The week before Christmas passed by at breakneck pace, so much so that I hardly had time to think about anything, let alone the decision I would have to make in a matter of days. Business at Brum FM was crazier than ever, Mick and I struggling to clear a raft of adverts and indents ready for the New Year schedules.
The day before Christmas Eve, The Pinstripes gathered at Jack and Sophie’s, fired up with anticipation about what lay ahead of us. Sophie and Wren had already compiled an itinerary for our London visit and started chatting animatedly about the shops they wanted to visit and the Christmassy activities we absolutely had to indulge in during our brief stay in the capital.
I had been plagued with butterflies for two days, a mixture of childlike excitement at the prospect of the trip and the knowledge that things would never be the same after this, whatever my decision was. Charlie’s smile when I arrived revealed his own anxiety and, while the others were engaged in excited discussion, he beckoned me over to the other side of the van.
‘How are you doing?’ he asked, a gentle blush warming his cheeks.
‘Good – I think. How crazy is this?’
‘I know.’ He held out his arms. ‘Give us a hug, will you?’
I gratefully accepted, not minding in the slightest when it lasted longer than usual.
As we travelled down the M40 in a minibus provided by D’Wayne (who had acquired a notably generous side since hooking up with Wren), following Jack and Sophie in the van, my thoughts strayed to the quest. Last night, I had brought out PK’s photo and the Christmas bauble and sat on my bed with them in my hands, gazing again into his motionless eyes. I may not have found him, but the dream of rediscovering him still lingered. Days were no longer left for my search – only hours, minutes and seconds that were fast slipping away.
Reaching for my laptop, I had written the last blog post before my quest came to an end:
So tomorrow is D-Day for the quest. And no, I haven’t found him. But I might just have found something more important …
In a funny way, I feel like I’ve won. I set out to spend my twenty-ninth year following my heart, and that’s exactly what I’ve done. I’ve been on a bit of a rollercoaster ride – dodgy dates, national humiliation and becoming a Twitter trending topic, to name but a few highlights – but I’ve learned so much and had one of the most exciting, positive years of my life.
I’d like to thank you for coming with me on this crazy journey. I’ll probably keep blogging next year, if anyone fancies hanging around. I might change the blog’s title, though, so there’s likely to be less about looking for a man and more about great music (not to mention my auntie’s cakes, which have been such a hit this year!).
I haven’t given up hope, by the way. But it might just be that I’ll find my happy-ever-after somewhere I haven’t been looking for it.
Happy Christmas, everyone.
Rom xx
I’ve loved following you Romily and I don’t think it matters that you didn’t find PK. The point is that you looked for him in the first place. I’ll definitely keep following your blog because it’s become something I’ve looked forward to every week. Have a lovely Christmas and I hope your happy-ever-after is really close! xx pasha353
There’s still time! Don’t stop looking! But seriously, be happy. You deserve it x MissEmsie
Thanks so much for introducing me to your lovely aunt! I visited Tea and Sympathy last weekend and the cakes are gorgeous. You’re so right about them being spookily right for however you’re feeling! Happy Christmas xx cupcakefairy
Romily, you’re an inspiration and I would like to thank you for your positivity. I’m entering the New Year with everything I ever wanted and that I’m here at all is down to people like you who have reminded me that life is beautiful. I’m so sorry you didn’t find your handsome stranger. All I can say is that life has a funny way of sorting things out. You’ll find your true love and when you do it will be like you’ve known him forever. Much love xxx Ysobabe8
I had been so sure that he was what I was searching for, but this morning, as the hum of conversation, road noise and the set list songs playing through the minibus speakers filled the space around me, I started to wonder if PK had been nothing more than a catalyst for me to stand up for who I was.
Would I have found the confidence to stand up to my parents without that meeting? Could I have dared to dream about the possibility of pursuing songwriting as a career, or worked my way through the challenges of becoming an unwilling celebrity following Cayte-gate?
And what about Charlie? It had been a rocky road from the embarrassment following my declaration of love to him, through the questions and misunderstandings of the spring and summer months, to his own declaration of his affections and the impending decision that lay ahead – but I was still here. I had held my ground and now the decision for us to be together was mine alone in a 360-degree reversal from this time last year. Maybe Ysobabe8 was right – maybe I had known my true love all my life …
Yesterday, I had gone to visit Uncle Dudley and Auntie Mags at Tea and Sympathy, where Christmas had well and truly moved in – tinsel and sparkly fairy lights were wrapped around every available surface. When Auntie Mags met me, she immediately prescribed a thick slice of blackberry and apple cake ‘to focus your mind, sweetheart’ – and proved her uncanny ability yet again.
‘The thing is, I honestly couldn’t choose,’ I explained, as I showed them the almost completed ‘pros’ list. ‘But the only thing I came up with in Charlie’s favour over PK was this.’ I passed it to them:
Charlie is here. PK isn’t.
Auntie Mags sighed when she read it, and for a moment I thought she was going to burst into tears. Uncle Dudley saw it too, and put his arm around her shoulders.
‘Bab, you did everything you could. We all did. Us and all them believers out there who’ve been hoping he’d show up. But nothing’s in vain, kid. I reckon you’ll look back on this year and be proud of what you’ve achieved. We’re dead proud of you, aren’t we, Magsie?’
My aunt nodded. ‘You’re a wonderful young woman, Romily. And it sounds to me like Charlie’s finally realised what we knew all along. If he’s the one in your heart – the one you truly want – then choose him. We know you aren’t going to settle for anything less than the best.’
Watching the world pass by in a blur of merging colour as we sped towards the biggest gig of our lives, I knew they were right. I had followed my heart all year: now I was going to trust it with the biggest decision of my life so far.
Nothing could have prepared us for the sight that met our eyes as we drove through Syon Park’s stunning parkland towards the Duke and Duchess of Northumberland’s home. It was breathtakingly grand; expansive manicured lawns stretched away as far as the eye could see, with classical follies visible in the far distance and ancient trees standing guard around immaculately tended beds of formal planting. A sharp overnight frost had covered everything in a layer of white, lending a magical air to what was already an amazing setting. It was impossible not to be impressed by the opulent beauty of this place. I don’t think any of us had seen anything quite like it. When we reached the large turreted stone palace, glowing almost white in the morning sun, our conversation died away as we took it all in, as if a sudden noise might make it disappear altogether. It was a venue fit for a princess – the ultimate dream location – and I could hardly believe that I was going to sing here tomorrow.
A woman in a smart suit carrying a walkie-talkie and a clipboard approached the minibus as D’Wayne wound the window down. After a brief conversation, she left and D’Wayne turned to us.
‘We’re going around to where they’re setting up,’ he explained, as a man wearing a black coat with a yellow hi-vis jacket nipped past us in a golf buggy, beckoning us to follow.
I have to admit that when Tom had uttered the word ‘marquee’ for the wedding location, my heart had sunk to my boots. A marquee? In December? Even the most outlandish weddings we had been booked to play at had always been set in appropriate venues for the time of year. Weren’t we going to freeze if the venue was basically a glorified tent?
However, when I saw the structure in question, I finally understood. ‘Marquee’ didn’t quite do it justice: ‘temporary Bedouin palace’ might have been a more apt moniker. It was enormous, more like a circus tent in proportions, dwarfing the vans, lorries and cars parked around it as caterers, florists, delivery people and venue staff hurried in and out with boxes, bags and trolleys.
Jack blew out a whistle. ‘Flippin’ Nora, Tom, your boss doesn’t do things by halves, does he?’
Tom grinned. ‘Nope. Are we going in?’
‘Lead the way, mate, this is your booking,’ D’Wayne said.
‘Great,’ he replied as we joined Wren and Sophie and walked towards the venue. ‘Does that mean I get your fifteen per cent commission fee?’
Inside, the full spectacle of the venue was revealed. Fibre-optic-studded ‘star cloth’ curtains were draped from the white muslin-covered central support pillars and eighty tables with silver chairs filled two-thirds of the space. At the far end, a wide stage was being erected, much to Wren’s delight.
‘That’s the biggest stage our band has played on yet,’ she said, clapping her hands like an excited cheerleader. ‘I already love this gig!’
A tall, broad man with an impressive set of dreadlocks looked up from the vast sound desk and lifted his hand in greeting.
‘You’re the band, yeah? I’m Sid Heelis, Head of Sound.’
He led us up on to the stage and I could see the thrill on all my friends’ faces at our first glimpse of the view we would be enjoying tomorrow evening.
‘We run everything from D.I. boxes through the desk and set up monitors for bass, guitar, keys, drums and so on,’ Sid said, as he walked us around the stage. ‘As for gear, you can set up now and it’ll be safe to leave overnight – we’ve got 24-hour security and we’ll be cranking up the heat in here from this afternoon, so there won’t be an issue if we get another frost tonight.’
‘Do you do many weddings like this?’ Charlie asked, looking out across the impressive interior as people buzzed around.
Sid laughed. ‘Never done one this big in the winter. But Jules is an old mate from uni and when I heard what he was doing for his daughter, I had to be a part of it, even if it is on Christmas Eve. She’s a special lady and it was the least I could do – she deserves it.’
‘Can you imagine doing these type of events all year round?’ Sophie asked me twenty minutes later as we brought in Charlie’s drum cases. ‘Talk about fantastic! I just hope that people recommend us after tonight.’ She giggled. ‘Jack and I are going to need all the money we can save next year.’
I stared at her. ‘Why? What do you mean?’
Her smile was brighter than the sun pouring in through the white canvas. ‘Don’t tell anyone, but I think we might not be too far behind this happy couple down the aisle!’
I whooped, dropped the cases on the ground and threw my arms around her. ‘Sophie, that’s fantastic news! So when …?’
‘He was planning to ask me on Christmas Day, but when we were driving down this morning he just blurted it out. So we’re kind of unofficially engaged. We’ll do the big reveal on Christmas Day, but I had to tell someone – I’m so excited!’
As we were setting up the equipment on stage, it suddenly occurred to me that I was not the only one for whom this year had been important: Jack and Soph with their secret engagement; Tom with his breakup from Anya and his new relationship with the one-woman soap opera known as Cayte; and D’Wayne’s recent appointment as Wren’s boyfriend. And Charlie? Perhaps he had learned to see me for who I really was and had found the courage to speak out when it mattered most. Would this year be the start of a lifetime together for us?
It’s amazing what a difference working with a professional sound company makes. Wren and I exchanged blissful looks as we tested our mics and in-ear monitors. The crystal clear sound, differentiation between instruments and voices, and general all-round polish to the sound were incredible. Looking around the stage, I could see identical expressions of joy on everyone’s faces.
After the sound check, Jack left his van and we all piled into the minibus to head to the hotel, giddy with the thrill of it all.
In an unbelievably generous gesture, Julian had booked us a room each in a luxurious Kensington hotel – leading Sophie to exclaim that she had obviously now died and gone straight to heaven.
An hour after we’d checked in, we assembled back in the vast marble lobby of the hotel. Wren, wrapped up in a bright green coat with a long purple scarf and a striped beanie hat, flung her arm around Sophie’s shoulder as she addressed us all.
‘OK, everyone, now I know we have a big day tomorrow but for the rest of today we’re going to enjoy everything that this city has to offer.’
‘Now, we’ve put together a little list of things you might like to do.’ Sophie handed us each a piece of paper. ‘We realise that not everyone will want to do the same things, so I suggest we split up and meet back here in the hotel bar, about eleven-ish?’
Jack and Charlie wanted food, so they headed out to find a restaurant. Wren was desperate to visit the Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park, so D’Wayne, ever the attentive boyfriend, agreed to go with her. I didn’t really mind what I did, just wanting to soak up the festive atmosphere, so I tagged along with Tom and Sophie.
I’d never been in the capital just before Christmas – I’d only ever seen Christmassy London scenes in Richard Curtis films – but there was definitely something magical about the city in the throes of festive celebrations. Music from carol singers and a Salvation Army band floated up from street corners and every shop window glowed with Christmas displays. The pavements were packed with shoppers – Oxford Street and Regent Street barely passable at anything faster than a snail’s pace – but it all somehow added to the excitement. And nobody was more excited than Sophie.
‘Look at the lights!’ she squealed, pointing up at the beautiful Christmas lights spanning the street above our heads. ‘Aren’t they the most gorgeous decorations you’ve ever seen?’
Tom rolled his eyes and linked his arm through Sophie’s. ‘You know, I think they probably put them up just for you, Soph.’
She glared at him. ‘Perhaps they did.’
I smiled at them both. ‘So where to now?’
‘I vote we find hot chocolate, something very indulgent to eat and maybe a spot of skating?’ Tom suggested, laughing when Sophie’s eyes lit up.
We managed to bag a table in the window of a beautiful patisserie on Regent Street overlooking the brightly lit street and settled down to enjoy huge cups of hot chocolate with marshmallows.
‘So, how are you feeling about tomorrow?’ Tom asked, as the waitress arrived with three enormous slices of multi-layered gateaux – white chocolate for him and dark chocolate for Sophie and me.
‘I just hope I remember all the sax parts,’ Sophie said. ‘I know we’ve rehearsed them to death but I’m still worried I’ll get on that stage and draw a total blank.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ Tom assured her. ‘You sounded awesome at the last rehearsal. Just get up there and enjoy it – we’ve worked so hard for this one. I can’t wait. How about you, Rom?’
My stomach did a little flip at the thought of everything tomorrow might hold. ‘I’m a bit nervous, but it’s going to be amazing.’ Silently, I added, I hope.
After we finished our cake, Sophie suggested we visit Harrods. I didn’t feel like walking round a crowded Christmas store, so Tom agreed to take Sophie.
‘Will you be OK?’ he asked me.
‘I’ll be fine,’ I assured him. ‘I’ll just wander round for a while.’
As Sophie dragged Tom out of the door, I smiled at the waiter who had arrived to clear our table. ‘It’s her first time in London at Christmas. I think she’s a little overexcited.’
The waiter laughed. ‘You’re not joining them?’
‘No. I thought I might go for a walk somewhere.’
‘I’d recommend the South Bank,’ he said, wiping the table. ‘Very festive and really beautiful by the Thames.’
He wasn’t wrong. When I arrived at the South Bank a truly magical sight met my eyes. Every tree was covered in nets of tiny white lights, making them appear to be encrusted in sparkling diamonds, and multicoloured lights reflected in the dark waters of the river. All along the path were small wooden stalls, identical to those that lined New Street last year for the Christmas Market, and the same Christmas music was playing that I’d heard then.
Walking along with crowds of visitors, I couldn’t help but remember the way that Charlie and I had walked along New Street, laughing and happy, before we’d stepped into the coffee shop last year. And then, as I passed a group of revellers dressed in Santa outfits, I saw it: a toy stall, identical to the one I had collided with twelve months ago. The parallels between this scene and the Christmas Market in Birmingham were unavoidable, but rather than confusing, I found I was comforted by the memories flooding back – and excited about what the future held for me.
Later that evening when we all met up in the plush hotel bar, Wren was beaming. ‘The ice rink was amazing! D’Wayne insisted we go on the Ferris wheel, and I was so excited I went with it – completely forgetting that I’m not good with heights …’
‘You should have heard her screaming when we reached the top and the wheel stopped to let people on,’ D’Wayne chuckled, squeezing Wren’s hand. ‘Anyone would think she was being murdered or something.’
‘Ah, D’Wayne,’ Jack said, slapping his back sympathetically. ‘This is the kind of fun that lies in store for you now, my friend.’
‘Oi!’ Wren retorted. ‘I’m fun to be with, thank you very much.’
‘Yes, of course you are, dear.’ D’Wayne feigned terror, which made everyone laugh. It was so good to see Wren and D’Wayne so happy and comfortable with each other already.
‘We ended up in Trafalgar Square,’ Jack said, handing his mobile around so we could see the pictures he’d taken. The tall Norwegian Christmas tree, covered in multicoloured lights, was reflected in the water of the fountain and looked stunning against the darkened December sky. ‘The vibe there was incredible. While we were admiring the tree, this group of tourists arrived and just started singing Christmas carols – completely improvised.’
‘I hope you joined in?’ I asked.
‘Of course.’ Charlie’s eyes were sparklier than all the lights on the Trafalgar Square tree combined as he looked at me. ‘In three-part harmony, too, I’ll have you know.’
Jack tapped his wine glass with his mobile. ‘Your attention please, ladies and gentlemen! Seeing as we didn’t have our annual Pinstripes Christmas soirée tonight because of some random last-minute wedding, I would like to propose a toast. To The Pinstripes – onwards and upwards!’
‘Onwards and upwards!’ we cheered.
Later that night, snuggled up in the complimentary towelling robe watching television, I fetched PK’s photo from my bag and stared at it. This would be the last night I would ask him the question, but it had to be done.
‘If you’re still looking for me, come and find me. There’s still time …’
The shrill tone of Stevie Wonder from my mobile interrupted me.
‘Hey, you.’
I swallowed hard. ‘Hey, Charlie.’
‘I just wanted to say – I’m here for you whatever happens tomorrow. You’re my best friend and you always will be. I need you to know that.’
I smiled as a shiver of joy wriggled free and made its curly way to my toes. ‘Thank you. Ditto from me. Um, Charlie?’
‘Yes?’
‘Thanks. Even though – well, even though I know this whole quest thing has been difficult for you to understand, I promise you I’ll make the right decision – for us. Goodnight.’
His voice was gentle and velvet-soft against my ear. ‘Goodnight, beautiful.’
The next morning was bright and crisp as I joined the rest of the band in the hotel’s sumptuous restaurant for breakfast. Wren and Sophie had sneaked out before the rest of us were awake to do some early morning Christmas shopping, much to the amusement of D’Wayne and Jack, and now an impressive array of shopping bags occupied the floor underneath our table.
‘Never let it be said that you two aren’t committed when it comes to shopping,’ Tom laughed.
I had slept like a baby in the enormous king-sized bed in my elegant room; for the first time in many months, neither PK nor Charlie entered my dreams. With my decision – and the death knell of the quest – fast approaching, my subconscious mind could offer no more supportive evidence. What happened this evening was down to me alone.
‘You know how people always nick things from hotel rooms?’ Sophie asked, as we tucked into a hearty English breakfast. ‘Well, I was wondering if they would miss the entire en suite in my room? That marble is to die for!’
‘We’d never fit it in the van, petal,’ Jack winked, as his secret fiancée made a swipe for him with her linen napkin.
‘What time do we need to get over to the venue?’ Charlie asked D’Wayne.
‘Sid said any time before five. I think we should aim for about four pm. We have dressing rooms, apparently, so we can chill there until it’s time for you to go on.’
‘I think we should get out and enjoy London some more before we have to work,’ Sophie suggested.
‘Haven’t you and Wren had enough already?’ Charlie laughed.
‘I think it’s a good idea, actually,’ D’Wayne said. ‘Blow the cobwebs out a little, get in the mood for tonight. But can I suggest that we don’t all dash about like lunatics this morning? You guys need to be well rested for tonight.’
Heeding our manager’s wise words, we decided to go for a walk together. Leaving the bright lights and bustle of Kensington behind us, we caught the tube to Hyde Park Corner and walked into the frosted park. The whole place felt imbued with Christmas spirit – twinkling lights were draped between the streetlights that lined the paths and framed the small refreshment booths beside the lake, families were enjoying the bright winter’s day together and couples snuggled close on park benches. It felt good to be out with my best friends in the crisp air, laughing and fooling around.
Tom found a discarded tennis ball and held it aloft like a prize. ‘Game on!’
Charlie, Jack, Sophie and I dashed on to the frozen grass for an impromptu game of catch, the activity made significantly harder by the slippery ground beneath our feet. Several times, we came crashing down, much to our amusement – and D’Wayne’s despair.
‘Come on, guys,’ he protested. ‘I said a gentle walk, not World War Three!’
Grinning like naughty schoolkids, we dutifully abandoned the game. On our way back into the elegant chaos of Kensington, clutching paper coffee cups to keep our hands warm, we stopped to watch a barbershop choir who were performing a great set of Christmas songs to a crowd of shoppers outside one of the expensive restaurants. It was impossible not to feel a sparkle of Christmas magic hearing tunes like ‘Let It Snow’, ‘White Christmas’ and ‘The Most Wonderful Time of the Year’. Jack started dancing with Sophie, moving until they were under a bunch of mistletoe tied to the restaurant’s awning and sweeping her into a passionate kiss as the onlookers cheered. It was beautiful – and perfectly set the scene for the romance of the day ahead of us.
We arrived at Syon Park at four thirty and were directed to our dressing rooms by a member of security. Jack laughed when he saw the two blue Portakabins in the backstage area. ‘Wow. Normally when an organiser says we have “dressing rooms” they mean more than one cubicle in the loos. How things change!’
Sophie, Wren and I changed into our stage costumes, chosen with great care and attention the week before. Sophie’s deep turquoise cocktail dress and matching shoes made her blonde hair shine like spun gold; Wren looked amazing as always in an opulent black velvet mini-dress and impressively high heels, the diamanté choker and matching bracelet she wore sparkling with every move. After much deliberation (and passionate persuasion by Wren), I had blown my Christmas budget on a silver slub-silk strapless dress, that I teamed with matching heels and a long string of amethyst beads. After much twirling and appreciative oohs and aahs, we picked our way over the frozen lawn to the boys’ dressing room next door. When we entered, the boys were gathered around Jack’s folder of lead sheets for the songs, going over the structure and making sure that everyone knew the nuances of each one.
‘… Don’t forget the double-push after the middle eight when the chorus comes back in – here.’
Tom looked up. ‘He-llo, mommas!’
Jack wolf-whistled as we entered their dressing room. ‘Ladies, lovely as ever.’
Charlie winked at me as the others made room for us to sit. ‘It’s possible they might want us to play background stuff while they rearrange part of the space for the evening gig – D’Wayne’s just finding out. Jack suggested we do some of the afternoon set we did for Frankie and Owen and the crooner stuff from the golden wedding gig last month.’
‘Sounds good,’ I replied.
The door opened and I was secretly thrilled when I noticed Wren’s eyes light up as she saw D’Wayne walk in.
‘OK, we’re on for a background set at five thirty,’ he said, checking his watch. ‘That gives us an hour before we’re due on stage. Sid reckons we can use it as a bit of an elongated sound-check, too. There’ll be a monitor desk at the side of the stage, so if you need any changes in your monitors you can ask the technician.’
Half an hour later, I remembered that I had left my earrings in my bag, so left the others to return to our dressing room. I checked my reflection in the large mirror, pleased with the elegant chignon that Wren and Sophie had swept my hair up in and the sparkling amethyst hair pins that shimmered as I turned my head. The effect with the soft silver of my dress was fantastic, and as I looked at my reflection I was thrilled to see the confident woman smiling back at me. Picking up my set list and water bottle, I stepped out into the chilly afternoon. The sun had already set over the park and house, but now a magical transformation had occurred: not only was the house dramatically floodlit behind the glowing marquee, but every tree had been lit from below with a different coloured light. It was so beautiful that I decided to take a detour around the front of the marquee to get the full effect across the immaculately maintained lawns and great lake beyond.
This was the most breathtaking place I had ever seen – a fitting location for the end of an extraordinary year. Over to my right, I spied a bench between the intricate frames of two beech trees, one lit with a golden yellow light, the other an emerald green.
That’s where I’ll tell Charlie, I decided. It was the perfect place.
Feeling pleased with myself, I turned to head back to the dressing rooms … and froze.
Walking in my direction, fifty yards away from where I stood, a dark figure passed the entrance to the marquee, the light from within suddenly illuminating his russet-brown wavy hair and a face I had become so accustomed to seeing in my memories and the blurry photo. I blinked a few times, convinced that my mind was playing tricks again as it had done months ago with look-a-like Mark in George’s cosy interior. But there was no mistaking what I saw this time: PK was here, at the millionaire gig in stunning Syon Park, heading towards me. He was dressed in a full, dark grey morning suit with a scarlet embroidered waistcoat, his white cravat slightly loosened at his neck. He was just as I remembered him … only better. But a shot of panic seared through me as I suddenly remembered something Sid had told us earlier when Tom had asked how we would spot the groom in the sea of guests.
‘Oh that’s easy. The florist says that all the groomsmen are wearing buttonholes with two roses – one white, one red. But the groom has two white roses to match the bride’s bouquet.’
My eyes moved to PK’s chest – and my heart broke into a hundred million shards.
Two white roses.
In a moment I had both found and lost him forever, the earth-shattering revelation almost stealing my legs from under me. Feeling a strong wave of emotion cresting within, I ducked my head and started to move, desperate to return to the sanctuary of my dressing room. Walking quickly, I didn’t see the raised tree root barely visible among the grass and my foot caught it, causing me to stumble as I came level with him. Immediately, his head jerked round and we came face to face. I saw his pupils widen as he recognised me. He opened his mouth to speak, but I couldn’t face hearing his voice again – not now I knew the truth. I hurried past him as he called ‘Wait!’ behind me. I could hear his steps quickening on the frozen ground behind me and picked up my pace.
‘Will!’ A voice called from the entrance to the marquee, causing his footsteps to skid to a halt. ‘They want you inside for photos.’
‘I’m just … OK, fine, I’m coming.’ I could hear the battle in his voice as I hurried away.
I reached the steps of the dressing room and turned back to see a groomsman flinging an arm around him. ‘You don’t want to go upsetting the bride, today of all days. Wouldn’t be a good start for married life.’
Crushed, defeated and shaking, I watched him take one last look in my direction before disappearing inside. Gasping gulps of cold air into my lungs, I sank down on to the steps, head in hands.
It was no accident that the wedding had been rescheduled for Christmas Eve. Fate itself was at work here: revealing, in the fading moments of the quest, the truth about the man I had spent all year searching for. And, as a parting gift to remind me of my yearlong search, I now knew his name – Will. It seemed strange to finally have that piece of the puzzle in my possession.
My quest had come to an end: the search was over. How fitting that I should find him in the dying moments, only to discover he had just married someone else! The bittersweet reality hit me full on as tears started to fall, my thoughts shaken into a jumble of nonsensical abstracts, swirling around indeterminably inside my head.
Of course he would have had someone else! Perhaps the person calling his name when he had to leave me last Christmas knew this, and the battle I saw in his eyes was that of a tempted man?
It seemed somehow right that I had met him today – at the very moment I had decided to choose Charlie. Under any other circumstances I would have marvelled at the irony – but not this evening. Scrambling up the steps to the dressing room, I closed the door behind me, my tears falling fast and free.
The hurt I was experiencing, I realised slowly, was painful, but necessary – a final chance to mourn the passing of a dream. I stared at my reflection in the mirror and noticed strength in my eyes that I hadn’t seen before. Maybe this was what Jack, Tom and Charlie had spoken about. I might have finally laid my dream of being with Will to rest, but I still had dreams and aspirations of my own, and knowing that I had successfully searched for a whole year until I had found him again, I finally believed wholeheartedly that I could do the same next year with anything I put my mind to. My mother had been wrong: I wasn’t wasting my life with the quest. It had been the making of me.
As I considered it all, an image of the final line of my ‘pros’ list flashed into my mind:
Charlie is here. PK isn’t.
Through it all, Charlie had been there for me, steadily working out his own feelings and never once taking his friendship – which I valued so much – away from me. All PK was, in reality, was a made-up name for a fleeting glimpse of someone I was a complete stranger to. My choice had been made long before I consciously chose it: and now I knew what to do.
Finally calm, I reapplied my make-up and, after a final check, walked out to join the others.
I didn’t see Will as we performed, but then I wasn’t looking for him. Not any more. Instead, I focused my attention on giving the brightest, most impressive performance I could, the confidence of my decision strengthening my bones and lighting up my smile.
Filled with guests, the marquee was alive with elegant activity. Everything seemed to sparkle as eight hundred guests chatted, laughed and tapped their feet along to the music. The atmosphere was happy and festive, the combination of Christmas Eve and a romantic wedding clearly having the desired effect on all present.
Meanwhile, the venue’s staff worked stealthily, deftly moving tables to open up the large dance floor directly in front of the stage in readiness for the evening’s dancing.
Halfway through ‘Dream a Little Dream of Me’, I caught Charlie’s eye and he smiled at me. He looked utterly gorgeous in his black shirt and trousers, his eyes alive with the thrill of performing in this amazing place on this enchanting night.
By the time our background music set came to an end, a crowd of around a hundred people had gathered on the dance floor, applauding appreciatively.
Sid’s voice came through our monitors. ‘The crowd loves you, guys! If you’re good to go, you might as well launch into your first set – that should tie in perfectly with the evening buffet.’
Jack gave the thumbs-up, and Sid spoke into the front-of-house microphone.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, you have been enjoying your band for this evening – the very excellent Pinstripes. Put your hands together please to show your appreciation.’
The smiling guests obliged.
‘And now, they will lead us into the evening’s festivities proper,’ Sid continued. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, let’s welcome, once more: The Pinstripes!’
Charlie yelled a countdown and Wren slid her hand up the neck of her bass guitar as the opening bars of ‘Love Train’ rang out into the marquee.
With each song we performed, more guests gathered on the dance floor, gradually filling it with a mass of laughing, dancing bodies under the giant crystal chandeliers suspended from the roof; and my heart rate increased as the moment I had chosen to share with Charlie moved ever closer.
Wren was delighted when her vocally acrobatic rendition of ‘Ain’t Nobody’ drew such tumultuous applause from the guests that we had to wait until it died down before beginning the next song.
‘I love these people!’ she whispered to me, her eyes brimming with emotion at their reaction. ‘I want to take them all home with me!’
As we began the intro to the ‘Lovely Day/Valerie’ medley that would end our first set, I looked back at Charlie. His smile was full of affection, spurring me on to make the decision my heart was now set upon.
Six minutes later the final bars rang out, and Wren thanked the crowd for their response. ‘You’ve been fantastic so far, so thank you. We’ll see you back on the dance floor in an hour or so. Enjoy your evening!’
She turned back to us and shrieked. ‘How cool was that?’
Jack’s grin said it all. ‘We sound awesome. And that audience – wow!’
Sophie grabbed my arm. ‘Did you see Victoria Beckham dancing? And Dizzee Rascal! I’m going to try to take some photos for my mum – she’ll never believe it!’
Sid appeared at the edge of the stage and beckoned us over. ‘Guys, you’re phenomenal. Best event band I’ve heard in a while – and I don’t say that lightly. Listen, my company is doing a big corporate gig in March next year. Don’t suppose you’d be up for it? It’ll be good money, I promise. Music industry people will be there and it’s where we pick up a lot of business each year.’
Jack shook his hand. ‘Mate, we’d love to. Have a word with our manager and we’ll book it in.’
Sid grinned. ‘Excellent. Grab some food and go and relax – I’ll send a runner to fetch you for set two.’
Tom needed no further invitation to pursue food, jumping down from the stage and disappearing through the crowd. Wren and Sophie followed suit as Jack joined Charlie and me at the edge of the stage. ‘Great gig. You coming for something to eat?’
‘In a minute,’ Charlie said, his arm involuntarily brushing against mine. ‘We just need to sort something out.’
‘Cool. Don’t be too long. If Tom has his way the buffet tables will be cleared out in five minutes flat!’ He jumped down and followed the others.
I smiled at Charlie, my heart thumping wildly. ‘Come on. There’s something I want to show you.’
Syon Park looked magical when we emerged from the marquee into the frosty night, the floodlights in the trees casting rainbow-coloured sparkles across the iced lawns. Charlie surveyed the scene, his eyes drinking in all the details.
Suddenly self-conscious, I folded my arms as Charlie pushed his hands into his pockets, and I led him to the green ironwork bench, set between the two ancient beech trees. We sat down and I could feel my breathing quicken as the butterflies returned to dance in my stomach.
It was time to say what my heart wanted me to.
‘You were right when you said you thought I’d known all along who I wanted to be with. I’ve just been working everything through – and I feel like I’ve learned so much along the way.’ I paused, suppressing a sudden nervous urge to giggle. ‘But I know what I want. I want to be with you, Charlie.’
A huge smile spread across his face as he cradled my hands in his. ‘Oh, Rom …’
‘I want to be with you,’ I said again, feeling a rush of emotion as I finally made my decision in the midst of the darkened garden, with Charlie’s warm hands caressing mine as our bodies moved closer. He reached up to stroke my cheek – as he had in the forest of the Chase a month ago – and I closed my eyes as our lips met for the first time …
And then …
… then …