Love Your Neighbour: A laugh-out-loud love from the author of One Day in December

‘Ladies and gentlemen, you all know why we’re here.’ Jonny planted his hands on his hips as his cat-like eyes flashed. ‘If we don’t do something sharpish to stop the Addams Family from opening up their frickin’ freak show next door, then this village will be going to hell in a handcart. Capisce?’

He looked out at his wide-eyed audience. ‘Brides and bodies are a bad combination, you hear me people? This stops now, before Lord Voldemort over there casts his dark mark above our village!’ He thrust his arm skywards and looked towards the rafters, and every neck in the place craned back as if they fully expected him to have cast an actual spell with an invisible wand.

Gabe laughed out loud and threw his hands up in the air, whilst Dan’s chair scraped loudly against the flagstones as he shot to his feet in temper. ‘What the fuck is going on here, people? A witch hunt?’

Gabe stood and laid a hand on Dan’s arm. ‘Let the people speak, Dan. I want to hear what they have to say.’

Jonny faltered as they both sat down again. Such a blatant display of rampant testosterone was something he’d normally pay good money to see.

‘I’ll tell you what they have to say,’ Jonny said, swishing his arm over the crowd to indicate their collusion in his speech. ‘They say that you have no place here. They say that they don’t need you.’

‘And do you agree with them?’ Gabe said softly, his eyes fixed on Jonny. Marla glanced between the two men in the few silent seconds that followed and saw straight away what Gabriel Ryan was up to, and, judging by Jonny’s pink cheeks, he’d succeeded. He was melting in front of her eyes.

‘Because it strikes me that you’re a respected man here in the community. Your opinion matters to these people,’ Gabe went on, and Marla watched her campaign leader preen like a lion getting his mane stroked. His ego, more like. She cleared her throat and caught his eye with a deep frown.

‘I most certainly do agree with them,’ Jonny blustered, flapping his arm half-heartedly rather than swishing it this time. He licked his lips and pushed his hand through his hair. ‘You, Gabriel, are a very, very, bad man …’ He sounded as breathless as a heroine about to pass out. Marla groaned as someone at the back heckled ‘get a room’, and Jonny fanned himself with his speech, clearly at a loss for what to say next other than ‘yes, let’s get a room.’

‘Marla, would, er, you like to say something?’ he croaked eventually, and stepped down from the lectern without waiting for her reply.

She shot him daggers as she walked past him. This hadn’t been part of their carefully worked-out plan. He was supposed to be the front man of the operation. She was thrown even further off her stride when the reporter stood up and flashed his camera in her face.

‘First of all, thank you everyone for coming tonight, we really do appreciate your support.’

She ignored Dan’s loud snort, but even from the other end of the chapel she didn’t miss the swift dig in the ribs that it earned him from Gabe.

‘As you all know, the “proposed” funeral parlour,’ she paused to shoot Gabe a ‘don’t you dare interrupt me’ look, ‘creates a huge problem for us here at the chapel.’

Gabe lifted a warning brow but let her continue without interruption.

‘If they are allowed to open, there is every likelihood that we will be put out of business within twelve months.’

She looked around at the people in the room, and was gratified to see the troubled expression that crossed their faces.

‘We bring a considerable amount of business to this area. The florist is busier than ever, the B&Bs are full most weekends, and a new one has just opened its doors to meet the demand for rooms from our wedding guests.’

Marla glanced over at Helen and Robert Jones, the owners of the latest boutique B&B. She was encouraged by their nods of agreement.

‘The tea shops are packed, the art gallery sells out, and the pubs and restaurants enjoy full houses. In short, ladies and gentlemen – as long as this chapel thrives, then the community does too. Just yesterday we lost out on a booking directly because of the funeral parlour’s presence. The first of many, no doubt.’

A frisson of shock reverberated around the room and Gabe’s head snapped up. Marla flinched with guilt. It wasn’t a lie, exactly, but in truth, the bride-to-be had probably already decided that the chapel was way too kitsch for her sensible accountant fiancé. The funeral parlour next door had been the last on a long list of issues, and Marla strongly suspected she’d used it as a convenient excuse to make a quick getaway. She brushed off any lingering guilt and threw back her shoulders to deliver her killer punchline:

‘I’m not here tonight to beg for favours. I’m here to spell out the hard facts. If we go under, then I’m sorry to say that the rest of the village will go down with us.’

She let her eyes travel slowly over the faces of her friends and acquaintances in the room, until finally, she settled on Gabe. She was glad to see that she’d managed to wipe that smile off his face.

She’d served and, even if she said so herself, she’d very nearly aced it.

Fifteen: love.

The atmosphere in the room had changed as she spoke. Brows had furrowed, and accusatory eyes had turned towards Gabe. He got to his feet with a sigh, and laid a restraining hand on Dan’s shoulder as he went to stand too.

‘May I speak now, please?’

He looked only at Marla. To refuse would be to play into his hands, so with the tiniest of shrugs she moved aside to offer him the floor.

Every eye in the place was on him as he made his way along the aisle. When he reached the front he stood silently for a couple of seconds, scrubbing a slow hand over his stubble while he searched for the right words.

‘Thank you.’ Again, his eyes lingered on Marla, who looked down and studied her burnt-orange shoes as if she’d never seen them before, to avoid holding his gaze.

‘Most of you know who I am, but for those who don’t, I’m Gabriel Ryan.’ He paused for a second and looked around. ‘Gabe to my friends, which I sincerely hope one day you will all be.’

His small smile didn’t penetrate the stony looks on their faces. ‘Contrary to popular belief,’ he looked pointedly at Jonny, ‘I haven’t come here to cause trouble. I happen to believe that this community really needs me, and that I can be here without threatening the chapel – or anyone else’s business, for that matter.’

He glanced towards Dan at the back of the room. ‘I’m sure many of you knew Dan’s grandmother, Lizzie Robertson.’ Gabe cast a sad smile of solidarity towards his friend.

‘I was there on the day she died, and I saw firsthand how hard it was on her family to wait for the undertakers to get there from almost forty miles away. It made a terrible situation even harder than it needed to be. That won’t happen to other families now that I’m here.’

Lizzie had been a much-loved and respected member of the community and her death had come as a terrible shock to many. The mention of her name instantly softened the hard edges of the atmosphere in the room. ‘I’m passionate about what I do.’

Marla swallowed hard at his choice of words and stamped down the image that popped into her head of Gabe in the throes of passion.

‘I’ve grown up in the funeral business, and I’m damn good at it. My father was an undertaker, as are my brothers back in Dublin. It’s in my blood.’

He had an unfair advantage with that musical voice. Marla could feel her own defensive walls shaking under the assault, so God only knew how everyone else in the room was holding up.

‘Being accepted by all of you is vitally important to me. Believe me, I can be here without being a threat to the chapel.’

He zeroed in on Marla.

‘I’m sorry if you’ve lost a booking, Marla, but I’ve already offered to sit down and iron out a compromise. I’m ready and waiting whenever you are.’

She frowned. He’d batted it right back at her, and somehow he’d managed to make her sound churlish and uncooperative.

Fifteen all.

She stood tall next to him and lifted her chin.

‘Nice words, Gabriel. But nice words can’t change the fact that no bride wants to risk being confronted on her wedding day by a hearse and sobbing families. They’ll choose another venue just as soon as they see your sombre shop front, because they won’t want that as the backdrop to their picture-perfect day.’

Thirty: fifteen. He didn’t answer straight away and she pressed home her advantage.

‘We aren’t just a little bit incompatible, Gabriel. We are polar opposites, and we simply cannot exist as neighbours.’

Forty: fifteen.

It was pin-drop silent in the room as everyone awaited Gabe’s comeback.

‘You’re wrong, you know.’