Winter’s Fairytale Page 2

  I loved Mags to bits, but sometimes I wished she wasn’t quite so insightful. I fiddled with the wine bottle cork as I let out a sigh.

  ‘I’m not sure, to be honest. He hurt me. Totally humiliated me. But I am getting through it. And that sort of worries me in a way. I mean, shouldn’t I be sobbing and wailing and declaring that my broken heart will never mend? It’s made me question whether he was really The One after all. I mean, I thought he was, obviously. But now – I don’t know! As much as I hate to admit it, I’m secretly wondering if he actually did me a bit of a favour. Would the marriage even have lasted, seeing as I’m not pining away for him?’

  I took another swig. ‘Of course, I’d rather he’d told me prior to the bloody wedding day!’ I said, my voice getting louder as I finished the sentence.

  It was the truth though. I was seriously wondering if I had very nearly made a big mistake. But the anger at Steven for humiliating me, and my parents, as well as his own, still boiled away. I didn’t know how long that would take to go away. I hadn’t seen Rob since the wedding day either, so it was likely he wasn’t too sure about that aspect either, and, bearing in mind I’d punched him on the nose last time, he wasn’t taking any chances. I could hardly blame him.

  As if reading my mind, Mags looked over from where she was studying the label on the wine bottle.

  ‘Have you seen Rob at all since then?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘You do know you actually broke his nose, don’t you?

  I whipped my head around to face her. Thanks to the copious amount of alcohol now thinning my blood, it took the world a moment or two to catch up. I blinked, and waited a few seconds for it all to settle down. Mags pushed her own cute little nose to the side, as if to illustrate the point.

  ‘I couldn’t have! He’s an ex-army, six-foot-three rugby player and I’m…’ I paused to look down at my own far less statuesque frame, ‘…not. I didn’t even hit him that hard!’

  If I’m honest, I wasn’t entirely sure about the last bit. In the days following the incident, my hand, with its perfectly manicured nails, had turned a variety of shades, none of which were particularly attractive, as the whole thing became one massive bruise. And he had ended up on his bum.

  ‘Hard enough, it seems.’ Mags confirmed, a small smirk catching her lips.

  I saw it.

  ‘Stop it! It’s not funny.’

  Her smirk turned into a grin.

  ‘It’s not!’ I reiterated, ‘Anyway, how do you know?’

  ‘I saw him a few days ago. I was at Borough Market at lunchtime and he came into the pub with some colleagues.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘He was asking after you. He wanted to know if you were ok.’

  ‘Oh.’ I said again. ‘What did you tell him?’ I asked, after a couple more minutes.

  ‘I just said that you were doing ok, under the circumstances, and that you would be fine because you’re not about to let a lowlife piece of pond scum like Steven ruin your life.’

  ‘Right. Good. Ok. So long as you were subtle about it.’

  ‘Of course.’

  And the funny thing was, that actually was subtle for Mags. It was lucky that it had been Rob and not Steven she’d run into. We’d been there for every good, and every awful, moment in each other’s lives and her fury at seeing her best friend hurt was probably more than my own could ever be. If Steven appeared in her line of vision any time within the next few months, there was every chance a trip to the casualty department would be in his very immediate future. I was just entertaining that idea in my head when Mags broke into my thoughts.

  ‘I think he’d like to see you.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Rob.’

  ‘Me? Why?’ My hand suddenly flew to my mouth, ‘Oh my God! He’s going to sue me for breaking his nose!’

  Mags spurted out her wine over my kitchen table in laughter. ‘He does not want to sue you for breaking his nose!’

  ‘How do you know? Did he specifically say that? He is a lawyer! Why else would he want to see me?’

  ‘Izz, he specialises in company law, not ambulance chasing! Like I said, he’s just concerned as to how you are,’ she said, mopping up with a paper towel, ‘I think he feels some sort of odd sense of responsibility.’

  ‘Well, he shouldn’t.’

  ‘No, I told him that too.’

  ‘Good. Well, that’s that then.’

  ‘Excellent. Glad that’s settled. Is there any more wine?’

  Chapter Three

  The screen on my phone lit up for the third time in an hour. I glanced over, read the name and pressed ‘Ignore’. Again. The bride-to-be whose dress I was working on noticed.

  ‘Do you want to get that? It’s ok. I have plenty of time.’ She almost bounced as she said it, her excitement palpable.

  I loved this part of my job. I loved almost every bit of my job actually. It was one of the reasons I’d specialised in bridal wear after leaving Central St Martins, degree in hand. For the happiness, the joy and the excitement that came along with it all. Of course, there was the inevitable odd ‘Bridezilla’, but for the most part, the women that came in to my studio were wonderful and fun, and sometimes a little nervous, although the champagne I provided usually took care of that bit. I loved it. Even now.

  It had been over six months since my own non-wedding debacle and the pain, and even the anger, were fading more and more each day. I had come to the conclusion that I’d actually been prevented from making one of the biggest mistakes of my life. A full-on, humiliating and very public prevention, but a prevention all the same. It had, dare I say it, been a good thing. I’d even managed to sell my dress. Time really was a healer in this instance. I was moving on. It wasn’t like I was about to start dating again or anything drastic like that just yet, but I was getting through it and doing ok.

  I looked up at the bride, smiled, and shook my head, the mouthful of pins I was momentarily sporting a handy excuse for not giving a more informed answer.

  ‘I saw Rob again yesterday lunchtime. He said he’s tried calling you but you never answer your phone or reply to any of his texts.’

  ‘Well then, maybe he should take the hint. What does he even want anyway?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe you should answer the phone and find out.’ Mags smiled.

  I rolled my eyes.

  ‘Didn’t he say what he wanted when you saw him?’

  Mags shook her head and speared an olive from the antipasti platter in between us. ‘Nope. Just that he’d been trying to ring you.’

  ‘Did you tell him I don’t want to speak to him?’

  ‘I didn’t know if you’d been ignoring his calls on purpose or just genuinely missed them, so I didn’t like to say either way.’

  ‘Well, now you know for sure so feel free to pass on my wishes next time you bump into him.’

  I aimed my cocktail stick at the last remaining olive. It glanced off, causing the olive to fly from the table, ricochet off the lovey-dovey couple’s table next to us, and bounce three times on the floor before finally rolling to a stop at the feet of the restaurant owner. He looked down at the offending fruit, then at us, then back at the olive.

  ‘Oh my God, he’s coming over!’ Mags was now the colour of a beetroot from trying to stifle her laughter in the hushed restaurant. We normally plumped for the noise and bustle of Carluccio’s, but Mags had seen an offer for this one online and the price was too good to miss trying it out. Right now though, I was wishing we’d resisted.

  ‘Signorina.’

  I kicked Mags under the table and looked up at the man. ‘I’m so sorry, it just sort of flew off the plate!’

  He nodded. ‘Indeed. You would be surprised how much it happens.’ He smiled, gave a sweet little bow and left, gesturing to a waiter to clear away the escaped food. Moments later he was back, placing another full dish of olives down on the table, and removing the previous, now empty, bowl.

  ‘On the house.’ He d
id the little bow again, smiled at both of us, then turned and left.

  ‘Excellent! Well done Izz,’ Mags dived in and stabbed another unsuspecting olive. She glanced over at the owner and returned his smile before turning back to assess which olive was next. ‘I think you’ve pulled there!’ she stated, spearing her chosen subject.

  ‘But we could eat for free!’

  Mags was again putting forward her case for why I should call the Italian restaurant bloke, after he’d made a point of handing me a business card with his mobile number written on the back. She was right. There were definite benefits. And the guy seemed nice, and was certainly attractive. So what was the problem? Why didn’t I just go for it? Embrace the joys of being a single woman in the heady metropolis of London? Honestly, I couldn’t give her a reason. Instead I tucked my arm around hers and pulled her closer under the umbrella. The snow that had been gently fluttering down earlier had become heavier whilst we’d been devouring our delicious Italian nibbles.

  ‘He was gorgeous!’ She tried again.

  ‘I know, I know. I just don’t feel I’m ready to get back on that particular horse yet.’

  Mags raised her eyebrows, pondering the connotations of what I just said.

  I pulled a face. ‘You know what I mean.’

  She sighed. ‘I do.’ She squeezed my arm with hers, ‘I just don’t want you to miss out on anything. But you’re right. You need to do it when you’re ready.’

  I hugged her back. ‘Thanks. And I’m sorry about the free food.’

  She laughed. ‘I’ll get over it. Probably better for my waistline this way anyway. Oh! There’s my bus. Are you sure you’re ok from here?’

  ‘Positive. I’m just going to nip in and pick something up from the studio, then go home. Here, take this,’ I said, handing her the umbrella, ‘I’ve got a spare one at work.’

  ‘Ok, thanks! Love you! Text me later.’ She gave me a quick hug and rushed off in the direction of the stop.

  I sheltered under a shop’s overhang and watched to make sure she caught the bus, before turning down the road where my studio resided, the snow inflicting sharp little pinpricks on my cheeks. The silver bells I’d hung tinkled as I unlocked the front door and pushed it open. The notes I wanted were sat on my desk. I grabbed them and put the file in my bag. One of my current brides had some really interesting ideas and I wanted to try sketching out a few designs over the weekend. They were predicting heavy snow, even in the city, so staying in and keeping warm seemed like a good plan. Going back to the door, I lifted the spare umbrella from the coat rack, and stepped outside, the cold wind immediately whipping at my face. I turned the top lock, threw the deadlock, and dropped the keys into my bag before adjusting my scarf a little higher around my neck. The wind was picking up. The spare brolly I’d grabbed wasn’t going to last five minutes. It was just going to be a case of moving as fast as possible to the tube station. Belting my coat securely, ready for the headwind I was about to face, I turned back to the street, and came face to face with Rob.

  ‘Shit!’ I exclaimed, stumbling back a step and bumping into the door. The snow was settling faster now and beginning to muffle the noise of the city. Including footsteps, apparently.

  Rob quickly reached forward, steadying me. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump.’

  ‘I tend to do that when people creep up behind me!’ I snapped, heart still pounding.

  ‘I wasn’t creeping up on you, Izzy. I just got here and was about to say hello when you turned around.’

  I cast my glance up the street to where strings of themed Christmas lights shimmered through the snowflakes. In fact I was looking everywhere but at Rob. I hadn’t seen him since he’d gone out to make the speech at the church. I’d taken the opportunity of the distraction to exit via the side door and grab the first taxi I saw.

  When I didn’t say anything, Rob spoke again. ‘I had a meeting with a client…’ He indicated further down the road, explaining his presence in the area.

  I nodded without looking at him.

  ‘How are you?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m fine. Thank you. You?’

  ‘Yep. Fine. Thanks.’

  I waited, feeling cold and uncomfortable. ‘What do you want, Rob?’

  ‘To talk to you.’

  ‘About what?’

  Rob let out a sigh and tipped his head forward. Little flurries of snow had settled on his hair, the intense blackness of it highlighting their sparkle. He shook his head gently and they disappeared. A resigned smile was on his lips as he looked back up at me.

  ‘I thought we were friends.’

  ‘You were Steven’s best man, not mine.’ I pointed out.

  ‘Only because you never asked me to be a bridesmaid.’

  ‘The shoes didn’t come in a size twelve.’

  ‘Well, at least you checked before discounting me.’

  I finally smiled at him. Once again, he was attuned to the horrible awkwardness I was feeling and doing his best to dissipate it. Although, to be fair, the only reason I was feeling awkward was because he was standing there. So, technically, it was his fault anyway. But I knew I couldn’t avoid him forever. He was right. We were friends. Yes, Steven had introduced us, but we’d also become friends in our own right. Not close as such, but friends all the same. Until the wedding day. For some reason, I’d suddenly felt like there were sides. And Rob, with his best man title, automatically fell on Steven’s side. I knew in my heart that wasn’t fair – on him, or me, or our friendship. But it just sort of happened and the longer I went without speaking to him, the harder it got to get over the awkwardness that I knew would arise. And here I was, six months later, feeling awkward as hell.

  ‘Izzy, please. Can we just go for a drink, and talk?’

  I shook my head, noticing that the dampness of the air was beginning to put the curl back into my carefully straightened hair.

  ‘Is there anything to say?’ I asked, looking directly at him for the first time since he’d turned up. Big mistake. The hurt in his eyes stabbed at my insides. He quickly covered it with a crooked smile.

  ‘If you have to ask, then no. I don’t suppose there is.’ He turned up the collar of his dark grey wool coat a little more, as the wind picked up again and funnelled itself down the street, ‘Come on, I’ll walk you to the tube.’

  ‘That’s all right. I… um… haven’t quite finished here, and–’

  ‘Izzy, for God’s sake!’

  I snapped my head up. I’d never once seen Rob angry. He was so laidback, normally being in his company was like a hit of Valium – in a good way. But not tonight. Tonight it seemed I had managed to push the right button.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing’s wrong with me!’

  ‘Then why are you being like this?’

  ‘Like what, exactly?’

  ‘Ignoring my calls, my texts. Just generally refusing to speak to me at all and looking at me like you’d wish the ground would open up and swallow me whole! It wasn’t me that left you at the altar, Izz, and I’m damned if I’m going to take the blame for it!’

  Silence settled between us. And then, to my utter horror – and apparently Rob’s, judging by the look on his face – I started to cry.

  ‘Oh no, no no!’ Within a moment, Rob had moved and wrapped his arms around me.

  ‘Izzy, please don’t cry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  I gave a reply to say that it wasn’t his fault, I didn’t mean to cry and that I wasn’t even sure why I was crying. That’s how the reply sounded in my head anyway. All that actually came out was a gurgle-y, mumble-y sort of noise.

  ‘Come on. Let’s get you out of this cold.’

  Rob scanned the street and saw a black cab with its light on. He curled his lips and emitted a loud whistle, sticking his hand out to signal the taxi. Seeing the cab turn towards us, he replaced his arm, the warmth of him flooding against me again.

  ‘I don’t need a ca
b to the station. It’s not far.’ I said. I knew money wasn’t an issue for Rob, and there was no way he was going to let me pay, but still, I’d been brought up not to waste money. With the traffic crawling even more than usual thanks to the weather, I could probably walk there quicker to get my train anyway.

  Rob didn’t reply, merely opened the door for me as the taxi pulled up and stepped in behind me. He gave the driver an address I recognised as his apartment building.

  ‘Rob,’ I started.

  ‘I know. You just want to go home.’

  He had a knack of being able to do that. Suss out what I was thinking even before I knew I was thinking it.

  I nodded.

  ‘I know,’ he said, ‘but the news alerts have been saying that a load of trains have been cancelled and stations closed. And that was earlier, so goodness knows what it’s like now. The snow’s even heavier further out. It might be worth checking that your train is actually running before you stand freezing on a station platform.’

  ‘Oh. Umm,’ I sniffed and rifled through my bag for a tissue, ‘good idea. Thanks.’

  ‘Not a problem. Maybe I should be thanking this weather. At least it’s forced you to talk to me.’

  I looked down and studied our damp footprints mixing on the floor.

  ‘Although I really didn’t mean to make you cry. I sort of did want the ground to swallow me whole right at that moment.’

  I glanced up, expecting to see one of his lazy smiles, but his face showed nothing but remorse and honesty. I moved my head on his chest where it still lay after he’d got in the cab and pulled me back into the hug.

  ‘That makes two of us.’ I replied. And then realised how that sounded. I sat up, pulling away from him, ‘I mean, I wanted the ground to swallow me, not you! Standing there blubbering like an idiot at you for no good reason.’

  I felt the warmth of embarrassment start to creep up my neck and pulled my scarf up in the hope of disguising it a little longer. Just as the silence was about to tick over into awkward, the taxi indicated and pulled across to the side of the road. We were in front of Rob’s apartment complex. He handed over a note and told the cabbie to keep the change, before following me out onto the snowy pavement.