Martha Fletcher has only ever had one job- Executive Assistant to Sam Courtenay.
She'll schedule his diary, pick up his dry cleaning, usher girls out of his apartment first thing in the morning... nothing was out of bounds until one night, that blur...
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"Easter is this weekend," my grandmother declares from the other end of the call. I didn't need to be face to face with her to know that right now, she was giving me her famous glare. "Samual, you haven't called to confirm your plans. Evelyn and Daniel have."
I raise my eyes to the ceiling as I lean back in my chair and sigh. "When did I become your least favourite grandchild?"
"You've always been my least favourite," she snipes without missing a heartbeat. My grandmother could be vicious when she wanted to be and right now, she was a savage. "You can bring that darling girlfriend of yours. You know, the one that you've never introduced me to. Now, am I to set a place for you and Matilda?"
Correcting her, I tell Gran that I would be home for Easter but I couldn't vouch for Martha. We hadn't discussed our plans for Easter, mainly because I knew Charlotte had arranged for her, Isaac and Sera to go to her parents. Assuming that Martha would be in attendance as well, an invitation to Amesbury for a Courtenay family dinner hadn't been made. Perhaps I should extend her the courtesy of meeting my family, formally, however, the thought of her and Gran being in the same room as one another has me breaking out in a sweat.
With Gran, she adores Sophie and she also thinks the sun shines out of Alastair's arse. Honestly, my brother-in-law could do no wrong in Constance Courtenay's eyes. Ever since he jumped into a bloody river to rescue her King Charles Spaniel almost ten years ago, Gran has practically had googly eyes for the tall, handsome man, as she now refers to him as. Martha, on the other hand, may not fare as well; Gran would eat her alive and there'd be nothing I could do about it because as much as I love Martha, if Gran doesn't like you on first sight, you're toast.
"Please ask your girlfriend to Sunday lunch, Samuel," Gran instructs me in her no-nonsense tone. With the conversation all but over, she only had one thing left to say. "If I approve of her, we can discuss which ring from my extensive jewellery box you'd like for this fiancée."
The line went dead.
With a grunt, I bang my head down on the table and replace the handset in the cradle. It was typical of Gran either being on one end of the spectrum or another when it came to my girlfriends. There was one that she ran out of the country because she decided that she didn't want a granddaughter-in-law that had attended Cardiff Met instead of a Russell Group university. She ran her out. Of. The. Country. Then with Jasmine, Gran was practically planning the wedding right after meeting her. Even before we got together.
Worried about which end of the spectrum she'd be on when meeting Martha, I decided to call for reinforcements. Picking up the receiver, I press the first speed-dial number and wait until the call is answered.
"Hey, sweetie, what's up?" Sophie's voice practically sang down the line. When I had no greeting in response to her and the line stayed quiet, I heard the rustling of the phone, followed by, "Ah, shit a fucking brick. Sam? Sorry, I thought you were Dan. He just text to say he was going to call. Anyway, what's up, sweetie?"
