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

CHAPTER TEN

‘So are you really serious about that house we went to see?’ I asked Ellie, as I grabbed my coat and got ready to meet Marcus for lunch. He’d called the night before and suggested Carlo’s in the village, which had been a lovely surprise. ‘I mean, the house is lovely but it’ll need complete redecoration and a new kitchen and bathroom. And the gardens are a mess. Plus, it can’t be cheap, a four-bed detached house like that.’

‘Actually, the price is extremely reasonable for what you get. And I’m not exactly averse to hard work.’

I nodded somewhat doubtfully. ‘It just seems an awful lot of work when you’re so busy with the café and the glamping site. I mean, you’ve just finished decorating your rental.’

She smiled. ‘Funnily enough, it’s because of the glamping venture that we’re able to consider buying. It’s been doing really well, and even now – going into winter – we’re still making good profits. So anyway, we’ve been saving for a deposit on a house for a while now.’

‘Oh, right. Great!’

She nodded. ‘It’s always been our plan to move out of rented and buy a place of our own – and well, I just think this might be it.’

‘But Zak doesn’t know?’

‘Only because he was away when I saw it had come up for sale.’

‘But he’s back now and you still haven’t taken him to see it?’

‘I think I’m worried he’ll think it’s a daft idea, buying a house in the middle of nowhere.’ She frowned. ‘I suppose I’m scared he’ll pour cold water on the whole idea.’

I shrugged. ‘But he might not. He might love it as much as you do. And let’s face it, if it’s such a good price, you’d be best putting in an offer sooner rather than later, otherwise someone else is likely to snap it up.’

‘Oh, don’t say that.’ She looked genuinely panic-stricken.

‘Sorry, but you did want me to be honest.’

She grinned. ‘That’s true. Thanks, Maddy, for your invaluable advice. And listen, I’m really glad your dad’s okay.’

‘Thank you. I mean, he’s not totally okay. It’s a lifelong condition that he has.’

‘But it’s a condition that can be managed and it isn’t nearly as bad as you originally thought.’

‘Thank goodness. I can actually look forward to the wedding again now.’

‘Oh, we’re all looking forward to the wedding of the year.’ She smiled warmly. Then she glanced at the clock on the café wall. ‘Hey, you’d better get going or you’ll be late meeting Marcus.’

As I walked across the village green to meet him at the restaurant, I thought about Ellie’s shining face when she talked about the house. Would Zak pour cold water on the idea? Maybe it was wise that he should. I’d got the idea that his career as a writer didn’t exactly produce a regular income. It all depended on sales, and some months were good and some not so good. Ellie’s café and bakery businesses had similar peaks and troughs. Was it really a good idea to get a mortgage when you couldn’t predict your earnings from one month to the next?

Also, it was quite unlike Ellie to get carried away like this . . . to get all starry-eyed about a house. She was usually quite practical, especially about financial matters, but it was clear to me that she was allowing her heart to rule her head over this one. I suddenly remembered her buying the new Christmas tree for the café. We were at the garden centre and it was a sale price but it still seemed a small fortune to pay for a fake tree that only came out for a few months every year. I had to admit it was a really beautiful tree, with ‘snow’ clinging to its branches – just like one of the snow-covered fir trees in the photographs of Lapland I’d been looking at – but even so . . .

Ellie, however, had taken one look at that tree and fallen in love with it, declaring she had to have it because Maisie would love it. She’d handed over her credit card as easily as if she was buying a set of Christmas baubles.

Deep down, I had a nagging feeling I knew what was behind all of this. It seemed like displacement activity to me.

Ellie and Zak had been trying for a baby for a long time, without any success. They’d had several attempts at IVF, which I knew had really taken their toll on Ellie, physically and emotionally. But she’d confided to me earlier in the year that there would be no more IVF cycles. In effect, their journey was at an end, and I’d felt so sad for them.

They’d dreamed of giving eleven-year-old Maisie a sibling, but it wasn’t to be.

Was Ellie trying to cope with the emotional pain by occupying her mind with other things? Like making Christmas perfect for Maisie, her stepdaughter, who she couldn’t have adored more if she’d actually given birth to her?

And was buying ‘the house of her dreams’ also a way of filling the sad void that was left when their baby hopes were dashed?

*****

Marcus, who was my biological dad, was going to be one of my ushers. He was brilliant on the radio, a real showman, and he was much the same in real life. Always funny and the life and soul of every party. I was proud to have him as my ‘second dad’.

But he could be very scatty and disorganised at times.

I’d tasked him with buying a particular waistcoat for the wedding, but he’d gone and bought a red tartan one instead of the purple tartan I’d specified. I’d gone back to the shop and exchanged it myself and I’d been trying to catch him to hand it over (so I could tick one more thing off my endless wedding list) but for some reason he was being annoyingly elusive.

He’d been ‘in a meeting’ when I’d called in at Radio Daydream a few days ago, so I told the receptionist Bryony that I was happy to wait. She got on the internal phone and I heard her have a brief conversation, presumably with Marcus, and I was expecting her to smile and tell me he wouldn’t long.

‘He says he might be a while, but he’ll phone you later?’ she said when she hung up.

‘Oh. Right.’ I was a little bemused because Marcus never usually wasted an opportunity to see me. It must be a very important meeting.

I didn’t think anything of it, though. Marcus always phoned when he said he would. He was good like that. I’d speak to him later and we could arrange to meet up for a coffee or something . . .

But then he didn’t phone ‘later’, which really wasn’t like him at all. And when I tried to contact him the following day, his phone was switched off. I was starting to worry, when finally he called, apologised for being ridiculously busy and suggested we meet up for lunch.

‘Great! When?’

‘Tomorrow? Carlo’s? My treat.’

‘Tomorrow it is. Marcus?’

‘Yes?’

‘Are you okay? You sound a bit . . . down.’ He definitely wasn’t his usual bouncy, ebullient self. But if he’d been really busy lately, maybe he was just tired?

He laughed. ‘Me? Down? No way. Life is good. See you tomorrow.’

*****

When I arrived at the restaurant, Marcus was already there.

He was sitting with his arms folded on the table, staring into space, and when I waved, he didn’t see me at first. When he finally did, he stood up so abruptly, he had to reach round and stop his chair from falling over.

I’d got there a few minutes late, and was concentrating on taking my coat off quickly, so when he moved towards me and tried to hug me, he took me by surprise and we ended up bumping heads and laughing awkwardly.

I looked at the bottle on the table. ‘That’s a very posh wine for lunch.’

‘Ah, well, nothing but the best for my favourite daughter.’

‘I’m your only daughter, Marcus, but thanks.’ I grinned at him. ‘Your only daughter – who just happens to be tying the knot in a few short weeks and is so excited, she might be about to burst.’

‘You look radiant. Just like a bride-to-be.’

I laughed. ‘This glow is actually down to the fact that I ran all the way here from the café.’ I flumped down in my seat with a sigh. ‘I feel exhausted to be honest. The last few weeks have been . . . ugh!’ I shuddered.

He sat back down, pulling his chair in and leaning forward. ‘Why? What’s been happening?’

So I told him about Dad having tests and how we were imagining all sorts of terrible things that might be wrong with him. But that the condition he had could be controlled with medication.

‘Well, I’m glad the news was better than you were expecting,’ said Marcus. ‘Tell Barry I’m asking after him, and I’ll see him on the big day.’

‘I will.’ I beamed at him, feeling so happy and light-hearted that things – and specifically the wedding – were going to be okay now, after all. ‘I’d been all prepared to call off the wedding if Dad hadn’t been up for it. I mean, there’s no way I’d be doing it without him walking me down the aisle. Every girl needs her dad there on the big day.’

Marcus tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace, and I suddenly realised what I’d said. Talk about putting my foot in it.

‘I mean, obviously I’m really lucky because I have two dads,’ I blustered. ‘And it’ll be so great having you there as well to support me, as one of our ushers.’

He nodded. ‘I can’t wait. It’s going to be a really great day.’

‘I hope so. And I’m so grateful for your financial support as well.’ Marcus had insisted on footing the bill for the elegant menu we’d chosen for the reception. I frowned at him. ‘Why didn’t you come to the switching-on ceremony the other night, by the way? Josh said you had a meeting or something?’

‘What?’ He looked confused for a moment. ‘Oh, yes. My meeting. Yes.’ His shoulders seemed to slump at the memory.

‘Marcus, are you all right? You seem a bit . . . distracted? Are things okay?’

He swallowed hard. ‘Well, actually, I arranged this lunch because . . . well, I wanted to talk to you about something.’

‘Oh, don’t tell me. I know what it is!’

‘You do?’

‘Yes. You absolutely hate the purple tartan waistcoat and you want all the guys to wear red tartan ones instead,’ I joked.

I’d been expecting him to banter back but he didn’t laugh and my heart lurched with foreboding. ‘Is it to do with the wedding? What you wanted to talk to me about?’

He sighed. ‘Kind of.’

‘Oh, hell, is it the bill for the wedding breakfast? Has it arrived?’ I stared at him anxiously. ‘Because honestly, if it’s too expensive, we can always look at choosing a simpler menu.’ I dug my hands into my hair, my brain racing. ‘As far as I remember, there was a menu for about half the cost and I thought at the time that it seemed really lovely. I mean, who needs fancy, elaborate dishes? Lots of people don’t even like fussy food. They prefer to eat plain things. So why don’t we –?’

‘Maddy.’ Marcus grabbed my hand. ‘Stop.’

I stared at him. He’d turned the same shade of white as the paper napkins in a glass on the table. ‘What is it? It can’t be that bad.’

He sighed heavily. ‘There’s something you need to know, Maddy.’

Fen