Chapter Four #2
‘Is there anything particular I can help you with, or are you just browsing?’ the redhead went on. ‘If there’s anything specific you’re after, then I can either order it or make it for you.’
‘Make it?’ Imogen asked. ‘Which bits did you make?’
‘The notebooks – that’s where I started out. The shop has only been open since the summer, but it’s doing well so far. Nearly all of the notebooks are handmade, which means I can make anything you want – the notebook of your dreams – depending on how long you’re here.’
‘I don’t … I’m not sure yet,’ Imogen admitted.
‘Don’t forget the wedding notebooks, Sophie,’ the customer prompted quietly. She had a kind, pretty face and intelligent brown eyes, but what she said made Imogen freeze.
‘Wedding notebooks?’ Her voice came out as a scratch.
The redhead – Sophie – frowned. ‘I’ve agreed to make notebooks as wedding favours for all my wedding guests.
One of those things that seems like a good idea at the time, then turns out to be a lot more work than you imagined.
But it wouldn’t stop me from making you a notebook, if you know what you want? ’
‘That’s … thank you. That’s kind.’ Imogen laughed nervously, trying to settle her heart rate after the mention of weddings.
‘Are you all right?’ the brown-haired woman asked.
‘I’m fine.’ Her gaze snagged on a lime-green notebook with hot pink edges, a matching pen attached with an elastic holder. ‘That one’s lovely.’
‘It’s one of my new ones,’ Sophie said. ‘But if you wanted a different colour combination, I could do that too.’ She glanced at the other woman, who was frowning. ‘I’m sure I could fit one extra one in before the wedding, May.’
‘You need to enjoy it,’ the brown-haired woman, May, replied. ‘You don’t want to end up being too stressed, too tied up doing things for other people, to relish the run-up to your own wedding. You’re getting married to Harry, who you adore.’
Sophie’s smile lit up her whole face, her love for her fiancé clear, and Imogen’s stomach clenched unpleasantly.
‘I think I’d better …’ she edged towards the door, craving the cold, fresh air.
‘Sorry.’ Sophie’s smile slipped. ‘Are you sure you’re OK? Keep browsing if you want to – ignore us. It’s just hard not to talk about it, even in front of customers. I never thought this would be me – the blushing bride.’ She laughed.
Imogen tried a smile. ‘I’m really happy for you. Congratulations.’
‘You’ve gone pale,’ May said, a neat furrow appearing between her brows. ‘Do you need to sit down?’
‘Oh no, I’ll just … I’ll come back later.’
‘If you’re sure?’ Sophie said. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.
’ Imogen closed her eyes for a second. Her first foray into Mistingham, and she’d already offended someone.
‘You haven’t at all,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.
It’s just that …’ She knew that any gossip made its way swiftly around the Mistingham locals, and her appearance on Friday hadn’t exactly been low-key. ‘I ran away from my wedding.’
The words were met with a beat of deathly silence, then May said, ‘You did?’
‘Yup. On Friday – two days ago.’ She took a breath, had another go at a smile. ‘I’m Birdie’s granddaughter, Imogen. When I ran away from the church, she was the only person I wanted to see, and this seemed like a good place to hide.’
‘Goodness,’ Sophie said. ‘That can’t have been easy. But Birdie’s wonderful, I’m sure she’ll look after you, and it’s lovely to meet a relative of hers. I’m Sophie, and this is May.’
May gave her a little wave.
‘It’s good to meet you,’ Imogen said. ‘And I really don’t mean to put a dampener on your wedding excitement.
’ She sighed. ‘Lucy and Artichoke found me, just outside the station when I got here, and Dexter drove me to Birdie’s.
They were both so kind, but I’m not naive enough to think word won’t get around that I pitched up here in a wedding dress on Halloween. ’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ Sophie said. ‘Mistingham does a great line in gossip, but most of the people here have good intentions and kind hearts.’
‘I live with Sophie and Harry in Mistingham Manor,’ May said, ‘and you can just imagine what sort of talk that resulted in. But people move on, they find something else to focus on.’
‘You’re Harry’s best friend, you were living with him before I moved in, and you’re insisting on moving out after the wedding,’ Sophie said. She turned to Imogen. ‘Basically, don’t worry what anyone else says. Focus on what you need, which is some TLC from the sound of things.’
Imogen nodded. ‘I feel completely at sea. And it’s such a small thing, but I thought a new notebook would help. Somewhere I can make sense of everything that’s happened.’
‘Sophie advocates for that wholeheartedly,’ May said. ‘And if you want any distractions, there’s a lot going on here in the run-up to Christmas – besides Sophie and Harry’s wedding.’
‘There’s usually the Christmas Oak Fest,’ Sophie said, ‘but this year the long-term forecast is so bad for late December, so we’re having a rethink about how we’re going to celebrate. Whatever we end up with, it’ll need a lot of people to help organize it.’
‘I don’t know how long I’m going to be here yet,’ Imogen admitted.
‘But I’d love to know more about your wedding, Sophie.
’ She still agreed wholeheartedly in people getting married if they loved each other; if they were feeling entirely positive about it.
She just knew that hers hadn’t been right, and it was nobody’s fault but her own that she’d got so close to saying ‘yes’ to the wrong man.
She didn’t want these women, who had already been so kind, to avoid her while she was here because they felt awkward around her.
‘Tell me all about it while I pay for my notebook, and I’d love the matching pen, too. ’
Sophie and May’s smiles widened, and Imogen felt the familiar pleasure of having made people’s lives easier. That was what she was best at, and she was sure she could find her way back to it, once she’d worked out how to deal with the fallout from the last few, horrifying days.