‘So what’s the deal with you and Ant, then?’ Josie turned round in the car to face her friend. ‘How do you know each other?’
‘We don’t,’ mumbled Diana. ‘Not anymore.’
‘Come on,’ teased Josie, ‘I saw that reaction. There must be a story there.’
‘Well, there isn’t,’ said Diana shortly. ‘Can we just drop it now, please.’
‘Oh,’ said Josie, in surprise. ‘Okay.’
She settled back into the front and started making small talk with Harry, while Diana stared out of the window and remembered …
She’d been twenty-two when she met Tony eight years earlier, and happily whiling away a winter working as a chalet rep in Switzerland. At a loose end after university, Ant had taken a temporary job working for her firm, while he worked out what to do with his life. She’d noticed him the first time he’d walked into the bar, it was impossible not to: good-looking, tall, fair, charming as he was. Her instant reaction had been that he wasn’t for her, particularly as he seemed such a flirt, but there’d been something about him from the start. And then she’d fallen in so deep, she couldn’t get out easily, and it was too late to escape the broken heart that had ensued. Eight years she’d spent trying to forget him. Eight years, and now she had to spend the whole weekend with him.
Diana sighed. That was the past, this was the present. She was here for Josie and Harry, she’d just have to try and ignore Tony/Ant/whatever his name was. Because this was Josie and Harry’s weekend and she didn’t want to ruin it for them.
Diana had envied their relationship from the start. A couple truly suited to one another, truly at ease, truly in love. She could never imagine that happening to her. She was far too difficult and spiky, as all the boyfriends she’d ever had had told her. There were reasons for that of course. Having once given her heart irrevocably, and been hurt so badly she thought she might never recover, Diana had sworn never to let herself be so vulnerable again. So she cultivated her tough exterior, sought out short-term relationships she knew would go nowhere, and resolved to stay single and in control for the rest of her life.
Which was all very well, but the downside was she was sometimes lonely. A fact she barely ever admitted to herself, let alone anyone else. Particularly since Josie and Harry had been living together. Diana had little in common with her new flatmates, who were friends of friends, and when not working late, spent most evenings alone watching crap TV. Recently the offers from men seemed to be less forthcoming than in the past. Josie had once told her that she scared them off. The trouble with cultivating an image of invulnerability of course, meaning that people thought it was true. If only they knew …
Diana wished in a way she could be more like Josie, who was most definitely not spiky. Everyone loved Josie. It was impossible not to. Josie was kind and open and friendly, all the things Diana found it hard to be. It wasn’t that she didn’t have friends, but people didn’t love her the way they loved Josie. Not at work, where her ambitious nature had given her a reputation for ruthlessness, nor in her social life, where she’d ended up dropping most of her girlfriends once they were shacked up. Apart from Josie. But that was because Josie was exceptionally kind. As was Harry. Diana felt sure he didn’t quite get his fiancée’s sarcastic; difficult friend, and put up with her for Josie’s sake.
While Josie, Josie was kind and tolerant of their differences. And one of her special gifts was bringing people together in difficult social situations. When she realised the extent to which her best friend and Harry’s actually did know each other, she’d talked of other things, and Tone had followed Di’s line of we’ve met but we barely know each other with barely concealed relief.
Another memory resurfaced, searing Diana with a pain she’d forgotten she was capable of. Tone promising her the earth then abandoning her in her hour of need. No one had ever let her down that badly, and she’d sworn never would again.
Oh, God. Teflon Tone. Best Man. And she was Chief Bridesmaid. This was going to end up being the wedding from hell.
Ant sped along the motorway in a state of – what? Fury? That wasn’t quite the word. But agitation, certainly. Bloody hell. Fancy quiet little Josie having made friends with Dynamite Di. How the hell had that happened? How the hell had he not known? He’d only been out of the country for two years, and it seemed like everything had turned upside down in his absence. Bad enough that Harry had had to go sentimental on him, and decided to get married. But to have Dynamite Di as a bridesmaid? That was adding insult to injury. And he had to spend a weekend with her, being polite? Bloody Hell. Bloody Bloody Hell.
Mind you, there had been a time when he couldn’t get enough of her. Diana still remained one of the sexiest women he’d ever encountered, and he’d fallen for her in a way he’d never fallen for anyone before or since. But then it had disintegrated into a mess of bitterness and accusation. And the last time they’d met, she’d unceremoniously tipped a pint of beer over his head and called him a bastard of the finest order, in front of everyone they knew. He found out why much too late, and by then she wouldn’t see him, wouldn’t hear his side of the story. Ant couldn’t bear to admit to anyone how heartbroken he’d been about everything that had happened – only briefly telling Harry the details – so he’d buried those feelings deep, and sworn never to let a woman get that close again. He’d certainly never imagined meeting Diana again. And now here she was, larger than life, looking just as gorgeous as ever. And they had a whole weekend to get through.
He’d been thinking about it so much, Ant nearly missed the turning to Tresgothen, the village where Josie’s parents lived. He vaguely remembered the pretty little lane, with high hedges and scary bends, as he drove down it. Some time ago – a lifetime it seemed now – when they were still students, Josie had invited them all down here for a long weekend, and they’d had a fine boozy time of it, as he recalled. Josie’s parents had been away so they had the place to themselves, which at the time had been amazing. Josie’s parents were hugely wealthy and their house had been the height of luxury, even then. He’d brought a girl – he couldn’t remember who now – Kim? Kelly? He could barely recall her, but had vague and rather erotic memories of skinny dipping with her at midnight.
The place was bigger than he remembered: a beautiful oak-beamed house on three floors with pitched roofs and ivy growing up the side. To be this rich, Ant thought, as the car crunched across the enormous gravel drive, that really would be something. Josie, Harry and Diana were already getting out of Harry’s car, to be greeted by Josie’s mum, a tiny, older version of Josie, dressed in a cream linen dress and flat sandals.
‘Welcome, welcome,’ she said. ‘I see you’ve brought the lovely weather with you. I’ve put you in the annexe, as I thought you’d be more comfortable there.’
The annexe? Ant followed them in awe, for once silenced. The house had six bedrooms as he recalled it, and now they’d built an annexe? Maybe Harry had a point about this getting married lark. As an only child, Josie presumably stood to inherit the lot.
‘The annexe is for our guests,’ Josie’s mum was saying cheerfully, as she took them into the enormous hall, which had expensive looking rugs on the parquet flooring and a wide-panelled oak staircase. It was light and airy, a welcoming, rather than an intimidating space, the kind of hall Ant would like to have some day. ‘It’s so much nicer for people to have their privacy.’
Of course, thought Ant. The way she said it, was like this was normal. Ant immediately decided whatever else he did with his life, he wanted to end up with a property portfolio like Josie’s parents.
‘More like for Dad to have his,’ laughed Josie.
‘Did someone take my name in vain?’
Josie’s dad, an ambling six-foot academic-looking type, wandered in from an enormous room on the side, which looked like a lounge.
‘Dad!’ Josie shrieked and threw her arms around him.
‘Lovely to see you too, darling. Harry, good to see you again.’
/> He shook hands with Harry, who looked unaccountably nervous. Ant dimly recalled Harry saying how terrifying he found his future father-in-law.
‘Diana, always a pleasure,’ he continued, ‘and you must be the elusive Ant. Peter Hampton at your service.’ He looked him up and down appraisingly, with sharp blue eyes, which reminded him suddenly of Josie. For an instant, Ant felt sorry for Harry; great to be marrying into the money certainly, but despite the scatty professor persona Ant had a feeling Peter was a hard man to impress.
‘At your service,’ said Ant, then felt ridiculous. What a stupid thing to have said.
‘Are we eating outside, darling?’ said Peter, ‘as it’s such a beautiful day?’
‘I thought we would,’ said Nicola. ‘We don’t often get the opportunity, and it’s so lovely that you could all be here.’
She beamed cheerfully at them, and Ant tried to smile back, but suddenly he felt quite claustrophobic. He wasn’t good at families, this felt all too domestic and cosy for him. Surely it was time for the pub soon? Otherwise it was going to be a very long weekend …
‘You know there’s a local plan to revive the theatre, don’t you?’ Nicola said, ushering Harry and Josie straight into the dining room as soon as they’d deposited their bags, while she left Peter sorting out drinks for Ant and Diana on the patio. Harry looked after them longingly, even more so when he saw to his horror a huge array of wedding catalogues lying open on the magnificent mahogany dining table.
‘I hadn’t, no,’ said Josie.
‘Well, they might be hiring it out for weddings,’ said Nicola.
Hang on a minute. Harry was confused. The last conversation they’d had, Nicola had been insisting on a church wedding.
‘That would be awesome!’ said Josie, ‘could we get a marquee up there?’
‘Well, I’ve been looking into it,’ Nicola said. ‘It’s worth a thought.’
‘Don’t you think it would be nicer to have a marquee at home?’ asked Harry, but he knew the answer straight away.
‘No!’ Josie and Nicola said simultaneously.
‘I think it would be amazing to have our wedding on the cliff edge looking out to sea,’ said Josie. ‘It would be different, stand out; be a wedding like no other. No one would ever forget it.’
Why did their wedding have to stand out? Harry wondered. He didn’t care if anyone else forgot it, he knew he never would.
‘And what about getting married in St Cuthbert’s?’ he continued, though he knew it was futile. The idea of that had been filling him with dread, but now he clung onto it longingly, ‘I thought that’s what you wanted.’
‘I did,’ said Josie, ‘but the open-air theatre would make such a great setting for the wedding. So romantic. You can’t have forgotten our first date there?’
Of course he hadn’t. The first time he’d ever been to this house, years ago, with a group of their university friends, he’d found himself suddenly alone with Josie, the only one wanting to go out to the theatre for the night. It had rained, and they’d huddled together in their plastic macs under an umbrella, watching a magical version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It had been a wonderful, incredible evening and he’d fallen head over heels in love. Though they’d drifted apart after uni, Harry had never forgotten either that night, or Josie. He still couldn’t believe his luck in finding her again.
‘Of course not,’ he said taking her hand. ‘It was one of the most amazing nights of my life.’
‘Aah,’ said Nicola fondly, ‘what a romantic.’
‘Of course he is,’ said Josie, ‘that’s why I’m marrying him.’
Harry blushed. He never quite knew what to do when Josie was so public about her feelings for him.
‘Stop it,’ scolded Nicola, ‘you’re shaming the poor boy. Now, what do you think about these bouquets …’
‘Oh, Mum, they’re gorgeous,’ Josie was peering at pictures of pale pink roses entwined with white carnations and wound in unknown greenery. There were pages and pages of pictures of bouquets that all looked the same to Harry. He endured five minutes of Josie rhapsodising about flowers and then, deciding his presence wasn’t necessary, beat a retreat into the garden, hoping he wasn’t going to face a grilling from Peter about his latest prospects.
Diana had disappeared to take a nap, claiming a headache in a very pointed manner, evidently her desire not to spend time with Ant overcoming her normal politeness in front of Josie’s parents. What was going on there? They clearly knew one another, but were being icily polite to the point of freezing. And Ant was pretending to barely know Diana, which was clearly not true. Harry wondered which of Ant’s many conquests Di must have been. It was always hard to keep track with Ant, but for the life of him he couldn’t recall Ant mentioning her before. He wondered if she was the one who’d broken Ant’s heart. It would explain an awful lot. Resolving to ask him at the first opportunity, Harry went into the garden where he found Ant animatedly talking business with Peter.
‘So what do you think about us losing our triple A rating then?’ Ant was saying as he approached. ‘The country’s being run by idiots.’
‘You’re not wrong there,’ said Peter. ‘This bunch is no better than the last lot. I worry about the future for you kids, I really do.’
‘It could be worse, at least we’re not Italy,’ said Ant, provoking a hearty laugh from Peter which made Harry feel like punching a wall. He’d never made Peter laugh like that once, not in all the months he’d been coming here.
In truth, while Harry had grown very fond of Nicola, Peter terrified him. A self-made millionaire who’d used Nicola’s money to make one fortune in the dot com bubble, which had enabled him not only to buy this house, but a pied-à-terre in London, a villa in Spain, and another fortune in the technological boom of more recent times. And he appeared to be recessionproof, living evidence that money made more money.
Harry, who came from a more modest background and was quite happy to be earning what he regarded as a reasonable income in a job he enjoyed, was totally baffled when Peter started on about stocks and shares, and even more so when Ant joined in. How the hell did Ant even know all this stuff? It wasn’t even as if he was any good at maths.
Gloomily, Harry sat between them as Ant quizzed Peter ever more heavily about the future of the economy, then Josie and Nicola joined them and went into frenzies about menus, venues, and other things which he felt were insignificant. When he’d impulsively asked Josie to marry him last October, he hadn’t foreseen this. There seemed to be no end to the minutiae that had to be planned for a wedding. All he wanted to do was go into a wood somewhere and plight his troth with his lady love, like in some kind of mediaeval knight’s tale. He loved Josie, she loved him. All the rest was frippery. But she clearly didn’t see it like that …
Chapter Three
‘You’ll never guess who’s staying in the village?’ Nicola said gleefully as they sat down to a huge lunch on the vast patio by the pool. Josie had tried to stop her, told her they’d be just as happy to head to the pub for lunch (she could see Harry and Ant were already getting twitchy), but her mother was unstoppable. Nicola was the perfect matriarch. She’d been made to mother a huge family, and it had been a source of unending disappointment to her that she had only been able to have one child. She made up for it by feeding anyone who came within a mile of the house. Josie felt sure Nicola kidnapped people from the highways and byways when she wasn’t there.
‘It makes me feel useful,’ her mother had once confided in her daughter. Josie tried not to feel irritated that her mother could only see one way of being useful, and bit her lip so as not to retort, well go and do something properly useful if you feel at a loose end. It exasperated her that her mother seemed to be so happy with so little, having given up on any career aspirations long before Josie was born. Her own father had been wealthy in his own right and Nicola had never been expected to work. When she met Peter who even then was on the up, she devoted herself to being a full-time w
ife and mother. She wouldn’t even work with Dad, saying the figures were beyond her. It was exasperating. But it wasn’t in Josie’s nature to quarrel, and she didn’t want to hurt her mum’s feelings, so she said nothing.
‘No, who?’ said Josie, laughing as her dad rolled his eyes.
‘Only Tatiana Okeby,’ said Nicola triumphantly.
She was met with a stunning silence and blank looks.
‘Er. Tatiana who?’ said Diana.
‘Tatiana Okeby. You must know her. Sail for the Sun?’
‘Nope, not ringing any bells,’ said Harry.
‘Sandy Kane, tart with a heart. Who went through abortion, rape, several husbands, and sailed off into the sunset, never to be seen again? How can you not remember Sail for the Sun?’
‘Might be a bit before our time, Mum,’ said Josie.
‘What, none of you ever saw Sail for the Sun?’ Nicola looked baffled. ‘I could have sworn we watched it together, Josie.’
‘Did we? I don’t remember. When?’
‘Let me see … It must have been around 1983, I suppose,’ said Nicola. ‘Tatiana Okeby was tipped to appear as Auberon Fanshawe’s assistant on Freddie Puck’s Illusions show, but she quit to play Cassandra instead. She and Auberon used to have a bit of a thing.’
‘Now, Illusions I do remember,’ said Harry. ‘It was awesome.’
‘Do you remember the trick they did with the lighted candle?’ said Ant. ‘You know the one where Auberon’s assistant lit the candle and he made it disappear. I still can’t work out how they did that.’
Midsummer Magic Page 4