Christmas Promises at the Little Wedding Shop: Celebrate Christmas in Cornwall with this magical romance!. Jane Linfoot
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I was hoping for suggestions that weren’t going to embarrass the shit out of me. And why would a three-year-old know when I don’t?’ Typical Rory. Still the same straight A-star student, with a gaping hole when it comes to common sense. Probably why he ends up letting cars fall off cliffs and being entirely unsuitable for childcare. I mean, he’s said shit so many times even Gracie’s picking him up on it. At this rate she’s going to go home swearing like a trooper.
Poppy’s got a smile lilting about her lips as she peers out of the window. ‘Or maybe Immie might be able to help? It’s our lucky day, she’s on her way down the mews now.’
Immie grew up with us all in Rose Hill village. She may only be five foot nothing in her high- heeled Doccies, but she’s queen of spiky hair, belly laughs and straight talking. Back when we were kids she was the one tough enough and loyal enough to fight all our battles, single-handed, from the age of three onwards. Thinking about it, Rory was the one guy she failed to bring into line. When Immie squared up to him for embarrassing me, he took no notice whatsoever. And although she never did give the reason, she had to admit defeat. Which says a lot about how impossible and out of hand Rory is.
She and Poppy see each other every day now, because Immie looks after the holiday lets at Daisy Hill Farm. And Immie and her hunky new husband, Chas the fireman, live in one of Rafe’s cottages in the village, along with her son Morgan.
I laugh. ‘Brainwave. Immie’s got a teenager, she’ll definitely know about nappies.’ The one thing I assume about baby changing is it’s like riding a bike. However long it’s been, you never forget how to do it. So long as you knew in the first place. I can’t believe that there are four adults in the room and we’re all clueless.
From the way Immie’s hammering along the hall, she can’t wait to see this either. ‘Rory Sanderson, what the eff? And, hello, Holly too.’ Her husky laugh sets the chandelier jangling as she bursts in, then takes my breath away with a bear hug as she passes. ‘I spotted the beer-mobile parked up in the mews with a baby-on-board sticker.’ She pauses long enough to make an ‘OMG!’ face. ‘So I thought I’d call in and see how you were all getting on. Lovely to meet you, Gracie and Teddie. Anyone like a gender-neutral fluffy snowman to play with? Or should that be snow person?’ Immie, who’s still wearing her sparkly I’m getting married at Daisy Hill Farm t-shirt, four months after the event, hands one incredibly cute cuddly toy to Gracie and drops another on the floor next to the changing mat. Obviously bought specially. With a ton of thought and insight, seeing as Immie is studying psychology part time at uni. Then she retreats with her hands on her hips to take in the scene.
‘Isn’t there a snowman for me?’ Rory sounds like he’s used to joshing with Immie.
Immie sniffs. ‘They’re suitable for under-threes, Rory. You’ll have to grow up a bit before you have yours.’ And given she’s name perfect with the kids, she’s well briefed, as well as having Rory down to a T.
‘You two know each other too?’ There’s a lot I’ve missed out on since I was last home.
Immie pulls a face. ‘Not only does he hang round the farm incessantly with Rafe but since he got his own bottling plant, he’s always at the Goose and Duck too.’ For anyone who’s not local, that’s the pub in Rose Hill, where Immie does glass collecting in return for pints and other favours. Like catering at her wedding reception.
Poppy sends Immie and Rory a warning frown. ‘Are you going to say thank you to Immie, Gracie?’
Gracie’s pout deepens. ‘Actually, mostly I like proper snowmen … like Olaf.’
Poppy makes her voice bright. ‘Another Frozen fangirl moment there, I’m afraid, Immie. My cupcakes got the thumbs-down too. We clearly can’t win them all with a three-year-old.’
As for Rory, I’m quietly delighted to witness him being brought to his knees by two kids so fast. It’s heartening to know Rory Sanderson has an Achilles heel after all.
Rory gives a grunt. ‘From where I’m kneeling, I’d say we haven’t won any yet. But it’s very early days.’ Now he’s coming head to head with the same headstrong genes he’s got himself, he sounds less than delighted. ‘I might be temporarily troubled by the technicalities of nappy changing. But give me a couple of hours to read the manual, I’m hoping to be across the whole game.’
‘Which game’s that?’ I can’t believe I actually said that out loud either. My mouthy side is certainly working overtime today. I might have zero experience looking after children, but I’m still incredulous he can sound so sure of himself, and that he thinks this is going to be easy.
Rory gives a snort. ‘I’ve overseen billion pound corporate contracts. I’m the South West’s biggest quality wine importer. I brew barrels of magnificent pints every day. Throwing a couple of kids into the mix for a week should be child’s play.’ He stares around the circle of disbelieving expressions. ‘What? How hard can it be? It’s great you women are all crowding around to help, but I’ll be coming at this from a no-nonsense male perspective. Just watch me. I’ll crack it in no time.’
Immie makes a choking sound. ‘Snorting toad bottoms, now I’ve heard it all.’ She catches sight of Gracie’s wide-eyed surprise and grins down at her. ‘There’s nothing wrong with a woman speaking her mind. It’s important to say what you think, Gracie.’ A second later she’s picked up the mat, scooped up Teddie and plonked herself down on the grey striped bridesmaids’ chaise longue.
Rory’s jaw is sagging. ‘Whatever happened to showing me what to do?’
‘Gracie, pass me the wipes, please, a nappy and the scented bags.’ Immie shakes her head at Rory as she peels off Teddie’s wet joggers. She raises her voice over Teddie’s sudden howls. ‘In the interest of not turning Jess’s lovely shop into any more of a disaster area than you’ve already made it, you can have your tutorial back at the cottage. Meantime, get that lot folded up and back in the hold-all.’
Rory still hasn’t moved, but he’s grinning back at her. ‘A “please” might be nice. Just saying. If we’re teaching little people to be polite.’ This is exactly why he drove the teachers round the bend at school.
Immie ignores him, then turns to Gracie, who’s bobbing backwards and forwards. ‘Cream, please. Then clean trousers and hand sanitiser.’
Poppy and I have got the strewn bag contents collected and packed. Rory’s still standing where he was, as Immie shoves first the changed baby, then the snowman, into his arms.
He staggers backwards. ‘Great. Thanks for that. It looks like we’re ready to hit the road, then.’
As Teddie’s screams of protest subside, Immie gives Gracie a play punch on the arm. ‘Yay, well done, we’re Team Teddie.’
As I hook the changing bag over Rory’s shoulder, another comment slips out. ‘If you’re going to be completely manly about this you might want to get a changing bag with stripes on, or beer labels.’ I can only blame my spontaneous banter on Immie’s influence. A moment later, I’m hooking the bag of wet clothes over his finger. ‘And don’t forget this. Thirty degree wash. Cool tumble. I take it anyone who can make fabulous home brew also knows how to use a washing machine?’
From the mystified look on his face, as he backs towards the door, that’s not necessarily true. ‘Never heard of a service wash, Holly Berry? You should try them. For an extra tenner, they iron for you too.’
Which just goes to remind me – Luc did all his own ironing. And washing. Once you’ve lived with it, it’s a great quality in a guy, especially one who regularly got through four shirts a day. Although he did once go overboard and spend three hours taking every single crease out of one of my favourite crinkle silk dresses.
We’re all waving at Teddie and Gracie, who’s managed to overcome her disapproval enough to be clutching both snowmen.
Poppy shakes her head as they finally edge out into the hallway. ‘See you all