couple plan to marry on Valentine’s Day next year, exactly twenty-one years since they first met.” How about that, our Rom?’
‘Wow. That’s … erm …’
‘And there’s plenty more where that came from! Love, against the odds, couples reunited after thirty, forty, fifty years sometimes, and amazing coincidences bringing old flames back together. Don’t you know what this means?’
I had to admit, I didn’t. Nice though the story was, what did it mean for my handsome stranger and me? I didn’t have twenty years to wait for a reunion: I had a year – no, less than a year now – to find him again. ‘I’m sorry, Uncle Dud.’
‘It means it’s possible , sweetheart! There are so many people who’ve followed their heart and believed in dreams other folks have written off as plain daft – and those dreams have come up trumps! Now I’m not saying you’ve got to wait for thirty years to meet this chap again. What I’m saying is that the idea works! And if we can get it in the papers, so much the better!’
‘Let’s just see how my blog goes first,’ I suggested gently, dreading to think what lengths Uncle Dud was considering for publicising my search. ‘I don’t think I’m ready for large-scale printed public humiliation just yet.’
‘Dudley Parker, you promised me doughnuts!’ Auntie Mags called as she splodged her way irritably across the field towards us. She had Elvis in tow, resplendent in his baby-blue padded coat, and looking more than a little grateful to have his paws on terra firma .
‘And doughnuts you shall have, my love. Cup of tea as well?’
Auntie Mags took one look at the refreshment van and shuddered. ‘Not likely. I’ve a flask in the car. There’s many things I wouldn’t mind picking up here, but listeria isn’t one of them.’
As my uncle tripped away to procure doughnuts, Auntie Mags claimed his seat and beamed at me. ‘So how’s my favourite niece?’
‘Good, thanks. Cold, though.’ Elvis nudged my knee and when I reached down to pat him he curled up over my feet.
‘Yes, well, that’s what you get for indulging your uncle in a muddy field before the birds are up. I take it he’s told you about his latest findings?’
I nodded and risked a cautious sip at the lava-hot tea in my cup. ‘He’s very excited.’
‘I know.’ Auntie Mags pulled a face, but her deep love for her husband was impossible to miss. ‘I think this blog of yours could work, though. At any rate, it’ll set the ball rolling.’
She was right, of course. I remembered one of the quotes I’d copied down from Dad’s desk calendar when I was thirteen: Every journey begins with a single step . That’s what this was: the first step on the long journey ahead of me. ‘Let’s do it, then!’
As we high-fived in the middle of a muddy square of Warwickshire countryside, I had no clue of the rollercoaster ride I had unwittingly climbed aboard. If only I’d known …
Get the party started …
‘I still can’t hear anything, Jack.’
‘What do you need?’
‘Definitely drums, bit of bass and keys, please.’
Jack was hunched over the sound desk at the back of the Excelsior’s conference room, tweaking knobs and checking leads. ‘I don’t understand why you’ve got no foldback, Tom.’
‘Is it plugged in?’ Wren asked.
‘Of course it is,’ Tom retorted from the stage as I stifled a giggle. ‘I connected them all up myself.’
Charlie groaned and left his drum kit to join Jack by the sound desk.
I looked at my watch. Five thirty already and less than an hour left to attempt some kind of a sound-check before the wedding guests descended on the venue. Placing set lists around the stage, I noticed that one of the cables linking Tom’s foldback speakers was loose. I pushed the connector back into the socket and a sudden rush of noise blasted out, making him yelp in shock.
‘That’ll be the cable you connected then.’ I winked and Jack, Wren and Charlie launched
‘Wow. That’s … erm …’
‘And there’s plenty more where that came from! Love, against the odds, couples reunited after thirty, forty, fifty years sometimes, and amazing coincidences bringing old flames back together. Don’t you know what this means?’
I had to admit, I didn’t. Nice though the story was, what did it mean for my handsome stranger and me? I didn’t have twenty years to wait for a reunion: I had a year – no, less than a year now – to find him again. ‘I’m sorry, Uncle Dud.’
‘It means it’s possible , sweetheart! There are so many people who’ve followed their heart and believed in dreams other folks have written off as plain daft – and those dreams have come up trumps! Now I’m not saying you’ve got to wait for thirty years to meet this chap again. What I’m saying is that the idea works! And if we can get it in the papers, so much the better!’
‘Let’s just see how my blog goes first,’ I suggested gently, dreading to think what lengths Uncle Dud was considering for publicising my search. ‘I don’t think I’m ready for large-scale printed public humiliation just yet.’
‘Dudley Parker, you promised me doughnuts!’ Auntie Mags called as she splodged her way irritably across the field towards us. She had Elvis in tow, resplendent in his baby-blue padded coat, and looking more than a little grateful to have his paws on terra firma .
‘And doughnuts you shall have, my love. Cup of tea as well?’
Auntie Mags took one look at the refreshment van and shuddered. ‘Not likely. I’ve a flask in the car. There’s many things I wouldn’t mind picking up here, but listeria isn’t one of them.’
As my uncle tripped away to procure doughnuts, Auntie Mags claimed his seat and beamed at me. ‘So how’s my favourite niece?’
‘Good, thanks. Cold, though.’ Elvis nudged my knee and when I reached down to pat him he curled up over my feet.
‘Yes, well, that’s what you get for indulging your uncle in a muddy field before the birds are up. I take it he’s told you about his latest findings?’
I nodded and risked a cautious sip at the lava-hot tea in my cup. ‘He’s very excited.’
‘I know.’ Auntie Mags pulled a face, but her deep love for her husband was impossible to miss. ‘I think this blog of yours could work, though. At any rate, it’ll set the ball rolling.’
She was right, of course. I remembered one of the quotes I’d copied down from Dad’s desk calendar when I was thirteen: Every journey begins with a single step . That’s what this was: the first step on the long journey ahead of me. ‘Let’s do it, then!’
As we high-fived in the middle of a muddy square of Warwickshire countryside, I had no clue of the rollercoaster ride I had unwittingly climbed aboard. If only I’d known …
Get the party started …
‘I still can’t hear anything, Jack.’
‘What do you need?’
‘Definitely drums, bit of bass and keys, please.’
Jack was hunched over the sound desk at the back of the Excelsior’s conference room, tweaking knobs and checking leads. ‘I don’t understand why you’ve got no foldback, Tom.’
‘Is it plugged in?’ Wren asked.
‘Of course it is,’ Tom retorted from the stage as I stifled a giggle. ‘I connected them all up myself.’
Charlie groaned and left his drum kit to join Jack by the sound desk.
I looked at my watch. Five thirty already and less than an hour left to attempt some kind of a sound-check before the wedding guests descended on the venue. Placing set lists around the stage, I noticed that one of the cables linking Tom’s foldback speakers was loose. I pushed the connector back into the socket and a sudden rush of noise blasted out, making him yelp in shock.
‘That’ll be the cable you connected then.’ I winked and Jack, Wren and Charlie launched
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