3: Chocolate Box Girls: Summer's Dream Read Free Page A

breath, but luckily nobody hears except me.
    When I was younger, I used to think Dad would change his mind about the divorce, see that he couldn’t live without us and swoop back in with armfuls of flowers and apologies to put things back together again. He never did, of course, and I started to see that happy endings aren’t always the way you think they’ll be.
    The vicar announces that Paddy and Mum are man and wife, and then they’re kissing and Coco says ‘Eeeewww!’ and everyone laughs. I swallow back a knot of emotion that is part sadness for what might have been and part happiness for Mum, and I hope that nobody else can see the conflict in my eyes. My dad won’t win any awards for ‘best dad in the universe’, that’s for sure, but I can’t help wishing, sometimes, that I could turn the clock back. I’d try a little harder to make him love me, to make him proud, and maybe then he’d have stayed.
    Or maybe not.
    We crowd out on to the church steps in a blizzard of confetti, and the next half-hour is a blur of smiles and photos … standing on the steps, standing under the trees, posing with the gypsy caravan while JJ holds the horse and shoots flirty glances at Honey.
    At last, Mum and Paddy climb up into the wagon seat. Paddy twitches the reins and the dappled grey horse breaks into a trot as Mum throws her flowers into the crowd. They say that whoever catches the bride’s bouquet will be next down the aisle, and one of the Yorkshire aunts makes a lunge for it and hangs on tight. She is in her seventies and has never married, so this causes a stir, especially when she giggles and says she has her eye on the vicar.
    Back at Tanglewood, the party unfolds. The garden is filled with people hugging Mum and Paddy, handing over presents, helping themselves to the buffet. People who weren’t at the church service begin to arrive too, friends and neighbours from the village, Tia and Millie from school, Mrs Lee from the post office, and even Mr and Mrs Anderson from the health-food store, with their hippy-dippy clothes and their cute little girls and their deeply annoying son Alfie who seems to be making it his life’s work to bug me.
    ‘Cool wedding,’ Alfie remarks. ‘I like your dress, Summer …’
    I roll my eyes. ‘Like your dress’ is probably Alfie Anderson code for ‘you look like you’re wearing a net curtain’. That boy has been winding me up since the day we first met,back in Reception class, when he came up to me in the lunch queue and asked if I’d be his girlfriend, then blew a raspberry right in my ear and made me drop my rice pudding and jam.
    I have never really forgiven him for that.
    ‘Get lost, Alfie,’ I say.
    And then I am rescued because someone slides their hands over my eyes and whispers ‘Guess who?’ into my hair.
    Sometimes I think I must be the luckiest girl in the world, because Aaron Jones is the cutest boy at Exmoor Park Middle School and every girl in my year has been crushing on him since forever. And he chose me.
    ‘Aaron,’ I grin. ‘Who else?’
    He takes my hands and spins me round, laughing. ‘How did it go?’ he asks. ‘Cool, I bet. Nice dress … clingy … it really shows off your figure!’
    I blush furiously and try to fold my arms over my chest, but Aaron is laughing. ‘That’s a good thing, Summer! This is an amazing party – have you eaten yet?’
    ‘I wasn’t hungry … my tummy’s all butterflies …’
    He hands me a plate and takes one himself, piling it up with sausage rolls and quiche and a mountain of potatosalad. ‘Nerves,’ he says wisely. ‘It’s a big day for your family, Summer. I get like that before a footy match sometimes. Then afterwards, I could eat for Britain. This pizza looks amazing …’
    I reach out to take a slice, then remember Aaron’s remark about my figure and take a forkful of salad leaves instead.
    The music dies and the best man takes hold of the mike. He talks about how Mum and Paddy were