‘Actually, I wanted to talk to you about the research. It’s so kind of you to do it . . .’ Serena began, about to tell him she no longer needed his help, having decided to take a no-nonsense approach to the matter. She flicked the kettle on, while the Colonel folded his long legs under the pine table.
‘Doing me a favour, actually,’ admitted the Colonel. ‘Been a bit blue since Mrs Feltham-Jones passed, I must say. Dear Margo. Bit lonely, all things considered. Nice to feel useful at last. Thank you.’ He accepted the mug of coffee Serena gave him. There was a slight tremor to his hand. Serena realised there was no way she could stand him down on the research. And what harm could it do? She would remain cool and level-headed now, whatever the result.
‘I really appreciate it,’ she said, joining the Colonel at the table. ‘Now, tell me, will you be coming to the Harvest Supper?’
‘Certainly will. Jake rang me last night. He’s bagged me a ticket from the florist’s. Going to pick me up and drive me home, save me a taxi fare.’
‘That’s kind of him. He’s a good friend of yours, isn’t he? How long have you known each other?’
‘Used to be pals with his father, Bert. He used to run the farm, passed away a few years ago. Jake didn’t deal with his death very well. His pa was all he had – mother ran off when he was three. Hit the whisky bottle, Jake did. My wife and I could see what was happening. We’d been through it with Margo, you see.’
‘She was an alcoholic?’
‘No, but an addict. Painkillers. She hurt her back, got hooked on the pain relief. An opiate addict. We got her sorted out in the end, and she became a counsellor – helping others in the same boat. So she saw the mess Jake had got himself into and helped him get back on the straight and narrow. He became like a son to us. Then Margo died, of course, which was hard for us both. Look after each other now, we do. Me and Jake.’
‘You know he’s left Tanya then? Moved into that B & B down the road?’
‘Yes, writing was on the wall there with Tanya. Don’t know why he’s the one who’s moved out.’
‘I think it’s only temporary, until she finds somewhere . . . Had you thought . . . It’s only a suggestion, but what about if Jake moved in with you for a little bit?’ suggested Serena, who then wished she hadn’t. There was matchmaking, her speciality (until recently), and then there was interfering.
But, ‘What a splendid idea!’ said the Colonel, his face alight and animated. ‘Why didn’t I think of that? We could be company for each other. Do you know, just as soon as I get back from Rye I shall drop round and see him. Thank you, my dear. Now, I’d best be off. Don’t want to miss the bus. I’ll let you know just as soon as I’ve completed the research.’
Serena accompanied the Colonel up to the front door and stood, waving him off.
Alice arrived at two o’clock, by which time the kitchen was strewn with pans, the scent of sizzling onions pervading the room.
‘Why use one pan when you can use ten?’ laughed Alice, taking in the mess.
‘I know, I know,’ giggled Serena. ‘I’m so hopeless. Will usually does all the cooking and now I remember why!’ She had red cheeks and her wild hair was even wilder than usual.
Alice rolled up her sleeves. ‘Shall I take over the cooking or make a start on the clearing up?’ she asked, finding an apron and popping it on. Serena noticed Alice definitely looked more relaxed. Still immaculate really, but now without her usual bright red nails, and with a more relaxed hairstyle. Even her stiff handbag had been replaced with a more slouchy leather number.
‘I’m almost there now with the first batch,’ said Serena. ‘So could you make a start on the pans? Sorry!’ She grimaced. ‘This is when I wish I had a dishwasher.’
‘No probs,’ said Alice. ‘That’s why I’m here. Now, let me update you on what I’ve done since we last spoke. I made the tickets and delivered half to Bob the butcher and half to Gill at the florist’s – sixty each, as I think the limit has to be a hundred and twenty . . .’
‘We’ll be lucky . . .’ Serena interrupted.
‘You never know. Let’s be optimistic and plan for the best-case scenario. So, that’s done. I’ve made the table centrepieces. Spoken to Rob and he’s going to provide two cases of wine. Nice stuff too.’
‘Two? But that’s twenty-four bottles!’
‘Told you; he’ll do anything to please me at the moment,’ Alice said with a wry smile, as she looked up from scouring a burnt pan. ‘I must try not to enjoy the power too much,’ she giggled, sounding so much more carefree than before. ‘How about you?’ she asked. ‘Aside from this veritable feast you’re cooking up today . . .’
‘Ashna’s finished all the tablecloths so they’re ready. I’ve got two barrels of Will’s homemade brew, which will probably have everybody legless. I’ve hired glasses from an off-licence in Rye. The rest is going to be a case of knuckling down on the day – setting up the tables, transporting the food, getting it all looking pretty. Max, Pete and Ashna are going to help. Oh, and Jake, of course. He’s delivering masses of dried hops the day before, so Will and the boys are going to hang those all over the hall. I think the hops will make all the difference.’
‘They will. The place will look and smell divine. And did you get the hall piano tuned?’ Alice asked. She wasn’t leaving anything to chance.
‘Yep. Will and I have been practising in the evenings. We’ve been having such a laugh. Neither of us had played properly for ages so we were like Les Dawson to begin with.’
‘Talking of which, I saw Gill at the florist’s this morning. She said Miss Dawson has got herself a ticket so the village party animal will be there.’
‘Let’s hope it’s not just us lot and her.’
‘Ha! She’ll be ticking you off for causing a nuisance if you play the piano past nine o’clock,’ Alice chuckled.
‘Do you know what?’ asked Serena suddenly, yanking off her oven gloves. The lasagnes looked perfect – just a hint of the overcooked about them, which would give the topping a delicious crunch.
‘What?’ asked Alice.
‘I’m actually looking forward to it. The Harvest Supper. It’s something I was dreading. And thanks to you, I’m excited about it now. Thank you so much.’
But Alice wasn’t one for soppiness. ‘Nothing to do with me,’ she said rather briskly, but then softened and added, ‘But thanks anyway.’
By seven o’clock that evening, two batches of food had been prepared and the kitchen was pristine. Serena was exhausted but satisfied. There was no sign of Will and Ashna or the boys so she turned off the kitchen lights, leaving just a couple of lamps burning on the dresser, and made her way upstairs to the bedroom. There she turned on more lamps, stoked the fire she’d lit earlier and pulled the pale blue curtains firmly closed. She looked at the bed and saw that Paddington was snuggled into her pillow. She stroked her briefly then padded through to the en suite, where she turned on the taps, filling the enormous Victorian bath with hot water and bubble bath. The whole room smelled immediately of pine essence. Serena undressed, hopped into the bath and lay back, letting her long curls meander in the water like Medusa’s snakes. There was, she decided, nothing quite like a hot scented bath after an afternoon spent cooking and scouring pans.
As she lay in the steaming water, she thought about Ashna and hoped she hadn’t had too much of a traumatic day. She’d received a text from Will to say Ashna’s father and brother had pleaded guilty at the last minute, so at least the poor girl hadn’t had to give evidence in the end.
Then she closed her eyes, her mind wandering. And suddenly she found her thoughts drifting into dangerous territory. It was October. More than a year since it had all happened. She remembered the day so well. The brasserie, the flat, the fridge . . .
Before her thoughts could descend into the well-worn pattern of dark despair they tended to follow once sparked, she heard a car. They were back. She jumped out of the bath, dried herself and chucked some clothes on.
&n
bsp; ‘And?’ she said, bounding down the stairs in her jeans and a navy jumper, wet hair bouncing around her shoulders. She paused halfway down. Ashna and the boys stood in the hallway, shedding themselves of coats and jackets.
‘Two years!’ Ashna shouted up, clearly delighted. ‘They didn’t get much for the affray or the assault, but the judge was keen to make an example of them under the new law on forced marriages. They both got two years! I feel like I can breathe again. I don’t have to keep looking over my shoulder. For a little while anyway.’
‘They’re not going to be bothering you again,’ said Max protectively, and he pulled Ashna towards him.
‘This calls for champagne!’ said Serena, racing down the last of the stairs and hugging them all, happy to be distracted again.
32.
AUGUST–SEPTEMBER 2014
‘Are you nearly here?’ Luna asked impatiently. ‘I’m the next one in.’
‘It’s the bloody traffic. We’re completely stuck. Are you not delayed? Last time we had to wait an hour.’ Serena had her mobile clamped to her ear, her other hand running through her hair in exasperation as Will sat at the wheel. They were static and at least half an hour away from the hospital. It was also baking hot and, with no air con in the car, they both had sweat running uncomfortably down their backs.
‘No, they’re running on time today. What should I do? Ask for a later appointment?’
‘No, don’t do that. They might put you off and we want to find out today. Just make sure the baby’s okay and don’t forget to ask about the sex!’
‘I will, don’t worry. Just try to get here.’
‘We’ll do everything we can. Good luck!’
‘Thanks . . .’
Half an hour later, Will and Serena raced into the antenatal department. They found Luna in the waiting room.
‘Are we too late?’ Serena asked, dashing over.
‘Afraid so, but don’t worry – it was all perfect. The sonographer said the baby is fine and dandy. I didn’t look at the screen or these pictures, but here they are.’ Luna handed over an envelope. Will immediately opened it and he and Serena gazed lovingly at the black-and-white blobs, trying to work out which body part was which.
‘Look, there’s its hand,’ said Serena.
‘No, that’s a foot,’ Will said, head on one side, trying to work it out.
‘You can stop calling the baby ‘it’ now,’ Luna told them, rubbing her belly. ‘We’re cooking up a boy in here. A baby boy!’ She grinned and the three of them hugged.
‘I can’t believe it’s a boy!’ Serena laughed. ‘I don’t know why, but I was convinced it was a girl. I need to look at boys’ names now.’
‘Didn’t we think Cuthbert would be nice for a boy?’ Will asked innocently. Serena and Luna both thumped him on the arm.
‘What shall we do now?’ Luna asked. ‘I’ve got the whole afternoon off work.’
‘Let’s go shopping!’ Serena said, her eyes bright. ‘Let’s go shopping for blue!’
‘Count me out,’ said Will. ‘But I’ll come into town with you and find a nice shady pub garden somewhere to read the paper. Come and find me when you two are done. And please don’t spend too much . . .’ he said, without much hope.
They were off, like a couple of excited schoolgirls.
Two weeks later and it was the start of September, one of Serena’s favourite times of year. She loved the misty mornings that blossomed into sunny days then cooled into dusky evenings. The feeling of return-to-school that made her want to buy a brand-new pencil case and start an exercise book afresh.
It was a Saturday and they were due to meet Luna for brunch at their favourite brasserie just down the road. They arrived first and dithered over whether to sit inside or out. The breeze was a little cool but the sun was warming up. They plumped for a table on the pavement where they could people-watch as well as chat among themselves. The relationship between the three of them was cosy and comfortable these days, and Luna usually had them in stitches as she commented mercilessly on other diners or passers-by.
‘Table opposite, eating irons negative,’ she would say, out of the corner of her mouth, ridiculing the poor unsuspecting soul who’d never learnt to hold his knife and fork correctly. ‘And why, do tell me, did that woman think it appropriate to leave the house wearing her granny’s curtains? Poor thing. Clearly doesn’t own a mirror.’ Will and Serena would feel guilty and try not to laugh, but it was almost impossible.
‘What can I get you?’ asked the waiter, finding them seated and perusing the menus.
‘Freshly squeezed orange juice, please,’ said Serena.
‘Bloody Mary for me,’ Will ordered. ‘Should we get something for Luna? She likes sparkling elderflower, doesn’t she?’
‘Yes, one of those, please. And we’ll have food too, but we’ll just wait for my sister to arrive.’
‘Okay, no probs,’ said the waiter, pocketing his notepad and disappearing inside.
Will spread out his weekend papers and Serena checked her phone.
‘We did say eleven, didn’t we?’ she asked. It was half past now.
‘You know what she’s like, Serena. Never on time. We’re in no rush.’
‘True,’ she agreed, and sifted through Will’s paper, finding the property supplement. She loved fantasising about living in a huge great mansion. She began reading.
‘Ready to order yet?’ The waiter was back. It was a quarter to twelve.
‘Do you think she’s okay?’ Serena asked Will.
‘I’m sure she is. She’s probably forgotten. Baby brain. Tell you what, you stay here and I’ll nip round the corner to her flat and see where’s she’s got to.’
‘Okay, be quick,’ said Serena. ‘Sorry,’ she said, turning to the waiter. ‘We should be ready to order as soon as my sister gets here.’
‘Just give me a shout,’ he said. Serena watched Will disappear round the corner. She twirled her curls around her finger. She seriously hoped Luna was okay. And not just her, of course. The baby too.
Five minutes later, Will was back.
‘No answer,’ he said. ‘She must have gone out somewhere. Obviously totally forgotten about our arrangement. Let’s eat and then we’ll try again on our way home.’
‘Okay,’ agreed Serena, but she started to feel the stirrings of worry. She batted them away and ordered her bacon and eggs.
An hour later, they’d finished brunch and the sun’s rays were much stronger. Serena fished around in her bag then put on her sunglasses. She checked her watch again.
‘Will, I’ve got a funny feeling about this. Let’s nip back and get the spare key from ours. Imagine if she’s slipped over in the bath or something awful.’
By now, Will was starting to worry too, and they hurried back home, grabbed the spare key and were back at Luna’s flat within minutes, in through the communal door and up in the lift to the top floor. Serena opened the door to the apartment.
It was tidy. Fastidiously so. And Luna was not a tidy person. They peered around.
‘Luna?’ Serena called out. No answer. They checked each room, but the flat was deadly silent. Serena went to Luna’s bed and looked underneath, where she knew she kept her suitcase.
‘Will, her case has gone,’ Serena shouted out, her voice panicky. ‘Quick, check her desk: third drawer down. That’s where she keeps her passport.’
‘Are you sure?’ Will asked, rifling around. ‘There’s nothing in here . . . Ah, here it is,’ he said, breathing a sigh of relief. Serena took it from him.
‘Out of date,’ she said. ‘Look!’
‘Well, maybe she just fancied a holiday,’ Will said, casting around for an explanation for this sudden and unexpected departure. ‘I mean, just because she’s carrying our baby, she doesn’t have to tell us everything . . .’
‘Will, don’t you think she might have mentioned it? I mean, if it was just an innocent break? Let me check the kitchen again.’
Serena dashed back through t
he hall, scanning the room for clues. She opened the fridge. It was spotless and empty. Not so much as a pint of milk. She realised there was no hum and the interior was dark. She shut the door, glancing at the various postcards stuck to it with fridge magnets. She closed her eyes. Then opened them again.
‘Will!’ she called. In seconds he was beside her. ‘Look!’ she said.
And there, among the cards, was a note.
‘I’m sorry.’
She was gone.
PART THREE
33.
OCTOBER 2015
‘What do you think?’ asked Serena, stepping to the back of the church hall to survey the sight in front of them. There were twelve trestle tables in a semicircle, each set up with ten chairs and covered in beautiful, vibrant tablecloths – each one a different colour so the whole display looked like a rainbow. Crockery, cutlery, glasses and napkins had been laid out and Alice’s delightful candle and ivy centrepieces had been placed in the middle of each table, ready to be lit as darkness fell. Serving tables covered in starched white cloths had been situated next to the kitchen – salads and baskets of bread were on one, all neatly cling-filmed – and on the other there was plenty of space for all the hot food that would be brought out later. Homemade puddings were in the fridge too – trifles and tiramisus and a massive crumble (Will, Ashna and Alice had prepared these between them).
The best decorations of all though, were the dried hops that hung from the hall ceiling; as well as looking gloriously rustic, they gave a warm and drunken smell to the place. To add a further touch, Jake had provided a few bales of hay, which were stacked up in several areas ready to be sat on or leaped over as desired. Finally, to give even more of a sense of harvest, Serena had filled two large wooden baskets with freshly dug vegetables from the garden.
Alice stood back and looked all around her. ‘Amazing,’ she said. ‘Even if I do say so myself. And it was a great idea to put all the heaters on yesterday. It feels warm and snug for a change. Oh, Serena, it looks great, doesn’t it? And I like how you’ve pulled the piano into the room more, and with space around so people can come and join in if they want to.’
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