His Perfect Bride?. Louisa Heaton

what he was there for and then smiled politely. ‘Sorry, Mrs M, I don’t dance—and besides, I’m here on business.’ He had to raise his voice to be heard.

      ‘This is business?’ She laughed as she followed their new GP in her instructions.

      He simply couldn’t believe it. Here was half the village, packing out the small hall—young and old, self-respect be damned, all kitted out with hip scarves and coin-edged skirts, shaking their backsides and waving their arms about.

      The music was catchy, though, and he was unaware that his foot had been tapping to the beat until it suddenly stopped and everyone started clapping each other. Their new GP was thanking everyone for coming … patting herself down with a soft, pink towel.

      There were lots of people fighting over each other to go to her and thank her for so much fun, the best time they’d had in ages, et cetera, et cetera.

      Olly pursed his lips as he waited for everyone to file out after handing back their belly-dancing garb. He nodded hello at a lot of them.

      His father looked bemused. ‘Why are you smiling so much?’ he asked his old man.

      ‘It’s the look on your face.’

      ‘What’s wrong with it?’

      Patrick laughed. ‘What’s right with it? You look like you’ve been sucking lemons.’

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

      His father was being silly. Of course he didn’t look that way. Why would he? That would imply that he was jealous of this woman or something, wouldn’t it? And he had nothing to be jealous of! So she’d got the village out to an exercise class … So what?

      The pixie came over, towelling her face dry. ‘Hi!’

      She was still full of energy, it seemed, and appeared quite happy with the way the class had gone.

      His father stepped forward to make the introductions. ‘Lula—this is my son, Oliver. Olly, this is Dr Lula Chance.’

      He held out his hand to shake hers, aware of how much the bangles jingled as he did so. ‘Lula? That’s an odd name—where’s that from?’

      ‘It’s short for Louise. I prefer Lula. Like hula.’

      He looked at her bare slim waist and womanly curves. ‘And do you?’ he asked, dragging his eyes back up to her face.

      ‘Do I what?’

      He swallowed hard. ‘Hula?’

      She beamed a dazzling smile in his direction and it was like being smacked in the gut.

      ‘I’ve been known to.’

      She was patting her chest with the towel, attracting the attention of his gaze, and he had to fight really hard to keep his eyes on her face.

      ‘So you’re the guy with the list?’

      Olly’s cheeks coloured—and not from the cold. ‘I am. Nothing’s private here, it would seem. Welcome to village life.’

      Patrick laughed and laid a hand on Lula’s shoulder. ‘Well done, Lula! Getting everyone out like that! Your class seemed a success!’

      She nodded, her blue, purple and pink fringe quivering around her face. ‘I hope so. The first class was free, to get people interested. The real test is in seeing if they come back and pay for it.’

      ‘The real test is making sure none of them have a heart attack. Have you got oxygen on standby?’ Olly asked.

      Patrick laughed at his son. ‘I’m sure they’ll be fine. Now—to business. Have you moved in yet?’

      ‘My boxes are in the car. You’ve got the key to the cottage?’

      Olly looked up, his sulk gone. ‘Which cottage?’

      She frowned. ‘Erm … Moonrose Cottage, I think it’s called. Is that right, Patrick?’

       Patrick? She’s calling him Patrick? What happened to Dr James?

      ‘Moonrose? You’re moving into Gran’s old cottage?’

      His father looked at him sternly. ‘Yes, she is—and you’re going to help her.’ He handed over the key.

      His dad knew how he felt about Moonrose Cottage! It might be his gran’s old place, but it was also where his own mother had grown up. The place had special memories. If they let it out to this pixie then God only knew what she’d fill it with. Parties, or raves, or something equally mad. Moonrose was a quiet, sedate house. Charming and conservative and quintessentially English.

      ‘But I’m on call.’

      ‘And Lula, here, has offered to be on call with you whilst you help her unpack.’ He grinned. ‘Isn’t that kind of her?’

      Olly looked at Lula and raised an eyebrow at those large brown eyes twinkling madly at him and doing weird things to his stomach and other body parts.

      ‘It is. Thank you, Lula. Though you must be tired—travelling, running a dance class, moving in, going on call?’

      ‘I like to pack a lot into life.’ She dabbed at her chest with the towel and again he had to concentrate really hard not to look.

      ‘You don’t say?’

      Patrick stepped away. ‘Well, I’ll leave you two to it. Olly, I’ll walk back home—it’s not far. You go on with Lula and I’ll see you both in the morning.’

      He shook Lula’s hand and then waved goodbye and stepped out, leaving Olly and Lula alone.

      Olly felt uncomfortable. There were no women like Lula in Atlee Wold. Vivid and bright and crazy and …

       And what?

      ‘So, Moonrose Cottage, eh?’ He stared at her hair. So many colours … like a rainbow.

      ‘Yeah … Strange name, I thought.’

      ‘It’s after the Blue Moon roses my gran planted when she was a little girl. They’re all around it and they won prizes in the village show. If you’re still here in summer you’ll see them in bloom. They’re quite beautiful.’

      She smiled. ‘I’m sure they are.’

      ‘So, shall I give you a hand to pack all this bling away?’ He pointed at the box full of coin-edged skirts and multicoloured scarves she’d given to his patients.

      Lula laughed. ‘Thanks. It is a lot of bling. The hall warden said I could store it below the stage.’

      ‘Okay.’

      He helped her lift a large bag through the stage door opening. They were about to leave when Lula pointed out a couple of boxes covered by thick blankets.

      ‘Could you help me take those out? They’re mine. I couldn’t leave them in the car.’

      Olly nodded and hefted the two boxes one on top of the other, hearing metal clank inside. Then they left the village hall, pulling the door closed after switching off the lights.

      Outside, the snow was lit by the fairy lights, so it blinked softly in reds and blues, yellows and greens. It was really quite pretty, and had the effect of making Lula look even more multicoloured than she had been before. Like a peacock.

      Definitely a magical fairy.

      ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

      He blinked. ‘Sorry?’

      ‘You were staring. At me.’ She grinned.

      Olly licked his lips, thinking quickly. ‘Ah, right … yes. Erm … I was just wondering where you’d parked your car? I don’t see one.’

      She pointed, her hand seeming to twinkle in the lights as they reflected off