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She felt drained. Memories had jumped out at her just when she didn’t need them and now she wanted to close the shop and head back to the small house she rented in Shepherd’s Bush.
‘I’m really sorry, Julie,’ she said gently, removing the mug, taking it to the sink and then remaining there, standing, waiting for her client to do likewise, which she didn’t, until Celia prompted, ‘It’s nearly time for me to be closing up for the evening.’
‘I should mention that I’ve met someone,’ Julie blurted out with sudden nervousness.
‘You’vemet someone?’
‘Um...’
‘But when? How? I had no idea! Not, of course, that it’s any of my business, although maybe you should have thought about breaking things off with Leandro earlier? Look, Julie, I really need to close the shop now. We can sort all the details about the dress later. There’s no need for you to tell me the ins and outs of your private life. It’s very sad that you won’t be marrying Leandro but it’s your life and, of course, I wish you well.’
She purposefully wiped the kitchen counter and headed to the door, her body language signalling the end of the conversation. She could feel a headache coming on.
‘It’s the real thing, Celia. I can tell from your expression that you disapprove but, honestly, this guy...? He’s the real deal.’
‘I... I’m happy for you, Julie, I really am, but—’
‘And there’s something else I think you should know...’
‘Really?’ Celia raised her eyebrows. She wondered what more could possibly be on the agenda. A final fitting had turned into the confession to end all confessions and her brain hurt when she thought about not just Julie’s poor fiancé but the sheer nightmare of unpicking what had been touted as the wedding of the year. Where did you even start on that?
‘The guy I’m seeing? It happens to be your brother...’
Celia was still reeling from that shock announcement two days later as she began putting away stuff in the workshop, ready to lock up and head to the Underground.
Knocked for six and frantically thinking that she surely must have misheard, she had listened with mounting horror as Julie had given her a brief synopsis of her life-changing fling with Dan.
From standing in a purposeful manner, she had collapsed like a rag doll right back into the chair from which she had earlier risen.
How on earth had her brother crept into this scenario?
She had found out fast enough.
Yes, they had met. Quite by chance, as it happened. A couple of months ago, Julie had turned up for a fitting and Dan had been there, in all his good-looking glory. He had rocked up on his motorbike to hand-deliver a book he had promised Celia.
Celia remembered the day quite clearly because she had done her best to hustle him out. She adored her older brother but life, for him, moved on his own timeline and she had been rushed off her feet with a list of things to get through before she left.
Had he and Julie chatted? Sure. Celia had barely noticed. Julie was a besotted bride-to-be. Why would Celia have paid a scrap of attention to the fact that her brother had hung around for longer than he should have, chatting?
Dan was a chatty person! Five years older, he was completely different from her...from looks to personality.
Tall to her short...dark-haired to her red...and carefree in ways she had always envied and admired.
Had Julie fallen for that?
She’d said that Leandro was something of a workaholic. Had Dan’s breezy insouciance delivered a mortal hammer blow to a bride whose head had been filled with sudden, last-minute doubts about the guy she was marrying? Had the guy who had gone freelance because he spurned the tyranny of a nine-to-five work schedule charmed the woman destined to wed a man chained to a desk?
Had opposites attracted in what had been a perfect but temporary storm?
At any rate, she had been swamped with guilt. If Dan had never been there, Julie would still be going ahead with her marriage and whatever nerves she was experiencing would have fizzled out like dew in the summer sun.
Instead...
Celia had tried to get hold of her brother, but he had gone underground and when she’d carefully tried to find out whether her parents were any the wiser, she had quickly realised that they weren’t. ‘You know your brother,’ Lizzie Drew had said with maternal indulgence. ‘Never one for the details of where he is!’
Celia was beginning to wonder whether she knew her brother at all.
Absorbed in the same train of thought that had been cluttering her head for the past two days, she was only aware of the doorbell ringing downstairs after it had gone from staccato bursts to one long, insistent, demanding and intensely annoying buzz.
