Page 11 of Merrily Ever After
Emily answered the call hands-free, before nosing the car out into the stream of cars. ‘Hello, Alison, I’m so, so sorry. I’ve had an absolute nightmare of a night with my father,’ she blurted out before her boss could speak. ‘I’m on my way home now and should be with you in half an hour, forty-five minutes, max. Did the meeting with the chair of governors go OK?’
‘Oh dear, you poor thing,’ Alison said kindly. ‘I sympathise, I really do, but I just wish you’d let me know that you were going to be absent this morning. Especially given the early meeting that you’d set up.’
Emily’s throat felt so constricted that the words stuck in her throat. ‘I … I …’
‘Olivia is standing in for you this morning,’ Alison continued. ‘Come to my office when you eventually arrive. See you soon.’
The line went dead.
Emily swallowed in horror. She wouldn’t get the sack over this, but she had just reduced the chances of her contract being made permanent. She drove the rest of the way home in a daze, wondering how to redeem herself.
As soon as she pulled up, she dashed from the car and fumbled with her door key, determined to be as quick as possible getting changed. Once upstairs in her bedroom, she plugged her phone in to charge and she stripped off yesterday’s clothes. She felt as if someone had hollowed her out with a spoon, she was trembly and overwhelmed and desperate for a cup of coffee. Dealing with Dad was becoming harder and harder. Izzy was right, she could do with a break.
She quickly chose a dress from her wardrobe, clean underwear and tights from her drawer and decided to call Gavin on speaker phone while she got dressed. She needed to hear a friendly voice, talk to someone who loved her. Besides which, she owed him an apology for last night.
She scrolled to his number and called it. The phone rang out for so long that she was ready to leave a voicemail when suddenly his voice came on the line.
‘Emily? Look, sorry, I can’t talk, I’m at work.’ His voice was low and curt.
‘I know, I’m sorry if this is a bad time.’ She picked up the phone and pressed it to her ear as if that somehow would bring him closer. ‘I just needed to hear your voice. I’ve had such a crap time, I ended up having to stay with Dad—’
‘You’vehad a crap time?’ He let out a harsh laugh. ‘Try being stood up by your girlfriend with all your mates taking the piss out of you.’
‘Oh, darling, I’m so sorry,’ she pleaded. ‘But did you still have a good night, how was football?’
There was a cold silence on the other end of the line and her stomach tightened.
‘Do you actually even care?’ he said finally. ‘Look, I get it, your dad needs you, et cetera, et cetera. Anyway, I’ve said my piece in my message. Let’s leave it there, shall we? I’ve got to go.’
Emily froze. ‘What do you mean? What message? I haven’t had a chance to listen to your voicemail yet.’
‘You haven’t had time. Classic,’ he muttered. ‘Sorry, Emily, but this isn’t working. I’m calling it a day. We’re finished.’
‘What? You’re dumping me? Gavin?’ For the second time that morning, the line went dead and she stared at the phone in shock.
Could today get any worse?
She regretted the thought immediately and swallowed the lump in her throat. The way Emily’s life was going, it was dangerous to tempt fate.
Chapter Four
Merry
2 NOVEMBER
The day after Cole’s surprise proposal, I opened Merry and Bright as usual. The handmade candle shop was my pride and joy. In prime position in the centre of Wetherley overlooking the market square, it had once been the town’s bank and still had mullioned windows and black beams, features which I adored. Cole, his sister Hester, and brother-in-law Paul owned the building. I rented the ground floor after Cole had built a workroom at the back where Fred and I made our candles, and a retail space at the front lined with lovely reclaimed oak shelves and decorated simply with fairy lights. The upper floors consisted of a three-bedroomed duplex, where Cole had lived until moving in with me.
I’d become a bit of a workaholic over the last eighteen months since running the business full-time. Today, however, I’d have happily taken the day off to get my head around how I was going to fit in planning a wedding during retail’s busiest time of the year. Unfortunately, there was always a mountain of emails, messages and orders to process which accumulated over the weekend and it took Fred and me all morning to clear the backlog.
Not that I was getting stressed, more that I couldn’t concentrate on anything. Cole was just as bad. He was supposed to be working on a muddy building site and usually didn’t get in touch unless it was important. Yet today we’d been sending each other gooey text messages and I had a permanent dreamy smile on my face.
‘Merry? Ahem …’
Fred’s voice startled me. I was sitting at my desk, supposedly dealing with enquiries from Instagram and Etsy, but when I looked down at the paper, it was covered with doodles of hearts and flowers and lots of Mrs Robinson signatures.
I flipped the pad over quickly. ‘Sorry, miles away.’
‘I noticed.’ He chuckled, heading for the kettle. ‘I’ve replied to all the emails and packed up the online orders. Do you want me to get started on a batch of lemon, lime and rosemary? We’re running low.’
