Page 39 of The Wedding Cake
“Do not mention his name!”
“I’m sorry.” Hannah let out a deep sigh. “I wish you would let me explain but I respect your decision. Listen.” Freya peeped through the gaps in her hands to see Hannah taking a seat of her own accord. “I… what it is… there’s something I need to tell you, okay? And it’s something that very few people know because historically, when they’ve found out, they’ve treated me, treatedus –differently.”
Now Freya gave Hannah her full attention.
“I come from a family of witches.”
Freya let out a gasp of astonishment and immediately regretted sounding so judgemental. The very thing she had reprimanded the woman in front of her for being, herself mere moments ago. “Oh, right. I see.”
“We’re the good sort. I promise. To cut a very long and gruesome story short, sadly, some of my ancestors were trialled at Lancaster during the atrocious witch hunts.”
Freya’s heart sank at this news. She’d recently read a historical women’s fiction series that depicted the hideousness of that period.
“Unfairly and beyond inhumanely.” Freya could see the pain in Hannah’s eyes. A suffering that had been handed down the generations. “All we use is herbs and plants to help others.” Just like the women in Freya’s book. She felt queasy. “But every once in a while the temptation to right wrongs on other people’s behalf is overwhelming. I know I might end up paying the price if Mother Nature disagrees with my actions, but sometimes I have to take a calculated risk. What I did came from the heart. Tim needed rescuing. Can you imagine how messy his life would have been if…?”
“Hannah, I hear you,” Freya cut her off. “But the cake knocked Piper out, according to Merv. What if it had gone to the other wedding by mistake and one of the children had eaten it?”
“I weighed the likelihood of that scenario up, believe me. As long as I went along with Ricky to assist with the delivery, I knew that couldn’t happen.”
“Valerian on its own is one thing, but valerian with alcohol is a potent concoction! I may not be into herbal remedies but…”
“That’s where I completely screwed up. I kind of assumed clean eaters don’t drink alcohol.”
Freya remained silent. Clueless as to what to say next.
“I did what I had to do. But it was more than that, Freya. I’ve felt the chemistry between you and Tim. You’re peas in a pod, made for each other. It would have been disastrous to let him marr—”
Freya put up a hand to stop Hannah in her tracks. There was no point dredging up the details of the day. She’d cut off Merv when he’d claimed on the phone the wedding had been a shambles too. Were Merv and Hannah in some kind of cahoots, trying to tell her what she wanted to hear, now Tim and Piper were loved up and embarking on their honeymoon? Nothing would surprise Freya anymore.
“I won’t blame you for firing me.”
Freya examined the cold hard facts: she was a hypocrite. If she’d conducted herself professionally when Tim visited for the taste test, none of this would have happened. “I don’t think it needs to come to that.”
“But how can you keep me on board? How can you trust me? I’ve let the whole team down.”
“Do you know what, Hannah? The old Freya would have agreed with you, because she’d have brushed her own dodgy deeds under the carpet. But the new Freya’s had a bit of an upgrade.”
Hannah looked Freya up and down as if she’d missed a trick.
“Oh, not outwardly. But inwardly. I’ve made a decision. I’m stepping back from FOM to gradually hand the business over to Ricky, with the caveat that nobody discusses their love life (or lack thereof) on the premises ever again, that both members of the bridal party always show up for a taste test in person, all of my staff keep their current positions… and you are made general manager.”
TIM
Tim banged on Freya’s apartment door so hard and for so long that he couldn’t believe he hadn’t gothimselfbanged up. Alas, there was no answer. He slid to the floor in defeat. And there he’d stay in a pathetic, lovelorn heap, until Freya came back from wherever she’d gone.
ALICE
All good things must come to an end, and that applies to all good – but totally roller coaster –weddings. Alice definitely needed a honeymoon to get over the last twenty-four hours.
Tim hadn’t come back that night, or the next morning. She’d seriously hoped he hadn’t gone off and done anything stupid, but his parents had reassured Alice of his safety, and the need for a few days away to regroup. And, at the end of the day, she could only control her own life. She might now be a married woman but it didn’t give her any more influence over River (not that she was the domineering type), so how could she possibly have any impact on a relative stranger like Tim, and his movements? She had to let it go and be thankful that her own wedding had happened, appreciating every moment of the honeymoon without feeling guilty because others had been less fortunate.
Freya had sent her images of all the typically English traybakes she’d be providing, once she returned from her Sierra sojourn. Alice definitely wasn’t hungry after the vast quantities of food and drink she’d enjoyed over the past few days, but just looking at the photos of Bakewell tart, flapjacks, Terry’s chocolate orange brownies, St Clement’s squares, and gin and tonic cake, her mouth couldn’t help but water. Until then, she planned to enjoy the last few days with her family and friends at the finca, and her first few days as Mrs. Jackson…
FREYA
Freya checked into her rural accommodation at the stroke of midnight, just as the grumpy receptionist was about to clock off, and promptly fell backwards onto her double bed, trying not to think about the opulent one Tim would be lying in now with a certain woman on top of him. It was a bit of an extravagance running away like this at the last minute in peak tourist season (and peak wedding season) but if she didn’t physically remove herself from the Costa del Sol for a couple of days, she’d lose the plot. Here in the mountains she could hike in conviviality with sensible people who probably did sensible things like rambling and eating organic granola for breakfast – as opposed to falling for their clients.
There were two choices of walks the next day. One left at the crack of dawn –no, gracias– and the other at five p.m. as the sun slowly started to weaken. Freya opted for the latter, enjoying a late breakfast of coffee, fruit and yoghurt on her terrace overlooking the forest – grateful she’d snuck a couple of pieces of the epic gin and tonic traybake she’d trialled into her rucksack. She’d already registered for the trek through wild boar country and would try to whittle down the stack of books on her Kindle in the meantime.
