Page 5 of The Secret Mistletoe Promise
Chapter Three
The drive into the village was quiet, Lucy whispering things to Artichoke while Dexter seemed to concentrate extra hard on driving. Imogen didn’t blame him: if she had been in his position, she wouldn’t have known what to say either.
As Mistingham came into view, she had flashes of recognition. The green, its grass winter-short and almost colourless, its statuesque oak tree reaching up to the sky. There was a small building nestled in one corner that looked like a village hall, something shedidn’tremember. It was adorned with Halloween bunting, pumpkin and bat-shaped pennants flapping in the wind.
The shops on the main street were open, their lit windows like glowing beacons, and one called the Stationery Emporium caught her eye. As a PA, stationery was one of her domains, and she would love to lose herself amongst rows of beautiful pens and quirkily shaped Post-its for a while. There was a clothes shop, Hartley Country Apparel,Two Scoops, the ice-cream parlour, and a fish-and-chip shop called Batter Days. She vaguely remembered that there was a cavernous bookshop, and decided that she would pay it a visit unless she got hauled back to London before she had the chance.
‘It’s as pretty as ever,’ she murmured, as they passed Mistingham Hotel, its wide steps leading up to the glossy front door, a few shiny cars parked in the spaces outside.
‘Mistingham?’ Dexter asked.
‘Yeah. I used to come here when I was little, but then – Mum wasn’t keen on visiting, and Birdie and I spent our time together travelling when I was a teenager. I have some happy memories of that, but this place is just … fragments.’
‘You’ve not been here recently, then? I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen you here before, but we could have passed each other.’
‘We could have, though it would have been years ago.’ Although Imogen thought she would have remembered even a much younger Dexter. ‘Other than Birdie, I don’t know any of the people here, but some of the landmarks seem familiar. It’s been far too long since I’ve visited my gran.’
‘But she’ll welcome you with open arms.’ Dexter sounded confident, and Imogen wondered how well they knew each other.
‘Mum didn’t want her at the wedding, and Birdie didn’t want to cause a scene by turning up when she wasn’t welcome.’ The silence that followed was heavy, and Imogen couldn’t bear it. ‘But I caused enough of a scene all on my own.’
She heard Dexter’s intake of breath, as if he was about to reply but had stopped himself.
‘You can say anything you like,’ Imogen prompted. ‘You can’t possibly be thinking worse things about me than I’m already thinking about myself.’
‘I don’t know the circumstances,’ Dexter said carefully, as he indicated and turned down another road that Imogen thought she remembered.
‘Why did you run away from your wedding?’ Lucy asked from the back seat.
‘Lucy,’ Dexter admonished. ‘That’s none of our business.
I’m sorry,’ he said to Imogen.
‘Please don’t worry. It’s a situation that prompts a lot of questions. I bet you were wondering the same thing.’
Dexter gave her a helpless shrug.
‘It’s complicated.’ She twisted in her seat to face Lucy. ‘I’d been unsure about it for a while. It was such a big performance – the church and the posh hotel and the extravagant wedding breakfast. There were going to be over a hundred guests, mostly invited by my parents and Edmund’s family. I realized that none of it was really for me, that I was incidental somehow, and I suddenly didn’t know ifIwas doing it for me either, or if I was doing it for them.’
She sighed. ‘And Edmund is a good man, but …’ She could picture him, standing at the front of the church, so poised and elegant, not a hair out of place. Was it his expression when he’d turned to look at her? She’d imagined that moment so many times, through years of reading romance novels and watching romcoms, flicking through bridal magazines in the hairdressers: the moment when she and her groom would catch sight of each other before the big ‘I do’.
She had imagined a moment of pure, undiluted love, aforce so strong it almost knocked her backwards. Instead, Edmund had looked … self-satisfied. It was the same expression he got when he told her about securing a good deal for one of his clients, or getting a saving on a case of expensive wine. He hadn’t lookedawestruckat the sight of her, more like he was ready to tick off the next item on his to-do list. But then, what mustshehave looked like, in the moments before she fled? She rubbed her eyes, forgetting there might still be mascara lingering.
‘Imogen?’ There was a gentle press on her forearm, and she dropped her hands. Dexter was frowning, concerned. Lucy and Artichoke’s curious faces peeped through the gap between the seats, and there was a familiar, foliage-covered cottage outside the window. ‘We’re here,’ Dexter said quietly. ‘Oh, God.’ Was this purgatory? Endlessly having to tell people about the stupendously idiotic thing she’d just done? ‘Birdie will cast a spell over you, if you like,’ Lucy said matter-of-factly. ‘She can make everything better.’
‘If shecoulddo that, I would go for it,’ Imogen said with feeling.
She opened the van door and a cold wind snaked inside. The sun had given up for the day, only a faint wash of burnished orange lingering behind gathering clouds, and it had taken what warmth there had been with it. She gathered her skirts, trying her best to climb down elegantly, but then Dexter was there, holding his hand out to her again.
She took it, and used his support to help her safely to the ground. ‘Grounded’ was the right word for how he’d made her feel in the short time they’d been together. It was unusual for someone not to want something from her –whether that was assistance, time or energy, or answers. Dexter had come to her rescue, and he hadn’t asked for anything in return.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
His shrug was barely there. ‘It was a lift.’
‘It was a life-saving lift. Or, at the very least, a sanity-saving one.’ Lucy and Artichoke had also scrambled out of the van. ‘Thanks to you too, Lucy. You’re my saviour.’
‘I’ve seenEnchanted,’ Lucy said.‘I still think you might be a lost Disney princess.’
