A couple of hours later, Bea had worked her way through several flower beds, noticing that she needed to plant more thyme for next year. Never enough thyme, she mused. She’d managed to clear her head a little and work through her dilemma about the men in the life. She showered and changed, tying her damp hair up in a scrunchie, and then padded through to the kitchen in her worn bunny slippers to make a desperately needed mug of coffee and read through the papers. It helped to immerse herself in other people’s chaos as she skimmed the gossip columns.
“It’s only us,” Mel shouted from the hallway. “The front door was unlocked, so we’ve invited ourselves in.” Bea’s heart sank several levels; she knew that tone. It was her sister’s organising over-the-top-cheerful one. Not what you needed at any time, but especially not on a rare chill-out day. Had she forgotten about their conversation the previous night?
“Through here,” she answered, willing herself to sound welcoming.
“Hi, hon,” said Shani, pulling a face from behind Mel’s back. “Mel and I were talking about the wedding and I just knew you would hate to be left out.”
Cow, mouthed Bea, unable to help smiling at her disloyal friend. Shani winked back slyly, as Mel busied herself filling a cup with boiling water and dunking a herbal tea bag in it.
“Right, listen to me, ladies,” started Mel. “I’ve had an idea.” Bea suppressed an anguished groan. “I didn’t initially want to have any bridesmaids, but I think I’d like to have them now. I don’t want to have to choose between my friends, you know how sensitive people can me. So, I thought you two would be perfect. My sister, who everyone will expect to be one and you, Shani. You’re so opposite to look at and both so different to me, we’ll look great in the photos. Isn’t it perfect?”
Bea shot a rabbit caught in headlights glance at Shani, who gave her a knowing look.
“Well? What do you think,” Mel asked excitedly, arms held out. “Think of all the fun we can have. Getting dressed together, our hair and make-up, manicures. What could be more fun?”
Struggling for an acceptable answer, Bea racked her brains. “Um, yes,” she answered lamely. “Although…”
“What do you mean, although?” Mel’s lengthy French-polished extensions tapped a rapid chorus on the pine table.
The embryo of an idea was rattling around Bea’s addled brain and she forced herself to pursue it. She knew she had to make her excuses now, or go along with the horrible bridesmaid idea for the next few months. If she didn’t come up with a suitable alternative, photos of themselves in peach crinoline dresses or some other hideous creation would forever haunt her and Shani. “What about Grant’s nieces?”
“Who?” Mel asked, eyes lighting up.
“His sister’s twins,” agreed Shani, immediately making the most of Bea’s brilliant idea, relief flowing across her exotic face. “Yes, your soon-to-be nieces, you have to think of them at a time like this. They’ll be devastated not to be included in your special day.”
Bea nodded, chewing her lip, knowing the little girls would more than likely be delighted to be asked, and even if they weren’t, thought Bea, there are times when adults have to pull rank and this was one of them.
“What about them? I presumed you would be having them, to be honest,” enthused Bea, running with the idea now that Mel hadn’t immediately rejected it. “They can walk ahead of you down the church aisle scattering rose petals from a tiny wicker basket, or something.”
Mel looked suspiciously from one to the other and thought through the suggestion. “What, as well as you two, or instead of?”
“I think two are probably enough, so you should have the little ones only.”
Mel thought about it briefly and Bea had to hold back a sigh of relief when her sister’s face slowly broke into a broad grin. “Of course, why didn’t I think of it? It’s a great idea and a good way to score points with his mum.” She clapped her hands together gleefully. “Clever girl.”
“That’s what Shani and I are here for, to help you plan your day as perfectly as possible.” She smiled, relieved beyond belief that her idea had been so eagerly accepted.
“But what about you two,” Mel added, her face filled with concern. “What will you do on the day if you’re not going to be my bridesmaids?”
Shani folded her arms across her chest. “I can help with organising the setting up of the marquee or whatever else you may need me to do.”
“Yes, are you still going to have it at your mum’s and Dad’s? You’re more than welcome to have it here if you want, you know?” offered Bea, crossing her fingers behind her back.
“Thanks, but this is your house, where you and your aunt have memories, they’re not mine, Bea. My childhood was spent at home with Dad and my mum and anyway Dad’s already drawn up a plan of the layout and matting leading from the driveway to the inside.”
Bea pushed away the hurt that Simon’s insistence that they hold their wedding reception at a hotel instead of in this garden had caused her aunt. She’d never forgiven herself for giving in to him on that. “Whatever you want, it’s your day after all.”
“Great idea,” Shani said oblivious to the tension. “I’ve always envied you being able to walk down steps out at the end of your parent’s garden straight onto the beach.”
Mel smiled. “It’s going to make the most of the view with one of those marquees that have windows all along the side of the sea view. Then, he said that if the weather is good they’ll roll up that side so we’re almost holding the reception in the garden.”
Bea said thoughtfully, “I can arrange flowers and the table settings can be put together from the plants here. Or, if you prefer, I can do something different.”
“You can both start by helping compile a list of who to invite. I’m scared of missing someone, and must make sure I don’t forget anyone who might buy one of the expensive items I intend to have on my wedding lists.” Noticing Shani’s frown, she added pointedly. “There will be cheaper bits on it, too for the tighter guests.”
“How rude,” Shani teased. “Just don’t forget any great aunt Ethel, or you’ll never be forgiven.”
“I do have one problem,” frowned the excitable bride-to-be.
“What?” Shani asked, as Bea glanced back at an article she liked the look of.
“Not what, but whom?”
“Well, whom then?”
“I need to invite Luke and Leilani,” she said tentatively, looking from one to the other.
“What? Why do you have to?” Shani argued, ignoring Bea’s frantic mouthing to shut up as she didn’t need Mel to interrogate her yet again.
“I have to, he’s an old friend of Grant’s.”
“Take no notice,” Bea interrupted, “of course you must invite him.”
“And I’ll invite Tom for you, although I’ve no idea who can accompany you.” She pointed a long finger at Shani. “After all Paul’s now with Guy and Harry never seems to be around, so you’ll be by yourself once again. I could try and find another of Grant’s friends to act as escort for you, if you’d like?”
“Don’t you dare.” Shani glared down at Mel from her lofty height.
“Surely Harry will be coming with you?” Bea asked. “And I’m sure Tom will want to come, so he can be my plus one.” Tom being her partner rather than some stranger Mel might link her with suited her far better.
“I didn’t think you two were dating again?”
“We’re not,” Bea said. “We do work together though and if you want me to have a partner I’m sure he’ll step in. I’m not bothered either way.”
Shani crossed her eyes and pulled a face, making Bea giggle. Bea knew the arrangements could only get more complicated and that there would be further rows between now and the big day. She needed to keep these chats with Mel as light as possible to be able to face them.
“Well if you two aren’t going to be my bridesmaids, and I’m to only have the twins, then I think I’ll ask Leilani to be my chief bridesmaid,” Me
l suggested. “I think I need to add a little extra touch of glamour to the occasion, don’t you?”
There was a sharp intake of breath from Shani. “Are you completely insane? You can’t ask her.”
“Why not? She’d look fantastic and could watch over the twins.”
“Don’t be so bloody ridiculous, she probably hates kids.”
Bea rolled her eyes. “Mel, she’s a model, not a nanny.”
“I know that.”
“Well as pretty as you may be, Mel,” Bea tried again, “Leilani is a professional model, and I wouldn’t have thought you’d want to give her the chance to upstage you on your big day.”
“Which she bloody well will,” Shani insisted glaring across the table in disbelief.
Mel grimaced. “Honestly, you two are so easy to wind up sometimes.”
Bea and Shani shook their heads at each other. “Is this going to take much longer?” Bea asked, forgetting her plan to keep things light and be nice.
Mel shrugged. “Whatever,” she looked at her watch. “I’m going to go home and change. I’m meeting Grant later. I’ll leave you two in peace. Oh, and Bea, I haven’t forgotten what we discussed last night. I’ll get back to you as soon as I find out any info.”
Bea thanked her and saw her out, relieved to have peace restored once again. “She can be so exhausting at times,” she said to Shani later as they sat quietly together chatting in the snug watching an episode of her favourite soap opera.
“I’ve been thinking,” Shani said. “If you need help paying off that mortgage.”
“The one I haven’t got yet?”
Shani rolled her eyes. “Yes, that’s the one. Well, I thought I could always move in here with you and pay you rent?”
Bea thought for a moment. “I’d love that, but what about Paul? Wouldn’t he miss you?”
“I doubt it; he seems to be spending most of his time at Guy’s flat at the moment, so he’d probably be relieved.”
“Good, I’m glad,” Bea admitted. She loved the idea. “It’ll be just like when we were younger and at boarding school.” But even though the extra money from Shani was better than nothing, it still wasn’t nearly enough to help her sort out her finances.
“I can’t believe how miserly Simon is being with you, though.”
“I think it’s probably because I’m insisting on keeping this house and going against his wishes,” Bea said, staring into the dancing flames in the nearby fire. “But I’ve had enough of doing what he dictates, and this time, I’m going to do whatever I can to keep my house, whether Simon likes the idea or not.”
TWELVE
December - Twisted Vines
Simon arrived at the house a few days later. Bea had just ended a call with the bank arranging a meeting with Mr Peters, in the New Year to discuss her mortgage application and her relief to have a definite appointment was short-lived. She stood on her doorstep glowering at Simon as he took out an envelope from his briefcase and handed it to her. “I’m running out of patience with this crap. I know you’ve tried at a couple of banks, but you’ll just have to rethink things or agree to sell this dump. Why you even care about this garden now Annabel is dead, I don’t know. You don’t even know that much about gardening.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
He went to place a hand on her shoulder, but she stepped back and his hand fell away. “I didn’t mean for all this to happen, you know?”
Bea folded her arms creasing the envelope in her hand. “No?”
“Of course not. If your aunt hadn’t said anything about seeing me kissing Claire that night, then we’d probably still be together.”
“That’s crap, Simon, and you know it.”
He marched down the front steps to his car and turned to face her. “Fine, but we don’t have to be so angry with each other all the time.”
She took a deep breath. “We wouldn’t be if you weren’t so dead set on me having to sell this house.” Without waiting for his reply, she turned and stepped back into the house, slamming the front door.
She tore open the envelope and unfolded his letter with shaking hands. “Claire’s due date is only a month away now and I need money to buy the furniture we need to complete the apartment before then. I think I’ve been more than fair with you, Beatrice. The sooner this matter is finalised the sooner we can both move on with our lives.”
“Moron,” she shouted, as a thin layer of plaster dust fell onto the sheet of paper in her hand. It was time to contact Mel and ask her to sort out the injunction against Simon. She was not going to put up with his unwanted visits anymore. She phoned Mel and told her to go ahead and draft something up for her. Enough was enough.
“It’s about bloody time,” Mel said. “Don’t hold back from sending it to him either. He needs to be put in his place.”
Bea agreed.
That evening Bea sat in the drawing room carefully turning tatty pages of her aunt’s notebooks trying to take in some of her tips and work out if the sketches inside related to any of the plants she recognised. It was only five months until D-Day; what was she going to go? The phone rang. Bea thought about not answering, but when the shrill ringing continued she got up and picked up the phone. “Hello?” Bea said, trying not to show her irritation at being disturbed.
“Hi,” said Tom. “Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could pop round for a chat this evening.” She didn’t answer. “If that’s not a problem, I mean?”
She wasn’t really in the mood to see anyone after Simon’s appearance, but it wasn’t Tom’s fault she’d chosen to marry the idiot. “All right, Tom, if you want,” she relented.
“Great. I’ll see you within the hour.”
“Look, Tom, I’m not in the best frame of mind and if it’s all right with you I was looking forward to an early night.”
“Why, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing new, I’m afraid.” She couldn’t be bothered repeating what had happened with Simon.
“Bea, I know you well enough to know you’re hiding something. Is there anything I can do?”
“Thanks, Tom, but it isn’t anything you can help with,” she said miserably, sitting back down again and taking up her cup of coffee before giving in and relating the entire conversation with Simon earlier in the day. “So you see I just have to shut up and deal with it. It’s tough, but life stinks sometimes. I can do without further legal fees and will have to delay some of the work on the house, yet again, to pay for it, but I can’t have him coming here whenever the mood takes him.”
Tom sighed. “Sorry, Bea I can imagine how you must feel. I’ll leave you to your early night, but if there’s anything I can do, promise you’ll ring me.”
“All right then,” she said. “I’ll speak to you soon.” After he had ended the call, Bea wondered what he’d wanted to come and talk with her about that couldn’t be discussed at the office. It couldn’t have been that important surely, or he would have come round and told her about it. She looked over to the corner of the room where her aunt had always placed the Christmas tree. “Maybe I should put one up this year,” she said to Flea, who continued to snore in reply. It just didn’t feel like Christmas this year. “Maybe not.”
She picked up the books again and pulled her legs up onto the settee to get comfortable. If only she could close the shutters and the rest of the world out and be left to her memories. She closed her eyes and rested her head against one of the worn velvet cushions. Shutting out everything was so tempting. She snuggled up and let her mind wander back to happier days when she and Simon had had so many plans. Aunt Annabel singing tunelessly in the potting shed pushed the image of her and Simon away and Bea couldn’t help smiling. Her aunt looked up at her standing at the doorway. “There you are, darling,” she said. “Be a good girl and stop wallowing. Go and fight for what you want.”
Bea opened her eyes and sat up, waking Flea with her sudden movement. Glancing around the room to check her aunt wasn’t actua
lly somewhere near, she rubbed her eyes. “She’s right, I need to get a grip and stop feeling so miserable.”
****
Over supper at Shani and Paul’s top floor flat the following evening Bea pondered how her two best friends managed to work together and live in such a small space without wanting to wring each other’s necks.
The attic flat, originally Paul’s and his previous boyfriend David’s, was bright and always inviting. The small lounge somehow appeared bigger with only a two-seater cream settee and a matching armchair taking up the floor space with a plain oak sideboard along one wall, displaying nothing but a wooden bowl fashioned from the wood of a cherry tree that had been blown down in Paul’s aunt’s garden near Ludlow in the great storm of 1987. She couldn’t imagine how he managed to cook in the tiny kitchenette. It didn’t seem much larger than most wardrobes, with only a two-ringed hob, kettle, toaster and a tiny sink. Paul pushed back the veil of tiny coloured glass beads hanging from the doorframe and handed her a glass of wine.
“I feel bad living in such a big empty house when you two have to share everything here.” Bea could understand why Luke had been so surprised that she lived in The Brae alone with all those empty rooms.
“You can always take her ladyship here to live with you,” he said.
Shani looked at her thoughtfully. Bea could tell she was desperate to tell him about her offer for Shani to move in with her. Neither of them wanted to upset him though. Shani pulled a face at Paul. “Thanks,” she said. “I thought you loved sharing with me.
“I do, but your untidiness drives me mental. I’ve never met such a messy female. Did you know, Bea, this one sleeps in an old 1930s’ bed her grandmother passed down to her and every time she brings some poor unfortunate bloke home with her I have to wear ear plugs, the bloody thing squeaks so much. The whole house must know when she’s having a shag.”
Bea spluttered and nearly spat out her drink. “Charming.”
“Cheers, Paul.” Shani glared at him. “We can’t all be neurotic about keeping everything in the right place.”
A Jersey Kiss (Jersey Romance Series) Page 13