Persephone had asked to join in the events the school put on in the holidays and it meant being able to work whatever hours Emma needed without having to worry about childcare.

      Not for the first time she hoped Persephone had suggested Day Camp for herself and not because she didn’t want to curtail her mum having fun at work. Lately it was easy to worry about how set Persephone was on pleasing others – something she got from Bob, rather than her, obviously.

      At ten years old and considering having to get used to seeing her father with a man as opposed to a new woman, Persephone was a remarkably well-adjusted, happy, energetic, pretty well-behaved child.

      She was also attached at the hip to Melody Matthews. It had been that way since the first day of pre-school and Gloria had to admit she looked on their friendship with awe. Melody had lost her mum at age four but recently had had to get used to seeing her dad, Oscar Matthews, with the owner of Hair @ The Clock House, Juliet Brown, and, like Persephone, Melody seemed happy. In fact the two girls’ mission seemed to be to champion each other through life. It was a magical connection and quite impossible to remain cynical in the face of.

      She’d never had a best friend when she was Persephone’s age.

      Sisters were different, she accepted, thinking of her own. The way Persephone and Melody connected, she knew they thought they were like true sisters.

      But they weren’t.

      Best friends could keep secrets sure.

      But sisters who shared the same environment didn’t even need to be told something was a secret. It was an intrinsic part of protecting the family.

      While you still lived together at any rate.

      She felt her shoulders rise with tension and reminded herself she’d given these spare few moments over to the supremely simple act of sitting here and breathing in the quiet, not taking a drive down Memory Lane.

      She and Bob may not have given Persephone a brother or a sister and Gloria might sometimes wish their daughter had lots of friends instead of putting all her eggs into one BFF basket, but at least Persephone had had someone fiercely loyal standing by her side when her dad came out. Someone she could talk with, cry with, hug with, forget about it all with. Someone to tell her it wasn’t so bad, that he was still her dad, that he still loved her.

      She breathed in slowly, breathed out slower and felt her shoulders relax.

      With an automatic glance to the windscreen mirror when she heard a car pull in behind her, she recognised Juliet’s classic Beetle, recently painted with the clock house business logo.

      It would probably be polite to get out of the car when Juliet did. The awkwardness between them was much better since she’d apologised for telling Juliet if she wasn’t careful she’d end up the spinster Cat Lady of Whispers Wood.

      Yep,