by Sue Welfare
*
‘What on earth is keeping your mum and dad?’ said Sam, catching up with Suzie inside the tent.
‘They won’t be long. They said five minutes.’
Sam raised his eyebrows. ‘When was that, ten minutes ago?’
She painted on a smile. ‘Something like that. If they’re not here in another couple of minutes I’ll go and see where they’ve got to.’
‘Everybody is getting a bit tense. What are they doing in there? And what about your sister, where’s she? I thought she was supposed to be out here with the hoi polloi, charming everyone with all that starry-eyed thing she does?’
He sounded annoyed and Suzie couldn’t work out why. One of the most basic tenets of her relationship with Sam had always been that they were honest with each other: no lies, no secrets, just the bare bald truth and it had always served them well. When had they stopped? She kept trying to work out when truths had become half-truths and the lies of omission, and when secrets had started being hidden away and not shared. Although maybe now wasn’t the time.
Suzie had known for months that Sam was unhappy and worried but now realised with a growing sense of unease that she didn’t really know any of the details. How long ago was it that they would have sat together in the kitchen with a coffee or a bottle of wine and talked it all through, turning the problem this way and that, holding it up to the light, trying to find an answer?
‘I’m sure Liz won’t be much longer either,’ said Suzie. ‘She’s outside chatting to her new man. And Mum’s probably rushing around trying to find something to wear. You know what she’s like.’
‘I know what you’re all like. While you’ve been in the house, I’ve been having a chat with Matt. Apparently there are lots of things you haven’t been telling me.’
Suzie felt a rush of heat. What the hell had Matt said now?
Suzie held on tight to the smile. ‘Really. And what would those be?’ As Suzie spoke she tried to spot Matt in among the throng. People had started to mill around. The sense of expectation and excitement felt close to anti-climax and disappointment. They couldn’t hold off on the buffet for much longer: the waiting staff were busy setting out trays of food on the long trestle tables. But Matt was nowhere in sight.
‘He was saying how well the whole walled garden project is doing – saying it might be time to think about expanding, maybe diversifying.’
‘Right,’ Suzie said, nodding cautiously. ‘Well, it might be.’
‘I can see where he’s coming from but I was bit worried it was all too much, too soon, and that you’d be outside of your comfort zone. You know – pigs and chickens and God knows what else. That is the idea, isn’t it?’
Suzie felt the tension in her stomach easing and nodded. ‘The estate manager has been talking about it for a while now; there used to be stables and piggeries and chicken coops attached to the garden and I know they’re really keen to get them back into working order. It’s really just a natural progression of what we’re already doing.’
Sam nodded thoughtfully. ‘It used to be that you and I would have talked about it. It seemed really odd to hear it from someone else.’
Suzie swallowed hard; he was echoing her own earlier thoughts. She could see that Sam was waiting for some kind of comment and finally said, ‘You’re right, but we haven’t really had the chance just recently, have we? What with the party and everything, and the girls and you working late or me down at the garden.’
He nodded and then smiled. ‘No. You’re right. So is there anything else you want to tell me while we’re here?’
Suzie bit her lip; just how hard would it be to say, ‘Actually there is something else I need to talk to you about’? Instead she hesitated, caught on the brink; surely this was just the right moment to say something about what she and Matt were up to but she just couldn’t find the words. Suzie stared at him and then tried out a smile. ‘Why, what else has Matt been telling you?’ she said, hedging her bets. God, this was madness, why didn’t she just tell him?
Sam sighed. ‘Nothing. Look, why don’t you go and see where your mum and dad have got to? We really ought to let people eat.’
*
While all this was going on, Jack and Rose were upstairs.
‘So what do you think, Jack?’ asked Rose, standing in the bedroom doorway of their cottage and striking a pose. Even with the bedroom windows closed she could hear the sounds of the people outside and music from the marquee.
‘White linen trousers, grey silk shirt and that gorgeous black and white chunky necklace you bought me in Paris. Nice and stylish and not too wedding-y?’ She laughed. ‘Come on, you might at least look, Jack. Do you think I should wear a dress instead? Or what about a jacket with this? I suppose I can always nip in and grab a cardigan later if it gets cold.’ She did a little twirl. ‘Well? What do you reckon?’
Jack was in a world of his own, sitting on the end of their bed looking out of the window, watching the revellers in the garden below.
‘My God,’ he murmured. ‘There’s Jonathon Jacobs and Laina, oh and look there’s Phil and Rachel – fancy them coming up from St Austell. All that way. You know, I haven’t spoken to Phil for years.’
Rose bent down and kissed him. It wasn’t like him not to answer her, nor to be so preoccupied.
‘Well, you will in a minute. You need to get dressed. We’ve been up here for ages. You can’t spend the whole evening sitting up here people-watching in your underpants. We need to get back down there and say hello to everybody. I’ve put a shirt out for you and those nice new trousers. Now what do you want, your cream linen jacket or your navy blazer?’
Jack didn’t move.
‘What’s the matter?’ Rose sat down on the bed beside him and took hold of his hand. ‘We can’t keep everyone waiting. They’re our friends and they’ve come to see us and help us celebrate – and you have to admit that the girls have done a lovely job. They weren’t to know about all the other stuff.’
He smiled at her, his handsome face full of love and concern. ‘No, I know that, but I was just thinking that Liz is right, that we really should have said something to them before. After all, it isn’t just about the divorce, is it?’
She smiled at him reassuringly. Her Jack, usually the strong one of the two of them, looked almost at a loss.
‘No, you’re right,’ said Rose. ‘And as soon as tonight’s over we can sit them down and explain. It’s not like we can turn back the clock and undo what we’ve done. It wasn’t till I started to tell the girls about it that I realised what a big thing it was to them. To be honest, I hadn’t really considered it to be that important. Us being together has always been the big thing for me, the important thing.’ She caught hold of his hand and entwined her fingers with his. ‘And you know I never take that for granted, don’t you, not for one moment, not one second. Letting you go was the biggest mistake of my life – and it could have gone so horribly wrong. I could have lost you forever.’
Jack glanced up at her and smiled. ‘Come on, you’re right, we shouldn’t keep people waiting.’ He paused. ‘You know that Suzie and Liz have invited everyone who came to our wedding, don’t you?’
Rose sat down at the dressing table to put on her lipstick, a generous ‘O’ of dark coral that she had worn all her adult life. She smiled to check the effect; her choice in lipstick was older than her children. ‘And?’ she said.
‘Oh come on, Rose, you know where I’m going with this.’ She blotted her lips on a tissue and dropped it into the bin before glancing back at him over her shoulder. ‘Of course I do, but I’ve no idea whether she’ll be here. It’s all been a bit of a blur since we got back. And actually, given the circumstances, I think the girls have taken it very well.’
‘That isn’t what I meant and you know it,’ said Jack gently. ‘How do you think they’re going to take it when they discover that they’ve invited my second wife to our anniversary party as well?’
Chapter Fifteen
&n
bsp; ‘Hannah?’ Simon called, sounding panicky and anxious, his voice coming from the bushes that seemed to be way above her. ‘Hannah? Are you down there? Are you all right? Where are you? Answer me . . .’
A second or two later she heard him slithering down the bank, crashing through the shrubs and scrub, before landing a few feet away from her.
‘Oh, there you are,’ he said, sounding relieved. ‘Bloody hell – are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? I mean, is anything broken? Do you want to ring for an ambulance or something?’
He pulled his mobile out of his pocket.
Hannah, still on all fours on the pebbles, swallowed hard. ‘No, don’t do that, please. I’ll be fine, just stay over there, will you?’ As she spoke she retched again and held up a hand to ward him off. ‘Please, Simon. I just need a few more minutes, that’s all.’
But he took no notice and came over anyway. ‘Jesus,’ he said, squatting down so that he could give her the once-over. ‘You look really awful.’
‘Well, thanks for that,’ Hannah sniffed, pushing herself up onto her knees.
‘Are you going to be all right? Do you want me to do anything?’
Hannah glanced across at him and for one awful moment thought he was going to hug her. She ran her fingers back through her hair, which she just knew was a complete bird’s nest.
‘No . . . just stay there, will you?’ This was hardly the impression anyone would ever want to make on someone they fancied. He must think Hannah was a complete and utter dork. She was covered from head to foot in grass stains and bits of twig and leaves and God alone knows what else from slithering down the bank, had sick on her shoes, a foul taste in her mouth and a horrible suspicion she might have some sick in her hair too.
Great.
Very gently she eased herself onto her feet. ‘You haven’t got a drink, have you?’ she asked, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.
Simon gave her an odd look. ‘I don’t want to be a killjoy, Hannah, but I reckon you’ve probably had enough already, don’t you?’
‘No, not booze, you idiot, like water or something – oh, it doesn’t matter,’ she said miserably.
He reached into his pocket. ‘I’ve got some mints. Will those do?’
‘Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.’ Keeping at arm’s length, Hannah took the packet from him and slipped a couple of sweets into her mouth. She tip-toed her way out to the water’s edge to carefully rinse her shoes and feet, all the time aware that Simon was just a few feet away and watching her every move.
‘Stop looking at me,’ she snapped over her shoulder, carefully fishing her shoe out of the shallows.
‘I’m just worried, that’s all. You going to be all right?’ he asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
‘I already said yes, didn’t I?’
‘You sure?’
Hannah nodded and instantly regretted it as the whole world lurched sideways and she stumbled. Simon was there in an instant, catching her arm to steady her and grabbing hold of her shoes. She was too grateful and felt too awful to resist.
‘Actually I feel horrible,’ she said, leaning up against him. ‘And I still feel a bit drunk but I think it probably helped being sick. God, why on earth do people like booze? It’s crazy – I feel like shit. I suppose Sadie and Tucker are up there laughing themselves stupid, aren’t they?’
He grinned. ‘Wouldn’t take much.’
Hannah looked at him and smiled. Simon really was cute; it was such a shame that the whole world was spinning and that she looked so dreadful.
‘Those two were made for each other. Come on, I’ll help you back up,’ he said, and before she could protest, or fall over, Simon helped her pick between the rocks and the pebbles and rills of mud and gravel, holding onto her every step of the way to steady her. ‘I’ve got a comb if you want.’
She looked up at him, still trembling, and grinned. ‘That’s the best news I’ve had all day. Exactly how bad do I look?’
Simon just stared back at her, looking uncomfortable and self-conscious.
‘That bad,’ she giggled, aware of a funny little tingle of tension that arced between them as she let go of his hand and took the comb he was offering. As Hannah tried to sort out her hair, Simon shucked off his hoodie and handed it to her.
‘Here, put this on,’ he said. ‘Warm you up. Make you feel a bit better.’ He was so close now that she could feel the warmth of his body, could even smell him. For a moment Hannah thought he might be going to kiss her and stepped away, terrified he just might – God, she had just thrown up, how gross would that be?
She guessed that Simon had thought about it too, because she could see it in his eyes. She knew that if she hadn’t just been sick, she really wouldn’t have minded. Instead Hannah smiled, wrapped his hoodie tightly around her shoulders and said, ‘You know, you’re a total star, Simon, thank you. I suppose we better get back to the others.’
‘Sadie and Tucker?’
‘Uh-huh,’ she laughed. ‘Who else did you think I meant?’
‘They’ve already gone.’
‘What do you mean gone ?’ asked Hannah.
‘They’re heading for your gran’s place. I said that you’d be all right and that I’d keep an eye on you, so they said they’d get going and that we could catch them up.’
Hannah stared at him. ‘Are you mad?’ she said, instantly sober. ‘Those two let loose at my grandma’s party? My mum hates Sadie and they’re both drunk. God only knows what they’ll get up to.’ She grabbed her shoes from him and started to climb up the bank. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘We need to catch them and quickly.’
Simon hesitated for a second or two longer. ‘You know that I really like you, don’t you, Hannah?’ he said. ‘I was wondering if you would be my girlfriend. Go out together and stuff. I could take you out, maybe the pictures or something, or swimming – or we could just hang out together.’
Hannah swung round. It wasn’t exactly the perfect moment to be asked out. Simon was grinning and he was standing strangely, all shoulders and elbows and she was about to say something rude and funny, when she saw the look on his face. It had obviously taken a lot of courage to pluck up the nerve to say something to her.
‘Si, I’d really like to go out with you but if we don’t stop Sadie crashing my grandparents’ anniversary party there is a good chance I’ll be grounded for the rest of my life. So if you’re serious, give me a leg-up the bank, will you?’ she said.
His grin held. ‘So is that a yes then?’
Chapter Sixteen
As she opened the hall door of her parents’ cottage, Suzie could hear an animated conversation coming from the bedroom upstairs.
‘Mum, Dad, are you ready?’ she called.
The voices stopped dead.
‘Only you’ve been ages and everyone is beginning to get really restless out there – is everything okay?’
There was a little flurry of whispering and then her mother called, ‘We’re fine, we’re just on our way. Won’t be a minute. Your dad’s looking for his shoes.’
‘Do you want me to come and help you look? I’m good with shoes.’ Suzie said, taking the stairs two at a time.
*
Out in the garden, Liz had dropped her phone into her handbag. She took a few minutes to compose herself before pulling out a mirror to check on her appearance. If anyone asked she would say she had something in her eyes. At the doorway she painted on a bright, tight smile to cover the mix of emotions she was feeling, and marched into the marquee.
The show must go on, mustn’t it? Wasn’t that what people said? Liz pulled her shoulders back and plumped her hair up a tad. After all, she had her public to consider and Grant- bloody-Forbes wasn’t the only fish in the sea. A man like him ought to think himself lucky that a bright, intelligent, successful woman like her had given him a second look in the first place. Him with his great big hairy white belly and those nasty baggy grey Y-fronts – when was that ever a sexy look? And in all the months t
hey had been seeing each other, while Liz had made all sorts of effort to make sure she looked her best for him, Grant had invariably rolled up on dates looking like he’d slept under a bridge. Well, he had his chance, and he had well and truly blown it.
No, once you got past the cold hard cash, the house in Hampstead, the castle in Scotland, the villa in Capri, the chalet in Switzerland, the apartment in Paris and the penthouse in New York . . . oh yes, and the cars, Grant Forbes really had no style, no grace and a terrible case of halitosis, although she had never summoned up the courage to actually tell him that. Maybe she should have said something – maybe she should ring him back to tell him, or perhaps Miss Twenty-Two with her pneumatic breasts and penchant for mindless fun would be the best one to break it to him that his breath smelt as if he had been sucking on a sewage pipe. No, all in all, Liz was better off out of it.
Inside the marquee the guests had formed into tight little groups, the sound of their chatter and laughter, the clink of glasses and drifts of conversations filling the warm evening air.
As Liz walked in there was a flutter of heads turning to check her out, but tonight for once she wasn’t the main event, just part of the scenery. There was a sense too that everyone was eager for the party to get started, and her not being Rose and Jack just added to the guests’ disappointment.
Fleetingly Liz wondered if anyone would ever arrange a party like this for her. Or would she just end up old and alone, dried up and childless in some little mews cottage somewhere with a couple of cats, a bottle of sherry and a boxful of old photographs for company? Why did she always end up picking Mr Wrong?
Liz sniffed back a little phalanx of tears and blinked furiously to try to stop any renegades sneaking out. Bastard, how could Grant do this to her tonight of all nights? Despite the pain and the embarrassment, Liz was certain that he’d live to regret it. It was his loss – he’d probably come crawling back once the novelty of the whole Little Miss I’m-Crazeeeee- Let’s-Have-Fun thing had worn thin, and come knocking on her door, phoning her, begging her to reconsider, begging her to take him back. She sniffed again. How could Grant behave like this, just when she had been thinking about where to have the wedding and everything?