As Lucky Can Be

Chrissie didn’t feel like fortune was smiling on her right now!

MORNING, Mum.” Chrissie took a mug from the cupboard and poured herself a strong cup of tea from the pot on the table.

“Morning? It’s nearly afternoon, sleepy head!” Alison continued to look through a pile of books and paperwork in the corner of the dining-room.

Chrissie winced, feeling slightly fragile.

“What are you looking for? And do you have to be quite so noisy about it?”

“It’s not my fault you stayed out until all hours.” Alison gave her daughter a stern look.

“I’m trying to find your father’s address book so I can phone Frank to see if he’s free today.”

Chrissie put down her tea and went to fetch her keys from the hook by the kitchen door.

“I can check in the van, if you like.” She paused.

“On second thoughts, I’m sure Sally said they’ve gone away for the weekend.”

Sally was Frank’s daughter. She, Chrissie and some of their other friends had all been out the night before to plan their summer holiday.

“What do you want him for?” Chrissie asked.

Alison ran her hand across her forehead in frustration.

“Well, your father, being who he is, insisted on shifting that wardrobe in the spare room by himself yesterday evening, when I told him to wait until our Jack is back tomorrow.

“Anyway, he’s put his back out again.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!

The diary’s chock-a-block next week.” Chrissie rolled her eyes.

“More to the point,” her mother said, “he has a couple of weddings booked in for today, which was why I was hoping Frank could cover them.”

Alison looked her daughter up and down.

“Mind, you’re about the same height as your dad, and we could tuck your hair up . . .”

Chrissie stepped back, holding her hands up in laughing protest.

“Oh, no! I don’t think I’ll be what everyone’s expecting. Anyway, I’ve finished my working week.”

“It’s your dad’s reputation on the line and, let’s face it, the business will be yours one day.” Alison began lining up her arguments.

“Besides,” she went on, “I know you need the deposit for your holiday with the girls by the end of the month, so the money will come in handy.”

Chrissie groaned. Mum knew her too well.

There were loads of benefits to living and working with her family, not least the close relationships they had.

The downside was that she couldn’t easily walk away from the job at the end of the day.

“I’ll poach you some eggs.” Alison gave her daughter a winning smile, and Chrissie knew she was beaten.

“OK,” she conceded. “Write down the details while I get ready.

“I’ll have two slices of wholemeal with those eggs, please.”

“You won’t regret this!” Alison called after her.

Having found a space to park the van on one of the residential roads around the corner from the Methodist church, Chrissie got the bike Dad kept specifically for these occasions out of the back

and climbed aboard.

It was a bit of a boneshaking ride, given that it was made in the days when technology was pretty basic, but at least the seat was more comfortable than the ones you got on a modern racer.

There was a solidity and old-world charm about it, too, which suited the character she was about to play.

Chrissie couldn’t resist waving to people who stopped and stared as she pedalled past.

What the modern church building lacked in character it made up for with stylishly simple stained-glass windows and pretty, well-tended gardens in front.

Before long, the doors opened, releasing the happy couple, followed by a number of guests.

The bride, who looked to be in her mid-forties, wore a simple dress, while the groom – a tall, slightly balding man in glasses – sported a smart navy suit and a beaming smile.

The sight of Chrissie with her waistcoat, red neckerchief, top hat, cane rods over her shoulder and sooty smears across her face brought laughter all round as they tried to guess who had booked the surprise.

“Everyone knows that a sweep brings good luck on your wedding day!” an elderly woman in a green hat with an enormous feather pronounced.

They all agreed that they should have known it would be Great-aunt Edie.

Chrissie kissed both the bride and the groom on their cheeks, posing for photographs before handing them a commemorative glass pot of lucky soot and a certificate.

“May your marriage be long and lucky,” she said, touching the brim of her hat, while the gathered crowd cheered.

Relieved to have the first wedding under her belt, Chrissie pedalled back to the van.

That hadn’t been too bad, and nobody had queried her credentials, not that they’d have a right to.

She’d swept her fair share of chimneys in the five years she’d been working for Thompson’s Cleaning Services, although that was a smaller part of the business these days.

A lot of their work was domestic carpets, upholstery and cleaning holiday lets.

Lucky Sweep was a little sideline of her father’s that he’d started when he was a young man with a mortgage to pay, and it was one he took pride in.

Most Saturday teatimes, for as long as she could remember, he’d regaled them with tales of the weddings he’d been to: who was wearing what, how pleased the couples were to see him and if there was anyone they knew at the church.

He always said it was a privilege to be part of someone’s special day and have a chance to wish them the kind of happiness he’d found.

Now that she’d been the Lucky Sweep for someone, she could understand what he meant.

All she could hope was that, one day, she’d find someone who lit a spark for her in that way.

The next ceremony was likely to be a much grander affair as it was at the parish church in a larger neighbouring town.

Being a Saturday afternoon, Chrissie thought she might struggle to find a parking space near the centre, so she opted for the pay and display a bit further out.

There were some traffic hotspots which always warranted a mention on radio bulletins, and the roundabout at the end of Honeypot Lane was one of them.

No amount of signage and markings on the road had ever solved the chaos.

On the bike, Chrissie gritted her teeth and had just made it to the exit she needed when a van cut across in front of the car beside her, causing the driver to swerve and force her into the gutter.

Losing control, she clipped the kerb and ended up sprawled on the grass verge, one leg stuck painfully beneath the bike frame.

“Are you OK?” The man in the car had pulled over and come back to check on her.

“I’m so sorry – there was nothing I could do.”

Chrissie sat for a moment, rubbing her leg where the pedal had caught it.

“I think so. It wasn’t your fault – that van was in the wrong lane.”

Chrissie took the hand he held out to her and stood up, wincing as she put weight on her wounded leg.

“At least the bike doesn’t look damaged. My dad would kill me!”

“It’s a bit of an antique.” The man looked from the bike to Chrissie’s outfit with a quizzical expression.

Glancing down at her costume, she shrugged.

“It’s my job; I don’t normally dress like this.” She glanced at her watch.

“In fact, I’d better get going, or I’ll be late and then I really will be in trouble.”

Chrissie went to climb back in the saddle, but took a sharp breath as the range of injuries from her fall made themselves known.

“Let me help you. Where do you need to be?” His voice was full of concern.

“St Peter’s. I’m the Lucky Sweep, but I feel like my luck is quickly running out today.”

“Lucky Sweep?” The man raised an eyebrow, but there was a twinkle in his grey eyes.

“It’s a long story.” She shook her head and chuckled.

“I actually am a chimney sweep in real life, amongst other things, because I work in my family’s business.

“I’m not the Dick Van Dyke sort out of ‘Mary Poppins’. I don’t suppose they exist any more.” She hooked her thumbs in her waistcoat and winked.

“Legend has it that a chimney sweep at your wedding brings good luck,” she explained, “so people pay for my dad to dress up and be in the photos.

“He’s laid up with a bad back, so I’m supposed to be filling in.

“Until I nearly ran into you . . .”

The man nodded towards his car, a short distance away with its hazard lights flashing.

Before long, the doors opened, releasing the happy couple

“I’m not sure I can fit in your bike, but we could chain it to the railings and I can drive you to the church.

“When you’ve done your Lucky Sweep duties, you can pick it up then.” Chrissie hesitated. “That’s kind of you . . .?” “Luke. My name’s Luke.” “I’m Chrissie. I can’t ask you to do that.

“You weren’t responsible for what happened, and I’m sure the last thing you want to do today is hang around outside a wedding.” Luke laughed.

“You don’t know how right you are, but we can’t stand around here discussing it if we’re going to get you to the church on time.”

He checked his watch. “I was going to St Peter’s myself this afternoon, so let’s just get in the car and I’ll explain on the way.”

In a matter of minutes, the ancient black cycle was padlocked to the railings, the cycling helmet had been swapped for a battered top hat and Chrissie was in the passenger seat of Luke’s car.

She was grateful for the lift, and for the sweet he offered her from the glove compartment “for the shock”.

“So, why are you going to St Peter’s? Is there something else going on there after the wedding?” Chrissie

asked, assessing his outfit of jeans and a stripy jumper.

“Believe it or not, I’m aiming to be at the church at the same moment as you, although I’d rather not be.” Luke pulled a face.

“I work with the bride, Sierra.

“Our whole team is meeting outside the church to throw confetti and wish her well.”

He shot Chrissie a glance and wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“I take it that’s not your idea of a fun Saturday afternoon activity.” Chrissie grinned.

“Whereas I, on the other hand, obviously love getting dressed up as a member of a Victorian underclass and smearing my face with fake soot.” She laughed.

“I would happily swap places, if it meant that I didn’t have to throw rose petals over my supervisor and smile at her, even though she makes my life a misery.” Luke groaned.

“But if I’m not there, it’ll just be another thing for her to carp on about,” he added.

Chrissie turned slightly in her seat and gave him her full attention.

“She sounds terrible. What’s she done?”

“I joined the company in mid-december last year, a few days before the staff Christmas party, so Sierra invited me along to get to know everyone.”

Luke shook his head and sighed.

“It turns out she only really meant get to know her, because she stuck to me like glue all evening, flirting and suggesting we spend more time together.

“I have a policy of never dating work colleagues, because I think it can get messy, so I told her that.”

“I don’t blame you,” Chrissie replied.

“I work with my family and that can be tricky enough, but dating your boss is a risk, especially when you’re new to the job.

“Office politics is one thing I’m glad I don’t have to deal with.

“The Thompson’s

Cleaning Services works Christmas do happens around our dining table on Christmas Day and that’s that!”

Luke smiled. “You’re lucky. The morning after the party, Sierra spread it around the office that I had a crush on her and was pestering her.

“Unbeknownst to me, she was engaged to be married anyway. Then, two months later, she got promoted to team leader.”

“That’s terrible. Can’t you move to another team?” Chrissie was full of sympathy for his plight.

“I’ve put in for a transfer to another section, but she keeps blocking it, saying that I’m essential for the efficient running of her team and she doesn’t want to lose me.”

Luke turned into the gravel car park belonging to St Peter’s, blocking in an enormous, beribboned Rolls-royce.

Chrissie was beginning to see why any woman would like to have Luke around: he was helpful, seemed resourceful and was definitely good-looking.

She was full of indignation on his behalf that he should have been treated so badly by this woman.

“You can’t leave that there!” a man in a chauffeur’s cap and uniform called from where he was having a smoke behind a tree in the churchyard.

“We’ll be gone before you need to move,” Luke replied.

He accompanied Chrissie along the church path, offering his arm to steady her as she limped.

“The trick with bullies is to show them they can’t get the better of you.

“Do we know who the lucky man is who’s just married the delightful Sierra?” Chrissie whispered as they approached the crowd gathered by the porch.

“Some guy called Xander,” Luke whispered back.

Just then, the heavy doors of the church opened to release the organ music and give the waiting well-wishers their first glimpse of the bride and groom.

Her dress was a sleek sheath of oyster satin, fanning out to a fishtail at the bottom, while he was in a silver-grey frock coat and top hat.

Under cover of the cheers and pealing bells, Chrissie gasped and turned away abruptly, yanking on Luke’s arm as she did so.

“What’s up? Are you in pain?” His face was full of concern.

Chrissie could feel the heat rising in her cheeks and she was finding it difficult to breathe.

“It’s no good, I can’t do this,” she whispered. “I’ll explain to my dad that I had an accident.

“Let’s just skip the whole thing, Luke.”

There was a note of urgency in her voice.

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you know the groom.”

Chrissie nodded ruefully. “He was my first serious boyfriend back in college, before he dumped me for the girl I thought was my best friend,” Chrissie hissed through her teeth.

“It turned out he’d been seeing her behind my back for three months,” she explained hurriedly.

“He was plain old Alex Ford back then, though.”

When Luke’s eyes met hers, there was a spark of determination.

“It’s time to face up to those two.

“After all, they didn’t deserve us, but it seems they might be perfect for each other.”

He got a package out of his pocket and armed himself with a handful of coloured petals.

“I reckon you and I have each got a large cappuccino and a chocolate brownie with our name on it somewhere, so let’s just do what we came to do and get out of here!”

It was an unusual call to arms, but it had the desired effect.

Chrissie took a deep breath and walked boldly over to the bridal couple, all signs of her injuries washed away on a wave of adrenaline.

“Let me offer you my good wishes on this special day,” she began.

“May you have all the luck and happiness you deserve.”

Chrissie smiled and shook hands with both the bride and the groom, while Luke showered them with confetti.

“I hope you’ve changed your ways as well as your name, Xander,” she whispered, handing the commemorative bottle of soot to the groom with the certificate.

As soon as everyone had the pictures they wanted, it was time to make their escape.

From the car, Chrissie caught a glimpse of Sierra looking after them, bemused.

Luke was beaming from ear to ear.

“That was brilliant!” he exclaimed. “Did you see his face when it dawned on him who you were?

“He must really regret letting a girl like you slip through his fingers.” Chrissie laughed.

“I’m sure all guys secretly dream of going out with a chimney sweep!” She rolled her eyes.

“Sierra looked a bit shamefaced when she saw you, though, I thought.

“And then it dawned on me what her name is going to be now . . .”

“Perhaps they’ll name their first child Fiesta,” Luke suggested, and they both burst out laughing.

“Let’s reunite you with that bike of yours, before someone takes a fancy to it.” He started the car.

“I realise you’re a Lucky Sweep – my day took a turn for the better after I bumped into you – but we’d better not risk it much longer,” he added.

“Hey, hold on a minute.” Chrissie protested. “I thought there was a brownie somewhere with my name on it.”

“Well, I was hoping I could buy you that on our first date.” Luke grinned.

“Now who’s pushing their luck?” Chrissie teased. “I’m free next Saturday, if you like.” ■