Page 3 of The Secret Mistletoe Promise
‘What do you need breathing space from?’ the girl asked. ‘Is that a wedding dress, or a Disney princess dress?’
Therewas the explanation she should have used since hightailing it out of the church. She could be Elsa, or Snow White. Sleeping Beauty, maybe. Sleeping for a hundred years would be preferable to all this.
‘It’s a wedding dress,’ she said, because she didn’t want to collect any more black marks by lying to children.
‘Why are you wearing a wedding dress?’ The girl sounded remarkably composed, considering how Imogen must look. She could feel chunks of her hair brushing the back of her neck, her up-do having collapsed completely.
She sighed. ‘Because I ran away from my wedding.’
The girl’s eyes widened. ‘Why?’
‘I had second thoughts. I’d been having them for a while, and … Should you be out here on your own?’ She could see a couple of roofs now that she was closer to the village, but it was still a bleak bit of countryside and she didn’t think the girl could be more than twelve.
‘Dad said I could have an hour. I’ve got a timer on my watch, and I have twenty-three minutes left. And I’m not on my own. I have Artichoke.’ She lifted the dog into her slender arms, and it wriggled and squeaked like a guinea pig.
‘Your puppy is called Artichoke?’
The girl nodded. ‘And I’m Lucy. Who are you?’
‘I’m—’
‘I know I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,’ Lucy cut in, ‘but you don’t look very scary. And I don’t think you could run very fast in that dress.’
‘You don’t know what I’ve got in my suitcase,’ Imogen said, slightly hurt by the girl’s assessment.
‘Whathaveyou got in your suitcase?’
‘Bikinis,’ Imogen admitted. ‘Summer dresses.’ Lucy wrinkled her nose. ‘I was supposed to be going to Mauritius after the wedding.’
‘But you didn’t complete the wedding.’
‘No, I didn’t complete the wedding. I failed the wedding.’
‘So you’ve come to Mistingham instead?’ Lucy sounded sceptical, as well she might. The puppy, Artichoke, licked her owner’s cheek, and made another guinea pig squeak. ‘I’ve come to see my grandmother.’ Imogen suddenly felt very, very tired, the events of the day – of the last few weeks – catching up with her. Wedding prep was exhausting enough when you weren’t also having an existential crisis.
‘Who’s your grandma?’
‘Birdie. She’s—’
‘A witch!’ Lucy screeched, and with her dark eyes wide she looked properly girlish. Artichoke whimpered and she apologized and shushed her dog.
‘She does have some alternative ideas,’ Imogen said. ‘But she’s lovely. Harmless. You know her then?’
‘She’s one of my best friends,’ Lucy announced. ‘She’s shown me her spell book and everything. She’s your gran?’
‘She is. I haven’t seen her for ages, though.’
‘Have you come from London?’ Lucy was suddenly much more animated, as if she could allow Imogen into her innercircle now she knew she was related to Birdie. ‘And have youreallyrun away from your wedding? Today?’
‘All those things.’
Lucy looked thoughtful. ‘OK. But you can’t get to the village that way.’ She pointed in the direction Imogen had been intending to go until she’d been ambushed.
‘Why not?’
‘Because the path is all muddy. Your dress will get ruined.’
Imogen resisted the urge to say that everything was already ruined, never mind the dress. ‘OK, so—’
