The Winter Wedding (25 page)

‘And it was only right that they let you go off duty.’

‘I still can’t believe it’s all worked out. They really did it.’

‘They?’

Josh raised an eyebrow.

‘OK. WE really did it.’

Lila and I found a quiet moment to talk to each other. ‘I have a feeling this is going to be a good year,’ I said. ‘Are you going to keep going with the
weddings?’ she asked.

I shook my head, and felt sure about what I really wanted. ‘It’s a brilliant job – for someone else. Not for me. I’m done with fixing everyone else’s lives –
I’m going to focus on my own for a while.’

‘Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing,’ Lila said.

A smile spread across Lila’s face, and I felt mine mirror it. ‘Hopefully one day soon I’ll be dancing in one of your sets.’

‘I hope so,’ I said, picturing it and smiling.

‘I’ve got some good news too,’ Lila said, biting her lip.

‘Oh yes?’

‘It turns out that my worries were a little unfounded.’

I raised a questioning eyebrow.

‘I’m pregnant, Hazel. You’re going to be an auntie.’

It took a moment for her words to sink in. The most incredible, happy news I could have hoped to hear.

‘Just seven weeks. But I couldn’t wait to tell you.’

Tears prickled at my eyes and I realised that this meant more to me, more than anything else – more than the weddings, more than my career. Far more than that. That my twin sister was
happy.

I put my arms around her and drew her towards me and into a hug. There, as her soft blonde hair brushed gently against my cheek and her arms were looped around my waist, I realised I
wasn’t holding her up any longer. It was as if her light ballerina feet were rooted more firmly in the earth than they ever had been before.

‘Come outside with me,’ Josh said, later that evening. ‘There’s something I wanted to show you.’

He took me by the hand and led me out through a side door in the castle, to a terrace overlooking the manicured gardens and the mountains beyond. There was frost on the ground and the air was
chilly. I shivered. Josh took off his suit jacket and handed it to me.

‘Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome. Look up,’ he said.

I tilted my head back and my high heels wobbled on the gravel. Josh steadied me.

The sky was bright with stars, white light that shone down on us in minuscule beams.

‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ Josh said.

‘Yes.’ I wanted to enjoy it, this moment. But one thing nagged at me. ‘Josh, do you still think about Sarah?’

Josh paused. ‘Of course I do. And I’ll never regret being with her. She’s a very special person.’

A heavy feeling settled in my heart. ‘Yes, she is,’ I said, feeling deflated. ‘So you two are in touch again?’

‘No,’ Josh said, wrinkling his brow. ‘I mean, I’m sure we will be, but for now I think a clean break is probably best for both of us. I suppose we needed to get engaged
in order to know for sure – somehow we just needed to see it through.’

‘Right. And you’re OK with how things turned out?’

‘Almost OK,’ he smiled. ‘I’m hoping they might still be turning out.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Come on, Hazel. You must have guessed. The way I always found an excuse to work with you – the fact that I’m up here, freezing at a wedding with you right now and spent the
morning collecting mistletoe in the woods.’

I stood and listened, feeling suddenly shy.

‘I wanted to be with you,’ he said. ‘I
want
to be with you.’

‘Oh.’

I looked down at our hands, ran a thumb over the skin on the back of Josh’s. Even outside, it was warm to the touch. I looked up at his face, those warm brown eyes, his full lips.

‘Oh?’ he echoed, smiling.

I put a finger on his lips and then replaced it with my mouth, our lips meeting in a featherlight kiss that sent a shiver through me. ‘I’m not always great with words. I want to be
with you too.’

‘Good,’ Josh said, putting his arms around me and bringing me close. ‘I was really, really hoping you would say that.’ I relished the warmth of his body against mine, the
security of his arms around me. Through the window, we could hear the strains of the Ceilidh, music, laughter . . . but out on the roof terrace we were a world away from it all.

24 December

Christmas at the Delaney house

In the family cottage back in Bidcombe on Christmas Eve, Lila, Ollie, me, Ben and Mum and Dad were sitting around the fire on armchairs and on the rug, eating mince pies and
listening to carols. If you were to glance in through the window, you would think our family was always like this – calm, harmonious, delighting in each other’s company, not a worry in
the world. But the year had tested each of us, and to be here together now, well the moment was all the more precious for that. Ben filled up Mum and Dad’s glasses, and Ollie whispered
something to Lila, touching her fleetingly on her stomach, a reminder of all that next year had in store. I sank back into the armchair, happy this time to keep quiet, just to watch the people I
loved most as they talked to one another. The next day would be a whirlwind, I knew – with Grandma Joyce and her friend Rosie arriving, visits from the neighbours and a flurry of activity in
the kitchen before the cracker-pulling started – but tonight was calm.

It’s easy to think, isn’t it, that Christmas is all about the glitter and baubles – the chocolate Advent calendars and the silver ribbons wrapped around perfectly chosen
presents. And it is. Part of it is about that.

But it’s also about the imperfections. The presents that aren’t quite right, the bad jokes, the flushed cheeks and wonky Christmas hats.

I catch Lila looking at Ollie and see the love in her eyes. She is separate from me, but my other half as much as ever. And she’s strong again. Lila – who didn’t get dragged
back down, after all. It will always be there, on the seabed of Lila’s soul. Ready to reach up. But she’s ready to swim hard away from it. She doesn’t really need us, standing by
with our lifeboat, any longer.

My phone buzzed on the coffee table.

‘You’re getting a lot of texts,’ Lila said, the flicker of a smile on her lips. Ben looked over at me, his curiosity ignited.

‘Am I?’ I said, a little too quickly.

‘That thing’s barely stopped beeping since you arrived.’

‘Ooh, who is it?’ Mum said, leaning forward in her chair. She reached towards the coffee table and picked up the phone.

‘MUM!’ I protested. I reached out to snatch it back, but Lila used her long legs to block me.

‘Now look what you’ve done,’ I said, turning to my sister. ‘You’ve unleashed the nosy beast.’

‘Mum,’ Ben said, trying to take the phone off her. ‘Leave Hazel . . .’

‘JOSH,’ Mum said, raising her eyebrows in interest.

‘Just a friend,’ I said.

‘Simon, has Hazel ever mentioned a Josh to you?’

‘What was that, love?’ Dad said, dozily. ‘I’d love another sherry, yes.’

‘Josh, Josh?’ Lila said. ‘I knew it! I just knew it.’

Mum turned to Lila.

‘It’s a bit complicated,’ Lila explained. ‘Although I guess he is back on the market now, right, Haze?’

‘GIVE ME THAT,’ I insisted, forcing my sister’s legs off me and getting to my feet, grabbing the phone back.

‘Honestly, I’m always the last to know these days,’ Mum said. ‘I remember the time when you girls used to tell me everything, and now . . .’

‘What does a woman have to do for a sliver of privacy round here?’ I said.

‘Divorce us?’ Ben volunteered playfully.

I left the living room and sat down on the hallway stairs, four up, the familiar spot where my long phone conversations as a teenager had almost worn the carpet thin.

In the calm of the hallway, I checked the message from Josh.

A tingle ran up my spine as I read Josh’s words. Christmas felt very different this year.

New Year’s Eve

Christmas at our family house had been as lovely, and manic, as I’d expected, and when I arrived back to the relative calm of the flat just before New Year’s Eve I
had started to miss them all a little. Before that feeling could settle though, Josh arrived.

By my front door there were two suitcases – my own brown leather one, a hand-me-down from my grandmother, and Josh’s black one.

‘Right, last chance. We definitely want suitcases,’ I said to Josh said. ‘Are you sure?’

‘No. I’ve changed my mind.’

We’d been mulling over it for days, ever since we’d decided to use Josh and Sarah’s honeymoon tickets to go away, just the two of us.

The flights were to Havana, and the deal they’d booked for their honeymoon was at one of the most glamorous all-inclusive resorts on the island. I should know – I’d booked
it.

‘OK. Right, that’s it. Let’s switch.’

We went together into the living room, and picked up the rucksacks we’d left lying on the living room floor.

‘So this means . . .’ Josh said.

‘Yes. Forget the posh resort. Let’s fly by the seats of our pants,’ I said, a smile creeping onto my face.

Stunning as the resort looked in all the photos, I knew that something would nag at me if we went there – how could I stay there in the honeymoon suite, with Josh, and not think of Sarah?
I’d booked everything there with the two of them in mind.

‘We’ll be able to find somewhere to stay out there,’ I said. ‘ We can explore more this way.’

A postcard fluttered through my letterbox and on to the mat.

On the front was a picture of a cow painted in vibrant blues and reds. Intrigued, I flipped it over and read the message.

‘It’s for both of us,’ I said, holding it out so that Josh could read it with me.

‘Weird?’ I said.

‘Strangely, no.’ Josh replied.

‘Good.’

Josh put his arms around me and pulled me in towards him for a kiss. As I felt his lips on mine, excitement traced a path up my spine and then spilled down my arms in tiny shivers.

Josh was my present and my future. I wasn’t looking behind me any more. With Josh by my side, I was ready to look forward.

Thank you to Jo Dickinson, my editor – your support, enthusiasm and ideas keep me focused, and somehow you always seem to understand what it was I was really trying to
say! To my agent, Caroline Hardman, who is everything a good agent should be, and a lot more.

To the team at Simon & Schuster, thanks for publishing my books beautifully, spreading the word far and wide, and making me feel so at home. To Sara-Jade Virtue, Hayley McMullan, Carla
Josephson, Elinor Fewster and Matt Johnson.

Thank you to my readers – you are the best! It is always a joy to hear from you.

Finally, thank you to my family, who all help me to write, and who, when I type The End, are the best people in the world to come back to.