The Lover's Children

Chapter 11 - Winter Wedding #10

JAMES

Richard and I enter Reception together; suited, booted and briefcased.

Kirstie glances up from her desk. “Good morning, Mr Haswell. Good morning, Mr Alexanders.” She’s

dressed in standard ‘office-wear’; white blouse, dark jacket and a straight skirt cut to an inch above the

knee. Her hair is pinned neatly back and up, and a touch of colour at lips, eyes and cheeks highlight

her strong features.

“Good morning, Kirstie,” I return. Our concierge is always efficient and professional when at work,

usually issuing a polite ‘Meet and Greet’ smile. Today, the smile seems forced.

Richard glances around the foyer: the tree, the tinsel and decorations, a four-foot-high plastic Labrador

wearing a Santa hat and a sign around its neck: A dog is for life. Not just for Christmas. It sits by the

waiting area, a charity tin on the coffee table. All Donations To Kirstie’s Canine Christmasses

“It's all looking very festive, Kirstie.” He gives the dog a hard stare. “Did you clear the charity box with

Mrs Gillis?”

“I did, sir. I… I hope that’s alright? It’s just, there’s always so many puppies given at Christmas and…”

“It’s fine, Kirstie. It makes a pleasant change from people asking me for money. Still…” He takes a

wallet from his jacket, extracts a note and pushes it, folded, into the money slot.

“Thank you, Sir. I appreciate that.”

“You’re welcome…” Richard looks closer. “Kirstie, are you quite well?

She shuffles papers. “I'm fine, sir. Thank you for asking.”

But I too have seen what Richard has. Close up, Kirstie’s eyes are shadowed, her make-up heavily

applied.

In the elevator, he Hmmms. “James, did it seem to you then, that Kirstie looked rather tired?”

“It did, yes.” I do a quick re-run of the last few days. “Now I think on it, she’s not seemed herself for the

last week or so. And Mitch said something about it too. She was fitting Kirstie for her wedding dress

and commented afterwards that she’d not seemed so excited as she should be.”

“Bride’s nerves?”

“Maybe.”

*****

Upstairs, Francis, Richard’s PA, greets us. “Coffee first, Mr Haswell? Or do you want to see your diary

for the day?”

Richard tugs at an ear, grimacing. “I know what’s in it. It’s that damn lunch today, with the Mayor.” He

looks glum. “No doubt he’ll drag it out for half the afternoon… Sure I can’t persuade you to join me,

James?”

“I’ll leave that particular pleasure to you. I’m the technical man. You don’t need me…”

“I might need your input regarding the works on… “ He stalls, floundering.

“I’m not fooled, Richard. You’re only trying to tow me along for moral support against that wife of his.

She still want you to pay for a music college?”

“No, it’s a water park now. She wants it including in the renovation works down by the river, but…”

Francis is doing her best not to smile, and not succeeding. “Not looking forward to your lunch, Mr

Haswell?”

He snorts. “I’d rather spend the afternoon gnawing my own foot off.”

“Would you like to receive a phone call, say two o’clock, with some emergency requiring your

immediate attention?”

Richard leans over the desk, kisses her forehead. “What would I do without you, Francis?”

The intercom buzzes. “Francis, it’s Kirstie. I have a parcel for James. I’ve signed for it. The stamp

says… L.T.T. Galvanised Components, I think. It’s a bit smudged. Should I put it in the internal mail?”

I call across. “Thank you, Kirstie. No, I’ve been waiting for it to arrive. Can you bring it up to my office

please.”

“The desk…”

“Mrs Gillis can man the desk for a few minutes.”

“I’m on my way.” The sound clicks off.

Richard tilts his head. “What's so urgent about the package?”

“Nothing at all. It’s just L.T.T. going for a sales pitch with some samples. No, I wanted an excuse to get

Kirstie on her own. As you said in the elevator, did she look to you like a woman should, that's getting

married in a few days time?”

“No, in fact, she didn’t.”

Francis pipes up. “Should I put some coffee on?”

“Thank you, Francis. Yes, do. Bring it into my office when Kirstie arrives…” The elevator Dings. “That’s

probably her now.”

Kirstie enters, package in hand… “Here you are, James.” … hands it to me, then turns back for the

elevator.

“No, wait a moment, please, Kirstie. I’d like a word, in my office, please.”

Her eyes roll…

What have I done now?

… I raise palms. “You’re not in any trouble, I assure you. I just wanted a quiet chat.” I gesture to my

door. “Shall we?”

Inside, I pull up a chair. “Please, sit down.”

Francis comes in with a tray: coffee pot and cups, cream and sugar. She slides a plate of cookies

across the desk. “Ginger snaps. I happened to have these in. Nice and Christmassy, Kirstie. I thought

you’d like them.” Then, with a discreet nod to me, she exits, clicking the door closed behind her.

Kirstie winds her fingers together. “Alright, what have I done? Was it that delivery boy yesterday? He

was so rude and I told him to…”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. If there were problems with a visitor to the building, it would

be for Mrs Gillis to handle it. She is your immediate superior.”

“Ah…” She exhales slowly, still weaving her fingers. Worry lines crease under her eyes.

“Kirstie, what’s wrong?”

She blinks up to the ceiling, her eyes liquid, then looks away again.

It occurs to me that I’m looming. Snagging the chair from behind my desk, I pull it up close, sit beside

her. “Kirstie, we’re friends, aren’t we? I’m assuming we are. You asked me to help at your wedding. So,

tell me. What’s the matter? You should be excited and happy now. Not fighting back tears.”

A sob breaks loose and she shudders forwards, face pressed into her hands…

“Kirstie… What’s so wrong? Is… Is there a problem between you and Ryan?”

“No… no, nothing like that.” She sits up, pulling the back of her hands across her eyes and playing

merry hell with her mascara. “No, not Ryan. He’s been wonderful. And he’s trying so hard to make

everything right.”

“What then? So close to your wedding, why does a simple question from a friend set you to tears?”

“Oh, God…” She presses a fist to her mouth… “It wouldn’t be so bad if we’d not set the wedding date

for December. At the time, it seemed such a good idea; a Christmas wedding. Start the New Year

married…”

“But?”

“But… all the work on the Mill. We’re trying to get everything ready on time for the reception. But

everything’s costing so much. And it's all taking longer than it should. It should all have been finished,

or at least, ready to use, by the end of November. That builder we’re using promised it would be. But

with the bad weather, all the work’s slowed down. Some of it they can’t do at all because they can only

work inside. Then half the crew went off sick with colds and flu. Then…”

Her voice quavers and she starts crying again… “… to top it all, we've been burgled. They cut through

the fence in the night. And… and the dogs were all inside because the weather was so foul… And they

took half our equipment. Some of it’s not even ours. It belongs to the builder… and… and…”

She’s sobbing hard, eyes and nose streaming into an overused hanky. I pass her a box of tissues then

offer up my waste bin. She tosses in the tear-and-snot soaked thing and takes another tissue, blowing

into it loudly and gracelessly. I lay a brief hand on her shoulder, then step outside. “Francis, call

downstairs would you please. Kirstie’s taking the afternoon off. I’ll be joining her.”

Wide-eyed, Francis reaches for the desk phone. “What’s wrong, James?”

“I’ll explain later. Just let Mrs Gillis know she needs to find a stand-in for today.”

Back in the office, Kirstie is sitting upright again, visibly gathering herself. “Sorry, James. I know it’s

horribly unprofessional of me…”

“Forget it. Now, about this theft…”

She blows out air, rubbing at her forehead. “It’s not as though it’s not all replaceable. And the insurance

should cover it all. We can buy new equipment, or hire it in, but it's all more time and money right now.

And with the wedding looming…”

I sit by her again, take her hand between mine. “Kirstie, you need a break, both you and Ryan. You've

been living in that caravan for months. You're both tired, and that’s taking all the joy out of the two

greatest adventures of your life; your new home and your wedding…”

She sniffs, dabbing at nose and eyes again…

“... Why not come stay with us for a few days? You’ll be warm and comfortable. You can sleep in a

proper bedroom. You and Charlotte could enjoy some pamper time at the spa. Maybe Beth and Mitch

would join you…”

“What about Ryan?”

“He can chill out by the fire and watch movies and football all day if he wants to.”

“James, thank you, but I can’t. The dogs…”

“Bring your dogs along. Then you don’t have to worry about them. Scruffy and Bear will enjoy that too.”

A faint smile dawns. “It sounds wonderful.”

“So, say yes. Give yourself some slack. And then we’ll see what can be done about the rest.”