An Enormously English Monsoon Wedding by Christina Jones

instead of living it up in Malta with Colin.’
    ‘True.’ Doug looked slightly chastened. ‘That must be where I get the genes from. Still, now Ma’s left the village it was clearly left to me to uphold some sort of family mystique in the affairs of the heart.’
    ‘Mystique? Crap. It’s just your excuse to keep playing the field. Well, if you let Gina slip away, someone else will snap her up and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. If you carry on like this, before very long you’ll be all old and wrinkly and unlovable, not to mention unloved.’
    ‘Ta,’ Doug chuckled. ‘I clearly have so much to look forward to. And please be an angel and go and see who’s in the shop. If it isn’t Gina, it might be a customer clutching cash, and we don’t want to let anyone escape, do we?’
    Giving her uncle a last pretend frown of disapproval, Erin brushed the dust from her shorts, vest and ponytail, manoeuvred her way round the boxes, crates and piles of stock and out into the shop.
    Like every other buildingin the charmingly rustic centre of Nook Green, the Old Curiosity Shop was low ceilinged, uneven floored, wonky walled and totally impractical for the twenty-first century. Unlike every other building in the centre of Nook Green, the Old Curiosity Shop wasn’t, and never had been, a cute picture-perfect cottage.
    The Old Curiosity Shop was an ancient slatted wooden shed. Or rather a series of ancient slatted wooden sheds all knocked into one. True, it had new large display windows looking out over the green, and the crumbling wood was now covered with a mixture of the delightful patina of age and a cascade of ivy, and sprouted emerald velvet cushions of moss and lichen from every crevice, but it was still a shed.
    The dim interior was illuminated by dozens of second-hand lamps, and crammed full with collectibles, curios, old furniture, even older paintings and just plain junk. Shelves and tables wobbled under pyramids of books and ornaments. It looked chaotic, but Erin and Doug knew exactly where everything was.
    ‘Hello, Erin.’ Gina, stunningly pretty in her late thirties, with a mass of brown curls, and dressed in white shorts to show off her endless tanned legs and a vividly coloured low-cut top, which made the most of her cleavage, gave a tentative smile. ‘Is Doug around?’
    Sod it, Erin thought. She hated having to lie. ‘Er, um, well, he had this huge consignment in from the sale rooms this morning and –’
    ‘OK. Don’t bother.’ Gina sighed. ‘It’s all right. I just wondered, that’s all. Just tell him, when you see him, that I’m still short-staffed so I’ll be working in the pub this lunchtime as per usual. If he fancies a pint he’ll know where to find me.’
    ‘OK.’ Erin smiled gently. ‘I’ll tell him. But, Gina –’
    The bell pinged again.
    A hot and harassed-lookingcouple with two bored teenagers in tow, both attached to mobile phones, looked startled in the open doorway.
    ‘Hello.’ Erin smiled. ‘Sorry if the bell made you jump. It’s in the doormat. We have to keep the door open on hot days otherwise we’d suffocate in here, and if we’re in the stockroom we wouldn’t know if anyone was in the shop and then –’
    ‘Erin,’ Gina, always the businesswoman, hissed. ‘They’re
customers
. They don’t need to know that stuff. Just serve them.’
    Erin grinned and sailed straight into saleswoman mode. ‘Please come in and look around. If there’s anything particular you’re looking for, please ask.’
    ‘Better,’ Gina said approvingly, easing her long legs round a triangular table piled high with faded cloth-bound books. ‘Anyway, I’ll be off now. Just pass the message on to Doug – if you see him.’
    Erin nodded, watching her make her way across the green towards the Merry Cobbler. Damn Doug! Stupid man!
    As Gina disappeared, Erin carefully negotiated the crowded shop and beamed cheerfully at the newcomers. ‘Lovely day, isn’t it?’
    The