Chapter One

I was practically raised in my mother’s haberdashery shop. As a result, I know far too much about needles, thread and buttons, but not much about anything else.

Nellie’s Needle is a tiny shop that is overstocked and disorganised, but the location is decent, on a main road crammed between a tobacconist and a baker. It wasn’t exactly Harrods, but what would I know? I’d never been to Harrods. I’d never left Manchester. Life in my hometown of Denton wasn’t exactly charmed. I helped out in my mother’s shop and did a bit of house cleaning in nearby Stockport in a bid to earn extra money.

Weddings are expensive and I wanted mine to be perfect, just like Princess Di’s. In fairness, mine probably wasn’t going to be anywhere near as grand as hers. A beautiful gown with a twenty-five-foot train was out of the question – no amount of saving would stretch the budget that far.

My vision of flowy silk gave way to stiff taffeta, and my resourceful mother fashioned a floor length veil out of a pair of lace curtains off the shop floor. The end result was a simple white dress with fake pearl buttons and a puffy skirt.

“Wait until Andrew sees it,” exclaimed my mother. “He’ll fall in love with you all over again.”

I couldn’t actually remember Andrew falling in love with me the first time around. Sparks didn’t fly when our eyes met across a crowded dance floor – there was no meeting. I’d known him my whole life, and now we were getting married. To me, it sounded more like the end of the story rather than the beginning but my mother wouldn’t hear of it.

“You need to stop reading those romance novels, my girl,” she scolded. “They’re ruining your mind.”

Romance novels didn’t ruin me. They were my escape, and the biggest lesson I was ever likely to get on how it felt to fall fiercely and blindly in love.

Today I sold Mrs Wimbush a set of curtains that were exactly the same as my veil. Surely Princess Di’s veil cost more than £8?

I’m going out with the girls tomorrow. Charlene’s going to pick up a couple of bottles at the off-license after work. Gill’s closer, but she’s been banned from going in there until she apologises.

Andrew’s going to Stretford with a mate but wouldn’t say who or why. I bet it’s Trevor. He knows I hate that knob.

Book of the week: My Darling Lover

Honeymoon fund: £64.