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‘No.’
‘Claire adored this shop. I can’t believe you would do that.’
‘I do have a life of my own, you know. In London. I run my own bridal boutique now. It’s successful.’ She had no idea why she’d felt the need to add the last sentence.
‘Oh, yes, I heard. You make clothes for rich brides to wear.’
‘I design clothes. No, not just clothes – haute couture.’ She could hear the defensive hint that had crept into her voice, along with the surprise resurrection of her west country accent. Noah had always known what buttons to press in more ways than one.
‘How can you even think of selling Gingerberry Yarns? It’s part of the fabric of our lives. And it’s more than that. It’s an essential part of this whole community.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Noah. When was the last time you were here?’ she challenged.
Noah held her eyes for what felt like an eternity. ‘Three weeks ago, actually. Two days before Claire passed away. Unlike you, I still live here. I haven’t run out on my friends, or forgotten what home means. I loved Claire as much as you did, Soph.’
‘Well, I’ve moved on. My life and my career are in London. I’m leaving tonight.’
‘Tonight? So you’re not even staying on to sort out the shop? What about Delia? And aren’t you even going to catch up with Nessa? The Sophie I knew would never pass up the opportunity for a chinwag with her best friend!’
‘Not that it’s any of your business, but I saw Nessa for a long weekend of Christmas shopping and partying at the beginning of December and we talk all the time on the phone. But guess what, smartass, I’m not the Sophie you knew anymore! Something happened to change all that, didn’t it? You betrayed me.’
‘I didn’t betray you, Soph,’ Noah said softly. ‘I loved you.’
‘No, you didn’t. I was just the first girl you kissed and who was crazy enough to stick around. So if you didn’t betray me, what were you doing with that girl? The Tonsil Tango?’
She forced her duplicitous heart to recall the last image she had of Noah; the one that had lingered in her mind over the years like dripping acid in which he had his arms wrapped around the voluptuous curves of a flaxen-haired fan of The Razorclaws. She could still recall the girl’s cat-like eyes gleaming with triumph at her conquest of the lead singer.
Of course, Noah’s explanation for that terrible scene had been relayed to her from numerous sources: Seb, Dominic, her best friend, Nessa. Even his bandmate Archie had sent her a text with a plea to speak to a devastated Noah, explaining thatwhat she had blundered in on had meant nothing; that in fact it was a regular by-product of being a member of a moderately successful band; that inevitably there would be fans, groupies, girls who went to extraordinary lengths to gain access to their heroes, and from whom there was often no polite escape. But Archie’s protestations and explanations had only served to make her discovery worse and her pain sharpen. The incident and its fallout had solidified her sneaking suspicion that, when she could not be at Noah’s side, there was a line of girls willing to walk into her shoes.
‘I just knew you wouldn’t be able to resist bringing that up. Nothing happened with Lydia. She threw herself at me. What was I supposed to do? Throw her back?’
‘Yes, that’s exactly what you were supposed to do!’
‘But it didn’tmeananything. It just goes with the territory. You promised to be there to watch us play. For God’s sake, Sophie, it was the night we finally made it into the big time and my girlfriend wasn’t even there to share it with me. Oh, no, she had something much more important to do, like sewing sequins on some rich person’s dress!’
‘Well, I suppose now you are famous, that would put you in the same category as a rich b... Where are you going?’
‘I’m leaving. You’ve done it. You should be able to recognise the signs.’
Noah wrenched open the door so hard the bell jangled on its chain and came loose, dangling down into Sophie’s face. She slammed the door behind him and reached up to drop the sneck, tossing the bell from her cheek like a recalcitrant fly, only for it to swing straight back and hit her in the nose. She flapped her hand at it again, but it returned to give her a sharp and painful blow on the temple.
Her eyes smarted with tears as Noah rolled his eyes at her through the glass and marched off to his battered old Saab, revving the engine with alacrity and sending a cloud of dust in his slipstream as he exited the village at speed.
Sophie slumped down at the table, scene of many a traumatic discussion that was more often than not accompanied by the standard prescription of a cup of sugared tea and a boatload of sympathy, and maybe a scone or two from the teashop on the corner, made by the famous children’s book illustrator who lived in the village, Bernice Marshall. Her conversation with Noah had caused her to reconsider her plans, as he had no doubt intended, and she realised that her insistence of returning to London so swiftly after the funeral and the will reading was disrespectful on several levels, not least because Delia needed her.
She pulled her phone from her pocket and stared at the screen for several seconds before exhaling a long breath and selecting Scarlet’s number. Her friend and colleague answered immediately, and Sophie explained her decision, knowing that she would understand.
‘Are you sure you can manage without me, Scarlet?’
‘I’m not totally useless, you know. Haven’t I had the most fantastic mentor a fledgling fashion designer could wish for these last four years? If you need to stay on in Somersby for a couple of weeks to sort out your aunt’s shop, then do it. The decision on Lilac’s wedding gown is out of our hands; there’s nothing more you, or anyone else, can do. Anyway, I’ve got Flora, although she’s as much use as a shop-window mannequin, and there’s Lizzie.’
‘Youwillring me tomorrow as soon as you hear anything, won’t you?’
‘It’s a promise. Pinky swear. Now do what you have to do, Soph. Actually, the break will do you good. You’ve just had the most devastating shock, and on top of the hours you’ve been putting in for the last three months it’s enough to drive anyone to the edge of their sanity. And, hey, I’m loving the broad west country accent, by the way!’
Sophie smiled. ‘Thanks, Scarlet. You are the best friend ever. I owe you.’
‘Well, I might just extract a promise that you’ll take me along to every one of Lilac Verbois’s fittings as well as the wedding ceremony. That should repay the debt!’
