by Liz Fielding
“I thought I should leave it until after the announcement.”
“Leave what?” Flora asked, backing into the room, both hands full with trays of canapés.
He hated fussy bits of food but, grateful for any distraction, he crossed to hold the door for her. “Thank you, Fredrik.”
“Max needs to ask the vicar to save the day before someone else grabs the church for a concert or flower festival,” Ally said. “You know how it gets booked up in the summer. Actually, he should take it off the books straight after Sunday evensong and ask The Friends of St Philip to give it a thorough clean on the Monday.”
“But he’ll want to know why,” Max protested.
“Just be your usual vague self, darling,” Flora said. “Tell him you’ll give him the details in a week or two. Fredrik, will you give me your opinion on these? Do you think any of these would be suitable to serve at the reception?”
“They are gorgeous, Flora,” Ally said, when he’d mumbled something about asking Hope and Jonas. She popped something small and pink into her mouth, then, having regained her composure, she patted the seat beside her. “I’m getting a crick in my neck looking up at you all. Come and sit down, Fredrik, and tell us what’s going to happen when we get to San Michele.”
The sofas, he had already discovered, were old and saggy. He sat at the far end so that they wouldn’t be thrown together and gave them the news that they would be flying by private jet to San Michele, along with the bare bones of their itinerary while they were there.
Ally and Flora wanted all the details, fizzing with excitement at the prospect of a reception, banquet and ball to celebrate the engagement. They talked dresses over dinner and wanted to know if they would get a chance to see any of the country. Max, whose life was being disrupted at great personal expense to give his sister the wedding she wanted, seemed distracted until Ally announced that she’d had a great idea.
“Hope wants a village wedding. Obviously you’re not going to invite the entire village. We can’t fit everyone in the church and the reception is very much for family and close friends.” She took a breath. “I think the answer to getting everyone involved is to throw a wedding party on the green.”
“A party?” Max asked, startled out of his thoughts.
“A celebration they can all be part of,” Ally explained. “And a thank you for all the inevitable disruption the wedding will cause.”
Max might have groaned but Flora said, “What exactly were you thinking, Ally?”
“A marquee, food, a bouncy castle for the kids, maybe one of those lovely carousels, some basic sideshows and music of some sort. For dancing.”
“Dancing on the green?”
“We can put down a wooden floor.”
Max rolled his eyes but Flora, ever practical, said, “Who is going to do the catering?”
“Not you, Floradear. You have enough on your plate already.”
A little chocolate from the pudding was smeared on her upper lip and as she licked it away Fredrik missed Flora’s response.
“I’ve given it some thought and there are three options. We could run it like a traditional street party where everyone contributes something. Didn’t the WI coordinate the party for the Diamond Jubilee?” she asked Max.
“It rained,” he replied, gloomily.
“It’s not going to rain on Hope’s wedding,” Ally said patiently. “I won’t allow it.”
She caught his eye and Fredrik found himself fighting a smile. It wasn’t funny. She had the quiet persistence of a mole. You’d only know you had a problem when a pile of trouble was tossed up in the middle of all your neatly laid plans.
“Option two,” she continued, “is to have the Three Bells and the Old Forge provide a hot and cold buffet. That would have the advantage of keeping Jennifer Harmon sweet.”
Flora pulled a face. “There isn’t enough sugar in the world to sweeten that woman. Fortunately she employs good people in the kitchen. What’s option three?”
“We could ask Jeff Thomas to do one of his hog roasts.” Getting no response to that she said, “There is a fourth option.”
“We forget it,” Max suggested, under his breath.
Ally, choosing not to hear that, said, “I think we should do a combination of all three and keep everyone happy.”
“Cakes from the WI, main food catered, a hog roast for the evening?” Flora said. “That sounds perfect. What does Hope think?”
“I wanted to run it past you before I suggested it.” She looked across at him. “Fredrik? Will it be a problem for you?”
He shrugged. “It has the advantage of keeping everyone in the same place and fully occupied.”
“Max?”
“Who is going to organize all this?”
“I will,” Ally said.
He sighed, nodded. “Hope will love it.”
“Flora?”
“Max is right. Hope will adore it and it will bring the whole village together which is exactly what she wants.”
“And if it does rain?” Fredrik could not resist teasing her. “This is England.”
“There will be cloudless blue skies over Combe St Philip for the entire week,” she assured him. “But, in the unlikely event that a shower has the bad manners to lose its way, we will move the dance to the village hall.”
“And the hog roast?”
“Jeff Thomas has been doing them for years. He’s prepared for all eventualities but he is in demand so we’ll have to book him straight away. I can talk to him but he’ll want a deposit.”
Max nodded. “Tell me what you need and I’ll sort it.”
When Ally and Flora left to make coffee Max shook his head. “That woman is like her mother. Unstoppable.”
He’d met her mother and survived to tell the tale. Ally was something else.
“She and Hope are close?” he asked.
“They bonded at infant school but didn’t see much of each other when Hope went away to boarding school. When the old man made an idiot of himself there was no money for that so she had to come home and go to the local high school. Posh kid brought down to earth,” he said. “As you can imagine, she had a pretty rough time of it.” He shook his head, staring into his glass. “I was trying to hang on to the estate, my marriage was falling apart and I was worried to death about the children. Hope, I’m ashamed to say, was left to get on with it. It was Ally who was there for her, at school and in the village.”
“But Flora is older.”
“I suppose so.” It didn’t seem to have occurred to him that it was unusual. “I’ve no idea how the three of them became so close, but she’s been like a big sister to Hope. The really good kind.” He looked up. “Do you have family, Fredrik?”
“Too many,” he said, bitterly. Realizing from Max’s raised eyebrows that he’d betrayed feelings that he normally kept well hidden, he forced a smile. “I have a younger brother and sister and my mother has two more children with her second husband.” Seeing the question, he said, “My father died when I was eleven.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged, looked up as the women rejoined them, laughing, obviously close. He was the outsider as Ally and Flora, with the occasional suggestion from Max, discussed the arrangements for the village green party. It was Ally who made an effort to include him, taking the time to tell him who they were talking about, sharing the outrageous foibles of people they’d known all their lives.
Finally, though, she said, “Floradear, that was the most wonderful meal but Jennifer wants me in an hour earlier tomorrow so I’m going to have break up the party or I’ll sleep through the alarm.”
“Really? Surely they’re not that busy at this time of year?”
Ally shook her head, raised an eyebrow. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”
They exchanged a look. Clearly there was something she didn’t want to say in front of Max. Or was it him?
“I was thinking, if you’re organizing all this as well as Hope’s weddi
ng diary you’re going to need somewhere to work. We can find her a room here, can’t we, Max?”
Max agreed that there was no shortage of rooms.
“That would be great. I’m trying to keep everything under wraps but Mum will clean.”
“Come over after you’ve finished tomorrow,” Flora suggested. “About ten? That’s if Fredrik doesn’t need you?”
He shook his head. “I’m seeing the Chief Constable first thing and then going straight on to the airport. Thank you again for your hospitality. The wedding reception is in good hands,” he added.
Flora blushed. “Thank you. There’s always a bed here if you need to come back.” Then, turning to Max: “Will you walk Ally home, darling?”
Ally opened her mouth, clearly about to object, but Flora gave her a fierce look and Fredrik heard himself saying, “I could do with some fresh air. I’ll see Ally safely home.”
She looked straight at him and for a moment he thought she was going to tell him there was no need, that she could manage, and he didn’t know whether he wanted her to wave off his company or smile and say, “Thank you.” Ally Parker sparked off a whole load of danger signals. That sideways look she’d been giving him all evening, an unreadable smile, left him feeling like a cat whose fur had been rubbed up the wrong way.
Before she could do or say anything, Flora accepted on her behalf.
Ally and Flora hugged, Max kissed her cheek and then they were in the ancient panelled hall and he was helping her into a long black coat that was a million miles away from the padded jacket she’d worn that morning. No doubt her job at the gossip magazine had required a quality wardrobe and the kind of grooming that wouldn’t make her look out of place amongst the celebrities she interviewed.
“How are you going to manage in those heels?” he asked, as she draped a long, brightly coloured scarf around her neck.
“I have years of practice,” she said, producing a pair of fine gloves and a small torch from her coat pocket. “Shall we go?”
Chapter Five
The driveway was pitch-dark once they left the area close to the Hall. There was no moon but in the clear frosty night the payoff was a sky filled with stars.
Ally stopped to look up. “What an amazing sight. You never see this in London.”
“Nor in Liburno, but up in the mountains the stars are so thick and close that it feels as if you could reach up and scoop a handful.”
How long had it been?
“You must miss it. Climbing?” she prompted, distracting him.
Miss it?
It was like the phantom pain of a missing limb ...
“I’m too busy to waste time worrying about what I can’t do.” He took the torch from her, using it to light the uneven path ahead of them. “I can see why Flora asked Max to see you home.”
She didn’t move for a moment and then, accepting that he wasn’t going to talk about climbing, said, “I could have managed but you were coming out for a breath of fresh air and Floradear worries about me walking home alone in the dark.”
“Why?”
“She thinks I’ll break my neck in these shoes.”
The look that had passed between them suggested something more but he let it go. “Why do you call her Floradear?”
“It’s her name. Flora Deare. Hope ran it together years ago and it stuck because that’s exactly what she is. Floradear.”
“Max said she was like a big sister to both you and Hope. That you were both kind when he wasn’t there for her.”
“Poor man. His wife was no support when his life fell apart. She didn’t stick around while he was forced to sell most of his land, the furniture, silver, paintings collected over centuries, just to hang on to the Hall. His children were his first concern and I suppose he thought Hope was old enough to take care of herself.”
“He sees them? His children?”
“Oh, yes. His wife remarried surprisingly quickly but they all get on pretty well. His little girl is going to be one of Hope’s bridesmaids. His son, unsurprisingly, refused point-blank to be a page. They’re going to San Michele with Max and Flora.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Of course you do.” Her heard the amusement in her voice. “You know everything.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
She glanced sideways at him. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know, Fredrik.”
“Will you?” He had a dozen questions burning his tongue but none of them had anything to do with the wedding. “Tell me why Max is putting himself through this when he obviously hates every minute of it.”
“Hope’s father was undoubtedly a fool, but she was only fourteen when he died in prison. No one had a good word to say for him and I’m not sure that anyone really understood how hard it hit her. He was still her dad and she loved him.”
“Of course she did.” The words came through a throat thick with memory.
“Max knows he let her down. Giving his sister her perfect wedding is his chance to make up for not being there when she needed him.”
They had reached the gate and he opened the small personnel gate for her but, as she stepped through, she stumbled on those ridiculous heels and he made a grab for her arm. There was a small, strangled sound – the kind a person makes when their throat is closed with fear, and Ally swung round to face him, eyes wide, arms up in a defensive gesture.
“Ally ...”
She quickly lowered her hands. “Sorry.” She shook her head. “Sorry ...” she repeated, then turned and walked quickly away, the sound of her heels echoing off the terraced houses that lined the narrow street.
The village was not quite as dark as the Hall driveway. Some of the cottages had lamps over the doors and there was light from a few windows but there were no street lamps. The lane was full of ink-black shadows. He lost sight of her once and hurried to catch up.
“What happened?” he asked, as he caught up, fell in beside her. “What did I do?”
“It’s nothing. Stupid. An old story.” But important, obviously. “It’s nothing,” she repeated.
“That was a classic PTSD response,” he said. She glanced at him. “With me it’s paper ripping.”
“Paper?”
“It’s exactly the sound of an incoming shell,” he said. “The first few times I heard it I threw myself under the nearest desk. Not a great image when you’re head of security.” He wasn’t going to tell her about the nights he’d woken up screaming ... “Jonas persuaded me to talk to someone. Bottling it up doesn’t help.”
“Flora and Hope know,” she said.
Of course they did. They had protected her, kept her secret. “The fear is still there, Ally. You need to talk to someone who isn’t emotionally involved.”
“You?”
“Lack of emotional involvement is my default setting and discretion goes with the job.” He gave her a moment, then said, “You did say that you would tell me anything I asked.”
Ally shivered as a tawny owl hooted its familiar call from a tall perch in the churchyard before drifting on silent wings across the lane in front of them and into the grounds of the Hall.
It was true. She’d said that because she wanted him to trust her. But telling him about her darkest moment was more about whether she trusted him.
“You’re cold,” he said, stopping to take off his scarf, holding it so that she could see what he was doing before wrapping it gently around her neck, taking care not to make any sudden movements. His thoughtfulness, his understanding of her nervousness should have made her feel cared for, but it just made her feel pathetic.
That wasn’t her. She’d walked through the night-time streets of London without a qualm. It was only here, in the village, that she feared the shadows.
As if she’d never grown past that moment.
Maybe she hadn’t.
Hope and Flora were protective, aware that it was as real to her as if it had happened yesterday. Perhaps he was right that she needed to talk about it an
d maybe, if she told Fredrik what had happened, he’d understand why she would never betray Hope.
There was a stone bench outside the churchyard. She crossed to it, sat down, arms wrapped tightly around her. He joined her, not too close, careful not to be threatening. Not nearly close enough ...
“I was sixteen,” she began, “and thought I knew everything.”
“We’ve all been there. It’s called growing up.” She looked at him, wondering what he’d done when he was sixteen, hoping that he’d share some scrape. “Another time,” he said. “This is your story.”
“Yes.” Her throat was thick with tension and she took a minute to breathe, force herself to relax. “It was a Saturday. I told my parents that I was going to spend the night with a friend but I was actually going to a club in Ayesborough with a girl from school.” She pulled a face. “Lily Peters was the kind of girl my mother would have thought ‘unsuitable’.”
“Was she?”
“Oh, yes.” It was probably the first time she’d ever admitted her mother had been right about anything and oddly, it made her feel better. “She was the queen of one of those cliques at school that everyone wanted to part of. They wore too much make-up, skirts up to their backsides and were always surrounded by boys.”
“You’re telling me that the boys weren’t lining up to date you?” he asked. He sounded genuinely surprised.
“I was a TPV.” She pulled a face. “A teacher’s pet virgin.”
He made a sound that was somewhere between a cough and a splutter. “Where was Hope?” he managed.
“Hope?”
“You were friends. Wasn’t she in on this?”
“Oh, no, she had a job working in the kitchen at the Three Bells on Saturday nights. I wanted to work there but my mother refused point-blank. Max would probably have done the same but he had other things on his mind and Hope needed the money.” She glanced at him. “I finally got what I wanted. Ironic or what?”
“Deeply. What happened, Ally?”
She shrugged. “Lily suddenly became friendly, asked me if I wanted to join them in Ayesborough on Saturday night.”