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‘And I know that when we’re hurting we sometimes do things we regret.’
‘But I don’t regret it.’ I point at the book, but I can’t quite bring myself to focus on it. ‘I don’t want that thing.’ I didn’t want it a year ago, when I discovered it in the box of items from Mum’s house that Great Aunt Dorothy had sent over. Didn’t want it hanging around, reminding me of that brief time in my life when everything was perfect. Before everything changed. ‘How dare you retrieve it?’ The anger gurgles to the surface. I leap up from the bed, throwing poor Hubert down onto the duvet. ‘How dare you meddle in my life? First, pushing me to go on these stupid dates, and now this! It’s too much, Alice. Why can’t you just let me be?’
‘I know what it’s like to lose a parent. I know it’s different for me – my mum died when I was really little and I barely remember her – but I’d give anything to have a reminder of her. Dad got rid of everything when he married Francelia – all the photos, her perfume and jewellery, the cards she wrote for me and Carolyn. Said he wanted a fresh start.’ She stands up from the bed and places a hand on my shoulder. ‘I know you’re angry with me right now, but one day you’ll thank me for keeping hold of the book.’
I roll my eyes, still not looking at it. ‘It’s a book of fairy tales, Alice.’
‘It’s more than that.’ Alice gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. ‘The little girl who received this book believed in happily ever afters. You told me once that she used to dream of being rescued by the handsome prince. What happened to her?’
I throw my shoulders back, dislodging Alice’s hand, and lift my chin slightly. ‘She grew up and realised life isn’t a fairy tale.’
Alice crosses the room, stopping in front of my small bookcase. She squeezes the book of fairy tales into a gap at the end of the middle shelf. ‘I’ll do you a deal.’ Alice turns to face me again. ‘If you come to the wedding with an open mind and at least give the guys there a teeny chance, I’ll stop pestering you about finding a boyfriend once we get home.’
We stare at each other across the room. I’m still angry, but it’s dying down now the book is no longer in my vision.
‘There’ll be no more pushing me to date when we get back?’
Alice shakes her head. ‘I won’t mention it again.’
We stare some more.
Can I do this? Can I endure one week of intense Alice matchmaking (because that’s what this will turn into)? Can I get through it for the chance of being left to my own devices when we return?
‘Fine.’ I cross the room and stick out my hand. ‘You have yourself a deal.’
Alice’s grin is wide as we shake on it. ‘You’re not going to regret this.’
‘We’ll see about that in a week’s time.’ I reach past Alice and slide the fairy tales book off the shelf.
Alice looks stricken. ‘You’re not going to throw that away again, are you?’
‘What would be the point? You’ll only dig it out again with teabags and food stuck to it.’ Instead, I shove the book to the very back of my wardrobe, where I won’t have to face it on a daily basis.
‘Come on, Cinderella.’ Alice tucks Hubert back under her arm and hefts my suitcase off the bed. ‘You shall go to the ball!’
I take the handle of my suitcase so Alice can trundle her own down the stairs. ‘I thought Kevin was Cinders?’
‘No way am I being an ugly sister. You, honey, are Cinderella, and I am your fairy godmother.’
Chapter Five (#ulink_48b66eda-f7a1-5a40-b63e-d213cd032d28)
With our suitcases squeezed into the tiny boot of Alice’s sleek but impractical car, there’s an emotional goodbye between Alice and Kevin on our doorstep. I wait in the car, fingers firmly crossed that Alice will feel so guilty about leaving Poor Kevin (as I have taken to calling him in a bid to induce more guilt) behind that she’ll call the whole ‘let’s irritate the absolute crap out of Emily by matching her up with some god-awful people for a whole damn week’ thing off. Kevin and I will switch places and Carrot and I will wave them off.
No such luck. Alice is blubbering, but she isn’t in family-issues-battling mode and she’s soon walking backwards towards the car, unable to tear her eyes away from her beloved. She plonks herself down in the driver’s seat, taking a moment to compose herself before strapping herself in and, giving one last wilted wave, setting off towards the M60.
‘You’re going to love Durban Castle,’ she tells me once she’s managed to stop the hiccupping her crying has caused. ‘It’s so gorgeous. It’s such a shame I haven’t been there in so long.’ She looks like she’s about to burst into tears again but manages to regain her composure and aims a watery smile at me. ‘It’s been in my family for generations, so Carolyn and I would spend every Christmas there and the summer holidays with my grandparents. My step-cousin would visit too, and we’d have adventures around the castle and its grounds together. There was always a quiz on Boxing Day, when other relatives would visit, and fireworks and a huge bonfire on New Year’s Eve. It was magical.’
Alice’s smile brightens as her mind wanders back to her childhood. I wish I could do the same, but my childhood doesn’t have a great deal of happy memories to look back on fondly.
‘Granny and Grandpa were wonderful. So warm and fun. I miss them.’
‘You’ve never mentioned the castle before.’ Which is odd, given my passion for the past. ‘I can’t wait to have a nose around and breathe in its history.’
Alice reaches for the CD player, but I bat her hand away. We’ve agreed the music is my domain for the duration of our trip.
‘The castle’s still in my family,’ she tells me. ‘But when Uncle Ned inherited it, he turned it into a weddings and events venue, so we couldn’t have turned up for a nosy around. Which is why this week is perfect for us: you get to satisfy your nerdiness and I get to relive some fond memories.’
An hour later, we’ve reached Little Heaton. It’s a picturesque village, almost cut in two by the canal running through it. Barges painted in bright greens, reds and blues sit on the water while ducks, swans and geese glide by. There’s an arched bridge up ahead, which we turn onto, crossing over the canal into the heart of the village. A memorial stands in the centre of the high street, with a terrace of shops on one side and a red-brick pub on the other, half covered in ivy. Ahead is a small church with a pointy steeple, its grounds filled with crumbling headstones.
‘Is that where Carolyn is getting married?’ I ask as we pass, but Alice shakes her head.
‘She’s getting married in the chapel, like Mum and Dad.’
‘The castle still has its own chapel? Is it original?’ For the first time, I’m genuinely quite excited about the week ahead.
‘I think so.’ Alice’s brow furrows. ‘I know Uncle Ned had to have the roof restored a couple of summers ago and it was apparently a nightmare trying to source original materials. Cost a fortune too.’
My heart is bleeding for the poor rich man.
We pass a primary school, its bright-yellow railings and play equipment jarring against the nineteenth-century building, another pub (this village is looking up), and lots of little, white-rendered cottages with pretty gardens that would give our neighbour a run for her money with their show-quality lawns and bursts of colour from the flowerbeds, window boxes and hanging baskets.
We reach the end of the latest batch of cottages and turn into a clearing, with a blanket of buttercups and daisies thrown over fields either side of a narrow lane. The fields rise into a hill, upon which stands Durban Castle.
‘Wow,’ I say, my jaw practically hitting my lap.
‘Yes.’ Alice sighs happily. ‘She’s a beauty, isn’t she?’
The narrow road winds up the gentle slope of the hill until we reach the castle’s curtain wall and a giant, arched gateway made of pale-grey stone. The castle, which I haven’t taken my eyes off during the short drive up the hill, is made of the same stone, and two flags flap in the breeze as they stand proudly on top of the keep. The gates are open, so we drive through, my jaw dropping more and more the closer we get to the castle.
‘I’ll drop you and the suitcases off at the front,’ Alice tells me as we drive towards the looming castle. Trees line the road either side of us, with lush lawns beyond. It is beautiful, like stepping into a real-life fairy tale. The six-year-old who received that book of fairy tales would be in heaven if she could see this place. ‘There’s a car park just to the right. I’ll park and meet you at the main entrance so we don’t have to lug the suitcases too far.’
My only reply is a slow nod. I am unable to form a sentence at this moment in time. Of course I’ve seen castles before. I’ve studied them extensively. But Durban Castle is magnificent, and I can’t quite believe I’m going to be staying here for a whole week. I am no longer recoiling in horror at the thought of gatecrashing Carolyn’s wedding, and Alice can chuck as many eligible bachelors at me as she likes.
‘Look at you.’ Alice giggles as we step out of her car. Stone steps lead up to a pair of thick, iron-studded wooden doors. My chin is grazing the gravelled ground by now. ‘I told you you’d love it. Wait until you see inside. It was beautiful when Granny and Grandpa lived here, but it was a little bit crumbly and musty, to be honest. Uncle Ned really went to town restoring it to its former glory when he took over.’
We heft the suitcases out of the car and, with instructions for me to wait, Alice climbs back into the car and follows the signs to the parking area. I take this moment to get a grip. I cannot allow myself to become swept away by all this. Yes, the castle is gorgeous and I’m desperate to drink in its rich history, but I need to keep in control. Alice hasn’t really brought me here to satisfy my history nerdiness; the girl means business when it comes to my love life. She thinks I’m responsible for bringing Kevin into her life (which is technically true, I suppose, but I merely introduced the pair, playing no part in their courtship at all) and she’s desperate to repay the favour. It doesn’t matter one tiny bit that I take no credit for her relationship, nor want one of my own.
I move the suitcases to one side as a car sweeps up the road, its rumble low and animalistic. It’s a stunning car with its sleek, glossy-red body that screams expense and class. I watch as it makes a perfect arc to stop at the entrance, spitting gravel from beneath its tyres. The window glides down and a tanned forearm appears, leaning against the frame, followed by a face. It’s hard to tell if the driver is good-looking as a pair of sunglasses seems to take up half his face, but his hair is perfectly styled and his lips are pulled into a seductive smile.
‘Hey.’
That one word is enough to put me off, especially when coupled with the head jerk commanding I scuttle over to join him. As soon as he opens his mouth, I spot his rather large teeth. It’s hard to not spot them to be fair – it might as well be Shergar sitting there in a sports car.
‘Parking’s over there.’ I point in the direction Alice headed off into, still standing with the suitcases. I will not scuttle over to the car, awaiting a head pat for my good-doggy behaviour. Even if I would very much like to be taken for a spin.
When he smiles at me, displaying his gnashers in all their glory, I half expect him to neigh. ‘I know, babe. I just wanted to introduce myself.’
Babe? Ugh.
‘Ezra Bardon.’ Seemingly in one swift movement, he’s opened the door, slipped out onto the gravel and leaned against the shiny body of his car. He folds his arms lazily across his chest and flicks his chin into the air. A slight frown creases his brow when I don’t respond. ‘What’s the matter? Don’t have a name?’ He removes his sunglasses, hooking them on to the open collar of his polo shirt. ‘Or would you like me to guess?’
I really, really wouldn’t like him to guess. It would be agonisingly cringe-worthy standing there while he reeled off name after name.
‘It’s Emily. Emily Atkinson.’
He grins toothily (there is no other way this dude can grin). ‘Hello, Emily Atkinson. What a beautiful name.’
My eyes are aching to roll. If I don’t concentrate really hard they will begin the cycle. ‘Thank you. I like it.’
‘It suits you.’ He pushes himself away from his car and saunters over to me, the stupid, Jaws-like grin taking up half of his face. ‘A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.’ I didn’t think it was possible, but the grin widens. Jeez, this guy has a lot of teeth. I’m filled with the urge to play them like a glockenspiel. ‘I hope I get to know you more over the next few days.’ I feel grubby as he looks me up and down, his head bobbing in some sort of agreement with himself. ‘Why don’t I give you my card? This place is huge – I wouldn’t want to miss you.’ He reaches into his pocket and retrieves a thick, cream business card embossed with gold and black lettering. I’m about to decline – both his offer of the business card and the getting-to-know-you-better part – when the crunching of gravel underfoot catches the attention of both of us.
‘Ezra?’ The approaching bloke has a knitted brow, his head tilted to one side. He’s wearing navy overalls and heavy black boots, and is carrying a pair of gardening shears tucked under one arm. ‘Sorry to interrupt, mate. Your wife said to tell you she’s gone for a lie-down.’
‘Oh.’ Ezra’s eyes widen, and the proffered business card is snatched away and shoved roughly into the top pocket of his polo shirt. ‘Thank you. I’ll, er, just go and park the car and, um, hahaha.’ Unable to find any more words, he simply titters to himself as he backs away. The gardener and I watch as he turns and practically nosedives into the driver’s seat before tearing away in a cloud of dust and gravel.
‘A friend of yours?’ I ask once the cloud has dispersed, but the gardener is already striding away.
‘God, no,’ he calls over his shoulder. ‘Never met the slimy bastard before but I saw him arrive with his clearly pregnant wife earlier.’
‘You’re kidding,’ I say, more to myself as the gardener doesn’t seem to want to stick around and chat. How can Alice want me to put myself through this kind of shiz? To commit myself to a man who flirts with anything in a skirt (or a pair of jeans, like I’m wearing right now) as soon as my back is turned? ‘What a scumbag. Why are men like this?’
‘Hey, we’re not all like Ezra Bardon, you know,’ a voice says from behind me. I turn and see a bloke framed in the doorway at the top of the steps. ‘Some of us have morals. We’re not all cheating scumbags, I promise.’ He smiles, and I’m pleased when a full set of teeth doesn’t tumble out for inspection.
‘I guess not.’ I shrug, not convinced either way.
‘It’s true. Some of us are decent.’ He jogs down the steps to join me on the gravel. He’s wearing a pair of brown trousers and a blue-and-white-striped shirt, which should look ridiculous but suits him. ‘I don’t think we’ve met before – are you a guest from Carolyn or Piers’ side?’
I shove my hands into my jeans pockets, my eyes inspecting the gravel at my feet. See, this is why I didn’t want to come, because I’m not really a guest from either side. No matter how much Alice has assured me otherwise, I still feel like a gatecrasher.
‘I’m actually a friend of Carolyn’s sister. She didn’t want to come alone, so I’m sort of her plus-one.’
‘You’re a friend of Alice’s? Is she around?’ I peek up to see him looking around the grounds. ‘I didn’t know she’d arrived yet. It’s been too long since I saw her, so I’ve been looking forward to catching up.’
‘She’s parking the car.’ I grab hold of the suitcase handles and start to drag them towards the steps. ‘She’ll be meeting me here in a minute.’
‘Can I give you a hand?’ He indicates Alice’s suitcase, and although I’m usually quick to assert my independence, I find myself thanking him. They are heavy and difficult to manoeuvre on the gravel.
‘This one has to be Alice’s suitcase,’ he says as we lug the cases up the stone steps. ‘Weighs a ton. She never could travel light. I bet she’s brought six pairs of shoes with her.’
‘Only six?’ I scoff, which makes him laugh. I’m not joking, though. The girl has squeezed eight pairs in there, ranging from sparkly flip-flops to knee-high boots.
‘Will you be okay from here?’ His phone has started to ring as we reach the entrance hall and he’s pulling a face at its display. ‘It’s work. I really should take it.’
‘Go ahead.’ I drag my case to the side, where a suit of armour is standing guard by the door. ‘Thanks for your help.’
‘No problem.’ He smiles, his phone still ringing in his hand as he backs away. ‘Tell Alice I said hi.’
I would, I think as he turns and strides away, the phone now at his ear. But you didn’t tell me your name.
Chapter Six (#ulink_d68d7f65-529c-5e4b-b49f-221c319edf51)
I feel myself slump as soon as he’s out of view, hands resting on my thighs as I try to get my breath back. I would never admit I’m struggling, but now I’m alone, I can admit how exhausted I am by the short trip up the steps. But I forget all about the suitcases and my fatigue as I take in my surroundings.
Wow.
Just wow.
The wide entrance hall is lit by a giant, glittering chandelier and dozens of decorative wall sconces dotted in between large, gilt-framed portraits of the Monroe ancestry. The floor is covered in a patchwork of black and white tiles, while a red-carpeted staircase stands in front of me, leading up to the first floor. Lots of doors lead off to a warren of rooms at the sides and I’m not sure where I should be heading. The castle is humongous and my room could be anywhere. I’m sure I’d find myself lost within minutes, but Alice should be here any second now to lead the way. In the meantime, I grapple with the suitcases once more, somehow wrestling them towards the staircase, where I sit gratefully on the second step, exhausted after my suitcase skirmish.
‘Alice!’ I’m so relieved to see my friend after a considerable wait that I forget my thighs have turned to jelly and jump up from the stairs. ‘What took you so long?’
‘I had to phone Kevin to let him know we’d arrived safely.’ Alice retrieves her vanity case from where I’ve dumped it on the floor and grabs the handle of her suitcase. ‘And then I got chatting to one of Piers’ cousins. Lovely young man. Gave me his card.’ She pulls out a familiar cream business card embossed with gold and black lettering. ‘I thought I’d try to introduce you to him at dinner, but if not, we have his number.’
‘I don’t think so.’ I pluck the card from Alice’s fingers and tear it in two. ‘We’ve already spoken, and he’s no Prince Charming.’
Alice sighs. ‘It was the teeth, wasn’t it? I knew they’d get in the way.’
‘You’re not kidding. Those choppers must obstruct the guy’s life on a daily basis.’
‘That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.’ Alice gives a firm tug of her suitcase and marches along the hall. ‘This guy could be The One, but you’ll never know if you don’t give him a chance.’
‘He’s already somebody’s One.’ I’m scuttling after Alice, battling once again with the suitcase. Alice is gliding along but my wheels aren’t playing ball and it’s a struggle pulling the suitcase in a straight line. ‘He’s married.’
‘What?’ Alice comes to a stop, which is the perfect time for my suitcase’s wheels to play nice. I only just manage to stop myself from toppling into her.
‘He’s married,’ I repeat. ‘And his poor wife is pregnant.’
Alice’s forehead furrows. ‘Son of a bucket.’
‘Yes.’ I’m glad we’re on the same page. Sort of. I’d have used an actual expletive, personally. ‘Now you see why I ripped up his business card.’
‘Absolutely.’ Her brow furrows deeper. ‘I can’t believe he hoodwinked me.’
‘It’s the teeth,’ I say as we set off again. ‘They’re pretty distracting.’
Alice huffs out another sigh as we reach the first door. She pushes it open, stepping back again when she sees the room is empty.
‘We need to find Carolyn so we can find out which rooms we’ll be staying in. Then I can give you the guided tour of the castle – and its male guests.’
Yippee, I think as I trundle after her.
‘Are we the only ones staying here?’ I whisper as we poke our heads into yet another empty room. I don’t know why I’m whispering; we haven’t seen another soul since we stepped inside.
‘It’s still quite early,’ Alice says as she leads the way to the next room. ‘People might not arrive until after lunch, maybe not even until this evening. Plus, some of the guests are only arriving on the day. Even Piers’ parents aren’t coming until Wednesday. Ah-ha!’ Using her foot to hold open the door, she motions for me to step inside, following after me.
‘Jeez.’ I look around the great hall, my jaw dropping to the ballet flats on my feet. The room is unbelievably long, with a massive, arched window at the end, reaching up to the breathtakingly high ceiling. More arched windows along one side flood the room with light.
‘This is beautiful. Stunning. Why did I ever think it was a bad idea to come here?’
