The Winter Wedding (15 page)

Her face lit up as I outlined my idea. ‘It sounds great.’

‘Do you think?’ I said. ‘You reckon it’s OK to stay in the job, for the time being, while I get myself set up?’

‘Of course. And you don’t owe Emma a thing, so don’t worry about that. I think you’re really brave.’

‘Thank you. I guess I’m just ready for a new challenge,’ I said. ‘I thought at first that might be the promotion, but now I feel like maybe I get the same buzz from
wedding planning. And provided I get it right, there could be good money in it.’ My mind was racing with ideas for future weddings. ‘Oh, and Amber – it goes without saying that
you’re welcome to join. Not that I really AM anything yet, but what I am I’d love for you to be part of too. If that makes any sense.’ I laughed.

In terms of wedding-cake bakers, I knew I wasn’t going to find anyone better.

‘I mean, you know I’d like to,’ Amber said, biting her lip. ‘I can’t think of anything more exciting, really, than this, going into business together. But . .
.’

‘What? You could still keep your day job, like I’m doing. The weddings will probably be on weekends, and even if they aren’t you’d have the evenings to bake. You’re
doing that already.’

A smile began to creep onto her lips, and slowly took over – lighting up her face. ‘I think I just ran out of reasons to say anything but a big yes.’

‘Great,’ I said. ‘Let’s drink to that.’

As we brought our glasses together, I felt more alive than I had in a long time.

The next morning, I finished the to-do list I had from Emma, who hadn’t arrived in to the office yet, then got out my wedding planning folder. I spent an hour at work
researching caterers for Gemma and Eliot’s wedding, and drew up a shortlist to show them. One had a London branch, so it looked like we’d be able to sample the food without heading up
to the Highlands to do it. OK, so that luxury came at a premium, but I was fairly sure that their budget had a bit of give in it.

Emma came in at just after ten. ‘You couldn’t nip out and get me a bacon and egg baguette, could you, Haze?’ she whispered. ‘And a strong Americano?’

How it was that she could walk right past the café downstairs and still need me to run her errands was something I still hadn’t figured out.

But, for the first time in weeks, I didn’t mind doing it. ‘OK,’ I said, getting to my feet.

I waited in the familiar coffee queue, my thoughts running over the plan of the day for Gemma and Eliot’s wedding. Gemma was keen to have a Ceilidh – that would be next on my list of
things to sort out. Perhaps I could tackle that one over lunch.

I got back to the office, and went over to Emma’s desk, putting her coffee and sandwich down. ‘Here you go,’ I said.

‘Thanks.’

I was turning go, when she called me back.

‘Oh, Haze. Everything sorted for
Christmas at the Manor
now?’ she asked.

‘Yes. All done.’

‘Good. Because there’s a progress meeting later. I’ll tell them how on top of it all we are. How good you’ve been at chasing up the bits and pieces we needed to fulfil my
vision.’

‘Thanks,’ I said. Then what she’d said started to sink in. ‘Your vision?’ I queried, confused. The designs had all been mine. Every single one.

‘I mean, I know I’ve been a bit less hands-on with this project,’ Emma said. ‘What with everything else that’s been going on. But we’re a team, aren’t
we? And you always seem to know
instinctively
just what it is I’m picturing.’

‘But Emma,’ I said, my voice low and quiet. ‘This was my project. From the very start. That’s what we agreed.’

‘Listen, Hazel. They’re on my case,’ Emma said, even more quietly. ‘Help a girl out, will you?’ Then her voice turned light again, almost sing-song.
‘I’ll explain to Aaron and the others that I’ve let you take the credit up till now, but it’s only fair that I give them the full picture. I’ve been working hard on
the designs for months. Why else would I have spent so much time in my office with the door closed, eh?’ Emma gave me a wink.

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. This was bad even by Emma’s standards.

‘No way. You can’t do that.’ The words and emotion that I’d been repressing for months was coming out, whether I wanted it to or not. ‘That’s not fair.
I’ve worked hard on this project.’

‘I can’t, can I?’ Emma said, her eyebrows raised.

‘Look. I put up with you standing in the way of my promotion. But not even letting me have recognition for the work I’ve already done . . .’

‘Oh. This work, do you mean?’ Emma said, holding up a sheet of paper.

As I caught sight of it, my cheeks grew hot. It was a contract. The contract I’d signed with Gemma and Eliot. I had left it out on my desk.

‘Because this looks rather a lot like moonlighting, if you ask me.’ There was a bitter edge to her voice. ‘And coupled with this—’ she held up the list of caterers
I’d put together. ‘It’s looking more and more like you are taking advantage – using company resources and time for your other . . . venture.’

My chest felt tight. There was nothing I could say to make this go away. It wasn’t right. I could try and plead my case to Aaron. But Emma had a point. I’d done enough wrong to make
it easy for her to discredit me.

I felt as if I’d hit a dead end.

There was no way I was going to let her hold me to ransom, keep my head down and let her continue to take credit for the work I was doing. There were a thousand truths I could tell the directors
about her work over the past months, but I wasn’t going to play her game. I wanted to keep my dignity.

‘You’re right, I should have been honest about the other work. And now I will be. I’d like to give in my notice.’

‘That wasn’t what I meant,’ Emma blundered. ‘You don’t have to leave, Haze . . . I was just saying . . .’

‘I want to leave. I’ll give you a formal resignation letter today.’

‘You can’t leave . . .’ she said, desperation in her eyes.

My resolve strengthened.

‘Oh – I’m pretty sure I can.’

With that, I turned and went back to my own desk, trying to block out the voice that told me I’d just done something completely mad.

That weekend, reality hit. I’d left my job at Twenty-One, and after working out my notice I’d be unemployed. The wedding planning – which had seemed like such
an enticing sideline, was now going to have to be a fully-functioning business, that I could rely on to pay my rent and bills. I paced the flat. I had researched other successful wedding planners a
lot over the past few weeks, and picked up tips on growing and building a business – but it would all take time. I had the deposit from Gemma and Eliot, but that would only take me so far. I
was going to need more money before their next payment was due. I knew the answer already – I just wasn’t ready to accept it yet. I was going to have to call on the bank of Mum and
Dad.

I called Dad and told him that I was taking a leap into the unknown, and I could do with a financial lifeboat.

‘I’m so proud of what you’re doing, Hazel,’ he said.

‘Thanks,’ I said.

‘I’ll talk to Mum about it, but I have a bit put aside and I’m more than happy to support you while you get on your feet. I’ve no doubt you’ll be able to pay me
back soon. Perhaps if I’d had the courage to do something like this, years ago, things might be different now.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, we both know that a desk job was never my dream. Here’s hoping I can live a little by watching you make a better go of it.’

That was it – I couldn’t let him down.

I had a month left to work at Twenty-One, and in a way I was glad. I was in no hurry to leave the people – my boss aside – and everyone was really kind about how
much they didn’t want me to go. Josh insisted that everyone could see through Emma – that he could sort things out for me – but by then I’d made my decision. I was ready for
a clean break and now, particularly with my parents’ support, I was actively looking forward to focusing on starting up as a wedding planner.

And even though I was fitting the work into my evening hours, it was all going well. That is, it had been – up until now.

I squinted at the figures on the spreadsheet for Gemma and Eliot’s wedding that was open in front of me. I checked my emails and tweaked some of the estimated costs, but something was
still wrong. The figures in the two columns were a long way from matching, and the difference from their original budget was far greater than I’d thought. I must have missed something.

I took a sip of coffee, hoping it might jolt my mind into action. It was eleven in the evening, and I had a breakfast catch-up with Gemma and Eliot the next day – I had to figure out what
was going on before then.

With some tough negotiating, Belvedere Castle had actually come in under budget – they seemed to realise they weren’t likely to get another wedding booking at this late notice. The
caterers had given us a great deal – considering the quality of the food, that was. I recalled the hors d’oeuvres they’d given us to try last weekend – miniature Yorkshire
puddings and smoked salmon blinis to make your mouth water. Eliot and Gemma had seemed to enjoy it and they’d been happy to delegate the decision to me. I looked back over the agreement with
them, and then referred to Eliot’s original email. Cogs whirred in my mind and my mouth dropped open. Oh. God.

Carried away with excitement at booking the caterers – the very top of their game – I’d failed to notice that Eliot and Gemma’s budget for catering was minuscule. I
remembered my conversation with Gemma now, at the start of the project. ‘We’re not foodies, us. Give us a bottle of wine, good music and entertaining company and we’re happy
– I don’t see the point in splashing half the budget on food people are probably going to be too drunk to really appreciate anyway.’ I’d already paid the caterers a deposit,
so there was no backing out. When I met Gemma and Eliot tomorrow, I’d just have to explain.

‘Two macchiatos and a cappuccino, please,’ Eliot said to the waiter at a café near to his work. ‘Thanks for coming in so early, Hazel. Really
appreciate it. I have an eight-thirty meeting today.’

‘No problem,’ I said, breezily. I didn’t mention that it also suited me pretty well, given I was still officially working another job. I reached down into my bag and got out
the wedding folder.

Gemma clapped her hands together excitedly. ‘Yay! I just can’t wait to see what you’ve been up to. I know it’s going to be amazing.’

I had devoted the small hours of the morning to printing out some of the most stunning images of floral arrangements and table decorations that Pinterest had to offer.

I spread them across the table and Gemma cooed over them, putting her hand on top of Eliot’s. ‘Aren’t these wonderful, darling?’

‘Great,’ he said. ‘Yep. Flowers. All good.’

They spent a few minutes talking over the details for buttonholes and bouquets, until I saw that Eliot’s eyes had glazed over a little.

I took a deep breath. OK, I’d smoothed the way, now it was time to come clean. ‘Do you remember that amazing catering tasting we went to?’

Eliot nodded. ‘Yes. That all seemed fine.’ I noticed that he was discreetly checking the time on the clock behind me.

‘Yes, they were good, weren’t they?’ Gemma said. ‘I mean, like I said, Hazel. We’re more into the spectacle and party aspects of the day, but those caterers seemed
fine, and if it fits the budget we’re happy. That’s sorted already, anyway, isn’t it? I’m sure we saw an invoice for the deposit.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You know the figure you gave me. What that absolutely, definitely set in stone?’

Gemma shrugged and looked at Eliot, who nodded his head firmly.

‘Right,’ I said. Maybe there was still time for me to do something. Make a saving elsewhere. ‘It’s just . . .’

Eliot checked his mobile.

‘Look, I’m so sorry about this,’ he said. ‘But I’m going to have to run. Can I leave you two to sort out the details?’ He gave Gemma a kiss on the top of her
head. ‘You can fill me in at home, can’t you?’

‘Sure, love,’ Gemma said. ‘Leave us to it.’

At home that evening, the conversation with Gemma and Eliot was still running through my head. There seemed to be nowhere obvious to cut back, and whichever way I looked at it,
the budget wasn’t going to cover the wedding that I’d promised them.

I sat down at the kitchen table.

‘Hey you,’ Amber said, brightly, when she emerged from her room. ‘How’s the planning going?’

I let out a groan.

‘Something gone pear-shaped?’

‘Perhaps. A tiny bit.’

‘Put the kettle on and tell me all about it.’

I got to my feet and took out a couple of mugs. ‘Sometimes, Amber, you know just the right thing to say.’

She pulled out a chair and sat beside me. I opened up the spreadsheet and Amber read it over my shoulder. ‘OK,’ Amber said. ‘I can see what you mean. It’s not looking
great. You’re going to have to come clean. Honesty is the best policy in a situation like this.’

‘You think I could just tell them?’

‘Absolutely. And soon. You just spoke with them, right? Why don’t you follow up with a phone call, and say there’s something else you need to discuss.’

I bit my lip.

‘Oh go on, you’ve coped with Emma all this time. I’m sure you can handle this.’

‘Maybe.’

Amber finished her tea quickly. ‘I’ve got to head out, I’m meeting Sam in half an hour.’ She checked the time on her phone. ‘But you’ll be fine, Hazel,’
she said, giving my arm a squeeze. ‘You can work this one out, no problem.’

‘Thanks.’

Amber left, and I picked up my mobile. I brought up Gemma’s number.

‘Hi Gemma. Have you got a minute?’

‘Sure. I’m just having my nails done, but fire away.’

‘There was something I should have told you this morning . . .’

After talking to Gemma I felt as if a weight had been lifted. After all of the worry, she had been surprisingly accommodating about getting the additional funds. She’d
said she’d speak to Eliot that evening about it.

The next day, I went to work as usual and treated myself to noodles for lunch. Over my bowl of ramen, I noticed a familiar figure come into the restaurant and sit down at a corner table. He
picked up the menu and looked over it, but his eyes were blank. It took me a second to register who it was.