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‘Okay, Martin, I’m on my way. Soph, I have to go. I’m sorry I can’t do dinner. I forgot that the band’s flying back to Germany tonight. Can we meet up for a drink before the wedding?’
‘Noah, I’m not sure it’s a good idea—’
‘Noah, darling, you’re needed.’ A blonde PR girl appeared at the door and hooked her arm proprietorially through his. ‘Come on. Everyone’s waiting.’
‘I’ll ring you.’
Noah made the sign of a phone with his fist as he was led away, and Sophie was finally able to make good her escape. Asshe searched for Nessa in the theatre foyer she realised Noah was right – it had always been, and would always be, thus in the music industry. But that knowledge didn’t insulate her from the feelings of insecurity and mistrust it instilled in her. She knew she would never be able to get used to sharing Noah with a throng of screaming girls who would stop at nothing to get to their hero, nor did she want to. It hurt too much.
Anyway, that wasn’t the life she had worked so hard to achieve for herself. She had carved out her own successful career that she adored. How could Noah be so incredibly selfish as to ask her to give it all up so she could go on tour with him?
No, sadly their lives were on diverging trajectories that it was too late to alter.
She would just have to redouble her resolve and harden her traitorous heart to the potent effect Noah Drake had on her. She had no intention of meeting him for a drink and a “talk” before the wedding. She acknowledged her decision was the coward’s route, but all her spare time and energy now had to be lavished on Sophie-Louise and finalising the most spectacular gown possible for the wedding of the year. It was time to concentrate on her career dreams and spend some time at her boutique in Wimbledon. Scarlet and Flora were doing an admirable job, but the shop was her responsibility.
She also had to work on forgetting Noah and moving on – and the only way she knew she could do that was by dating other people. She would start by asking Scarlet to set her up with the cousin she’d mentioned numerous times as an ideal date.
‘Nessa!’
She waved to her friend who was chatting animatedly to Harvey on the burgundy-carpeted steps. She smiled in response to Nessa’s raised eyebrows and resolved there and then that shewould put her head down and focus on her enduring passion for all things couture, not Noah.
Chapter Twenty Nine
The Cotswolds still possessed the power to lift Sophie’s spirits and for that she was grateful. Warmth flooded her cheeks when she recalled the look of scepticism on Scarlet’s face when she’d made a feeble attempt at an excuse about checking stock levels at Gingerberry, jumped into her Mini Cooper, and driven home to Somersby. She was desperate to put as much distance between herself and Noah as she could to garner the headspace – or more truthfully, the heart-space – she needed to process the aftermath of the Noah debacle.
Flora and Scarlet had rallied round, suggesting trips to the theatre, visits to the local wine bar, even a day out at the Warner Bros. Studios in an effort to divert her attention away from dwelling on Noah. She couldn’t even begin to come to terms with her resolution to move on until the wedding was out of the way and Lilac was safely on her honeymoon. Then she would think about dating. She’d seen a photo of Scarlet’s cousin on Instagram and, although he wasn’t really her type, she had to start somewhere. Anyway, she knew no one was going to be a perfect match because they weren’t Noah.
But he was in her past and she had to make sure he stayed there.
Unfortunately, it was proving a lot more difficult than she had expected. After the success of the concert, photographs of the band seemed to be appearing everywhere – even in the broadsheets. She struggled to focus on anything that did notrelate to the battlefield her private life had become. So, the only alternative was to seek out a change of scenery and what better way than to go back to Somersby. This trip was exactly what she needed to put her life into perspective. Delia would regale her with her own brand of down-to-earth advice on the unpredictable ways of the world, and Iris would no doubt add her two pennies’ worth.
She parked her car next to the village green and leaned her chin on the steering wheel. There was Gingerberry Yarns, the pretty bunting Marcia had hand-stitched draped across the window and the display festooned with samples of trendy knitwear in rich, bold colours. A knot tightened in her stomach. She loved this village, but she loved Gingerberry Yarns more. Not just the shop – although that was sporting its Sunday best now – but the people who made it what it was. The place was a mixture of the foundations her mother and Aunt Claire had built and what she, Delia and Marcia, and all the Cupcakes & Couture ladies had subsequently added to bring it roaring into the twenty-first century.
She knew in that moment with absolute certainty that there was no way she could contemplate letting it go. It was a part of her, of her life, of her roots. Selling it to someone else or, heaven forbid, closing it down, was unthinkable.
She would just have to promote Delia to manager and shuttle between the two shops, working 24/7 to make it work. Maybe Flora could help out, too? Perhaps she would even jump at the chance if it meant she could spend some quality time with Craig who had already driven down to London twice to take Flora to the ballet, and he’d enjoyed a flight on the London Eye and a trip to the National Portrait Gallery in return. The pair were clearly smitten with each other and relocating Flora to Somersby was the perfect solution.
As Sophie lifted her head from the steering wheel, she caught a burst of light out of the corner of her eye. She squinted through the fly-splattered windscreen, searching for its source. She ran her eyes along the row of shops that included the village store, Wallington’s bakery, and Gingerberry Yarns. She was about to put it down to a car wing mirror flashing in the evening sunshine until she saw a second flash from the doorway of Marietta’s Hair Salon, which had closed for the day.
It was a camera bulb.
It took a few further seconds of concentration before she distinguished that the long lens of the camera was directed at the shop window of Gingerberry. Her first assumption was that a holidaymaker was entranced by the beauty of the rural village of Somersby and wanted to preserve his memory of a happy holiday away from the daily grind. However, it wasn’t long before a second sceptical, but more accurate, thought arrived. The owner of the camera was dressed head-to-toe in black and wasn’t just sheltering in the shop doorway – he waslurking.
What the…
Then it hit her. Oh, my God! No!
She restarted the engine, shoved the car in gear and cannoned to the high street. She leapt out of the car, her hair swinging around her cheeks, and strode towards the cameraman. Or should she say paparazzo? A flash of blinding light erupted in her face, and she screwed her eyes tightly.
‘Hey, what do think you’re doing?!’
The man smirked, gathered his holdall, and sprinted off down the street.
Mmm, perhaps approaching him all guns blazing hadn’t been one of her smartest ideas. If she had taken the time to think it through, she realised, she would have played it differently.Now he had a photograph of her reacting angrily, which was tantamount to admitting she was the designer of Lilac’s wedding gown. Why else would she have been so suspicious of a man with a camera in an idyllic country village in rural Gloucestershire?
Chastising herself for her stupidity, she returned to her car, dragged her overnight bag from the back seat and hoisted the handles over her shoulder. She really should have been more prepared. If, as she hoped, business at Sophie-Louise and Gingerberry took off after the publicity of the wedding, then she would have to start thinking of a strategy to deal with such scenarios. She did hope to attract more celebrity interest and she couldn’t have inquisitive photographers camping out on the doorstep of Gingerberry every day!
As she reached for the door handle a burble of conversation trickled from within and, with a jolt of guilt, she remembered that it was Tuesday night. She had left London in such a hurry that she’d overlooked telephoning Delia to tell her she was on her way. She had even forgotten that the Cupcakes & Couture session would be well underway by the time she arrived.
