by Teresa Ashby
“Careless?”
“It’s one of those weedkillers,” he explained. “Got it for the weeds that come up through the flags. Strong stuff. Kills practically on impact.”
Trudy looked away, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t see the guilty flush in her cheeks. He did, but mistook it for something else.
“I’ve never sat in here before,” she mused.
“Never? In all the years you’ve done for me?”
“Never,” she said. “I’ve mopped the floor and dusted the plants, but I’ve never, you know, sat.”
“Shame,” he said. “Perhaps we should make a thing of it, you know, sitting down for a cuppa. On a regular basis so to speak.”
“We should get down to business,” she said. “The Diana business.”
“Ah,” he said and cleared his throat noisily.
The dogs took it as an invitation and edged closer to him. There was a face on each of his knees, one black, the other white with a brindle patch over one eye.
“Suppose you chaps want a biscuit,” he said and they both lifted their heads and sat up straight with bright eager expressions like schoolboys in a classroom stretching up their hands when they know the answer to a question.
“Well how about remembering your manners?” he said. “Shake hands, please.”
Trudy watched. The Colonel could be a gruff man and he didn’t suffer fools, but he had a rapport with the dogs. With Fortescue too. She couldn’t help but admire that in a man.
The dogs accepted a half a chocolate digestive biscuit each, gobbled it fast, then put their heads back on his knees.
“Cheek!” Potts said. “On your beds, now.”
They ignored him and he ignored the fact that they were ignoring them.
“Is it just a cake you’re after, or do you want the whole works?” Trudy asked.
Potts’ bushy eyebrows shot up, wrinkling his forehead.
“A cake? Aren’t we being a trifle premature?”
“Well it’s usual,” Trudy said. “Unless I’ve got hold of the wrong end of the stick.”
“Well I’m not sure,” he said. “Fact is, Mrs Benson, you’re known in the village as a fixer-upper and I want you to fix up my daughter Diana with a suitable chap.”
Trudy grasped her jaw to stop it dropping. When he’d broached the subject of Diana she’d had quite different ideas. A surprise party for her thirtieth birthday perhaps, but hardly marriage.
He’d whispered something about Diana being about to turn thirty and she’d leapt to the wrong conclusion. She’d been thinking themed parties and cakes and whether to hire a band or a disco.
“Colonel, I don’t fix people up,” she said. “I organise weddings, funerals and birthday parties. I arrange flowers and provide buffets. I make and ice celebration cakes and I have been known to make the occasional wedding dress, but I’m not a one woman dating agency.”
“Point is,” he went on, without seeming to hear a word she’d said. “Coming up to thirty, not getting any younger and being the only child has me worried about the future. Her future. Have to face it that I won’t be around forever to take care of her.”
Trudy pictured Diana for a moment. Tall like her father, pencil slim unlike her father, very attractive and a successful lawyer. Hardly the sort of woman who needed taking care of by any stretch of the imagination.
“You think she needs a husband?”
“I know, it’s very non Pee Cee,” he said confidentially. “But at the end of the day, she’s just a gal and I don’t want her turning round when she’s forty five and wishing she’d stopped to have children.”
“Perhaps she doesn’t want children,” Trudy said. “Not everyone does.”
“And inheriting this house,” he rolled his eyes upwards. “Nice as it is, it’s a big place and gets lonely. I don’t want my Diana fetching up as a lonely sad old woman with only an old Labrador for company.”
Trudy gasped.
“Oh, I didn’t mean you,” Potts said quickly. “I mean you’re neither old nor lonely and you’re anything but sad.”
“And are you lonely?”
“Me? With Fortescue and Wellington for company?”
She shook her head. If he was happy to live on his own, why couldn’t he see that Diana probably was too?
“Well who did you have in mind for this match?” she asked. “Anyone you fancy as a prospective son in law?”
“Well, as a matter of fact . . . no. Her colleagues are all as dry and outdated as the laws they uphold, her clients are all criminals and she doesn’t have a social life as far as I can gather.”
“But if we could find someone suitable,” Trudy said, drifting off into the realms of fantasy. “Wouldn’t it be a wonderful wedding?”
“A marquee on the lawn,” Potts joined in. “A carpet of rose petals scattered beneath her feet . . .”
Diana Potts drove slowly through the village past the picture postcard cottages nestling in their fragrant gardens.
Such a peaceful scene, but she knew very well that behind the windows all hell would be breaking loose.
Since the bypass was built thirty years ago, few cars came through the village and the local ears were attuned to the peculiar sounds of all the local vehicles.
They’d hear the purr of Diana’s BMW, recognise it as an outsider and would be hurtling across their front rooms to press their noses against the glass. She wondered if they left smears on the windows like nosy cats.
Reverend Blinking was flapping about outside the church in his vicarly robes. He put her in mind of a crow, rather ragged round the edges with a beak of a nose and yet a certain elegance.
She’d always thought crows rather dignified birds.
He was about to climb into his ancient pink Citroen 2CV when he spotted Diana and flapped a black wing. She waved back, then pulled up beside him.
“Hello, Diana,” he said, stooping to peer in through the open window. “Hello, Reggie. How are you?”
“Fine, fine,” he said. “And yourself?”
Not at all fine, she thought. Come home with her tail between her legs in fact, but she mustered up a breezy smile. No need for the whole village to know about it until she’d told her father.
“Best be getting on,” she said. “Lovely to see you again, Reggie.”
“And you,” he grinned. “And this explains what Trudy was doing heading up to the Colonel’s house this afternoon.”
“Mrs Benson?” she frowned. “On a Sunday. Is something going on that I should know about?”
“Well, as you know, I’m not one to gossip, but there has been speculation, particularly since Trudy was wearing a disguise.”
“A disguise?”
She knew her father’s lady who did was a bit of an eccentric, but didn’t realise she’d taken to wearing disguises.
“Diana!”
“Oh, no,” she groaned.
It was Bill wearing his usual pristine white shirt tucked loosely into black trousers. And as he walked he swung his arms as if to give himself more momentum and therefore move faster.
“Hello, Bill,” she said as the vicar moved aside allowing the pub landlord to lean in. “Long time no see.”
Suddenly the gardens were full of people snipping the dead heads off roses, pulling weeds up around the neat little gates and examining the underneath of leaves for signs of pests.
“Three months and four days to be precise,” Bill muttered. “Why didn’t you return my calls?”
He’d been counting the days? Her heart skipped a beat. And she knew he was right because she’d been counting the days too.
“I’ve been busy,” she murmured.
“I see,” he said tightly. “I thought . . .”
“Must go,” she said with a smile as false as her fingernails and drove off so fast, she almost knocked Bill off his feet.
She’d never been so glad to see the big red house or the regimental rows of dwarf conifers lining the driveway in her life. She swerved
slightly to avoid a chunk of a bush that someone had carelessly left lying on the gravel.
Remembering what Reggie Blinking had said about her father having company this afternoon, she quietly let herself in and heard voices wafting from the conservatory.
Conspiratorial voices. Spoken in the kind of hushed tones lawyers used outside courtrooms when they didn’t want to be overheard.
Reggie said there’d been speculation. Diana smiled. Was it possible that after so many years on his own, her father had finally found love again?
“Oh, Colonel, I had no idea you had such a romantic streak,” she heard Trudy Benson say with some delight.
“I just know what’s right, that’s all,” the Colonel chuckled bashfully. “There’ll be champagne and a splendid cake – the whole works. And a bouncy castle for the kiddies, keep them amused while the grown ups dance.”
“Yes,” Mrs Benson’s voice was almost shrill with enthusiasm. “And flowers too. Lots and lots of flowers.”
“My dear,” the Colonel said and Diana heard a tapping sound, as if he were patting Mrs Benson’s hand – and he only did that with his most intimate friends and family. “Please, call me Potts.”
“And you must call me Trudy,” Mrs Benson said breathlessly.
Diana bit her lip. They were planning their wedding. How wonderful.
She’d given up hope that her father would ever remarry and she’d never imagined he would fall for dear Mrs Benson, but now it had happened, she couldn’t be more pleased.
CHAPTER TWO
Trudy twisted and turned her old wedding ring. All this talk of marriage had drawn her attention to it and the fact that she still wore it, even though she’d been a widow for many years.
One minute the ring was on her finger and the next it had flown off.
Unwilling to disturb Fortescue who was still snoozing on Trudy’s lap, Potts Immediately fell to his knees to pick it up.
Still on his knees, he slipped it back on her finger.
At that moment, Diana stepped into the conservatory.
She made the smallest of noises, but it was enough to alert the dogs to her presence and suddenly the pair of them were hurtling towards her only to skid to a halt and sniff her hands wildly, tails knocking plants from their racks. Their paws scattering spilled compost across the black and white tiles.
“Diana!” the Colonel yelled, a guilty flush swamping his cheeks as he leapt to his feet.
“Miss Potts!” Mrs Benson cried, also leaping up and sending Fortescue flying into an umbrella plant.
“Aren’t you good boys,” Diana said making a fuss of the dogs. “You’re not jumping up, Welly. Is Wellington all right, Dad? He doesn’t seem to be as boisterous as usual.”
It gave the Colonel time to regain his composure. He couldn’t explain why Wellington was behaving like a gentleman, but his dog’s sudden good manners were the least of his problems.
“Darling girl,” he said, hurrying over to greet her and she noticed his hands shook as he took hold of her arms and hugged her. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I’ve nothing prepared.”
“Oh, Dad, I only need a bed for a few days,” she said feeling suddenly close to tears.
“I’ll go and make it up,” Trudy said.
“There’s no need. I mean, it’s your day off . . . I mean . . .”
Oh this was awkward, but Trudy Benson just smiled serenely and patted Diana’s arm.
“No trouble at all my dear.”
“Something you’d like to get off your chest, Dad?” Diana asked, pushing her own worries aside.
He made a growling noise.
“What makes you think that?”
“I overheard you,” she said.
He peered closely at her face, but she was smiling and it looked genuine.
“And you don’t mind?” he said, astounded.
“Not a bit. In fact, I’m delighted.”
“Well,” he said, dragging a large white hanky from his pocket and dabbing it round his face. “Phew. That’s all I can say. Didn’t expect you to take it so well to be truthful.”
“Oh, Dad, what do you take me for?” she said. “How could I be anything but over the moon? I’m sure you and Mrs Benson will be very happy.”
Trudy was crossing the hall on her way towards the stairs when she realised what Diana had said and noticed in the same instant that Diana hadn’t shut the front door properly.
Not only that, Bill White from the pub had followed, presumably cadging a lift with Reverend Blinking since the pair of them were standing in the hall and the vicar’s pink 2CV was parked outside.
Bill was the first to speak.
“Congratulations, Trudy,” he said. “Fancy you keeping that all to yourself. Let me be the first to kiss the bride.”
“Oh, but no, I . . .”
He grabbed her and planted a kiss on her cheek.
“My turn,” Reverend Blinking said.
Trudy’s head was spinning.
“But you don’t understand,” she said as the vicar swooped to kiss her other cheek.
“Oh, but we do,” Bill said, giving her a hearty wink. “In fact, we in the village have been saying for some time that it’s about time you and the Colonel got together.”
“But we’re not, I mean . . . oh heck.”
“I must dash,” Reverend Blinking said. “Do excuse me, but I’ve been invited for tea at the ladies club.”
“Oh, no,” Trudy groaned.
Dilys Parsons, the self-appointed town crier would be there. And the vicar was well known as a man who couldn’t keep a secret even if his life depended on it.
“What are you doing here, Bill?” Diana said crossly.
“Well, since you nearly ran my foot over in your hurry to get away,” Bill said. “When I hadn’t even finished speaking to you . . .”
“But I’d finished speaking to you,” she said. “There’s no more to say.”
Colonel Potts was standing in the doorway to the conservatory spluttering like a moped with water in the petrol tank.
The dogs were clattering around, claws tappity-tapping on the tiles as they vied for attention and Fortescue sat between the Colonel’s feet licking furiously at the tip of his tail.
In all the kerfuffle and before Potts and Trudy could explain themselves, Diana grabbed hold of Bill’s arm and steered him swiftly towards the door.
“Sandwiches,” Potts said and hustled off to the kitchen.
“Beds,” Trudy cried and fled upstairs.
The dogs rushed to the kitchen in the hopes of scrounging more food and Fortescue sighed and stumped back into the conservatory to find a sunny spot among the dying plants.
“I won’t have you spoiling my father’s wedding plans,” Diana said. “So don’t come back here again. I don’t want to see you. Can’t you get that through your head?”
“But you love me,” Bill said wearily. “You said so.”
“Things have happened since then.”
“Yes, I know,” he said. “I called your office and they said you were no longer a partner. Why, Diana? What happened? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
She couldn’t bear the sympathy in his voice.
“Oh, go back to the Frog and Dumpling, Bill,” she snapped. “Don’t make my life any more complicated than it already is.”
Trudy watched from Diana’s bedroom window. Something was going on between Bill and Diana that was for sure. But what? The village grapevine had clearly missed this one.
“We have to tell her,” Trudy said as she watched Potts delicately cutting the crusts off the sandwiches he’d made.
“Goes without saying,” he agreed.
They both looked up at the ceiling. No sooner had Trudy finished straightening the counterpane on Diana’s bed, than the poor girl had rushed in and thrown herself on it.
“We can’t let her go on thinking that we’re engaged,” Trudy pressed on.
“No, indeed,” Potts said. “But we can’t
tell her we were discussing her.”
“Then we’ll tell her we were talking about the wedding of a friend of mine,” Trudy said. “We were silly to get carried away and start talking about marquees on the lawn and bouncy castles.”
“Absolutely,” Potts said. “You going to tell her or shall I?”
“Better coming from you,” Trudy murmured. “You are her father after all.”
“Quite so,” he said, then gave a start. “What the dash is he doing here?”
Trudy looked up and there was Bernard, hands cupped against the kitchen window, nose glued to the glass. He blew her a kiss.
“He’s here for Julia’s wedding and seems to think I fancy him,” Trudy explained.
“And do you?”
“Certainly not,” Trudy cried. “He’s been following me everywhere and I’m fed up with it.”
Potts grabbed Trudy’s hand and opened the back door.
“Can I help you?” he said.
“Actually,” Bernard said. “It’s Troodles I’m after.”
Potts drew himself up. “And what business do you have with my fiancée?” he demanded.
Trudy’s knees wobbled. She had no idea the Colonel could be so commanding, so forceful.
Bernard looked from Trudy to the Colonel, then back again.
“Is this true, Troodles?” he asked. “Are you spoken for?”
The Colonel gave her hand a squeeze and she nodded her head.
“Fact is, we were just discussing our engagement party,” Potts said.
“Engagement party?” Diana’s voice sounded behind them. “Oh, how exciting. Can I help arrange it?”
Trudy shot Potts a despairing look.
“Oh, corks,” he muttered. “That’s torn it.”
Colonel Potts entered Lily Cottage, stooping as he came through the small doorway and then he stood in the sitting room, filling it up with his presence.
He’d never been inside the cottage before and it was much as he expected. Clean, but cluttered, small and homely. It was a pleasant sort of clutter though, not the kind of pointless accumulation he normally despised.
He held his hat, an aged discoloured Panama in both hands in front of him and twirled it nervously in circles.