Page 116 of Something Borrowed

“Oh dear,” my mother mutters, making me smile.

When I’ve finished the call, I slide my phone into my jeans pocket. “How’s it looking?” I ask her.

Her footsteps sound closer, and I smile as she slides her arms around me, imbuing the air with her scent. She’s been wearing Bulgari’s Pour Femme since my dad bought it for her on their first date. He’d taken her for afternoon tea and then perfume shopping, and according to her, he had her at the first fruit scone.

“It’s lovely,” she says quietly. “The perfect house for you and Raff. It’s got such a warm and serene feel to it. You’re going to be so happy here.”

I reach out and pat her head. “We’re happy anywhere, though.”

“True, but it’s nice that Rollo finally did something half decent as a parent.”

We’d been considering moving for a while, wanting to give Hump a garden to run in. At some point, he’ll retire, and I’m not giving him up, so Raff had declared we needed more room for the army of active and retired guide dogs we will have. When Rollo found out, he called on us and announced that he was giving us this house. Raff had protested, but Rollo had insisted, saying he was doing nothing with it.

It’s an old Edwardian terraced house with the original wood flooring, and Raff says there's a Milton tiled entranceway. It’sperfect for us. My shop is a couple of streets away, and it’s near the tube for Raff and the park for Hump.

“Do you think it was a nice gesture or a tax break?” I say.

My mum snorts. “Best not to ask. Just accept the flow with Rollo.”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that, because it usually involves some sort of drama worthy ofEastEnders.”

“Tell me about it. He came to dinner with his current wife last Sunday and split up with her over the treacle sponge. It was better than watchingColumbo. I still can’t believe he actually fathered Raff.”

“Well, he’s got his charm.”

“I still persist in the notion that Raff was a particularly charismatic cuckoo who hopped into the wrong nest.” She kisses my cheek. “Thank goodness he’s found the right one now.”

Raff

“Are you sure you won’t stay for some cake, Raff?”

I shudder at the thought of actually eating a slice of the thing, especially since it had taken five tasting sessions before they’d picked this one.

I turn to the bride and smile. “I’m absolutely sure, lovely, but thank you anyway. Are you happy?”

She gives me a wide grin that’s fuelled by champagne and happiness. “Blissfully.”

“Then my job is done.”

She pouts. “You’re going, aren’t you?”

“Only if you don’t need me for anything else.”

I hold my breath in case she thinks of something. Brides usually can, but this time, she shakes her head. “No, of course not. You get off. I know you’re moving today, and we’re so grateful you still did the wedding.”

“Of course,” I say immediately. “I wouldn’t have missed it. At the least, you got me out of moving the boxes.”

She laughs. “Happy to be of service. Well, say thank you to Stan and give him a kiss from me for letting me borrow you today.”

“Will do.”

She floats away to a crowd of friends, and I cast one more eye around the reception. The cake is cut, and most of the guests are now half-cut. Perfect.

Satisfied that everything is as it should be, I leave the hotel in long strides, tugging off my cravat and feeling a welcome breeze on my throat. Spying a taxi, I flag it down and slide in.

“Where to, mate?” the driver says, and I blink.

“Nigel!” I say in delight.

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