Undertaking Love (31 page)

‘I’ve always loved that dress. I’ll never be skinny again,’ she groused, eyeing Marla’s emerald green original seventies Biba dress.

‘Rubbish. You can borrow it for the christening,’ Marla laughed.

The dress had called out to her from a vintage shop window in New York a few years back and she’d fallen for its charms, despite the fact that the scoop neck displayed more cleavage than she was used to and the Lurex material clung to her rib cage. But the colour suited her hair, and the silver sparkle shot through it added enough pizzazz to give her the perfect excuse to wear her silver salsa dancing sandals.

Since she’d opened the chapel, it had become her go-to dress for their seventies-themed weddings, of which there were a surprising number. Abba had a lot to answer for. She’d played up her eyes with smoky green shadows and kohl pencil that morning, and voila, the chapel had itself a bona fide seventies landlady.

‘Sherry!’

Cecilia trilled as she tottered along the aisle in a gold lamé dress with a tray of schooner glasses balanced in her hands. She loved spending Christmas in England, and felt strongly that sherry was an integral part of the festivities.

Jonny helped himself to one of the glasses and poured its contents into the nearest plant pot.

‘Sherry is for coffin dodgers.’

He arched his brows in challenge at Cecilia and reached behind the lectern for his secret bottle of Jack Daniels.

‘What?’ he shrugged, round-eyed and innocent. ‘It’s my communion wine.’

Jonny didn’t have a religious bone in his body, but he was more than happy to cherry pick theological traditions to suit his needs. Those that involved alcohol, mostly.

Emily took the glass of orange juice from Cecilia’s tray.

‘Just leave me here until I’ve had the baby. I can’t get up.’

‘Not long now, sweetie.’ Jonny stood behind her and massaged her shoulders.

Emily sighed and leaned back against him. ‘You have magic hands.’

‘You should see the rest of me, darlin’,’ he muttered with a suggestive wiggle of his fingers.

‘Err, I don’t think so,’ Emily laughed.

‘Me neither, actually,’ Johnny cackled. ‘You’d never look at poor old Tom in the same light again.’

He winked and knocked back the rest of his JD, then glanced across at Marla.

‘Ready, boss?’

Marla nodded and cast an apologetic smile at her mother as she replaced her untouched glass of sherry back on the tray.

‘Sorry, mom. Jonny and I better dash if we’re going to get those glitter balls back to the hire company. Someone from the County Hotel is collecting them at four for their Christmas day celebrations.’

She nodded towards the stack of glittering orbs lined up by the chapel door. Jonny flung his full-length military coat on and turned the collar up as he went out into the snow to load them into the car.

Marla passed the chapel keys to her mother.

‘You just need to lock the front door, the back’s already bolted. I’ll see you at home in a couple of hours.’

She dropped a kiss on her mother’s cheek and turned to Emily.

‘Happy Christmas, Em. Give Tom a kiss from me.’

She leaned down and hugged her friend carefully around her bump.

‘Have fun tomorrow. Last one with just the two of you.’

Emily held on tight. ‘You try to have fun, too, okay?’

She looked up at Marla through suspiciously damp lashes.

‘Just go home and relax. You shouldn’t even be here.’

Emily had remained steadfast in her refusal to slow down, even though the baby was due in just a few weeks. She laughed off Marla’s concerns and patted her bump.

‘I will. This turkey’s almost cooked.’

An icy blast hit Marla as she stepped outside onto the slippery path. She snuggled her chin down into her cashmere scarf and picked her way through the fresh snow to the car as Jonny loaded up the boot with the disco balls.

Inside, she whacked the heaters on full blast and blew on her frozen fingers. The snow on the windscreen melted away, revealing the desolate, boarded-up funeral parlour across from them. It looked particularly sorry for itself against the pretty backdrop of the village snow scene, with the charmingly ramshackle fairy lights strung from lamppost to lamppost. The funeral parlour cowered, as if it had no business being there; much the same way as its owner had felt at the end, thanks to Marla.

She hadn’t laid eyes on Gabe since the day she’d thrown his love back in his face, but Ruth the florist had reliably informed her that
she’d
heard from Dan’s mother’s sister’s cleaner that he’d had gone home to Dublin. Marla’s heart had iced over at the news.

Jonny slammed the boot door down and slid into the passenger seat, bringing an unwelcome gust of frozen air into the car with him.

‘
Ker
ist! Dunno about glitter balls, but
my
poor balls shrivelled up like walnuts out there!’

He pulled off his leather gloves and clamped his hands over the heater vents.

Marla laughed and patted his satin-clad knee.

‘Don’t worry, still bigger than Rupert’s, then.’

Jonny high-fived her with an evil snicker.

‘So indiscreet, Ms Jacobs! I love you.’

Marla blushed. He was right. It
had
been an indiscreet comment, but if anyone deserved it, then it was Rupert. She usually played her cards close to her chest when it came to her personal life. Even Jonny had no clue about her relationship with Gabe
.

If you could call it that
, she thought, with a heavy heart.

She crawled along the high street at ten miles an hour to avoid sliding towards the last-minute shoppers and Christmas Eve revellers spattering the pavements.

‘Why the big sigh?’ Jonny asked.

Marla frowned. She wasn’t even aware that she
had
sighed.

‘Would you want to spend Christmas day with my mother?’

Jonny grinned.

‘Just thank your lucky stars that creepy Brynn isn’t here anymore.’

He pulled a macabre face. ‘He’d have brought a whole new meaning to the term stuffing the turkey!’

Marla laughed softly and turned off the radio when she heard the opening bars of White Christmas to prevent Jonny from reaching for the nearest sharp object.

‘So, come on then, ladybird.’ He rubbed his hands on his thighs like a market trader. ‘What are you hoping for in your Christmas stocking?’

‘Well … my mom always went traditional with oranges and walnuts at the bottom, but you’ve kinda just put me off.’

Marla eased the car to a stop at a red light.

‘Let me take a wild guess.’ He drummed his fingers on the dashboard. ‘A tall, dark Irish undertaker?’

Marla turned to him sharply, but the all too knowing sparkle in his eye silenced the denial on her lips.

‘How did you know?’

‘Oh, come on! You two are like Romeo and Juliet, star-crossed lovers kept apart by the brides on one side and the widows on the other.’

‘
Really?
’ Marla squeaked, as she slid the car into first gear and moved off again. She hadn’t even properly acknowledged her feelings to herself, yet it seemed that Jonny had known all along.

‘Really,’ Jonny confirmed.

Out on the pavement, a couple were wrapped in each other’s arms, a bunch of mistletoe clutched tightly in the girl’s hand. Marla’s heart thumped against the sides of its ice tomb, desperate for escape.

‘I think I love him, Jonny,’ she whispered, and steered the car into a parking space.

The enormity of saying the L word out loud required all of her attention.

‘No shit, Sherlock! I know you do.’

Marla gulped in a great lung full of air as she brushed away tears. Tears of relief at having finally admitted it, and of fear that she’d left it too late.

‘But he’s gone. I sent him away. Oh God, what if he’s changed his mind about me?’

‘Don’t be stupid. He’s an undertaker.’

Marla squinted at him. ‘So?’

‘So he’s reliable and serious, of course. And I happen to know that right at this very moment he’s back on these shores.’

Marla stared at Jonny in silence, hardly daring to hope, willing him to continue.

‘Come on Marla, work with me sister! Ask me where he is!’

‘Where is he?’ she whispered.

Jonny tipped his head to one side and arched his eyebrows at her. ‘How much do you want to know?’

Marla grabbed him by the lapels of his winter coat.

‘That’s more like it!’ he laughed. ‘Word on the street is that he’s spending Christmas at his horny henchman’s house so he can finalise the sale of the funeral parlour.’

Marla’s heart soared at the knowledge that Gabe was close by, then nose-dived again. He was only here to tie up loose ends before he disappeared for good.

‘What am I going to do?’ she asked, as much of herself as of Jonny.

Her eyes focused on the street outside and spotted a doorway to the side of the hairdressers, which had a neon sign flashing in the window. For once, she’d asked a question and been given the answer. Life-altering decisions deserve to be marked. Maybe there was something in this praying thing after all.

‘Don’t answer that. I know exactly what to do.’ Laughter bubbled up inside her as she jumped out of the car. ‘Come on! Get out.’

She yanked Jonny’s door open.

‘I need you to hold my hand.’

Gabe wandered along Beckleberry High Street with his head bowed against the snow and his hands shoved deep into his jean pockets.

Ahead of him loomed the boarded-over windows and smoke-damaged walls of the burnt-out funeral parlour. He couldn’t look. Melanie hadn’t only torched the bricks and mortar of his career. She’d taken with it his hopes and dreams, his achievements to date, and his plans for the future.

‘Time to grow up, Gabe.’

If nothing else, he’d certainly achieved that. Maybe not in the successful, admirable way that would have made his father proud, but his na
ï
ve, rose-tinted glasses had gone up in smoke along with his business.

He didn’t let his mind linger on the funeral parlour. He wasn’t here for that today. He turned before he reached it and walked up the chapel path instead. He wasn’t surprised to find the front door unlocked. Marla wasn’t likely to let the small matter of Christmas keep her away from work.

‘Marla?’

His voice echoed around the cold chamber of the chapel. He hesitated, and reached inside his coat to double check the small parcel was still there.

The fast click-clack of heels against stone told him that she’d heard him, but it wasn’t Marla who appeared through the stone archway seconds later.

It was her mother, dressed in a ridiculous gold dress with a look of complete panic on her face.

‘Thank God!’ she squawked, and crossed herself towards the stained glass window. ‘Who ever said this place was deconsecrated was wrong. This way.’

She turned and dashed back through the archway. Gabe glanced backwards in confusion, in case someone else had come in after him, but found no one. He scratched his head and followed her.

The reason for Cecilia’s odd behaviour became obvious when he reached the kitchen and caught sight of Emily, heavily pregnant and doubled up over the table. Relief flooded her face when she saw Gabe. Whether it was because her contraction had ended or because he was there, he wasn’t entirely sure.

‘I can’t drive her to the hospital because I’ve had a glass of sherry,’ Cecilia wailed.

Emily gulped and held up four fingers behind her back to Gabe, the almost empty bottle of sherry on the kitchen table verifying Emily’s estimations.

Great. One in labour, one half-cut, and Marla nowhere to be seen.

Gabe sighed. As usual in Beckleberry, things weren’t going to plan, but life as an undertaker had taught him to stay cool in a crisis, and Gabe could see that Emily badly needed someone to take charge. He put his arm around her shoulders.

‘How far apart are your contractions?’

He might be more accustomed to dealing with death rather than birth, but he’d grown up in a huge Irish family where pregnant women and babies were part of the fabric of life.

‘About four minutes, I think?’

‘Okay.’

Gabe thought fast. He wasn’t sure, but four minutes sounded urgent and the hospital was at least twenty minutes away on a normal day. And today wasn’t a normal day. It was Christmas Eve, and there was a snowstorm outside.

‘Do you have a car, Cecilia?’

Cecilia put down the sherry glass she’d just refilled and shook her head.

‘I do.’ Emily groaned as another contraction started to build. ‘The keys are in here.’ She shoved her handbag across the table at him.

‘Right then. Good. Here’s what were going to do. Cecilia? You lock up and fetch Emily’s coat.’

Marla’s mother shot off, and Gabe put both hands on Emily’s shoulders.

‘Okay Emily.’ He locked his gaze on hers. ‘We’re going to get you to the hospital. You just try to stay as calm as you can, and breathe through the contractions when they come.’

She nodded, and clutched his elbows as she panted through the pain.

‘Thank you,’ she managed, as the contraction eased. ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Gabe.’

He smiled and helped her put on the coat Cecilia proffered.

‘Can you walk?’

‘I think so.’

Gabe opened the back door and stepped outside, then held his hand out to help Emily down the step.

‘Careful, it’s slippery out here.’

Together they negotiated the snowy pathway. Another contraction hit as they reached Emily’s Nissan Micra.

‘That’s it sweetheart, you’re doing great.’

Gabe held her up as her fingers squeezed his hard enough to snap the bones.

‘Has anyone called Tom?’ he muttered over his shoulder to Cecilia.

‘Answerphone,’ she whispered back, with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

Gabe thrust Emily’s bag at Cecilia as she climbed into the back of the car. ‘Emily’s mobile is in there. Keep trying. Tell him to meet us at the hospital.’

He glanced at Emily, who he’d finally managed to maneuver into the passenger seat in between contractions.