After the One by Cass Lester (e book reader free .TXT) 📕

‘It’s a fundraiser!’ he reminded her, holding out a tenner.

She smiled. ‘Well, okay then, but you’ll have to let me buy you a drink another time.’

He glanced at her quizzically, and she realised her careless invitation was open to interpretation, to say the least.

As a matter of fact, Charley wasn’t entirely sure what she’d meant by it herself. She’d been wrestling with her feelings over the last few days. Josh was The One, she had reminded herself, and he always would be… but maybe he wasn’t The Only One. Maybe Ricky could turn out to be The One After The One, as it were or, then again, maybe he wouldn’t, but she wouldn’t know unless she gave him, no, gave herself, the chance to find out.

So, taking a deep breath, she said, ‘Are you free next Saturday?’

He nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Okay. So, that’s a date.’

‘A date?’ he queried. ‘Like a date date?’

‘Yes, like a date date,’ she said, feeling a coy smile work its way across her mouth, before realising, with excruciating embarrassment, that he might not want a date date. ‘Unless, you just want it to be a drink,’ she added hurriedly. ‘I mean a drink drink, not a date drink. Oh God—’

She trailed off, realising how excruciatingly badly she was handling it. She was on tenterhooks until Ricky’s face broke into his characteristic easy smile and he said, ‘No. I’d much prefer a date date.’ Which, Charley was a little surprised to discover, was fine by her. More than fine, in fact.

A heightened moment seemed to hang in the air between them until, with appalling timing, the woman from the florist suddenly pitched up, and the moment evaporated.

‘Good turnout! Well done!’ she said to Charley.

Swiftly recovering her poise, and her professionalism, Charley replied, ‘Thank you, but it was very much a team effort, not just me!’

‘Actually, I was going to ask you about that,’ said the florist. ‘Who did the artwork for you?’

Barely stopping herself in time from replying, ‘My mate, Angie,’ Charley corrected her thoughts, and said, ‘The art designer is here, let me introduce you.’ And, throwing a discreetly apologetic look over her shoulder towards Ricky, Charley led her over to Angie who, she discovered, was already deep in conversation with someone else who apparently needed a talented designer to give their shop a makeover. Charley introduced the florist and left them to it.

She’d intended to slip back to Ricky, but Pam, who by now was standing in the midst of a group of laughing older women, called her over to meet her friends.

Zee took one look at Charley’s skimpy Prosecco outfit, turned to Pam and said, ‘And where’s yours?’

‘Did she chicken out of wearing one?’ Toni asked Charley.

‘No!’ said Pam.

‘Yes,’ lied Charley.

‘I can’t imagine why,’ said Rachel dryly.

‘I know, classy, isn’t it?’ She gave an ironic little shimmy to underscore just how classy it was.

Charley then watched as Pam’s friends laughed good-naturedly while her mother-in-law dragged them around the shop, and piled them up with cushions, bath bombs, chocolates and even tea towels. Charley instantly liked them, struck by their big-hearted zest for life.

She looked around again for Ricky and soon located him in the middle of Angie’s gang, holding baby Lily, chatting away to Will and looking thoroughly content. Smiling to herself, she left him to it, and went back to the till.

The shop was still packed at half seven, the time when Tara had decided to make her speech to thank everyone for coming and to explain the fundraising aims of the evening. Clambering onto a chair by the till, unaware of just how much her scanty costume revealed as she did so, she took a deep breath and bellowed: ‘LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!’

Immediately, a sea of faces turned to look up at her expectantly and a polite hush fell on the room. Licking her lips, Tara took a deep breath and nervously started to read out her speech from a piece of paper which she held in a hand that was shaking considerably more than it usually had at the previous Prosecco events. ‘Good evening, everyone. Firstly, welcome to Charley’s Prosecco Pop-Up, and secondly, thank you all for coming to The Annual Kim Henderson Memorial Prosecco Night. This event is to celebrate my mum’s birthday, and her life, and to raise money for the Patience House Hospice, which is where she died, four years ago.’

The expectant hush dissolved into a compassionate silence. ‘The Hospice want to plant a memorial Tree of Life to remember those we have loved and lost, and who cannot be here to share the passing years with us,’ carried on Tara, but to her horror, her throat suddenly tightened threateningly. Do Not Lose It In Front Of All These People, she told herself frantically. She took another deep breath and blew out through her mouth to steady herself. It was a tactic all too easily read by many of the people in the room, and prompted some of them to do the same. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a woman blink hard, while several others were digging into pockets and bags for tissues. Tara swallowed hard, sniffed, thought of Kim, and ploughed on. ‘We’re trying to raise a thousand pounds tonight, half the cost of the tree. So please do buy lots of things because the lovely Charley Taylor, proprietor of Charley’s Prosecco Pop-Up, is donating a share of tonight’s profits to the hospice.’

There was a spontaneous burst of applause, and everyone turned to look at Charley, who promptly went scarlet. When the clapping died down, Tara wrapped up her speech with simple but heartfelt sincerity. ‘I can’t tell you how much my Mum would have loved this evening – she was a real party girl! Or how much it means to me. Thank you all very much for coming.’

And that was it. The Annual Kim Henderson Memorial Prosecco Night was over for another year, and Charley’s Prosecco Pop-Up shop was well and truly launched.

By the