The Vintage Summer Wedding by Jenny Oliver Read Free Book Online

her book, about the stupid, simple promises she’d made to herself all those years ago. ‘It’s not enough for me.’
    ‘Christ.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know what to do then. We don’t have the money for more. I don’t have the money. I honestly don’t know what to do.’
    She leant over the bath, her movements languid still by nature, arms crossed gracefully on the rim, water dripping from her skin. ‘We’ll work something out,’ she said, then nodded furiously to try and convince him and made her eyes go all big and persuasive.
    He shook his head and she saw him start to smile, then he pushed away from the sink and took the few steps over to her and kissed the top of her head. ‘Maybe.’
    As she heard the sound of the front gate clicking shut through the open window she had a sudden flash of Seb’s phone ringing as she was cutting up her credit cards in their London living room. It was a call to offer him a place at Nettleton High.
Fuck, no way!
Anna had sneered. But Seb had shrugged and said,
I’m not sure we have any other options. What we have here, Anna, it’s not real.
    At the time, they had both assumed he was talking lifestyle.

Chapter Five
    The next day was another spent in the sweatshop stockroom but Anna, fed up with destroyed skin and dusty hair, was slightly more prepared. She had a green Hennes headscarf to protect her hair, that she had given a little snip that morning to try and maintain the Trevor Sorbie cut as long as possible, and her fuchsia leather gloves, so that however much her hands might sweat, they would protect her nails.
    ‘You’re not handling priceless antiques, you know,’ Mrs Beedle noted as she clocked the gloves while ambling in to make the tea.
    ‘Oh I’m well aware of that,’ Anna replied, staring scathingly at the mound of junk before her.
    ‘Mind your mouth, young lady. I know your trick, do as little as possible and still get paid. Well if you’re not careful, I’ll start paying you by the square foot you clear. That’d get you moving, wouldn’t it?’
    Anna glanced at what she’d done so far and realised if that became the case she’d have earned about £2.99.
    Mrs Beedle pushed her glasses up her nose and watched as Anna upped her pace a touch. ‘Have you been to see your dad yet, young lady?’
    Anna paused, then turned round with a box of novelty teaspoons in her hand. ‘Where should I put these? With the silver or do they warrant a space all of their own?’
    Mrs Beedle narrowed her eyes. ‘I take it that’s a no.’ She shook her head. ‘Still a selfish little madam, I see.’ When Anna made no move to reply, she sighed and then said, ‘Put the spoons with the silver. I have to look at a cabinet in Ambercross, it’ll take me what?’ She looked at her watch. ‘Forty minutes. Do you think you can handle it here on your own or should I lock up?’
    Anna scoffed. ‘Yes, I think I’ll manage,’ she said, unable to hold down a condescending raise of her brow.
    ‘I’m not sure.’ Stubby fingers on her hips, Mrs Beedle stared at Anna and then the counter behind her, contemplating the safety of leaving her behind, while Anna tried to remember if a customer had actually come in on the occasions she’d been in the shop.
    ‘It’ll be fine.’ She waved a gloved hand. ‘I’m good with people.’
    It was Mrs Beedle’s turn to scoff. ‘I find that very hard to believe. OK, I’ll try and make it half an hour.’
    ‘Fine.’ Anna had turned away and focused on the next box to sort through, which seemed to be mainly more horrible old teaspoons each with the name or image of some different tourist landmark on the handle. She thought they were best suited to the bin, but instead tipped them into the box marked Silver, and made a show of moving relatively quickly onto the next one.
    As soon as the bell over the door tinkled closed, however, she was out of that room, gloves off, Lapsang Souchong in hand, sitting in the tatty orange