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Jess thought Graham and Suzanne used Helen a bit too much. But Nikki pointed out that the M and Ms were her mum’s raison d’être now Bill and Juno were independent.
‘They’re a lot of work, though,’ objected Jess. ‘And she’s much older than when it was just Bill and Juno. And we didn’t take the piss.’
‘Nor do Graham and Suzanne.’
‘Oh, come on. They’re always out, always going away for weekends. When did we ever go away?’
‘They’re different from us. They love their city breaks. And they do a lot of networking.’
Jess rolled her eyes. ‘Brown-nosing.’
‘Whatever. You know Suzanne.’
‘Yep. Social climber.’ Suzanne and Jess had always been wary of each other. ‘And she’s turning Graham into one.’
‘She just wants her business to be a success,’ protested Nikki. She didn’t like it when Jess judged their little brother. He’d had a big pair of shoes to step into when their dad died, and he’d done a brilliant job of expanding the business. If he wanted to reap the rewards, that was up to him. And he doted on Suzanne and was incredibly supportive of her business. They worked well together.
‘Anyway, hopefully Mum will get swept away by some tech billionaire who’s cashed in his chips.’
‘That’s not Mum’s style.’
‘Says who? I bet she wouldn’t complain. I know I wouldn’t.’ Jess sighed. ‘I can just see her, on the Italian lakes, soaking up the sun while some George Clooney lookalike makes her a Bellini.’
‘Oh,’ said Nikki. ‘Wouldn’t that be lovely? Let’s hope so. Fingers crossed.’
Jess gave her an impulsive hug. ‘We’ll look out for her. No one messes with the Norths, remember? We always stick together.’
‘Mm hmm,’ Nikki agreed, hardly able to breathe in Jess’s tight embrace, hoping she couldn’t see the flicker of guilt in her eyes. She hadn’t always looked out for Jess. Far from it. But then Jess hadn’t looked out for her either. She’d been blatant about stealing Rik.
They’d been young, though, so maybe it didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was now. And their mum. So yes, they must always stick together.
14
It took Nikki just over ten minutes to cycle from her new house to work for her lunchtime appointment the following week. She locked up her bike in the parking area at the converted gas works where she had her office. Like much of the town it was Victorian, made of the same local grey stone as her cottage, with arched windows painted a jaunty blue to brighten the slightly forbidding façade. The Seaside Wedding Company was the smallest office, on the end, and next door was the unit where Helen still made wedding cakes.
It was fifteen years since her mum had complained that she couldn’t keep up with the orders she had on her books. Helen had begun making wedding cakes as a bit of a hobby that she could do in the kitchen at home, a bit of fun in between doing the wages, and her cakes had proved so popular it had almost got out of hand.
‘Everyone seems to be coming to Speedwell to get married these days,’ Nikki had observed. The town had been popular for hen and stag weekends for a while, but lately she’d noticed even more wedding cars winding their way through the streets, and the pavements smothered in confetti. And so the idea for The Seaside Wedding Company was born.
She had felt bad abandoning North Property Management to set up her own thing, but she didn’t feel as if organising window cleaning and getting burglar alarms fitted and locks changed was fulfilling her.
‘I never expected you to stay on for ever,’ Graham told her when she ran the idea by him. ‘Off you go. We’ll be fine. We’ll get someone in to help.’
‘But I’m irreplaceable,’ protested Nikki. ‘Aren’t I?’
‘You made yourself replaceable when you set up the new computer system,’ Graham grinned. ‘I expect we’ll drop a few balls but we’ll figure it out.’
‘Do you think it’s a good idea, though? Wedding planning?’
‘If you don’t do it, somebody else will.’ Graham’s prescient words spurred her on, for she knew this was true. So she and her mum had moved into the space at the old gas works, and now she was the go-to wedding planner for this stretch of coast. She was supremely organised, brilliant at budgeting, and knew every corner of the town, every venue. And she knew what people wanted from their big day: not to have to worry about a thing.
It had been nerve-wracking, as a single parent of a small boy, to set up a new business, but her gut instinct had been right. By the end of the first year, she was booked solidly for the next summer. Whether it was an elopement for two or a huge family wedding, Nikki North would make your dream come true. She organised every last detail, from the save-the-date card to the going-away car.
Now, she checked that everything was ready for her presentation. Everything was laid out on an antique table: samples and menus and brochures for venues and florists. On the wall behind was a huge white board, and at the top was written Phoebe and Alec and the date of the wedding in less than six weeks’ time.
She saw her prospective clients pull up and park outside, then make their way to the door. She opened it with a smile.
‘Phoebe and Alec?’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘Welcome to The Seaside Wedding Company.’
