A Wedding at Leopard Tree Lodge

by Liz Fielding

  ‘Marji wanted Sylvie,’ she said impatiently, taking another step. Wishing she’d never started this. Next time. There was never going to be a next time… ‘But she’s on maternity leave.’

  ‘And there was no other wedding planner prepared to drop everything and grab the biggest job in town?’

  She stopped, turned. ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘That maybe you’re the one who needs to let go of the past, Josie. Stop worrying about what you think other people think about you. They really don’t care as long as you do your job. What happened to you is shocking. This man stole everything from you. Your home, your memories, but unless you can let go you’re handing him your future, too.’

  ‘Well, thanks, Gideon. Like I haven’t heard the pull yourself together, get laid and stop feeling sorry for yourself speech before.’

  He shrugged. ‘I couldn’t have put it better myself. If you need any help with the second part of the plan, let me know.’

  ‘If you have any ideas in that direction, the office floor is still vacant,’ she said, and this time when she started up the steps he did nothing to stop her.

  The car was waiting and she climbed into the back. She hoped Gideon might get into the front seat alongside his old friend Rupe, but he wasn’t done.

  ‘You were honest with me yesterday, Josie. I don’t know what else I could have said.’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said. It wasn’t what he’d said. It was the fact that he couldn’t wait to get away from her.

  ‘Did you ever look for him?’

  She frowned. ‘Alec? You’re kidding? If I’d turned up on his doorstep he’d have called the police, told them I was harassing him.’

  ‘I wondered if you’d made any attempt to get back your personal things. The photographs.’

  ‘Oh, please. They would have gone into a skip with the rest of the rubbish when he moved.’

  ‘Do you think so? Photographs are—’

  Josie heard a bleep. ‘Did you leave my phone on?’ She took it from her bag. ‘Well, what do you know?’ she said, feigning enthusiasm. ‘I’ve got a signal. Do you mind? I need to deal with this.’

  She opened her messages and spent the next few minutes answering them, calling her office, using the time to block out the presence of the man beside her. Rediscover the Josie Fowler who’d left London. Tighten up the armour plating. Re-establish a safe boundary between her and her emotions.

  He must have got the picture because he dropped the subject of her past while she kept her eyes on the scenery, straining to see the mist from the Falls for as long as it was visible. Then on the horizon. But she needed her sunglasses to keep her eyes from watering in the brilliant light.

  The four-by-four was waiting for them when they landed and she didn’t wait for him to help her down when they reached the compound.

  ‘Thanks, Gideon. Great lunch,’ she said, swinging herself down before he could help. He didn’t follow her and at the door she glanced back, realised he was still sitting in the Land Rover. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked with a sudden pang of concern. ‘Is it your back?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s not my back. It’s my foot. I appear to have got it firmly lodged in my mouth.’

  ‘No.’ He couldn’t help his feelings. At least he hadn’t tried to pretend. ‘You were honest,’ she said. ‘And that is all any of us can hope for.’

  Anything else was pie in the sky and she didn’t hang around to embarrass him any longer.

  She kept herself busy. Not looking for Gideon whenever she turned a corner, walked into a room. Not looking so hard, in fact, that she didn’t see him even when she walked into the dining room. Not until he half rose, as if to invite her to the table he was sharing with some of the guests.

  For a heartbeat there was nothing else. No sound, no movement, nothing but the two of them locked into some space where the world was in slow motion.

  Then Cryssie grabbed her arm, wanting to tell her something and the noise rushed back and she turned away.

  It was going to be a long day tomorrow and she ordered supper on a tray, then checked to see if there were any messages before heading for the tree house to obsessively check her lists.

  She’d done it half a dozen times before she gave up waiting for him to return and went to bed. Lying in the dark, listening to the party going on until late. Pretending to be asleep when he did finally make it back.

  There was no dawn call with coffee and muffins. Instead, she left him sleeping, grabbed a quick breakfast in the dining room with the photographer waiting for Cryssie and Tal, who were going out on a game drive to be photographed in the wilds.

  Later, while the women took over the swimming pool and talked clothes non-stop as they had their nails done, Gideon took the men, needing an outlet for their pent-up energy, off to the nearest school to give the children a football master class.

  Josie, meanwhile, kept an eye on the florists, back with even more flowers. Decorated the top deck of the river boat, laid up the tables for the dinner that night.

  ‘You haven’t laid a place for yourself,’ Cryssie said when she came to see how it looked.

  ‘Honestly, Cryssie…’

  But Cryssie, it seemed, had an unexpectedly determined streak that belied her blonde bombshell image.

  ‘There’s an uneven number on that table,’ she said. ‘It looks untidy.’

  And untidiness was, apparently, not to be tolerated.

  Gideon had beaten her to the bathroom, changed and gone by the time she was finally satisfied that there wasn’t another thing she could do and rushed back for her one minute shower, a quick pass with a pair of straighteners she’d borrowed to perk up her hair and the fastest make-up job in history.

  She only had one posh frock with her and the vintage designer dress, midnight-purple chiffon, backless almost to her bottom, a handkerchief hem around her knees, was going to have to do double duty for tonight and the wedding.

  Hair and make-up done, purple stockings so fine that they were practically non-existent clinging to her legs, she slipped it over her head. Fastened two velvet chokers studded with crystals around her neck. Pushed her feet into a pair of vertiginous Mary Janes. Checked her little black and purple velvet evening bag for the basic kit. Took a last deep breath.

  ‘Game on,’ she said, then she turned and came face to face with Gideon.

  He was wearing the cream suit she’d seen hanging in the wardrobe, a dark open-necked shirt. Forget dinner. He looked good enough to eat.

  ‘Cryssie sent me to look for you.’

  ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘I wasn’t lost.’

  ‘No?’ He extended a hand. ‘Let’s go.’ And, when she hesitated, ‘I’m not prepared to risk you stumbling on those heels.’

  She hadn’t seen him looking at her feet, but then she had no idea how long he’d been standing there before she’d turned around. She didn’t argue but surrendered her elbow to his hand, allowed him to escort her along the bridge and down to the jetty.

  What had been a plain wide wooden deck was now lined on either side with flowers, lit with lanterns that were reflected in the dark water. Small tables had been placed along its length where guests were being served pre-dinner drinks, canapés.

  ‘It looks stunning, Josie. You’ve done a great job.’

  ‘Let’s get tomorrow over before you start congratulating me. Stay and have a drink,’ she urged. ‘I need to go up on deck, to be there, make sure everyone finds their seat.’ She didn’t wait for his answer, but broke away, walked quickly to the boat and climbed up onto the deck, took one final look around before nodding to the maitre d’ to ring the ship’s bell to summon everyone on deck.

  ‘Penny for them?’ Gideon asked.

  The table with the odd number had been where Gideon was sitting and Cryssie had written her name on a place card and set it next to him. Josie had switched it so that he was at a table at the far end of the room, adjusted the table plan and reprinted it.

  While
she was directing people to their seats, someone had switched them back and, from the little grin that Cryssie had given her, she knew that she’d been rumbled.

  ‘I was thinking about the food,’ she replied. ‘It’s superb. I really wish that Paul and his team were catering the wedding tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll tell him.’

  ‘All your staff have been great, Gideon. You should be proud of them, proud of what you’ve made of Lissa’s dream.’

  Before he could answer, Tal rose, said a few words to welcome everyone to his and Cryssie’s wedding. ‘Make the most of it,’ he urged them before he sat down. ‘Neither of us will be doing this again.’

  It got a laugh, a signal for the small band that had set up on the jetty to start playing.

  ‘Are you free now?’ Gideon asked. ‘You don’t have to rush off and do anything?’

  ‘I’ll have to restore order here…’

  ‘Not until after the party.’

  ‘Well, no…’

  ‘It’s just that I had the feeling you might have been avoiding me.’

  ‘Me? Avoiding you?’

  ‘You say that as if it was the other way around. I came looking for you last night but you’d disappeared. Then this morning you were up before dawn.’

  ‘The one was linked to the other. Early to bed, early to rise. And you didn’t appear to be lacking for company. An entire bouquet of bridesmaids hanging on your every word the last time I saw you.’ That, at least appeared to amuse him and she was afraid she knew why. ‘But thanks for taking the guys off our hands this afternoon,’ she said quickly to cover her slip. ‘Did you have fun?’

  ‘The footballers were great with the kids. They had a whip-round for the school funds, too. Darren Buck was especially generous.’

  ‘That’ll go down well with the readers of Celebrity.’

  ‘Do you dance, Miss Cynic?’ Gideon asked as they joined the crowd drifting down the stairs, his hand to her back to steady her. Cool against her naked skin, raising gooseflesh even though the night was warm.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Never?’

  Not when she wanted to keep her head.

  ‘I don’t think you’ll be short of a partner,’ she assured him. Then, as an altercation broke out between two of the women, ‘Go and find Darren Buck, tell him to a get a grip on his women,’ she said, hurrying to step between them just as the chief bridesmaid’s replacement swung a left.

  If she’d been wearing her boots she would have taken the full force of it, but the high heels gave her no purchase and she went down as if poleaxed.

  ‘Josie!’

  She blinked, slightly dazed by the speed of it as Gideon ran his fingers lightly over her cheek. ‘That’s going to be one hell of a bruise.’

  ‘Just as long as the bridesmaid wasn’t marked,’ she said, wincing as she sat up, testing her jaw.

  He grinned. ‘You took the hit for the bridesmaid?’

  ‘If she had to drop out it would make the numbers uneven,’ she said. ‘Is she okay?’

  ‘Her mascara’s run. Is that fatal?’

  She snorted. ‘Stop it. Help me up.’

  ‘Put your arm on my shoulder.’ She did as she was bid but, instead of helping her to her feet, he scooped her up and carried her inside.

  ‘Gideon, put me down. Your back…’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with my back.’ He pushed open the swing door to the kitchen. ‘It was a stress thing.’ He stopped, looked down at her. ‘Thanks to you, I’m not stressed any more.’ Then, before she could say anything, ‘Crushed ice here!’

  It was Paul who made up the ice pack, but it was Gideon who applied it with the utmost gentleness to her jaw. Waved away Cryssie, who’d come running to make sure she was all right.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Josie.’

  ‘No problem,’ she said. ‘I just lost my balance. Gideon warned me about these heels. Could you make sure Darren’s girlfriend is okay? She could probably do with some of this ice for her hand.’

  ‘If you’re sure there’s nothing I can do?’

  ‘I’ll take care of her,’ Gideon said. ‘Go and enjoy your party.’ Then, when she’d gone, ‘Let’s get you to your room.’

  ‘You’re not going to carry me!’ she warned. ‘I can walk.’

  ‘Really? Well, that’s a relief.’

  ‘You have hurt your back!’

  ‘No, but I very well might if I had to carry you all that way,’ he said.

  She jabbed him with her elbow but didn’t object when he put his arm around her waist to support her as they walked slowly back along the bridge. He sat her on the bed, gave her a pain-killer. By then her head was throbbing so badly that she didn’t care that he was undressing her. She was just grateful to lie down and have someone tuck her in. Give her a kiss goodnight.

  Gideon watched her all through the night but Josie slept easily, only stirring as the sky turned pink.

  ‘Hey…’ he said. ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘Ouch?’ she said with a rueful grin.

  ‘Sorry…’

  She laughed, then pulled a face as it hurt.

  ‘Noooo…’ She put her hand to the bruise along the edge of her jaw that threw the faint white scar into prominence. ‘Does it look bad?’

  ‘Nicely colour coordinated. I’ll bet her knuckles are worse.’

  ‘She was probably provoked.’

  ‘No excuse.’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘There is never any excuse.’

  Wanting to distract her, he ran a finger gently along the line of the scar. ‘You seem to have a habit of leading with your jaw.’

  ‘Oh, that. I was climbing on the back of the sofa, fell off and caught my chin on a table.’ She looked up at him. ‘Did you think it was the wicked stepfather, Gideon?’

  ‘I couldn’t have been more wrong about him, could I?’

  ‘He used his good looks to take advantage of a lonely woman, but he was too lazy to be violent.’ Then, ‘Can you move? I need the bathroom.’

  ‘Hold on,’ he said. He climbed off the bed, fetched a robe, fed her arms into it as if she were a kid.

  ‘I’m not an invalid.’

  ‘No? How many fingers am I holding up?’

  ‘One.’

  ‘Do you feel dizzy? Sick?’

  ‘No, I just need to –’

  ‘Just checking.’

  ‘I know,’ she said. Touched his cheek, very gently. ‘Thanks for taking care of me.’

  Then she swung herself out of bed as if nothing had happened. An act? Or was she really that tough?

  She emerged after the fastest shower in history, towelling her hair dry as she walked out onto the deck.

  ‘Isn’t there supposed to be coffee?’ she asked hopefully.

  ‘Any minute…’ He stopped as the bell jangled on the steps but it wasn’t Francis, it was David. ‘Josie…’ he said, coming to a halt when he saw her. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Fine. No real damage.’

  ‘Right. Good.’

  ‘What’s up, David?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m afraid we’ve got a bit of a problem.’

  ‘What kind of problem?’ Josie asked, letting the towel fall.

  ‘I’ve just had a call from Gabarone. The owner of the catering company is missing. The staff turned up early to prepare the wedding food this morning to find the premises locked and deserted.’

  ‘But I spoke to him two days ago,’ she said.

  ‘Apparently there have been rumours that he was in financial difficulty. When someone eventually managed to get into the premises, there was nothing there.’

  ‘Nothing?’

  ‘Completely stripped. No equipment. No food.’

  Gideon saw the colour drain from Josie’s face and he turned to David. ‘What have we got in the chill room?’

  ‘Lamb, beef, poultry, but we haven’t time to make an elaborate five-course wedding breakfast from scratch. Even with Paul…’

  ‘No. It’ll have to be some
thing simple. A braai? The saffron rice salad you do with pine nuts. Tabbouleh. Salads. Get Pete on the phone. Tell him what you need. And fish, whatever he can grab off the early flight from the coast.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  He turned to Josie.

  ‘What’s a braai?’ she asked.

  ‘A barbecue. I know it’s not elegant, but I promise you’ll have a feast that no one will ever forget.’

  She swallowed. ‘I’m sure it will be great. There’s just one thing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The cake.’

  He was brought to a juddering halt.

  ‘The cake?’

  ‘They were commissioned to make the cake. Three tiers of the finest fruit cake, almond paste, royal icing…’

  He glanced at David, but he shook his head. ‘We can’t do that. With the best will in the world, Josie—’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘We’re going to have to make those big cupcakes. Serafina doesn’t approve of them—’

  ‘Already I love them,’ he said.

  ‘We can use muffin cases. David?’ she prompted.

  ‘The cases aren’t a problem, but we’re running on skeleton staff today. Breakfast, cold lunch… I allowed everyone we didn’t need to go home last night to leave the kitchen clear for the caterer.’

  ‘I’ll make them,’ she said. ‘The ingredients are basic enough. We can use white frosting but we need decorations.’ She turned to him, totally focused on the wedding now. ‘Can Pete find those on a Sunday morning?’

  ‘He’ll get them,’ Gideon said. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Whatever he can find in pale blue and orange. And we’ll need cake stands. The three-tier kind.’

  ‘Cake stands. Got it,’ David said. ‘I’ll… um…go and get the ball rolling.’

  ‘We’ll be right behind you,’ Gideon said.

  Josie broke the news to Cryssie. Explained what they were going to do.

  ‘Is there anything we can do to help?’ she asked.

  ‘No. You stay here, have your hair and make-up done. But, if I have your permission, I might round up one or two of your guests? Beating batter might keep them from beating each other. It’ll make great copy for Celebrity.’