Revenge of the Wedding Planner by Sharon Owens Page A

loves fish and chips, you see. That’s his favourite treat and I was trying to keep things as normal as possible for him while Emma made up her mind about their future. All three of them. Hers, Alexander’s and the bambino’s.
    ‘Mags? What’s happened to you?’ Gary said crossly. ‘I’m standing here at the lighthouse and there’s nobody in. I brought coffee and cakes. And you’ve got people waiting! They’re awfully cross with you. Come all the way from Dublin, so they say.’
    ‘Oh, God, that must be my three o’clock appointment, come early,’ I said, closing my eyes.
    I’d forgotten all about them.
    The couple from Dublin, not my eyes.
    ‘The motorway’s much improved,’ I added feebly. ‘Um, can I take a rain check on the lunch, Gary? Sorry. My father has died and my son needs to talk to me about something extremely important.’
    ‘Oh, I am sorry,’ he said at once, ‘to hear about your father.’
    ‘Thank you. Listen, I’ll call you tonight if I have time, to talk about Julie. Okay? And by the way, could you please tell those people from Dublin I’ll give them a buzz tomorrow evening and we’ll arrange another appointment?’
    ‘Okay, Mags,’ he said. ‘How did he die?’
    ‘Suddenly,’ I said. ‘His heart stopped.’
    Which was rather stating the obvious, I daresay. I mean, is there any other way of dying?
    ‘I’m sorry for your trouble.’ Gary sighed.
    What a gentleman.
    ‘Thanks. Bye.’
    Then I dropped my mobile on the stone floor and broke it.
    ‘Shit!’ I said, looking hopelessly at the pieces.
    ‘Mum,’ said Alexander, somehow having managed to filter out the fact that his maternal grandfather had expired in rather tragic circumstances, ‘I love Emma so much, I don’t think I can live without her. How long does it take if you swallow tablets? And do you go to sleep before it hurts?’
    ‘What?’
    My heart twanged in and out again, like a cartoon heart falling in love. Could my six-foot tall, gorgeous , firstborn son really be this serious about that skinny little waif, I wondered. It seemed that he could. I was overwhelmed with fear.
    ‘Don’t even say something silly like that, my darling,’ I scolded him lightly, as if I thought he was only joking.‘Of course you can live without her. She’s always been very moody, I have to say. Moody little Emma and her designer shoes! Her feet pampered out of it and her poor wee tummy starved. Plenty more fish in the sea, love. That reminds me, have a small piece of this lovely cod before it gets cold. Where’s the vinegar, darling? They didn’t put enough on mine. Did you fetch it from the cupboard? I can’t eat chips if they haven’t got lashings of vinegar on them. No, you start eating. I’ll get it. Oh, doesn’t this smell lovely? Fancy a slice of bread and butter, love?’
    Normality, you see?
    Normality is everything in this life.
    ‘But you got married when you were nineteen,’ Alexander said accusingly. ‘That’s younger than I am now. And you said you knew my dad was the one for you, the minute you set eyes on him in the Limelight Club. Well, Emma is the one for me. I’m old enough to know when I’m in love.’
    I had to admit Alexander had a point.
    ‘Yes, but that was years ago,’ I told him gently, struggling to find some way of lessening what heartbreak might be to come. ‘It was different then. The cost of living was lower. We didn’t go to university, your dad and me. You’re both so young, pet, far too young to settle down. You have years of study ahead of you, years of growing up still to do.’
    ‘If Emma doesn’t want me, I can’t go on living and that’s all there is to it,’ he said simply and we both sat there, arms round each other, watching the fish and chips turn cold on the plates. No point in telling Alexander hemight have discussed the possibility of pregnancy with Emma before it was too late. I mean, Bill and I were no better but at least we knew for certain we loved each