Page 3 of Love or Your Money Back

CHAPTER

I follow Sylvia to the back of the woodland clearing, where I see Aunt Caro, perched on a bumpy log, looking as uncomfortable as I feel.

Aunt Caro is overweight, with a backside that doesn’t ask, but demands, extra space.

She wears a white fedora, black suit, black tie and white shirt, and looks like a friendly mafia boss. One who doesn’t do her own torturing.

‘Good to see you, Aunt Caro.’ I manage a smile.

Aunt Caro is basically a fat version of my dead mother, which is always a comfort. She has the wild, black hair of a windswept gypsy, and the chapped hands of an overly-sanitised germaphobe.

‘How have you been keeping, Kat?’ Aunt Caro gives me slightly frantic, golden-brown eyes. ‘Regular doctor visits? Have you had your –’

‘Yes, I’m up to date with my scans.’

‘Move along, Caro.’ Sylvia makes urgent gestures with her white gloves. ‘I want Katerina to meet –’ Sylvia watches the clearing with narrowing eyes. ‘Where did the dentist go?’

‘He said something about haemorrhoids and finding a soft seat,’ says Aunt Caro.

Sylvia looks horrified. ‘You let him get away? He was single. You should have struck up a conversation –’

Some awful fairy tale castle music starts up, and Sylvia’s face takes on a delighted quality. ‘Oh! Isn’t that sweet? I think it’s Disney’s

Aladdin soundtrack. The ceremony must be starting. Quickly, Katerina. Sit down or they’ll think you’re objecting to the wedding.’

I sit just as Chris and his very young fiancée begin their smug journey between the log pews.

Chris smiles and waves like visiting royalty. He still has that confident sparkle I fell for as a starry-eyed teenager, but his skin is creased and careworn, his brown beard shaggier and his eyes red-rimmed.

Minola wears a wicker crown and an ethereal, flowing dress, both covered in fake flowers and leaves. She is very pale and white blonde, like she’s been through the wash for too long. But she also looks joyful and in love. And I’m happy for her. Honestly.

Chris gives me a wink as he passes.

I stiffen and look away.

I still love him. There’s no getting over that one. But he’s getting married, and I wish him all the best.

Aunt Caro reaches for my hand and squeezes it. Aunty Sylvia takes my other hand.

I give them both grateful smiles.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

Chris reaches the wooden altar, then turns and bows like he’s on stage. ‘FRIENDS! Nobles. Countrymen. And people I’ve never met before.’ He gives a confident chuckle. ‘Let’s do this thing. Let’s get married. Woo!’

There’s a smattering of whoops from the younger, stupider guests.

I feel tears coming.

Aunty Sylvia squeezes my hand tight, hissing: ‘Don’t waste your tears. You’re worth ten of him!’

‘People keep saying that,’ I whisper, blinking quickly. ‘But if I’m so great, why did he leave?’

‘Because he’s immature and weak,’ says Aunt Caro. ‘And having a mid-life crisis –’

A young woman dressed as Maleficent whirls around on the log in front.

‘SHUSH!’

I tune back into Chris. He’s giving Minola the same eyes he used to give me, and it hurts.

‘Before we kick things off …’ Chris rubs his fuzzy, black beard. ‘I have a surprise for Minola. Hey baby, you know the gorgeous

VW camper we drove to the church in?’

Minola’s smile shows signs of tension. ‘That bus thing? Yes, that was a surprise. I was expecting a limousine and I think my family were too –’

‘Well guess what?’ Chris clasps Minola’s hands to his chest. ‘I bought it for us! To live in!’

Minola’s smile fades entirely. ‘What? You want us to live in that old van?’

‘It’s not a van

, darling,’ Chris laughs. ‘It’s a vintage VW. Worth tens of thousands of pounds! After the wedding, we’ll take off around the country sleeping in fields and glens like real fairies and flower folk.’

‘Aren’t we going somewhere sunny on our honeymoon?’

‘England can be sunny,’ Chris declares, as grey cloud shadows the clearing. ‘Okay! Let’s get married.’

A pagan priestess appears, dressed in flowing purple robes.

As Chris and Minola have their hands tied together with black ribbon, a figure appears beside me.

‘Hello, Katerina. Room for one more on that log?’

I look up, then give a horrified shriek.

Freddy Stark stands over me, brown eyes playful and twinkling. He looks expensive, wearing a black suit like it’s part of his body.

‘What in God’s name are you doing here?’ I hiss. ‘This is a family wedding, not business mingling.’

‘I was invited,’ says Freddy.

‘How? Why? This is a wedding of fairies and flower people. No one wants a Rolex watch model –’

‘I came to see you, actually,’ says Freddy. ‘Since you won’t talk to me at work, I thought a social occasion would be better. It turns out I’ve done some business with the bride’s father. All it took was a LinkedIn message and a small donation to the happy couple.’

Sylvia throws herself over me to shake Freddy’s hand. ‘Hello, young man. I’m Katerina’s aunt. Are you single?’

‘Of course he is,’ I say. ‘He’s far too disloyal to settle down with anyone. His main occupation is stripping company assets and putting people out of work so he can make millions.’

Sylvia turns to me. ‘Do you know this tall, dark, handsome millionaire, Katerina?’

‘Yes.’ My teeth feel like they’re glued together. ‘This is Freddy Stark. The man who’s trying to ruin Little Voice Publishing.’