6
Tom studiedhis reflection in the mirror. He was dressed in a navy-blue suit with matching waistcoat, a crisp white shirt, and a grey silk tie. His black shoes were polished to perfection and he’d chosen silver cufflinks inlaid with mother-of-pearl. A plain grey pocket square completed the suit.
It was Saturday morning, and he was ready to be a plus-one wedding guest—if only just in the nick of time.
The work trip to Manchester had run on a day longer than planned, thanks to some last-minute requests made by the potential new client he was there to woo, which had kept him stuck at the office revising the sales proposal in which he’d already invested many hours of work.
As his time at the Manchester office had included several other work tasks, too, he’d been hard pressed to complete the proposal revisions in time and had stayed an extra day to meet further with the potential client that his company desperately wanted to win.
By the time he’d met with them again on Friday afternoon and then accompanied the area manager and the new client to a dinner laid on to seal the deal and keep them happy, it had beenten o’clock at night before Tom had got behind the wheel of his car for the drive back down south.
He’d crawled into bed at two-thirty in the morning, exhausted from the hectic day which had started before seven. When his alarm went off at eight on Saturday morning, it had taken him a long moment to remember why on earth he’d set it in the first place, instead of allowing himself to catch up on lost sleep following the intense work trip he’d just completed.
The reason had soon dawned on him.
In just a few hours’ time, he was supposed to be his neighbour Carole’s plus-one at her cousin’s wedding.
He still had to pick up his suit from the dry cleaner’s and get a haircut at the barber’s shop before setting off at noon for the short drive to Petersfield for the wedding ceremony.
It was all doable—assuming he got a move on, which is exactly what he’d done.
Now, as he adjusted his tie in the mirror, his phone rang, and he saw Carole’s number flash up on the screen. They’d already swapped texts throughout the morning to confirm their departure time.
“Good morning,” Carole said when Tom answered the call. “Are you suited and booted for the wedding?”
“I’m ready whenever you are,” he replied.
“Excellent. Listen, I know it’s only just gone eleven o’clock, but would you mind if we get on the road sooner rather than later? My sister Jane phoned a few minutes ago to say the parking might be a bit of a nightmare around the church because of road works in the area. They got there early because my nieces are flower girls in the wedding, and Jane said they had to park half a mile away and walk back to the church. I don’t want to end up late for the wedding because we’re driving around searching for a parking space.”
“No, we definitely don’t want to be late and have to push past the bride while she’s already walking down the aisle.”
Tom grinned at the sound of Carole chuckling at his silly remark.
“Give me five minutes and I’ll meet you at my car.”
“Oh no, I’ll do the driving, Tom!”
“I’m happy to drive. It means you can enjoy a few drinks with your family to celebrate the big day.”
She hesitated before answering. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“It’s no trouble. To be honest, I was late back from my Manchester work trip last night. Actually, it was early this morning before I got home, and I doubt I could handle much more than a glass of wine, to be honest. I’m a lightweight.”
There was a murmur of laughter and a pause as she considered this. “Okay, well if you’re driving us to this wedding, then I’m driving us to the next one.”
“Deal. See you in a few minutes.”
Tom straightened his tie in the mirror, grabbed his wallet, phone and keys, and locked up the house. He was walking down the front path to where his car was parked on Foxglove Street when Carole hurried out of her house next door.
Tom did a double take, hardly recognising her. Since meeting her for the first time a few weeks ago, he’d only ever seen her in grungy leisure clothes, the ancient jeans and faded t-shirts that were every home-mover’s and DIYer’s sensible uniform of choice.
So, it came as a shock to see her now wearing a stunning blue dress and heels, with her hair falling in tumbling curls around her shoulders and with full make-up on, too.
“Wow, you look terrific, Carole,” Tom said.
“Thanks,” she said, a smile lighting up her face as she checked him out in turn. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”
Tom opened the passenger door for her and then walked round to the other side and got in behind the wheel. As he started the car, he was amused to find Carole already kicking off her shoes.
