by Jane Linfoot
‘No, you’ve got a big day tomorrow.’ He grins at me, as he taps his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘Five tiers will be hard enough without adding in sleep deprivation.’
I’m surprised he remembered the cake, given I’ve temporarily forgotten myself.
‘They’re supposed to be staying at Immie’s.’ I say doubtfully.
‘I’d best take them back to mine, they can have a sofa and a bucket each in the kitchen. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they’re okay.’
And that’s that. A moment later I’m on the pavement digging in my bag for my key, listening to the sound of Rafe’s exhaust echoing off the shop fronts as his Land Rover roars off into the night.
SEPTEMBER
59
At Daisy Hill Farm: Home truths and better offers
‘Poppy, I need a word.’
Rafe’s shoving his head around the office door, wanting attention. Again. Nothing new there then.
We’ve all recovered from our various hen night traumas. Immie’s over the shock that she was out on the lash for eight hours and completely failed to pull. Everyone but her has worked out she wasn’t actually trying. Cate’s resigned herself to the fact she has a complete memory blank about most of her hen night. She refuses to believe she spent the last hour pursuing a giant blow up willy, but hopefully the pictures in her Miss, Soon To Be Mrs book might convince her, when she gets it on her wedding day. It should have occurred to us that a woman who once booked a fairground for her wedding would have wanted every hen accessory going, regardless of better judgement. Rafe has had pasties showered on him from my direction, and Immie gave his Landy the interior valet of its life. And I’ve vowed that’s the last time I’ll go out and stay sober, or wear wings of any description. So we’re all good.
‘Poppy, did you hear me?’ Rafe’s tapping a rolled up newspaper against his knee.
Impatient, and annoying. And why’s he calling me Poppy when he always calls me Red?
So it’s full speed ahead to Cate and Liam’s wedding. We’ve got our final bridesmaid dress fittings tomorrow evening, and …
‘Poppy …’
Given his growl is impossible to ignore, I look up with my helpful smile. ‘Anything I can do?’
‘You can damn well explain this for a start.’ The paper slams down on the desk in front of me so hard it makes the filing cabinet vibrate.
I’m staring down at the advert for the Daisy Hill Farm Wedding Fair. I skim to check that the date’s right. It is. ‘We need to advertise, it’s essential to get the word out there.’
He raps straight back. ‘Yes, but the fair was supposed to be about suppliers. It clearly states in big letters that we’re one of the most popular new venues around, which implies that we’ll be taking bookings.’
‘And we won’t?’ My voice has gone up an octave because I’m incredulous. What happened to barn conversions and weddings of all sizes, all year round?
His expression is as flat and noncommittal as his tone. ‘Nothing’s been finalised.’
Given the way I pulled out all the stops to get that ad out, something in his tight lipped response drives me a tiny bit wild. ‘That advert simply states the current truth, nothing more.’ This far I keep my voice level, but then it runs away to a shout. ‘If you must know, I’m completely sick of everyone working their arses off on your behalf, and all we get in return is this “should-we-shouldn’t-we” indecision.’ As I flash my eyes upwards, I take in the hurt in his eyes, but I’m past caring. He’s acting like a spoiled brat, and it’s time someone told him. From where I’m standing he’s back to the bad old guy who had so much handed to him on a plate, he’s happy to throw it away.
‘That’s hardly fair …’ He protests.
At the back of my mind there’s a tiny voice reminding me I had so much on I didn’t take the time to run the ad past Rafe, but frankly now’s not the time to go back to that. Right now I’m rushed off my feet, and knackered, and it’s all his fault. What’s worse, the extra work has all been for the ideas that he’s dumping, only days after he was jumping up and down with excitement about them. And what’s worse, I was excited about them too. Excited enough to make me get to grips with spreadsheets, dammit. Excited enough to think I might even land a proper job, and secure my future, more fool me.
‘We’re having this wedding fair because the suppliers have carried you all year.’ As the disappointment bites, my snarl escalates to a yell. ‘But if you don’t want to take any bloody bookings, don’t take any bloody bookings. I doubt anyone will even give a shit, and frankly I’m past caring.’
I snatch up the paper and shove it into his hands as I storm past him, and stamp off towards my car. It’s only when I get there, and I’m sitting in the driving seat thumping the steering wheel that I realise I’ve left my bag behind in the office. It’s hanging on the back of my chair. I’m waiting, giving Rafe some time to leave the area, when I hear his Landy scream out of the yard and off up the lane. Typical. Still acting like a spoiled brat then. At least I can stalk back to rescue my bag without fear of meeting him.
I’m just unhooking it when Immie comes into the office with a file.
My heart’s skittering. ‘Shit, I thought you were Rafe coming back,’ I say.
Immie narrows her eyes. ‘And that’s a bad thing?’
‘I’ve just blown up at him.’ I watch Immie raise one eyebrow. ‘Weddings are off. Again.’
‘Right,’ Immie frowns. ‘Any idea why that is?’
‘Because he enjoys fucking with us?’ I spit it out. From where I’m standing that’s what it feels like.
She shakes her head. ‘He might have changed his mind, but Rafe’s really not like that.’
‘Isn’t he?’ It comes out bitterly.
‘You know he isn’t.’ Her voice is quiet, yet almost fierce. ‘So it doesn’t have anything to do with what Jules said to him?’
‘When does Jules ever deliberately speak to Rafe?’
Immie’s pulls down the corners of her mouth. ‘Yesterday. Lord knows what he was doing here, but in passing, I overheard him telling Rafe you were wasted at Daisy Hill.’
I can’t believe I’m hearing this. ‘What?’
‘Jules implied he was finalising better offers, which would let you express your full potential.’
I shake my head, not understanding any of it. ‘The only offer I’ve had was Jules wanting me to go into business with him.’ I say. ‘Yesterday I finally plucked up the courage to tell him it wouldn’t be happening.’
‘Poor Jules is smitten with you.’ Immie shrugs.
‘It’s not the big deal he’s making it into. My finances are hardly in a place to set up a new business. Even if they were, much as I love him as a friend, I wouldn’t lean on Jules.’ Less than a month from now, I’m set to lose a big chunk of my income. Rafe whipped his potential job away as fast as it appeared. If I can’t rely on that, I need to stay as flexible as I can. What’s more, I’ve had a year of support from Jess. I’m not a wreck any more. I need to sort my life out.
Immie screws up her face as she thinks. ‘I can’t hope to second guess the workings of any male mind, but my guess is that Jules was lashing out when you rejected his offer. He wants to mess things up between you and Rafe.’
‘Me and Rafe?’ My squawk comes out so loud, it makes me jump. ‘There’s nothing between me and Rafe to wreck.’
‘You must have seen the way he looks at you?’ Immie frowns. ‘Put it this way, if Rafe’s smouldering glances were any hotter, you’d ignite.’
I dismiss that with a snort. ‘Total bollocks.’ Rafe doesn’t like me. Not any more than anyone else. I’m certain of that. We both know the sex was a total mistake. He said so too. ‘I think you’ve been hanging with too many fireman. It’s making you imagine things. You’re seeing things that aren’t there.’
Immie rolls her eyes. ‘Pops, you just balled Rafe out. He drove off at a hundred miles an hour. Something’s not right.’ She gives a big sigh and anoth
er of those searching stares of hers that turn you inside out. ‘In your working relationship?’
The mention of work kicks me to a new place.
‘Forget Jules. Find Rafe, and talk things through. Quietly and calmly, without yelling so loud the whole yard hears.’
‘You heard?’
‘Along with the rest of the world. Why else do you think I’m here?’ She gives me a weird stare.
‘Your files?’
‘These are cottage instructions. I brought them in with me, I’m taking them away with me.’ She heads for the door, waving the bogus file at me. ‘You, find Rafe, right now, and talk to him.’
Easier said than done. ‘I’ve no idea where he’s gone.’ It’s not just an excuse. AWOL is a natural state for him.
‘Come on Pops, think about it.’ She’s talking to me as if I’m being deliberately dense. ‘Where does he go when he’s upset?’
‘The cow shed … the kitchen … the stream … the feed store?’ I try, but Immie shakes her head to all of them. I rack my brains. ‘I’m not sure I know anywhere else on the farm.’
She gives a huge snort. ‘Sometimes you are so annoying. Think woman. I’ve given you enough, you have to get this bit on your own.’
And then it pops into my head. Scrambling up that grassy bank that day. Rafe spilling all those secrets I’d rather not have known. ‘Daisy Hill?’
‘At last.’ Immie’s sigh is a mix of disgust and relief as she snatches a set of keys from the shelf. ‘Jump in the pick-up, I’ll run you as far as the gate.’
60
Up on Daisy Hill: Huffs and holding back
There have to be more accessible places to go off in a huff than the top of a hill. I’m lucky Immie brings me as far as the bottom. There have to be warmer places too, especially as I rushed off in a flimsy dress with a cropped cardi. To be brutally honest, my good friend Johnny Boden could have done with knitting a few more inches in all directions on this one. On anyone bigger than a seven year old, it’s so skimpy it might as well not be there. What’s more, a farmer scouring the sky before I set off would have known that the drizzle in the breeze was going to turn to blustering rain by the time I came to a halt half way to the top. Me? I had no idea.
Thirty seconds of rest here, taking in how far I’ve climbed, lets the burn in my throat subside. It’s also enough time for me to kick myself for not grabbing a coat. Looking down, I can see the rain moving up the hill in waves. As for the wind, it’s whipping around so fast it’s freezing the bejesus out of me. I never thought I’d say it, but I’d give anything to wrap that damned tent of an old jacket of Rafe’s round me now. As for the go-anywhere ballet flats, they haven’t lived up to their name. Wet grassy slopes like this one are definitely a challenge too far. A lot of the time my feet are sliding down faster than I can scramble up. Another day I might have cursed a tiny mark on the flowery canvas, but by the time I’m approaching the top of the hill, it’s hard to make out a single bloom under the mud smears on my toes.
The weird part is, that by the time I reach the undulations near the summit, I’m gasping so hard the anger that powered me up here in the first place has faded. Worse still, I’m getting pricks of guilt because I rushed the publicity out without getting Rafe’s approval. It’s come back to bite me on the bum, so I might as well come clean and take responsibility.
Peering between the scrubby bushes as I put in a last surge of effort, I catch a glimpse of Rafe ahead of me, hunched over, back to the wind.
‘Rafe, what are you doing up here?’
A gust all but whooshes my words away, but from the way he screws his head around, he must have heard.
‘Red.’ His tone gives away his surprise more than his impassive expression. ‘I could ask you the same thing?’
Neither of us is giving anything away then. ‘Where’s Jet?’ It’s rare to see Rafe without him. I scour the hillside, in case he’s off after rabbits.
‘Jet wasn’t fast enough, I left in a hurry.’
We all know he screamed off up the lane. The fact he didn’t wait for Jet makes me feel even worse.
‘I’m sorry,’ I begin. Maybe I need to get straight to the point. ‘I should have run the ad past you.’
Rafe sniffs. ‘It wasn’t so much about the ad. It’s more about the future.’
Which tells me nothing. But I’ve made the first move. Given I practically expired getting up here, it would be good if he could offer me a bit more than that. ‘You might want to apologise for storming off?’
It’s a suggestion which he declines. ‘You were the one who ran away.’
There’s no way I’ve come this far to argue again. What’s more, I’ve nothing to lose. Given how sullen he sounds, I decide to lay my cards on the table. He hadn’t even offered me the damned job for next year, but I was still devastated when he whipped it away from me. ‘I only ran off and yelled because I was upset that you’d just dumped a project I really believe in.’ There, it’s out there.
He rubs his thumb over his chin. ‘The thing is, I really don’t want to hold you back.’
I fail to see what this has to do with anything. ‘I’d have thought you pulling the wedding business is going to do just that?’
Rafe’s sigh is doubtful. ‘I’ll hold you back more giving you the opportunity to stay. I know we work well together.’
Don’t ask me why that tiny throwaway phrase of his whisks me straight back to Rafe and I collapsing into a groaningly enormous simultaneous orgasm, but it does. I clear my throat while I rack my brain for a way to clarify the point. ‘Professionally,’ I say. I reckon that clears up any ambiguity, and blasts any misplaced orgasms out of the picture.
‘Professionally, obviously,’ Rafe adds his agreement before he settles back to what he was saying. ‘But if developing the weddings here means you get stuck in a dead end place, where you’re wasting your talents.’ He gives me a knowing look. ‘Well I don’t want that to happen. I’d rather forget it before we begin.’
At least he knows the limitations. Although I have to admit, the middle of nowhere is less dead end than I once thought. Some days the farm is buzzing.
I bend down and ease myself onto the sodden ground next to Rafe.
‘I’m not sure I’d do any better than this job elsewhere.’ I say slowly, pulling my legs tight against my body for warmth. I can’t pretend. I was literally bursting with excitement when I thought there might be work here next year.
He turns on me with unexpected force. ‘There you go again. Why do you always undersell yourself?’ He shakes his head in exasperation. ‘You’re hugely talented, but you never want to take the credit for anything. When exactly did you get this down on yourself?’
When my voice comes out it’s so small it’s embarrassing. ‘Maybe when I was with Brett. He was never very complimentary, that’s all.’ He seemed to think if he criticised me, he’d make himself look better. But actually, he was better, at everything, so it probably worked.
Rafe’s still huffing in exasperation. ‘Critical is the last thing I want to be.’ He blows out a sigh. ‘But you need to learn to believe in yourself.’
That’s the funny thing. I feel much more sure of my abilities, since they’ve been tested on an hourly basis here. And up to this point, I’d always thought I’d done well at holding my own with Rafe.
‘I have got more confident since I’ve been here, so I’d say it’s been good for my personal and professional development.’ I might as well admit it. But I’m not going to hold back with him either. ‘I could say the same to you. You have this fabulous business potential here, yet you’re in constant denial, looking for every excuse not to succeed.’
He gives me a sideways glance. ‘Why is it, whatever we’re discussing, you always come out on top?’
Now it’s my turn to give a shocked blink. The ‘on top’ stops me in my tracks. In my defence, I’d had a lot of fizz very fast that night. And I did come clean about it being all down to me.
His l
ips twitch into a grin. ‘On top, in the professional sense, I mean.’
‘Obviously.’ I add, fast as I can.
Rafe’s grin spreads. ‘So all things considered, maybe we should make a joint decision.’ He narrows his eyes at me. ‘To push Daisy Hill Farm Weddings forward.’ He hesitates over the last word. ‘Together.’
The sudden explosion of butterflies in my chest is definitely excitement about the job.
‘I’m glad we’ve resolved our differences.’ He’s gone all under-stated and serious. ‘As I said before Red, it’s not about the bottom line. People are what matter.’
Definitely not going in for makeup sex then. I did not just think that.
‘People like me already know that happiness doesn’t come from things,’ I say. My mum always taught me that.
‘Why does that not surprise me?’ he says, slapping his hand on my knee. ‘Bloody hell, you’re freezing.’ He gives my knee a vigorous pat, then leaps to his feet.
A second later he’s hauled me onto mine, and he’s dragging me towards him. As his arms wrap around me, the heat of his body radiates through mine. Secure, delicious. I lean in, grateful for the enveloping warmth, but it’s not just heat. There’s another charge zinging between us. ‘Come here.’
His low voice resonates against me. The arch in my back thrusting my boobs against his thumping chest has nothing to do with driving away the cold. It’s an instinctive response to the urgent tug at the base of my stomach. As our eyes meet, his are smudgy behind his lashes. He scrapes the water off my cheek with his thumb, sending a thousand new shivers through my body. As I run my tongue across my lower lip, I’m willing him to kiss me. Somewhere in the seconds it takes his face to descend towards mine, I go rigid.
‘Rafe, stop.’ Pushing my palms against his chest, I twist out of his grasp.
What the hell am I thinking? It’s taken weeks to live down what happened last time. I’ve battled up this damned hill because I’m desperate to persuade Rafe to carry on with weddings, so I can save my job. Not so we can have a fucking love fest. Snogging him is the fast way to blow our working relationship out of the water. Why the hell would I throw my professional future away on another clinch?