After the One, Cass Lester [top romance novels .txt] 📗

‘Make Geoff move out. He’s the one in the wrong,’ was Zee’s opinion.

Pam shrugged the suggestion off. ‘This is my home now,’ she said, waving her hand airily, but the word jarred as she said it. The flat didn’t feel like home, how could it, when it was empty of her things, her memories, her lifetime’s collection of treasures? Well, if a home is made up of memories, she told herself, then having lunch with my oldest, closest friends is a pretty damn good start.

Zee shook her head. ‘You can’t live with Charley forever.’

‘I know I can’t. But it’s a start. A fresh start.’

‘What about all your things?’ asked Toni. ‘I mean, it’s a lovely flat, but it’s hardly palatial, and there’s nowhere for you to store anything.’

‘I don’t know…’ Pam looked around the kitchen vaguely. ‘Maybe things don’t actually matter very much, when it comes down to it.’

Her friends exchanged anxious glances.

‘This is all going to take time to sort out, a long time,’ Rachel started, ‘And you might not feel ready to go back right now…’

‘I’m not going back at all!’ cut in Pam hotly.

‘Nobody’s saying you should,’ said Zee soothingly. ‘But it’s all been very sudden, Pam, and you need to take time to consider your options.’

Mona nodded sagely. ‘Yes. We none of us know the legal ins and outs of getting a divorce or whatever, but all we’re saying is, be careful, and don’t do anything that might make you… vulnerable, or weaken your position.’

‘Don’t make any hasty decisions, or do anything rash,’ begged Rachel.

‘And don’t agree to anything without talking to us first,’ said Toni.

‘Or a lawyer,’ advised Zee. ‘And for God’s sake don’t sign anything!’

Pam shot the group a withering look. ‘Geoff might have made a damn fool out of me, him and his other woman,’ she said, ‘but I’m not a complete bloody idiot.’

The Orangery was Charley’s last call. The other meetings had gone pretty well and although nobody had made any firm orders, several hotels had been sufficiently impressed to keep some of the bags and had promised they’d get back to her. Technically this was a loss, since she’d have to write off the cost of the sample bags, but then again, some of the hotels were huge and part of national chains, which might mean some lucrative deals. But anyhow, here she was, now standing outside what was probably Bristol’s favourite wedding venue, and probably its most expensive, too. She could see why. Set against the backdrop of the clear blue June sky, the beautiful stone-built orangery, with its full-length Georgian windows framed with perfectly clipped ivy, looked like a film set. Its immaculate, landscaped lawns surrounded an ornamental pond, complete with fountain and statues. The grounds were bordered by dozens of cream rose bushes, in full bloom; it was the perfect setting for a costume drama – or an extremely expensive wedding.

Needless to say, her own wedding had been a considerably more modest affair, but still very beautiful. She and Josh had been married in August, in a sunlit village church filled with friends and family, hope and happiness. The church was near Josh’s family’s home and her parents had had to travel over from Suffolk, much to her mother’s annoyance.

‘It’s traditional to be married from the bride’s house,’ she’d said pettily. Charley had been determined not to let her mother’s jealousy take the edge off her day.

As her dad had walked her down the aisle, Charley had never been so nervous in her life. She had concentrated on not tripping over her dress and trying to stop her wedding bouquet trembling in her hands. But when she reached the altar Josh had turned, smiled at her proudly and mouthed I love you, and her nerves had dissolved. Just at that moment, she’d thought everything, everything in her entire life, was going to be all right, forever.

Coming back to the present with a bump, Charley realised she was a little early for her meeting. The doors to the Orangery were locked, so she peered in through one of the windows. The sunlight poured in, and the light interior decor made the most of it. The room was already laid out for a wedding reception, with crisp white tablecloths covering around twenty enormous circular tables. Tall cut-glass vases full of white lilies adorned the centre of each table, around which stood about a dozen chairs, draped with white cotton covers tied with thick gold sashes. She could just imagine her gold-and-white gift bags on the tables – they’d look perfect.

As it turned out, the Orangery Events Manager felt the same. But unfortunately, she told Charley that the venue already had a regular supplier for wedding favours, which was gutting. She promised she would bear Charley in mind if they ever wanted to change suppliers.

Giving the woman her best professional smile, Charley thanked her effusively, and tried not to let it feel like she’d just been handed the consolation prize of the decade, instead of the big lottery win.

Since it was only just after two o’clock, and knowing that Pam’s guests would still be in her flat, she took herself round to Angie’s.

‘Wimp!’ exclaimed her friend, leading the way into the kitchen where she was sorting through a mound of laundry.

‘I’m not!’ objected Charley. ‘It’s not that I’m scared of meeting them! It’s just I want to give Pam some privacy in…’ she paused, struggling to finish her sentence, ‘in her own home,’ she finally managed, yet recoiling at that thought. Perceptive as ever, Angie raised a questioning eyebrow at her. Not wanting to be drawn, Charley changed the subject. ‘Everyone loved the look of the bags.’

Angie positively beamed at her. ‘Four years at art college wasn’t a complete waste of time, then!’

‘If you miss it so much, couldn’t you maybe just do a little bit, part-time?’

Indicating the mountain of laundry, the piles of washing-up still stacked by the sink, and