‘I saw the photo album,’ said Sarah. She was crying now. She didn’t bother to wipe away the tears; she simply let them fall. Meg handed her a pocket tissue, but Sarah just held it in her hand and she realized something. All this time she had been missing some kind of recourse from Meg, some apology, for what she had put her through, but Meg had been waiting for the same. Of course, neither had ever come, because neither sister could see things from the other side. But now it was time. Time to bridge the gap.
‘I’m sorry …’ she started.
‘I’m sorry …’ Meg started, at the same time.
Sarah gave a tearful giggle. ‘I think as the eldest I should go first,’ she said. She took a deep breath and finally dabbed at her tears with Meg’s tissue. ‘I’m sorry I was cold, that I didn’t share my feelings, that I was so authoritarian, so bossy … and what was the other thing? Condescending.’ She winked at her sister gently and smiled. ‘I’m sorry for being all of those things. I really mean it, Meg,’ she added. ‘I’m sorry I never comforted you. I’m sorry I was never there properly for you.’
Meg nodded. ‘I’m sorry I was so horrible,’ she said. ‘Ungrateful and self-destructive and … an absolute nightmare. I’m sorry I never considered your feelings in those two years. I’m sorry I never asked you about them. I’m sorry about the locket, too. I really don’t remember. And I’m sorry I’ve offered you no support in all this time – through Harry, through having the twins. I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know.’
‘I do know.’ Sarah smiled. Both sisters having spoken, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders and her heart fully open like a flower. ‘And it’s all OK. I accept your apology.’
Meg smiled back. ‘And I accept yours.’ She sighed, and then she laughed, suddenly, her face a million times lighter. ‘Phew!’ Exhaling and leaning back against the window for a while, she finally said, ‘I can’t believe it took us so long. What have we been doing all these years?’
‘I don’t know,’ laughed Sarah. They grinned at each other.
‘Is this where we hug it out?’
‘I think we have to or it doesn’t count.’
‘All right. Stand up, then,’ said Meg.
They stood up, opened their arms to each other and enveloped each other in a massive hug.
‘We’ve been idiots!’ said Sarah, into Meg’s hair. ‘Can you imagine how Mum and Dad would feel knowing we hadn’t talked – properly – for so long. Twenty years!’
Meg pulled back. ‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’
‘Really bad. We should be thoroughly ashamed of ourselves.’
‘We can make up for it now, though, if we want to,’ said Meg, excitedly. She kept her hands on Sarah’s waist. ‘Will you consider coming home for the weekend? Back to Tipperton Mallet? It’s my launch party tomorrow night. You’ve still got a lot of clothes there and you can borrow anything you like of mine.’ Should I tell her, thought Sarah to herself. ‘What do you say? We can’t hug it out like this after twenty years then just go our separate ways, can we?’
There was a cough. Olivia was at the door. ‘The show’s over,’ she said, her eyes bright. ‘Girls Squad have left the building and one of my friends has been sick in a bush. Shall we go home?’
‘Yes,’ said Sarah, grinning at her sister. ‘Let’s all go home.’
*
The train rumbled through the countryside. The sun had come out now and was streaming through less than clean railway windows. Olivia was with her friends a few seats behind, all their phones charging, bellowing out Justin Bieber songs. And the sisters had been talking for the last hour – cautiously – about their jobs, their plans, how they had found the country and the city and adjusting to each other’s lives.
It was … lovely. They weren’t rushing into a whole new closeness, yet, Sarah realized – it would take time – but there was an element of huge relief to their chat; that everything was going to be OK. Meg was currently telling Sarah about Jamie, how wonderful he was. How she was letting down her barriers and letting someone in, at last. How much of a bloody miracle it was.
‘Oh, that might be Jamie texting now,’ said Meg, with a broad grin. She checked her phone. ‘Sorry, won’t be a minute,’ she said, laughter in her voice and her face all lit up. ‘It appears I need to reassure him I haven’t done a “flit” back to London!’
‘No worries.’ Sarah didn’t mind a break in the conversation. She needed a moment to take stock of what had happened today. A chance to clear her mind. Although Meg talking about Jamie in such illuminated fashion reminded her there was one person still lingering there. In the recesses.
Meg finally put her phone on her lap.
‘What are you going to do about Dylan?’ she asked.
‘Dylan?’ Was Meg a mind-reader? Sarah had been half-heartedly flicking through a magazine someone had left on a seat but couldn’t concentrate.
‘Yes, Dylan. You told me you really like him. Why don’t you call him?’
‘Call him?’
‘Yes! You know, pick up that thing called a phone. Call his number. You have got his number?’
‘Yes, I’ve got his number.’
‘Well, do it then! Invite him to the launch of Pop-Up Vintage. I’ll be with Jamie’ – Meg tapped her phone as though Jamie were actually inside it – ‘you can be with Dylan. See if he wants to come down.’
Just like that … see if he wants to come down … so casual. The cutesy double date. But Sarah didn’t feel casual about Dylan at all. ‘I don’t know …’
‘What have you really got to be scared of? Really? That he might hurt you like Harry did?’
‘Well, yes, actually.’ Sarah fiddled with the corner of the magazine. ‘I’m battle-scarred. Like an old dog. I don’t know if I can do it.’
‘Well, firstly, you’re not an old dog!’ laughed Meg. ‘And I’ve thought it too, Sarah. Most of my life. That those we love leave us. It’s kind of been my mantra. But it doesn’t always have to be the case, does it? Sometimes it could be worth taking a chance.’ Meg leant forward and clutched Sarah’s hands. ‘Why not take a chance on love, if he is worth it. Today’s clearly a day for honesty and putting one’s heart on the line, so do it! What have you got to lose?’
Sarah looked at her sister’s face, so full of hope and optimism, and decided, once again, to brazen it out. If hope and optimism were working for her little sister, she could give them both a go, too.
‘All right, all right!’ she said and she took her phone from her bag and, with shaking hands, called Dylan’s number.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Meg
Morris dancers in white trousers and shirts, and sporting black bowler hats festooned with flowers, were huddled in a group at the centre of the green fastening bells and ribbons to their legs and criss-crossing braces across cider bellies. The green was strewn with bunting and dotted round its circumference were various jolly-looking stalls: a cake stand, a face-painting tepee, a henna tattoo station and a beer tent. Stallholders were chatting and laughing with each other as visitors began to arrive and mill around; elderly ladies were splashing orange squash into paper cups from enormous plastic jugs, for the children; and tinny pop music was already coming from a loudspeaker.
It all looks wonderful, thought Meg, as she admired the scene from outside Pop-Up Vintage. Binty’s and the pub both had their doors wide open, too; ready for business.
‘Should be plenty of punters,’ said Jamie, arriving at Meg’s side, slipping his arm round her and pulling her in close. ‘And they’ll all be coming through your door, with any luck. I’m glad you came back,’ he said.
‘Of course I did,’ laughed Meg. ‘No flits! And I hope so,’ she added. ‘Let’s hope it’s absolutely buzzing.’
Inside the shop, Meg’s ‘staff’ were busy at last-minute tasks. Olivia was rearranging a stack of business cards, to hand to customers. Connor, in a skull-print bandana, was faffing with the garnish on a huge tray of vol-au-vents. Violet was slicing
up an enormous cake and wrapping slabs of it in pale-pink napkins. And Sarah, in a stunning pale-lemon wiggle dress, was standing on a little footstool and stringing fairy lights along the top of the mirrors.
She grinned down at Meg as she and Jamie entered the shop, and Meg grinned up at her. It was wonderful having Sarah here. She’d been helping her all afternoon. And since her big sister had arrived back in Tipperton Mallet they hadn’t stopped talking.
‘Boozy chocolate and orange,’ Violet declared, brandishing a cake slice under Meg’s nose. She had finished wrapping the last of the cake. ‘I’ve managed to keep Garfield away from it for the duration.’ The Great Dane could be heard barking rhythmically somewhere out the back. Meg prayed he was tethered by industrial-strength rope. ‘Along with the Asti Spumante, it should help your guests get into the buying spirit.’
‘Well done, Mum,’ said Jamie.
‘Thank you, Violet,’ said Meg. ‘And you, Sarah. And thank you so much, Olivia and Connor.’
Olivia nodded. Connor flicked a piece of coriander triumphantly onto the final vol-au-vent and took an ironic bow.
‘You’ve amazed me, Connor,’ said Sarah, stepping down from the footstool. ‘I didn’t know you had it in you. You’re such a good cook!’ Last night Connor had made them all Moroccan lamb with home-made flatbreads. It had been delicious.
‘You’re going to be even more amazed, Mum,’ replied Connor, placing the tray of vol-au-vents on the desk. ‘I’m going to catering college!’
‘Are you? When?’
‘September. I handed my notice in at Larkins this morning. I wouldn’t say Auntie Meg had anything to do with it … but Auntie Meg had something to do with it.’ He grinned. ‘She gave me a bit of a bollocking …’ Meg was surprised, then she remembered ‘… and let me do the catering for tonight, and basically, was such a terrible cook I had to do something. And this is what’s happened!’
‘Oh, Connor! I couldn’t be more proud!’ Sarah launched herself onto his neck and hugged him until his face went pink. ‘I couldn’t be prouder of both of you!’ she cried, looking at Olivia. ‘Well done! And thank you, Auntie Meg, for everything!’
Olivia winked at an astonished Meg. This was amazing. The twins had conceded that Meg was ‘all right, really’, over dinner and a grilling from their mother last night, and today’s revelation, coupled with what Olivia had said yesterday, was the icing on the cake. Meg really hoped to be a proper auntie to them now, if she and Sarah were to be proper sisters. And she wanted that more than anything.
Meg walked over to the rails and leafed through the dresses, checking everything was perfect. She smoothed down the skirt of a lilac dress with a silk overlay and tucked the sleeve of a Forties New Look jacket neatly into line.
‘Oh, my god!’ she cried, looking at her watch. ‘Stand by your beds, everyone, it’s almost opening time!’
When the door of the shop was flung open with a flourish, and Meg stood outside with a tray of Asti-filled plastic champagne flutes, at first nothing much happened. A few people strolling past peered in then carried on strolling. Meg kept smiling; she kept saying, ‘Vintage fashion, would you like to take a look inside?’ but on they strolled. Then a girl who looked about twenty said, ‘Do you have dresses?’ and when Meg said they had the most beautiful vintage dresses in the world, the girl called a group of friends over and they came into the shop. That girl bought two dresses and one of her friends bought a scarf. Other curious people wandered tentatively in. Then other people saw those people in there, and mooched in, too, until the shop was suddenly full and Meg had to come back in, and Connor’s canapés were going down a treat, and the Asti was dwindling fabulously rapidly, and people were laughing and chatting and buying clothes, and it was bloody marvellous.
*
By midnight, Pop-Up Vintage had finally quietened down. Meg stood in the open doorway and surveyed the scene on the village green with a happy sigh. The green was softly lit by strung lanterns and the dim glow of lamps from the windows of the crooked houses. An impromptu dance floor had formed in the middle of the grass and people, with their shoes off, were spilling plastic cups of cider and dancing to old school tunes. And Meg had sold thirteen dresses, three hats, four pairs of shoes, five scarves, and two pairs of gloves. Lots of people said they loved the shop and would be returning. Her staff had been brilliant, and even Jamie had made a fabulous shop assistant who had proved adept in finding customers the perfect pair of shoes.
‘Thank you, everyone,’ said Meg, turning from the doorway. ‘It’s been more successful than I ever could have hoped.’
‘You’re welcome,’ said Olivia.
‘It was fun,’ admitted Connor.
Violet was gathering up paper plates. ‘Come on,’ she briskly said to Connor and Olivia, ‘help me take these out back.’
‘I’ll wash up,’ said Sarah, following them out.
Jamie was at the clothing rails, putting the shoes back into neat rows. ‘Do you want to go and have a dance in a bit?’ he asked, lining up a pair of pink slingbacks.
‘A dance?’
‘Yeah. I can hear The Fatback Band. I can smell cider. I think we should celebrate your success tonight.’
‘OK,’ said Meg. ‘I guess I could join you for a dance.’ She grinned. ‘I’d love to, actually.’
‘Great, you deserve it. Let me just finish my shoe duty and we’ll go,’ said Jamie. ‘Although I must admit my motives are not entirely altruistic.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I really just want an excuse to take you in my arms.’
He took Meg by the hand and led her outside. They fetched cider. The green was packed with shoeless villagers. Meg took hers off, too. She felt all swishy in her dress and suddenly they were dancing to ‘La Bamba’ which Meg normally hated but at this moment in time it was the best song ever, and Jamie was the best dance partner. He had some funny little moves. She kept laughing (although that may have been the cider); he kept asking, ‘What’s so funny?’
There was a break in the music. Someone was over at the portable CD player – an ancient thing – and was swapping one disc for another. The soft strains of the intro to Billy Ocean’s ‘Suddenly’ came on. Meg was in Jamie’s arms. He held her close and they turned slowly on the uneven grass. There were midges in the air. The smell of beer and hot dogs.
‘I really like you, Meg,’ whispered Jamie in her ear. ‘Will you be my girlfriend?’
Meg laughed. ‘Pardon?’
‘You heard me. Will you be my girlfriend?’
‘An old-fashioned country vet,’ mused Meg. ‘How would I ever have known you’d be so perfect for me? Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend,’ she said.
‘Less of the “old-fashioned”!’ teased Jamie. ‘I’m a king of modern technology, I’ll have you know! And I’ll be employing all of it when you go back to London and become my perfect, long-distance girlfriend.’
‘I’m not going back to London.’ Meg smiled. ‘I’m staying. At least for the foreseeable future. Sarah and I decided it last night. We’ve sorted it all out – finances and everything – and we’re carrying on with the swap, for now.’
‘What about your job?’ asked Jamie, looking incredulous.
‘I’m handing the reins over to my more than capable assistant. I’ll still own the business, but I won’t run it any more. I’ve been in the modelling world for twenty years now, it’s time for a new, less stressful world. Les has agreed to extend the lease on the shop, if I pay him a decent rent.’ Meg sighed happily. ‘I’m staying in Tipperton Mallet.’ She grinned.
‘Well, that’s excellent news,’ said Jamie, with an even bigger grin, drawing her closer still. ‘Really excellent. Hey, would you like to get out of here? Off this dance floor? Most of the people on this green are my patients’ owners. I don’t want them to see me when I kiss you to celebrate this fortuitous news.’
‘We can get out of here,’ Meg agreed. ‘We certainly don’t want to risk anyone approaching to ask y
ou about their turtle’s lumbago, or anything, while you’re making a move on me.’
Jamie took her hand and they fled – almost running – away from the music and the people and the lights and down the quiet darkness of Back Lane. The door to the phone box library was open and Jamie pulled her inside.
‘You’re being all masterful,’ she said. She was breathless, excited.
‘Occasionally, I am,’ said Jamie. With a smile, he kicked the door of the phone box gently shut with his foot, took Meg in his arms, and kissed her tenderly. She put one hand softly in his lovely hair, slid the other round the back of his warm neck and kissed him in a way she hoped showed him exactly how she felt.
They kissed and kissed for what seemed like for ever. Meg, her heart fully thawed and her belief in love reinstated, could have stayed in there all night.
‘Hold on a minute,’ said Meg, finally coming up for air a long time later and peering through a glass pane of the phone box, into the darkness. ‘Is that Sarah?’
‘Where?’
Meg was trying not to giggle as Jamie nuzzled his lips into her neck. ‘Over there, by the village hall?’
‘Looks like it,’ said Jamie, lifting his head slightly. ‘Who’s the bloke?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Meg with a grin. ‘But she’s wearing his jacket and snogging his face off.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sarah
Sarah saw Jamie and Meg leave the shop hand in hand. She had been washing up, in yellow Marigolds, in the tiny kitchen at the back. A few teacups, Connor’s vol-au-vent tray; Violet’s cake slice. Jamie was perfect for Meg, she’d thought, as she dried the tray with a gingham tea cloth. A steady guy who would bring out the best in her sister, she was sure – Jamie, along with life in Tipperton Mallet, was literally just what the doctor ordered.
‘They look good together, don’t they?’ Violet called over, as Sarah had come back into the shop. Violet was sitting writing down contact emails she’d been gathering for Meg, in a notebook. Connor and Olivia had already left, to meet their friends over at the green – Sarah reminding Olivia not to stay out too late as she had her viewing trip to Durham tomorrow.
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