by Jane Linfoot
‘But, just to be clear, I’m not that guy either.’ His eyes are boring into my face, as he checks I’ve taken that on board.
Pretty clear where he stands on that one. ‘Right. Got that now.’ I take my eyes off what looks like a tractor engine next to the black Aga, and try for a weak smile. If my brain was working better I’d revisit that Country Living article about what the colour of your Aga says about your personality. Pretty obvious Rafe would go for black. Whereas Jules might go for cloud grey, or possibly even purple.
Rafe pushes the clothes towards me, nodding at a plank door in the corner of the kitchen. ‘Here’s a sweater and T-shirt of mine for you to borrow. The shower’s through the hall.’ He glances at the big clock on the trendy brickwork wall beyond the island unit. ‘If you go now you should be ready in time.’
In time … ‘For what?’ My head spins as I try to catch up.
‘That’s why you stayed over,’ he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, not that it makes it any clearer to me. ‘You were convinced you had a desperately important appointment you couldn’t miss.’ There’s a mocking sneer in his tone.
I wish he’d get on and tell me. ‘And?’
‘I checked the book and you’re expecting Jules at nine.’ By the way Rafe’s spits that out, he’s not impressed. ‘By the way, do you want breakfast? Bacon, eggs, tomatoes, toast?’
But the word breakfast makes my stomach wrench so hard I have to make a dive for the bathroom.
17
In the office at Daisy Hill Farm: Paper mountains and flash photography
On the dot of nine, Jules is pulling up a chair next to mine, and slipping off his parka.
‘So, I see Rafe’s still working through his paper mountain.’ He laughs as he pushes back a pile of magazines on the desk. As he opens his laptop, Adele breaks into song.
‘Your wedding mix again?’ I ask.
‘To help us get in the mood.’ He sends me a wink, which I take it is meant to be funny this early in the day. ‘I’ll let you have my Spotify playlists.’
Jules did a small wedding here last year, which I assume is why he knows all about Rafe’s filing pile.
‘Fab.’ I wince as the scent of his body spray hits my nose. It’s spicy, and a lot more in my face than I can cope with this morning. Luckily, this far he doesn’t appear to have noticed I’m looking like the undead.
‘So, for the website, I’ve sorted out some pictures you might like to use.’ He tilts his screen, and signals for me to lean in. ‘I suggest you keep it simple, and keep it lovely,’ he turns, and waits for my reaction.
I kick my brain into gear. ‘A website’s great as a first point of contact for customers.’ I’m quoting Jess here, desperately trying to sound on top of my game. I’m so grateful Jules is helping, because I haven’t got the first idea how to do this website on my own.
‘Not everyone books weddings years ahead.’ Jules sounds like he knows what he’s talking about, which is exactly what I’m banking on here. ‘A good website should bring in last minute business too.’
‘That’s exactly what I thought.’ I try to sound like I knew that all along, and move in for a better view of the bride on screen, but I wasn’t counting on him moving in too. My cheek is pretty much rammed against his polo shirt here. ‘Although I’m not sure Rafe is keen on adding in any more bookings.’ I reckon this is putting it mildly. ‘He’s desperate to move onto wind farms.’
Jules tuts. ‘Wind farms are last year’s thing, whereas weddings are booming. Most farmers I know would kill to have somewhere this picturesque to open up as a venue. Handled well, it could bring in a lot of income. That farmhouse is pure gold.’
If I’m not entirely comfortable with Jules being so close I can see the pores on his eyebrows, I’m even less comfortable discussing Rafe’s finances. But I need Jules to understand the context. This website is for a limited time only. It needs to be good, but not amazing.
‘Rafe’s got farms coming out of his ears, I doubt he needs the money from this.’ I’m sure his holiday cottages will more than see him through.
‘With all the tax they had to pay when his old man died, and then building a new place for his mother, Rafe needs to be milking this to the max, excuse the pun.’ Jules sounds very sure of his facts as he flicks up an amazing shot of a bridal couple in front of a huge tipi. ‘See, all you need are a few shots to inspire people, these ideas could all be recreated at Daisy Hill …’
‘Wow …’ I lean in closer as the most beautiful pictures of weddings Jules has covered flash in front of me. Open sided marquees in full summer, grooms in boaters and striped waistcoats, bridesmaids dancing around maypoles, vintage camping fests with camper vans, a field full of tiny tents with ragged bunting flapping in the breeze, a huge marquee with flowers garlanding the entrance. And some of the most gorgeous brides winding through summer meadows, laughing as they climbed trees, wading across streams. ‘Idyllic …’ I breathe.
Jules turns to me with a grin, and gives my arm a squeeze. ‘That’s the idea. We want this website to sell the dream.’
If I wasn’t so wobbly, I might be enjoying this more. As it is, instead of giggling and flashing my smile about, and doing flirty flicks of what’s left of my hair, I’m strangely rigid.
We both jump as the door latch rattles, and when the door swings open a second later, I’ve pulled as far away from Jules as I can. If this is Immie I know I’m dead meat, so it’s a relief to see Rafe’s gigantic Hunter boot appearing round the door edge. But when he marches into the office his frown is so dark, I’d rather have faced Immie after all.
‘Sorry, I wasn’t aware I’d be interrupting.’ From the disgust on Rafe’s face, he’s not joking.
Jules is straight back at him with an unrepentant grin. ‘If you provide a Do Not Disturb sign, we’ll be sure to put it up in future.’
Rafe lets out a snort, and clears a duck out of his path with his boot. ‘What’s with the awful girly music?’
Jules opens his mouth to answer, but seeing as this is my office, I get in first. ‘I’m playing love songs at a wedding venue, Rafe. If you have a problem with that you’ll have to man up.’ My fighting talk wilts as a duck waddles around to my side of the desk and I shrink back in my chair. ‘Can you put the duck outside please, it’s not …’ I tail off. I’m not in the best place to give lectures to Rafe about hygiene this morning.
‘There are worse things to clean up after than ducks,’ Rafe says pointedly.
Damn it. I walked right into that one.
He balances the edge of the tray he’s carrying on the desk. ‘If you could possibly suspend your love fest, I could do with some help here.’ As he begins to clear a space, papers fly in all directions.
‘Let me …’ As I go around the desk, Rafe’s expression lightens a shade. ‘What’s this anyway?’ I take in three mugs, a pot of coffee, and a plate piled high with bacon sandwiches.
‘I thought you might be wanting food …’ Rafe narrows his eyes, but it’s Jules he’s watching for a reaction. ‘Given you turned down breakfast when you woke up.’ He throws that in like a hand grenade, and his face breaks into a satisfied smile as Jules’ eyes practically pop out of their sockets.
‘Right. Matching jumpers. I should have realised.’ Jules says.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him deflated. My heart sinks as I take in what he says. My eyes lock on Rafe’s jumper. The exact twin of the borrowed sloppy charcoal sweater I dragged on top of my denim skirt this morning. I’m just relieved my borrowed T-shirt isn’t on show. My tractor’s sexy, that’s how I got a hot girlfriend is not a message I want to show the world. Whatever standoff is going on here, I want no part of it. They’ve obviously got some silly practical farmer versus arty photographer thing going on. But seeing as Jules is helping with the website for Rafe’s damned venue, the least I can do is to clear this up.
‘I ended up spending the night here … on the sofa …’ I linger on the word sofa. �
�After a cocktail or two too many at Jaggers last night.’ I ignore Rafe’s cough of disbelief. ‘That’s all.’
The grin that spreads across Jules face exposes every perfect tooth. ‘Jaggers Happy Hour claims a lot of victims.’ His nostalgic sigh turns to a chortle. ‘Some of us are dropping in there tonight actually. There’s a Sex on the Beach three for two offer, if you’re up for it, Poppy?’
More cocktails? I give a silent shudder, but before I can get out a reply, Rafe cuts in.
‘Are you damned well blind?’ He’s glaring at Jules with a disbelieving stare. ‘The woman’s a walking hangover, of course she won’t be coming out tonight. She won’t be out for the rest of the weekend, and if I know Poppy, she probably won’t be out for the rest of the year.’
My mouth drops open, and I’m too stunned to close it again.
Rafe pulls himself up to his full six two, with a satisfied sniff. ‘Help yourself to coffee, Jules.’ Then he turns to me. ‘Poppy, for chrissakes, eat something, now, or you’re going to feel like death all day.’ He scoops up a pile of papers from the desk, and strides across to the book case. ‘So knock yourselves out. Anything you want, I’ll be here all morning. I’m going to catch up on my filing.’
MARCH
18
In My Kitchen at Brides by the Sea: The extra mile
‘So, when we’ve checked through the text again the website can go live?’
Two weeks later, I’m at my kitchen table with Jules, putting the finishing touches to the Weddings at Daisy Hill Farm website. You’re completely right, it’s ridiculous. I’d half hoped Jules might suggest using the loft apartment I imagine he lives in, but he didn’t. So instead we’re crammed in here, perched on stools, with barely enough room to lift a cup of coffee. But compared to refereeing the standoffs and running battles between Jules and Rafe at the farm, it’s a piece of cake. On the up side, thanks to Rafe refusing to leave the office if Jules was there working with me, there’s not a paper out of place, and the desk is clear, probably for the first time in living memory. As for the down side, Jules is a lot closer than is comfortable in my kitchen built for one, but for one last afternoon, I’ll work with that. After today, I’ll probably only see him if he’s working at a wedding.
‘And once the website’s up and running, we’re kind of done aren’t we?’ I didn’t mean it to come out sounding as if I’m pushing for more, because I’m not.
‘Which is exactly why I keep asking you to come for a drink.’ He turns and looks me full in the face. When you’re in a room that measures six feet across including work surfaces, there’s nowhere to hide.
Today his eyes are the same colour as the sea we enthused about earlier when we peeped out of my porthole. I hold his deep blue gaze for a second, then look away. ‘My answer’s still the same,’ I sigh. And it’s nothing to do with not facing cocktails. ‘When you lose the person you thought you were meant to be with, it takes a while to adjust.’ I’m gently reminding Jules what I’ve told him before. The idea of another relationship leaves me cold.
Jules runs his fingers through his hair, and flops it back into place. ‘Fine, I’m happy to wait.’ He sits back, and folds his arms. ‘We’ll be friends for now.’ His finger dances over the track pad of his lap top. ‘Although if that’s the case, I warn you, this website won’t ever be officially finished. I’ll be round to see you with constant suggestions to improve it.’ Something in his steady gaze tells me he isn’t joking. ‘And that person you were with can’t really have been “the one”, or you’d still be with him wouldn’t you?’
I take a deep breath. There are times when you have to ignore Jules’ forward-thrusting statements.
‘Thanks for the stalker alert anyway.’ I decide against a wink, and instead give his foot a kick, as he brings up the Weddings at Daisy Hill Farm home page. I know he felt it, because he pushes back on my ankle, just a little.
‘I’m really pleased with the font we chose,’ he says. ‘It’s kind of stylish, yet relaxed, with that all important vintage vibe.’
Thank Christmas he’s decided to move the conversation on. ‘Your pictures are what make it,’ I say, as we flick through, yet again. ‘You really do get the most amazing shots.’
In a way it’s sad to think these long afternoons pouring over a laptop with Jules have come to an end. I still can’t quite get over how he transforms the flat. It’s not just that he’s incredibly decorative, with his long legs, easy humour, and stylish clothes. The sheer force of his personality sends energy pulsing through the place, and I don’t just mean the soundtrack he takes with him wherever he goes.
‘Those pictures have to be good, they’re my job,’ he muses. ‘In one freeze frame, I have to pin down all the love between a couple. And if it’s their wedding day, it’s likely one of those shots will become an iconic image they’ll look at every day for the rest of their lives.’
‘No pressure then.’ I laugh, and pass him another cupcake. Made specially. His latest request was for bitter coffee sponge, topped with coffee icing, sprinkled with toasted almonds. Believe me, after miserable no-cake Rafe, Jules is a pleasure to bake for. He peels back the paper case of his cupcake, half closing his eyes as he takes a bite. It’s strange, because I can’t actually remember a time when I was ever fascinated watching Brett biting into food, yet here I am, mesmerised.
‘I don’t know how you do it.’ I say, wishing I could hold my wedding day nerve like he does. ‘I’m already beside myself worrying about Ben and Lara’s wedding, and I’m just the coordinator.’ It’s true, I’m waking every night, in a cold sweat, imagining I’ve forgotten something vital.
‘I’ll be there to help you, don’t forget.’ Jules rests his hand on mine in what I take as a supportive gesture.
And here we go again, with the whole Rafe comparison. Whereas Rafe constantly says stuff’s not his problem, Jules is just so damned helpful. He’ll go that extra mile. Even when it’s nothing to do with him.
‘The secret of a successful wedding is a good photographer.’ He sends another wink, presumably to show he’s not bragging. That’s the second this afternoon. ‘A good photographer drives and directs the whole day. I’ve been at the centre of so many weddings, I instinctively know when disasters are about to happen, and how to avert them. I’m there, invisible, yet completely in control. You have no idea how many times my quick thinking has saved the day.’ If he sounds like he’s boasting, I’m sure it’s justified.
‘It’s good to know you’ll have my back.’ He has no idea how grateful I am for this, or how much I’ll be relying on him. ‘Making you coffee cupcakes paid off then?’ Given we’re winking this afternoon, I finally dare to send him a wink of my own, to show him I’m joking. Although I hope he’s not counting up my winks like I’m counting his. And I’m not actually certain I’m joking – there are times when the right choice of baking pays big dividends, and I sense this might be one of them.
‘Remember, I’m always here. Anything you need, just call me.’ He neatly collects the cake crumbs from the corner of his mouth, and licks them off his finger. ‘Whatever kind of help you need, I promise I’ll come to your rescue. Every time. Great nuts by the way, they make all the difference.’ We get wink number three here.
‘Thanks, that’s so great to …’
‘Poppy …?’ There’s a clatter of feet on the stairs, and Jess runs into the room gasping. ‘I know you’re busy, but we’ve got an emergency, could you possibly …’
Her pink cheeks and panting tells me I’m needed right away. Jess might yell up for me from time to time, but I’ve rarely seen her this flustered.
‘I think we’ve probably done as much as we need to, haven’t we?’ I say to Jules. If not, I doubt he’ll mind having an excuse to drop in again. I give his knee an appreciative squeeze as I get off my stool.
‘Unless you’d like a walk on the beach later?’ Jules’ puppy dog eyes would melt the hardest heart, and he’s working them to the max.
Jess is
hopping from foot to foot. ‘This may take a while.’ She drops her voice to a whisper. ‘Josie Redman just arrived unannounced. Sera’s pouring bubbly for the entourage as we speak, and at the same time trying to hide the fact she’s hyperventilating so hard she can’t do anything. Quick …’ She grabs my sleeve and tugs hard. ‘We need you NOW!’
In the light of that news, I’m guessing we’re forgetting Jess’s all in black rule for today. Rafe’s sweater and my old jeans will have to do for now. Okay, I know I haven’t given it back yet, but it’s comfortable.
‘Sorry to be running out on you, Jules.’ I’m backing out of the kitchen, waving as I speak. ‘Let me know if you think of anything else.’ I’m confident that he will. ‘And take the cupcakes … and the box …’ Confident he’ll do that too.
Jess and I scurry down stairs, bumping the banisters as we go.
‘That one’s a keeper if ever I saw one,’ Jess pants, as we dash through Groomswear. ‘His wedding pics are to die for. And he drinks in Jaggers.’ Only Jess would waste oxygen discussing men. ‘I heard him offer to rescue you … Robbie Williams singing in the background too … you’ve landed on your feet with him.’
Worse and worse. All I can hope is that the excitement of the next hour will bring on a bout of her busy-person forgetfulness.
19
In Brides by the Sea: Detoxes and perfect complexions
‘I’m so sorry to be putting you on the spot …’ Josie keeps repeating.
If she’s trying her best to make up for the tidal wave of panic that’s raging through the shop, she’s failing hugely. But far from the larger-than-life character she’s portrayed as in the tabloids, within moments it’s obvious that Josie’s sweet and considerate. She’s surprisingly small, and way prettier than any of her pictures in Hello. And despite her reputation as a drinks thrower, within minutes Jess decides prosecco is the only way forward, and trusts her with a glass. As for the flying visit on the way to Bristol, Josie’s three friends have tossed their huge studded handbags in a multi-coloured pile, settled into the sofas, crossed their very long legs, and are flicking their spikey heels about as if they’re here for the evening.