Page 114 of The Day After Christmas
‘Ta-da,’ came a voice from over her shoulder as she finished eating.
Felicity spun, and her mouth dropped open.
The woman was laying the dress out on the bed. Not a jot of egg yolk in sight.
‘It’s a Christmas miracle,’ she said, turning to Felicity and giving her a massive smile.
‘How the hell did you do that?’ said Felicity, leaping to her feet and giving her a huge hug. ‘Also, thank you, and what’s your name by the way?’
The woman laughed lightly. ‘It’s Anna,’ she said. ‘And you’re more than welcome. I used to be a dry cleaner, can you tell? I know all the tricks. Just never put anything hot on an egg stain or you’ll cook it into the fabric.’
‘Gross,’ said Felicity.
‘That’s nothing compared to some of the sights I’ve seen, my dear.’
Felicity hopped from foot to foot. ‘I bet. I really want to hear those stories too but right now…’
‘We need to wipe that ketchup off your face and get you dressed.’
Felicity scrubbed frantically at her cheek. ‘Yes please,’ she said. And then, ‘I am an adult, honest.’
Anna laughed again, a lovely tinkling sound. ‘I believe you. And soon to be a married one if this dress is anything to go by.’
As Felicity got dressed, she told Anna the whole story of how she’d met her Penguin Man and as much as she knew of what was happening now – which wasn’t much. By the end, Anna left the room clapping her hands together excitedly, determined to tell everyone in the hotel what was going on. So much for the surprise.
CHAPTER 54
At last, she was ready. But when Felicity went downstairs, egg-free and finally feeling glamorous and less like a disaster zone, James was nowhere to be seen.
Felicity stood in the reception for a few moments wondering whether she’d taken too long with the whole egg-gate episode and what the hell to do, when the hotel manager approached with a small bunch of roses in his hands, the same pure white as the ones in their room.
‘Miss Brooks?’ he said. He had dark slicked-back hair like Hercule Poirot and a small immaculate moustache. His eyes were kind.
‘Yes?’ Felicity’s voice had gone all wobbly.
‘You look absolutely exquisite.’
‘Oh. Thank you,’ she said, her face heating.
‘I’ve been asked to tell you that Mr Cowley has gone on ahead. He’s requested that you get into this car and it will take you where you need to go.’
He led her outside the hotel to where a long black vintage car was waiting. It had white ribbons tied on the bonnet. A whole row of staff was standing alongside it ready to wave her off. There was Anna, right at the end, waving frantically. Felicity’sheart leapt into her mouth. So then. Her fairy godmother-cleaning lady was right. This was her wedding day. Strange. She didn’t even remember being proposed to.
‘Madame, are you well?’ said the kindly manager.
Felicity nodded. ‘Yes, erm, I think so I mean. Just a little bit shell-shocked I suppose.’
The manager smiled and opened the car door for her and Felicity mechanically got in, all the while wondering if she should have done more with her hair. Or painted her nails. Or any of that stuff brides normally do. Her heart was pounding so hard she could barely hear herself think.
‘Morning, miss,’ said the driver, who was smartly dressed in a cap and suit. He watched in the rear-view mirror as Felicity put on her seatbelt then patted her hair nervously, before he switched on the engine and eased the car out of the hotel driveway.
‘Morning. Do you… er… happen to know where we’re going?’
‘As a matter of fact I do, miss. We’d be in trouble if I didn’t,’ he added with a chuckle.
‘And can you tell me?’
‘That I cannot do I’m afraid. Mr Cowley was very strict about that. He said you’d ask and he said under no circumstances was I to tell you.’
