by Jane Linfoot
As for Rafe, I try not to go there. But if I go to the Daisy Hill website, we’re all there. Cate and Rafe dressed as a bride and groom. Immie and I in our bridesmaids’ frocks. All laughing out from the home page. But that sun filled day of Jules’ photo shoot seems like it belongs to a different world. Which of course it does.
And I can’t get away from the thought that although I’ve got my shiny new life, and the job I always should have had, somehow I’ve managed to drive everyone I care about away.
NOVEMBER
68
London: Shopaholics crossing the road
Red, are you around tomorrow? I’m in London, if you fancy lunch?
11.30 Regents Park? We can grab a pasty and have a walk?
Rafe? In London? Yes, I was picking my jaw up off the floor too. It’s all a bit last minute. But when a text makes the bottom drop out of your stomach like that one did, it’s better not to have too much thinking time. I managed to get away from work early, so we can grab an early lunch. Not that I could face the confines of a restaurant, but for an outdoor guy like Rafe an al fresco sandwich should work. I need to be back in the office by two for a client presentation, which is good. It’s always best to have a time limit on these things.
‘So what’s in your parcels?’ I ask Rafe. We’ve got as far as compromising on paninis instead of pasties, and finding an empty park bench so we can eat them. It wasn’t hard. Although it’s lunchtime, the drizzle and the blustering wind mean there aren’t many takers. As for Rafe, striding along the pavement to meet me, his best Barbour billowing, looking like he’s visited every Department Store on the London Top 10 list. This is a whole new side of the man for me. Once the initial rush of excitement is over, and I’m brushing crumbs off my meet-the-clients stretchy black skirt, I steal a sideways glance, he’s looking a lot leaner and way older. ‘Hey, have you lost weight then? ’ Something about the deep hollows in his cheeks turns my insides to mush. ‘You look pale. Are you okay?’
‘So many questions.’ He shrugs, staring down at his charcoal jumper. ‘Maybe my tan faded. It’s winter in Cornwall,’ he laughs. ‘And I’m shopping for England, because my mum’s coming home. After a year away, she’ll expect a decent Christmas gift.’
‘Really?’ I blink at all the bags. ‘You’ve got some serious bling there.’
‘That’s the idea.’ He gives a grimace. ‘So how’s the job going?’
‘Fabulous.’ If that’s not quite the truth yet, I’m hoping it soon will be. ‘Developing an innovative range of ice cream sweets, making ready meals look good on photos. It’s a piece of cake after brides and grooms.’
‘Can’t be bad if you can blag lunchtimes this long.’ He gives a derisive snort.
‘Actually, I don’t normally take a lunch break.’ Working through keeps the doubts at bay.
He nods slowly.
‘So you don’t miss Daisy Hill Farm at all then?’
The question takes me by surprise. I stare into the distance and puzzle. We’re in a park, there’s grass, and shrubs and amazing trees, yet somehow it’s not the same. It doesn’t feel like home. ‘Actually …’ Of course I ache for the farm. It’s what puts me to sleep at night. I just never quite thought of it as missing it before.
A smile creeps across Rafe’s face as he watches me. ‘You’ve gone all dreamy. Who’d have thought? So you do miss it?’
‘Maybe.’
‘I’m sorry, I should have given you longer to settle. But I had to come and ask, is London everything you’d hoped?’
‘Actually it’s horrible, but it’s nothing to do with London, it’s because I miss you so damned much.’ The words come out in a rush.
Rafe takes a deep breath, and turns to look at me. ‘When Helen left, I didn’t want another relationship. But she left because we weren’t compatible, and it’s only now I’ve met someone I’ve truly fallen in love with that I realise what she meant.’
Something inside me feels as if it’s breaking. I let my panini drop.
Rafe is shaking his head. ‘Shit Red, I’m talking about you. You’re the one I’m in love with. Head over heels, nothing I can do about it.’ He rakes his fingers through his hair. ‘I’m not shopping, I don’t shop, I hate shopping. I’ve come to tell you it’s awful being without you.’
Completely overlooking that the pile of bags that completely contradict everything Rafe’s saying about shopping, I let out a wail. ‘But you’re the one person who was supposed to understand why I’m scared to be with anyone again.’
He purses his lips. ‘You can’t just shut down and give up on love just because of one bad guy. It’s easy to close down when you’re hurt. Brett hurt you, but you deserve so much better. If you’re lucky enough to find love, you have to open up again.’
‘But I can’t.’
‘Have I ever let you down?’
I rack my brains to find an instance. Because time and again he’s come through for me in so many different ways. Those taxis stuck in the mud. Rafaella’s arrival. The hen night. The day he brought me roses from the garden. Then suddenly it hits me. ‘For fuck’s sake Rafe, you were the one who sent me away.’ My voice is sullen. ‘If that wasn’t letting me down, I don’t know what is.’ The stabbing pain of rejection from that day is still as fresh as if it happened yesterday.
‘Red, I had to make you come to London. If you hadn’t you’d always have wondered “what if”. That’s the only reason I didn’t ask you to stay. At least now you’ve tried it, you know.’
‘I see.’ So what Immie said is right after all.
‘I also knew if you were sure you wanted to stay at the farm, you’d just have come out and said it.’ He grins at me. ‘That’s one of the things I love about you most, Red. You always come straight out with what you think.’
‘Except I didn’t this time.’ I give an inward groan. ‘In the end it was too hard to stay and see you every day when I was in love with you.’
His smile widens, and his voice is soft. ‘So you do love me. You don’t know how good that makes me feel.’ He bites his lip, and hesitates. ‘When you first came to the farm, I was miserable. You helped me see I didn’t have to be like that. I admit having you there pushed me out of my comfort zone at first, but you’ve become such an important part of my life. I don’t want to live it without you.’
I give a sigh. ‘The last few months changed me too.’
‘You’ve learned to be strong. But now you need to learn that you can trust me.’
I sink down on the bench. ‘So what are you saying?’
‘We could take things at your pace.’ His smile is as soft and reassuring as his voice. ‘I was hoping you’d consider coming back. Your job’s still there, but I don’t want to rush you. Maybe we could start with Christmas?’
Put like that, it sounds a lot less scary. Trust Rafe for finding a way to make me comfortable. ‘Christmas sounds good.’ I chew on my thumb. What am I letting myself in for?
‘Immie might not be talking to you, but she’s still saved you a holiday cottage.’ He grins. ‘She and Chas are so loved up, you really wouldn’t want to crash with them. Jess has got your living room full of dresses. And with four kids and two dogs, Cate’s would be mayhem.’ He’s ticking off the alternatives on his fingers as he rubbishes them. ‘Or you can always stay at mine of course.’
Something about that last grating throwaway line makes my lips twitch into a smile. ‘In the guest room, I presume?’
He ignores that comment. ‘I promise we’ll have a gigantic tree in the kitchen. And I’ll play Silent Night on the piano …’
There you go. He knows how to get me every time. ‘Now you’re talking,’ I laugh, ‘Carry on like that, I might just be persuaded.’
Getting up, he takes my hand, and pulls me to my feet. ‘Come on, let’s go somewhere less cold, get a coffee to warm you up.’
But first I let him pull me into his Barbour, for a full blown heat-up hug. And if I keep tight hold of his hand after that, it’s
only because he’s a guy from the country, who really has no idea how to cross roads in London. And at one fifty nine, when he leaves me outside work, the snog he gives me is long and achingly sweet. I know I’m supposed to be holding back, but it’s enough to make my body explode on the spot. How the hell he thinks that’s enough to get a girl the whole way through the next four weeks, I have no idea.
DECEMBER
69
In St Aidan: Snowflakes and sequins
Although Rafe is desperate to come to London to pick me up, in the end I decide to come back by train. It’s not about the distance, or the threat of snow, or the nightmare holiday traffic on the A303. It’s more that there’s something fitting about coming back in the same way I left. Also I’m banking on six hours solitary travel to give me time to get my head around how I feel about everything. Not to mention a gentle adjustment to the culture shock of leaving London.
More fool me. In reality, it’s the week before Christmas, and the trains are rammed. I’m squished between some very drunk geology students, and an extended family, fighting over their iPads, spilling coke and flicking popcorn. Who’d have thought a popcorn bucket could really be that bottomless. Or that sticky. By the time I drag myself out of my seat in St Aidan, the only thing I’m wiser about is Angry Birds Star Wars, and mining opportunities in South America. As for myself, I haven’t even got to the questions, let alone found the answers.
‘Red …’
When I finally fight my way through the barrier, and bury myself in Rafe’s huge hug, his smell is exactly as I’ve imagined every second since he left me a month ago. Wax jacket. Soap. Soft wool. Warm skin. And a big dash of what I suspect Immie would call pure pheromones. My scalp tingles as he runs his fingers through my hair, and tugs.
He mumbles as he tilts my chin upwards. ‘Did you know you have toffee in your hair?’
‘Actually, yes.’ But before I get to the bit about the bottomless popcorn, his mouth is smoothing over mine. Then I go dizzy, as the world begins to spin, and we only get dragged back to reality when a suitcase-on-wheels the size of a sideboard crashes into us.
Okay, I grew up with my mum’s eighties music videos. Everyone’s allowed one cheesy Christmas reunion moment. But maybe a snog that finishes in almost falling over, where you end up being hauled back onto to your feet by your hunky boyfriend isn’t the best look. Although when I say boyfriend, we all know I didn’t really mean it personally. For me. Obviously. Because he isn’t really.
‘So where are we going?’ I ask, as Rafe tosses my cases into the back and we escape the biting wind in the shelter of his best Landy.
He raises an eyebrow, as he glances at his watch. ‘First stop is Brides by the Sea. You’re just in time for Jess’s Christmas drinks.’
Oh crap. I pull out my best client smile in the dark. ‘Brilliant.’ Although I pull off sounding enthusiastic, part of me is shy and horribly embarrassed to be coming back. ‘Actually, I’m really worried everyone’s still pissed off with me for leaving.’ Even from three hundred miles away, I could feel the chill at the way I rushed off. I’m hoping the ton of Sanctuary gift products I have with me will help to break the ice, even if it can’t fully make amends.
Rafe’s laugh is low. ‘I think they’ll be pleased to see you.’
As we turn into the mews, and the shop building looms, excitement flutters through my chest. ‘Look at the windows.’ I’m clenching my fists, because Jess has nailed it, yet again. ‘They’re so pretty.’
The white tulle dresses are set off by garlands of frosted ivy, and suspended white and silver baubles. Strands of starry lights, shimmer against hanging snowflakes, flecked with a thousand tiny sequins. But the best thing of all for me, there isn’t a single picture of Josie, or our dress. It’s as if the world has moved on, and I can too. It’s also lovely to see lace and tulle again. Up until the moment I saw the amazing windows, I hadn’t realised quite how much I’ve missed weddings.
We hurry from the car, pushing through the door into the warmth of the shop, and head for the noise in the White Room bridal area. Our hollow footsteps on the broad boards sound comfortingly familiar. It’s as if I’ve never been away.
‘Poppy …’ As we peep around the corner into the party, Jess swishes towards us, jug in hand, and there’s a surge of greetings as everyone turns to smile and wave. ‘Rafe.’ We each get two kisses, although Rafe’s are seriously more lingering than mine, but whatever.
‘Come here Mr Farmer, let me tidy you up,’ Jess says.
As I watch Jess stretch up, and tweak the tiniest piece of hay from Rafe’s temple, a feral growl rises in my throat. I grit my teeth, and swallow back the most violent pang of jealousy I’ve ever had. Not that I’m possessive, but for a second there I could have happily clawed her face off.
‘Hands off Jess, this one’s definitely mine.’ Hopefully my laugh is light and sparkly, rather than the snarl it could have been. I sense Rafe’s warmth extending around my back, as he closes his arm around me. As I look up into his face, his grin tells me he’s ecstatic he’s been claimed.
A voice comes through the crowd. ‘And finally. Jeez, Pops, am I glad to hear that.’
That voice can only be one person. ‘Immie?’ She’s so short, that even in heels she still disappears in a crowd. As I scan the heads, I can see Jules and Chas, but not her.
Next thing I know I’m knocked so hard backwards I practically end up wearing the line of Alexandra Pettigrew dresses hanging in front of the window. It’s Immie, hurling herself at me with the force of a full rugby team, closely followed by Cate, who gives me a much calmer kiss on the cheek, and a small, but meaningful squeeze.
Jess is powering towards us again, as we slip out of our coats. ‘Help yourselves, there’s Christmas punch, or Ruby Duchess.’ She drops a couple of cocktail glasses into our hands. ‘And in honour of Christmas we’re floating frozen red fruit in the drinks.’ She gives a grimace. ‘I only hope I don’t live to regret it.’
‘In other words, for chrissakes keep the raspberry ice cubes away from the dresses.’ I translate for Rafe’s benefit as she breezes off. ‘Jess only ever serves prosecco, dressed up to match whatever season. She gets a killer rate from the wholesaler.’
Rafe nods. ‘I called in to see the wine merchants last week, I’m hoping we might be able to move into wine for the weddings soon.’
I have a sudden rush of realisation that everything has moved on without me, even though I’ve got no right to feel left out. Realistically, Rafe was hardly going to put the whole business on hold because I’d gone.
He goes on. ‘I’m looking into T-shirts too. “We got hitched at Daisy Hill Farm” and stuff like that.’
‘Brilliant.’ Yet so typical. ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’ I groan.
He gives a shrug. ‘I guess we each have our own areas of expertise.’ The king of the T-shirt slogan sends me a meaningful stare. ‘Which is why it’s best when we work together.’
But before I have time to react to that, Cate returns dragging Liam behind her.
‘So how’s our city girl getting on?’ he asks.
‘All good thanks.’ I smile. ‘How’s married life, Mister?’
‘Ditto.’ He laughs and slides his arm around Cate’s waist.
Immie butts in. ‘For god’s sake, get real Pops. If city life was suiting you, you wouldn’t be looking so peaky and ill.’ She snorts, and rolls her eyes. ‘You’ll be over producing adrenalin. It’s a common problem in London. People who live there feel constantly stressed.’
Cate gives Immie a sharp kick on the ankle, which she might have felt more if she hadn’t been in biker boots.
‘Don’t take any notice, you’re looking fab Pops.’ Cate gives me another squeeze. ‘She’s still furious with you for leaving. She’s even worse than she was the first time, when you went off to uni.’
And that’s when it hits me. The difference between here and London. Immie bringing up the stress is like a light bulb moment. Because for t
he first time since I left here three months ago, I’m completely relaxed. How the hell had I not noticed? Even if Immie is balling me out, I’m warm and safe and secure, with the friends I’ve known forever. Whereas all I have in London is a career. But that’s a career for someone I used to be, not the person I am now. Trying to pick up the pieces with that is like the square peg and round hole metaphor. Which is why the fit is so uncomfortable.
As I stare around the familiar bridal room, and take in the faces of all the people I love, it finally sinks in. What I have here isn’t just a job, it’s a life. And I’m surrounded by friends, and a whole extended network of wedding professionals. And with all that support, and with the amazing opportunities at Daisy Hill Farm, my whole future is poised to take off. Six hours of agonising on the train didn’t get me anywhere. But one mouthful from Immie, and I’m right on track.
‘So talking of prosecco and pomegranate, how’s life in the food industry?’ Cate sips her pink cocktail. ‘Made it onto the board yet?’ She gives me a wink.
I drag in a breath. ‘Actually, they’ve offered me a permanent position.’ That’s the surprise they sprung on me a couple of days ago. ‘Based on the work I’ve done in the last couple of months.’ The shocked intake of breath beside me is from Rafe, as he visibly shrinks at my side.
Cate’s eyes are wide, but she keeps her voice light. ‘Well … wow … that’s fabulous … obviously … You’ve done really well to pick it up again.’
The last few months, I’ve thrown myself into the work, desperately trying to make up for those lost years. And yet the offer of a full time forever job didn’t thrill me as much as I’d imagined it would.