The Daughters Of Red Hill Hall. Kathleen McGurl
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admit. It fitted her perfectly, showed off her lovely legs and curvy waist, and her long black hair was stunning against the glittery top half. ‘Wow. That’s just amazing on you, Nat. Show me the price tag?’
Nat twisted so that Gemma could peer at the label hanging from the zip at the back. ‘There’s no price on it.’
‘I guess, if you have to ask…’ Nat rolled her eyes dramatically and peeled the dress off. Gemma had a fit of the giggles at Nat’s eye-roll, and Nat soon joined in. This was more like it, Gemma thought. The whole shopping trip should have been a girlie giggle, rather than all the snide comments and snippiness. Perhaps Nat’s hangover had finally worn off. It was good to end the day on a high note.
‘What’s the verdict, ladies?’ asked the sales assistant when they exited the changing room.
‘I don’t like the black one on me. The peacock is nice, but aren’t peacock feathers supposed to be bad luck? I’m not sure I could wear it, for that reason. Something awful might happen to me. I’d be constantly fearing for my safety.’ Nat breezed out of the shop. Gemma hurried after her, one hand clamped over her mouth to hold back the laughter that threatened to erupt. The shopping trip had certainly ended on a high.
That evening, Gemma rang her parents to tell them of her engagement. They were as delighted as she’d expected they’d be. Her mother immediately started planning the guest list while her father jokingly grumbled that he supposed he’d have to buy a new suit, even though he’d just retired.
Later, Ben came round to Gemma’s flat for a meal. She’d offered to cook fajitas for him. Their first meal together as an engaged couple! She sang along to Ed Sheeran’s Thinking Out Loud as she chopped onions and peppers. Perhaps they should have that song as the first dance at their wedding? It was so romantic; it was definitely one of her favourites. She’d ask Ben later what he thought. He’d probably agree. Dear old Ben, he was generally happy to go along with what other people wanted. Gemma knew already that the wedding preparations would be largely up to her to decide upon. Although no doubt her mum would want to get involved.
She had the tiny table in her kitchen set, the food chopped and ready to quickly cook, and a bottle of wine open when her flat doorbell rang. Why didn’t Ben use his key? She’d given him one years ago. As she went to let him in she wondered why they’d never moved in together. They’d idly discussed it on a few occasions, but neither of their flats was really big enough for two people with many years of accumulated possessions. They’d both have had to sell up and buy something bigger together. Well, now they were going to get married they’d have to do that anyway. Gemma would miss her cosy little flat but was sure that she could make a house she shared with Ben just as comfortable and cosy.
‘Hey, gorgeous!’ Ben leaned over and kissed her as she opened the door. ‘My fiancée, no less! Mrs McArthur to be. Looking good, girl!’
‘Come on in, Mr Rowling,’ Gemma said, giggling.
‘That’s a bit progressive! I don’t mind if you don’t take my name but not sure I’d take yours. Well, something smells good.’ Ben shrugged off his leather jacket and hung it on a coat hook.
Gemma handed him a glass of wine. ‘Shiraz all right for you?’
‘Anything, darling, you know me. So, how did the girlie shopping trip go today? Did you get your outfit for Anna’s wedding sorted?’
Gemma grimaced. ‘No. I’ll have to look again some other time. Nat tried on loads of stuff but I don’t think she’s made up her mind what she wants.’
‘Did you tell her our news? Bet she was delighted, wasn’t she?’ Ben grinned at her expectantly. She chewed her lip as she decided how to answer him.
‘Well. Yes, she was pleased for us.’
‘You don’t sound too sure of that. What did she say?’
Gemma shook her head. ‘She didn’t say much. That was the funny thing about her reaction. She just didn’t seem to want to talk about it or to let me tell her anything much about it. She didn’t even want to know how you proposed.’ Gemma brushed away a stray tear that had come unbidden to her eye. ‘It’s not the reaction I was expecting from my best mate.’
‘Aw, Gem.’ Ben moved over to her and wrapped his arms around her. ‘Don’t be upset. Perhaps she was having an off day.’
‘She was hung-over. She tried to pull a bloke who turned out to be gay last night.’
‘Oops!’ Ben gave a snort of laughter. ‘That is so like her.’
‘But even so, no matter how bad she felt, she could have at least said congratulations, couldn’t she? She wasn’t feeling so bad she couldn’t manage an afternoon trailing round the shops.’ The more Gemma thought about it, the more bitter she felt. Why hadn’t Nat hugged her and squealed and been excited for her? She would have, if their positions were reversed.
‘Very odd behaviour,’ Ben agreed. ‘Wonder what’s up with her?’
‘No idea.’ Gemma shrugged and went back into the kitchen to get on with the cooking. Ben followed her in, bringing his wine. ‘Frankly, Ben, it pissed me off. I mean, it’s the biggest and best thing that’s ever happened to me, after meeting you in the first place of course, so for her to just ignore me when I tell her we’re getting married is really hurtful.’ Gemma threw the vegetables she’d chopped earlier into the frying pan where they sizzled and spat violently.
‘I’m sure she didn’t mean to hurt you. Is that pan too hot?’ Ben reached over her and turned the gas down a little.
He had a point. Gemma realised she’d spattered oil all over her favourite T-shirt. ‘Bugger, look at me.’
‘I wonder if she’s jealous,’ Ben said. ‘Perhaps you laid it on a bit thick and came across too smug. Some single people hate couples just because they’re not part of one.’
‘I didn’t get the chance to lay it on too thick!’ Gemma retorted. ‘I mean, I barely had chance to say anything about it, apart from that you’d proposed and I’d said yes. She just didn’t want to know.’ She flung the chopped chicken into the pan along with the vegetables. It wasn’t sizzling enough now, so she turned the heat up again.
Ben held his hands up in submission. ‘Hey, I know you wouldn’t have rubbed it in. Maybe she’ll be all right with it next time you see her or talk to her – when she’s had chance to think about it a little. She’ll be as excited as you are, I bet.’ He caught Gemma’s eye. ‘You are still excited about it, aren’t you? Not having second thoughts?’
She laid down the wooden spoon she’d been stirring the fajita mix with, and put her arms around his neck. ‘Course I’m still excited. Nothing I want more than to get married to you, silly.’ She stretched up and kissed him, long and lingering. His hands ran up and down her back, pulling her close. She felt as though she was where she belonged. In his arms, safe and secure, where nothing else mattered.
A sudden deafening beeping caused them to separate. ‘Argh, the smoke detector!’ Gemma said, grabbing a tea towel and flicking it frantically under the detector.
Ben turned the gas down, put the extractor on, and opened the kitchen window. ‘Thought you had the pan too hot,’ he said.
‘I’ve ruined it,’ Gemma said, feeling close to tears. Her first attempt at cooking for her new fiancé and she’d managed to smoke out the flat. And she was usually so super careful about the oven and hob, checking several times that the gas was off before leaving the flat, for example. Now she couldn’t even cook a simple stir-fry. What a failure she was.
‘No, it’s fine – look.’ Ben was stirring the mix. ‘My fault. I got carried away there, snogging you. So, actually, it is your fault after all for being so flipping irresistible. You go and sit down and I’ll finish this off. And no more worrying about what Nat does or doesn’t think about our engagement. All right?’