Maddy’s Christmas Wedding (Little Duck Pond Cafe #37)

CHAPTER ONE

Fairytale of New York was playing in the Swan Hotel bar as I took a sip of my wine and looked around, admiring the sparkle and tinsel and the fairy lights winking prettily on the Christmas tree by the bar.

Maddy had organised this girls’ night out and if I wasn’t feeling festive before, I definitely was now.

A hen party was in full swing, the bride-to-be in a frothy white mini dress, cute veil and suspenders, while her friends were dressed as sexy cowgirls.

They’d been embracing the party spirit with admirable enthusiasm ever since we’d arrived, although one of the hens – a cheery-looking girl with curly red hair and dimples – was now doing her best to get her friends to drink up so they could move on somewhere else. The Swan Hotel bar in Sunnybrook was clearly just one stop on their route.

‘Come on, girls,’ she urged now. ‘It’s twenty minutes in the limo to Guildford. We don’t want to lose our table, do we?’

‘Ooh, yes. Quick. Hang on to the table, girls,’ giggled one of the other hens, clutching it and making the glasses clink together dangerously. ‘Before it has a chance to escape.’

I felt for the red-haired girl. Food was definitely needed here to mop up the alcohol. But as a burst of raucous laughter made other customers in the bar turn towards them in tolerant amusement, it was clear to me that the waiting stretch limo parked outside would have to . . . well, wait . . .

‘Another drink, Laurel?’ Maddy nudged me.

‘No, I’m fine just now. Actually . . . would you like the rest of my wine?’ I held up the glass, which was half-full.

I’d long had an aversion to the smell of alcohol – a result of growing up with a mum who drank constantly, before I was taken into care and adopted at the age of eleven – but having recently begun making peace with my past, I’d decided to try a glass of wine on the girls’ night out Maddy had organised. And I’d found myself quite enjoying it. But it was probably best to pace myself.

‘I’m obviously not used to drinking and it’s gone straight to my head,’ I explained with a grin.

Maddy didn’t say a word. She just nodded, picked up my glass and drank the whole thing down in one go. ‘I’ll get you an orange juice,’ she said, slurring her words slightly.

‘Whoa! Getting in training for your own hen party?’ joked Katja, indicating the two empty wine glasses next to Maddy.

I glanced anxiously at Maddy. I had a feeling she was drinking to squash down her fears over her dad. But I couldn’t say anything because no one was supposed to know that he was getting tests at the hospital for a condition that was potentially life-changing.

It was all so awkward.

I’d been clearing out the walk-in-cupboard at the Little Duck Pond Café, where I worked, when I’d inadvertently overheard Maddy talking to her dad in the kitchen. He’d been having problems with his balance and it had been clear from their conversation that he’d been undergoing tests at the hospital to find out what was going on with his health, and a possible diagnosis of Huntington’s disease had been mentioned. I’d been about to clear my throat and walk out, desperate not to eavesdrop on their conversation, when Maddy’s dad, Barry, had said something that made me stop in my tracks.

‘Maddy, no one – and I mean absolutely no one – can know about this, okay?’ he’d said, in a tone that brooked no argument.

Maddy had mumbled something I didn’t catch, and then Barry said, ‘You know now. And so does your mum and your sisters. But we need to keep this to ourselves.’

‘Okay.’

‘Promise me, Maddy.’ He’d sounded stern. ‘I’ll be furious if I hear you’ve told the staff here or any of your other friends.’

As I’d stood there, frozen to the spot and holding my breath – praying I wouldn’t be discovered – Barry had explained that he didn’t want people looking at him differently, as ‘that poor guy who has Huntington’s disease’ and I understood perfectly why he wanted to keep such shocking news in the family for now.

I’d Googled Huntington’s later that night and it didn’t make for comforting reading.

It was a neurological condition that stopped parts of the brain working properly over time, and the earliest symptoms included stumbling and clumsiness. I’d thought back to when Barry had accidentally knocked into a table holding a fabulous croquembouche at the recent meeting of The Pudding Club, and I’d felt tears prick my eyes. The tower of profiteroles had crashed to the floor and poor Barry had been absolutely mortified. (And there I was, thinking of him as ‘poor Barry’ which he absolutely didn’t want.) There was currently no cure for Huntington’s. His condition would only worsen over time.

No wonder Maddy was finding it hard to come to terms with it. She’d promised her dad she’d keep the news to herself, so she couldn’t even talk to her closest friends about it and that must be really hard. I didn’t blame her at all for trying to find a little relief in a few glasses of wine. It was a natural reaction.

The others were talking about the honeymoon – two weeks in Antigua! – and of course the upcoming wedding, and Jaz was joking that Maddy was going to be a bag of nerves walking down the aisle to meet Jack.

‘No, she won’t be,’ said Fen. ‘She’ll be a blissfully happy bride not a nervous one.’ She smiled at Maddy. ‘You’ve got your lovely dad to walk you down the aisle and keep you calm.’

‘True.’ Jaz’s expression changed. ‘Is he all right, Maddy? No lasting damage after his accident at Sylvia’s party?’

Barry had fallen off a stool at the eightieth birthday party and hit head, and I’d taken the family to A&E, which was when his problems with his balance would have been relayed to the doctors there.

Maddy shook her head. ‘No, no. Just superficial injuries. Nothing to worry about. He’s fine now.’

‘That’s such a relief,’ murmured Fen, squeezing Maddy’s arm. ‘Worrying about your mum or dad is bad enough at the best of times, but with the wedding so close now, you want to be able to enjoy your big day –’

‘He’s fine.’ Maddy stood up abruptly. ‘Right, well, if no one else wants another drink, I feel in the mood for one of those fancy gins.’ I followed her slightly unsteady progress, grimacing anxiously as she knocked into an empty table and almost sent a glass flying.

Maybe I should confess to her that I’d heard her conversation with her dad? Then I could at least be a neutral shoulder to cry on? Or would that only make the situation worse? (She might be worried that I’d told the secret to other people – which of course I hadn’t.)

The hen party on the other side of the bar was growing noisier by the minute and making everyone laugh, which distracted me for a while. One of the girls was on her feet doing what looked like an hilarious belly dance and putting everyone’s drinks in danger as her hips swung against the table.

When Maddy returned with her pink gin, she was smiling.

She put her glass down on the table but remained standing. ‘Right, girls, if I could have your attention, please?’ She glared across at the hen party, having to raise her voice to be heard. ‘Because I have an announcement to make.’

Everyone stopped talking and looked at her, and my stomach plunged with uncertainty.

Was she about to tell everyone what was really going on with her dad? Against his express wishes? If he found out, he wouldn’t be pleased. And that was an understatement.

‘So . . . I invited you to join me at the pub tonight because . . .’

A big grin spread over her face as we waited in suspense. ‘You’re all invited on my hen do, which you already knew. But what you didn’t know for sure was the destination.’

She raised her glass. ‘Girls, pack your warmest clothes and your toughest boots. We’re all off for a three-night break to . . . Lapland!’