Gemma’s mind was still on Claire as she approached the village just outside Knowle where White Rose Wedding Gowns was located. She was worried about her friend, extremely. She looked utterly drained, and no wonder with all she had going on. She’d practically gone into hibernation while she’d been caring for her dad. She’d had no social life. Not many trips to the hairdresser or the shopping centre either from the looks of her. Poor thing. She needed to start looking after herself a bit more.
And what was the deal with this Sophie turning up out of the blue? Gemma had known Claire since they’d got their first job together, and she’d never even mentioned her. She was probably being judgemental, thinking Sophie might have made an appearance before if she was any kind of a sister, but there was something… Gemma couldn’t put her finger on it, but she didn’t like her. She had an idea the feeling was mutual. The woman had smiled readily enough, but there hadn’t been any warmth in it. Might she be a bit jealous? Possibly. Whatever, Gemma intended to keep an eye on things. Claire really should get a DNA test done. Sophie wouldn’t object if she was genuine. And she should make sure she had power of attorney over Bernard’s affairs.
Making a mental note to ring her about that later, she headed along the main road into the village, and then hit the brakes, staring ahead disbelieving. They had to be joking. Roadworks? Right outside the only bloody car park. Typical.
Miffed, she turned around on the pub forecourt and went in search of a parking space, of which there were few. The parking was a major drawback, but otherwise the bridal shop was perfect, promising made-to-measure, bespoke bridalwear that was guaranteed to be completely unique. Having an award-winning and creative dress designer is not cheap, their online brochure said, but we believe you’re worth every penny.
They were right about the not-cheap bit. She’d spent a lot of pennies. You’d think they’d use some of their designer prices to provide a car park for their customers. At this rate she’d miss the fitting altogether.
Forced to park miles away, down some obscure side street, she climbed out of her car and hurried back towards the main road, cursing the drizzle as she went. Her hair would be like candyfloss by the time she got there. She planned to have the full works the day before the wedding: spa, facial, hair treatment, the lot. She’d book Claire in for a treat, too. Her half-sister could help her out, which as far as Gemma could see she’d done precious little of in the past, and look after Ella while her mum had some necessary therapy.
Pulling her phone from her pocket, she selected one of her bridesmaids’ numbers and stepped off the kerb, checking quickly for traffic. ‘Sorry, Amy, the parking is hell,’ she said. ‘I’ll be there in two… Ouch!’
She hissed out another curse as she went over painfully on her ankle. Bloody shoes. She’d seen them in the sale and couldn’t resist them. It would be nice if she could actually walk in them. Glancing down, she attempted to reacquaint foot with mule, and then snapped her gaze sharply back up.
She didn’t have time to scream before the car catapulted her into the air. She didn’t even have time to wonder what had hit her before her body landed, her bones jarring excruciatingly painfully on impact with the tarmac. There was blood in her nose, in her mouth; she could taste it, warm, metallic. It was everywhere, bleeding into the ground beneath her. It was bound to be in her hair. It would take her ages to wash it out.
‘Gemma? Gemma!’ a disembodied voice called frantically from the phone at her fingertips.
Help me, she pleaded silently, her eyes clouding over as she watched the car disappear into the distance.