It Started With a Kiss (31 page)

D’Wayne gave a nervous laugh. ‘Whoa, Wren, can’t you take a joke?’

Tom and Charlie cringed as Jack and Sophie pulled faces. D’Wayne was
history
…

Incensed, Wren punched her hands on to her hips and prepared for war. ‘Oh, I can take a joke, D’Wayne. I’m
looking
at one!’

‘Now hang on …’

‘I’m sick of your stupid attitude to
everything
– your cynicism at every wedding, your unreliability. I stick my neck out to defend you time and time again, and for what? So you can throw it all back in my face because you think it makes you look like the big man to be mocking me?’

For the first time, D’Wayne’s expression did not defer to Wren’s words. Real anger now flashed in his eyes. ‘And you’re always calling the shots, aren’t you? Makes you feel worthy, does it, lording it over the badass manager? You think you’re so high and mighty, Miss Ice Maiden, but you ain’t all that.’

‘Right. Outside.
Now
!’

We watched in shock as Wren grabbed D’Wayne’s arm and bundled him out of the door into the shoe factory’s dusty corridor.

‘Man, he’s in for it now,’ Tom said, as we all moved to the door to listen. ‘It’s years since I saw Wren that angry.’

We could hear Wren’s indignant tones echoing through the corridor, followed by the deep boom of D’Wayne’s. For a full five minutes the battle of wills stormed back and forth, increasing in intensity until, after a final shout from Wren, there was silence.

‘She’s killed him,’ Jack said, concern breaking through his mirth.

We waited. Still nothing. ‘Perhaps I should go out there,’ I suggested.

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but the door began to open slowly and we all dived back to our places.

The change in Wren was dramatic. Gone was her seething indignation, replaced by a serene smile. As she entered, we realised D’Wayne was walking – unscathed – behind her. And they were
holding hands
…

‘Well that’s sorted,’ she smiled, patting D’Wayne’s hand, ‘isn’t it, darling?’

D’Wayne, visibly shaken, nodded dumbly.

As we watched them, open-mouthed, Wren proceeded to pull our manager towards her for a passionate kiss. Tom and Jack whistled as Sophie, Charlie and I applauded.

When she pulled away, Wren flicked her hair back. ‘Any questions? No? Let’s get back to rehearsing, shall we?’

At nine that night, we waved the happy couple off at the shoe factory and returned to Jack and Sophie’s house. We were all still agog at this unexpected development.

‘I never saw that coming,’ Jack said, passing round an enormous bowl of nachos and cheese.

‘I did,’ I replied, picking a handful from the plate. ‘Didn’t you ever wonder why she defended him so often? Wren doesn’t give that kind of support out unless she thinks it’s deserved.’

‘You know, I did wonder,’ Sophie agreed. ‘But I never thought they’d get it on like that.’

‘That’s our Wren,’ Charlie laughed. ‘Never one to do things by halves.’ His smile deepened when he caught my eye.

When it was time to leave, Tom left first, catching a taxi home. Charlie and I helped to wash up and then said our farewells.

‘Hope you can sleep after all that excitement,’ I said, letting my elbow bump against his as we walked down the garden path together.

‘I’ll try,’ he replied, his breath illuminated by the white light from the streetlamp overhead. ‘Rom?’

‘Yes?’ I turned to face him and my heart picked up pace when I saw the shadows marking out the hollow of his cheekbones, casting his eyes into darkness. I was fast remembering my feelings from a year ago – the way he could steal my breath when I least expected it, simply with a look.

‘I know you have a lot to think about and I’m not rushing you, but –’ he pushed his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket, ‘– it’s been three weeks and I just wanted to know what you were thinking. I
need
to know …’

I shivered and wrapped my coat tighter around myself. ‘I know you do. And I’m sorry it’s taking forever. I want to make the right decision – I feel I owe it to both of us, if that makes sense? The quest is nearly over and—’

‘So tell me at the gig,’ he said suddenly.

I looked up at him and caught a glint of reflected streetlamp light in his eyes. ‘What do you mean?’

He took a step closer. ‘Your quest ends on Christmas Eve, doesn’t it? So to put your mind at rest – and make sure you accomplish what you set out to do – give me your answer at the millionaire gig. There will be a gap of about an hour between the first and second sets. Tell me then.’

A flood of warmth spread through my body. ‘And you can wait till then?’

He breathed out. ‘This is important to you, and you’re important to me. I know you’ll make the right decision – so I’d rather wait until it’s the right time.’

At that moment, I was struck with an overwhelming urge to tell him there and then, gazing up at his lovely face in the freezing night and longing to be in his arms. ‘Charlie, I think—’

He shook his head. ‘Don’t say it until you’re sure. Either way. Christmas Eve, OK?’

Mind racing, I agreed. ‘Christmas Eve.’

The week before Christmas passed by at breakneck pace, so much so that I hardly had time to think about anything, let alone the decision I would have to make in a matter of days. Business at Brum FM was crazier than ever, Mick and I struggling to clear a raft of adverts and indents ready for the New Year schedules.

The day before Christmas Eve, The Pinstripes gathered at Jack and Sophie’s, fired up with anticipation about what lay ahead of us. Sophie and Wren had already compiled an itinerary for our London visit and started chatting animatedly about the shops they wanted to visit and the Christmassy activities we absolutely
had
to indulge in during our brief stay in the capital.

I had been plagued with butterflies for two days, a mixture of childlike excitement at the prospect of the trip and the knowledge that things would never be the same after this, whatever my decision was. Charlie’s smile when I arrived revealed his own anxiety and, while the others were engaged in excited discussion, he beckoned me over to the other side of the van.

‘How are you doing?’ he asked, a gentle blush warming his cheeks.

‘Good – I think. How crazy is this?’

‘I know.’ He held out his arms. ‘Give us a hug, will you?’

I gratefully accepted, not minding in the slightest when it lasted longer than usual.

As we travelled down the M40 in a minibus provided by D’Wayne (who had acquired a notably generous side since hooking up with Wren), following Jack and Sophie in the van, my thoughts strayed to the quest. Last night, I had brought out PK’s photo and the Christmas bauble and sat on my bed with them in my hands, gazing again into his motionless eyes. I may not have found him, but the dream of rediscovering him still lingered. Days were no longer left for my search – only hours, minutes and seconds that were fast slipping away.

Reaching for my laptop, I had written the last blog post before my quest came to an end:

I had been so sure that he was what I was searching for, but this morning, as the hum of conversation, road noise and the set list songs playing through the minibus speakers filled the space around me, I started to wonder if PK had been nothing more than a catalyst for me to stand up for who I was.

Would I have found the confidence to stand up to my parents without that meeting? Could I have dared to dream about the possibility of pursuing songwriting as a career, or worked my way through the challenges of becoming an unwilling celebrity following Cayte-gate?

And what about Charlie? It had been a rocky road from the embarrassment following my declaration of love to him, through the questions and misunderstandings of the spring and summer months, to his own declaration of his affections and the impending decision that lay ahead – but I was still here. I had held my ground and now the decision for us to be together was mine alone in a 360-degree reversal from this time last year. Maybe Ysobabe8 was right – maybe I had known my true love all my life …

Yesterday, I had gone to visit Uncle Dudley and Auntie Mags at Tea and Sympathy, where Christmas had well and truly moved in – tinsel and sparkly fairy lights were wrapped around every available surface. When Auntie Mags met me, she immediately prescribed a thick slice of blackberry and apple cake ‘to focus your mind, sweetheart’ – and proved her uncanny ability yet again.

‘The thing is, I honestly couldn’t choose,’ I explained, as I showed them the almost completed ‘pros’ list. ‘But the only thing I came up with in Charlie’s favour over PK was this.’ I passed it to them:

Charlie is here. PK isn’t.

Auntie Mags sighed when she read it, and for a moment I thought she was going to burst into tears. Uncle Dudley saw it too, and put his arm around her shoulders.

‘Bab, you did everything you could. We all did. Us and all them believers out there who’ve been hoping he’d show up. But nothing’s in vain, kid. I reckon you’ll look back on this year and be proud of what you’ve achieved. We’re dead proud of you, aren’t we, Magsie?’

My aunt nodded. ‘You’re a wonderful young woman, Romily. And it sounds to me like Charlie’s finally realised what we knew all along. If he’s the one in your heart – the one you
truly
want – then choose him. We know you aren’t going to settle for anything less than the best.’

Watching the world pass by in a blur of merging colour as we sped towards the biggest gig of our lives, I knew they were right. I had followed my heart all year: now I was going to trust it with the biggest decision of my life so far.

Nothing could have prepared us for the sight that met our eyes as we drove through Syon Park’s stunning parkland towards the Duke and Duchess of Northumberland’s home. It was breathtakingly grand; expansive manicured lawns stretched away as far as the eye could see, with classical follies visible in the far distance and ancient trees standing guard around immaculately tended beds of formal planting. A sharp overnight frost had covered everything in a layer of white, lending a magical air to what was already an amazing setting. It was impossible not to be impressed by the opulent beauty of this place. I don’t think any of us had seen anything quite like it. When we reached the large turreted stone palace, glowing almost white in the morning sun, our conversation died away as we took it all in, as if  a sudden noise might make it disappear altogether. It was a venue fit for a princess – the ultimate dream location – and I could hardly believe that I was going to sing here tomorrow.

A woman in a smart suit carrying a walkie-talkie and a clipboard approached the minibus as D’Wayne wound the window down. After a brief conversation, she left and D’Wayne turned to us.

‘We’re going around to where they’re setting up,’ he explained, as a man wearing a black coat with a yellow hi-vis jacket nipped past us in a golf buggy, beckoning us to follow.

I have to admit that when Tom had uttered the word ‘marquee’ for the wedding location, my heart had sunk to my boots. A marquee? In
December
? Even the most outlandish weddings we had been booked to play at had always been set in appropriate venues for the time of year. Weren’t we going to freeze if the venue was basically a glorified tent?

However, when I saw the structure in question, I finally understood. ‘Marquee’ didn’t quite do it justice: ‘temporary Bedouin palace’ might have been a more apt moniker. It was enormous, more like a circus tent in proportions, dwarfing the vans, lorries and cars parked around it as caterers, florists, delivery people and venue staff hurried in and out with boxes, bags and trolleys.

Jack blew out a whistle. ‘Flippin’ Nora, Tom, your boss doesn’t do things by halves, does he?’

Tom grinned. ‘Nope. Are we going in?’

‘Lead the way, mate, this is your booking,’ D’Wayne said.

‘Great,’ he replied as we joined Wren and Sophie and walked towards the venue. ‘Does that mean I get your fifteen per cent commission fee?’

Inside, the full spectacle of the venue was revealed. Fibre-optic-studded ‘star cloth’ curtains were draped from the white muslin-covered central support pillars and eighty tables with silver chairs filled two-thirds of the space. At the far end, a wide stage was being erected, much to Wren’s delight.

‘That’s the biggest stage our band has played on yet,’ she said, clapping her hands like an excited cheerleader. ‘I already love this gig!’

A tall, broad man with an impressive set of dreadlocks looked up from the vast sound desk and lifted his hand in greeting.

‘You’re the band, yeah? I’m Sid Heelis, Head of Sound.’

He led us up on to the stage and I could see the thrill on all my friends’ faces at our first glimpse of the view we would be enjoying tomorrow evening.

‘We run everything from D.I. boxes through the desk and set up monitors for bass, guitar, keys, drums and so on,’ Sid said, as he walked us around the stage. ‘As for gear, you can set up now and it’ll be safe to leave overnight – we’ve got 24-hour security and we’ll be cranking up the heat in here from this afternoon, so there won’t be an issue if we get another frost tonight.’

‘Do you do many weddings like this?’ Charlie asked, looking out across the impressive interior as people buzzed around.

Sid laughed. ‘Never done one this big in the winter. But Jules is an old mate from uni and when I heard what he was doing for his daughter, I had to be a part of it, even if it is on Christmas Eve. She’s a special lady and it was the least I could do – she deserves it.’

‘Can you imagine doing these type of events all year round?’ Sophie asked me twenty minutes later as we brought in Charlie’s drum cases. ‘Talk about fantastic! I just hope that people recommend us after tonight.’ She giggled. ‘Jack and I are going to need all the money we can save next year.’

I stared at her. ‘Why? What do you mean?’

Her smile was brighter than the sun pouring in through the white canvas. ‘Don’t tell anyone, but I think we might not be too far behind this happy couple down the aisle!’

I whooped, dropped the cases on the ground and threw my arms around her. ‘Sophie, that’s fantastic news! So when …?’

‘He was planning to ask me on Christmas Day, but when we were driving down this morning he just blurted it out. So we’re kind of unofficially engaged. We’ll do the big reveal on Christmas Day, but I had to tell someone – I’m so excited!’

As we were setting up the equipment on stage, it suddenly occurred to me that I was not the only one for whom this year had been important: Jack and Soph with their secret engagement; Tom with his breakup from Anya and his new relationship with the one-woman soap opera known as Cayte; and D’Wayne’s recent appointment as Wren’s boyfriend. And Charlie? Perhaps he had learned to see me for who I really was and had found the courage to speak out when it mattered most. Would this year be the start of a lifetime together for us?

It’s amazing what a difference working with a professional sound company makes. Wren and I exchanged blissful looks as we tested our mics and in-ear monitors. The crystal clear sound, differentiation between instruments and voices, and general all-round polish to the sound were incredible. Looking around the stage, I could see identical expressions of joy on everyone’s faces.

After the sound check, Jack left his van and we all piled into the minibus to head to the hotel, giddy with the thrill of it all.

In an unbelievably generous gesture, Julian had booked us a room each in a luxurious Kensington hotel – leading Sophie to exclaim that she had obviously now died and gone straight to heaven.

An hour after we’d checked in, we assembled back in the vast marble lobby of the hotel. Wren, wrapped up in a bright green coat with a long purple scarf and a striped beanie hat, flung her arm around Sophie’s shoulder as she addressed us all.

‘OK, everyone, now I know we have a big day tomorrow but for the rest of today we’re going to enjoy everything that this city has to offer.’

‘Now, we’ve put together a little list of things you might like to do.’ Sophie handed us each a piece of paper. ‘We realise that not everyone will want to do the same things, so I suggest we split up and meet back here in the hotel bar, about eleven-ish?’

Jack and Charlie wanted food, so they headed out to find a restaurant. Wren was desperate to visit the Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park, so D’Wayne, ever the attentive boyfriend, agreed to go with her. I didn’t really mind what I did, just wanting to soak up the festive atmosphere, so I tagged along with Tom and Sophie.