‘Right then,’ Anthony said, moving decisively towards the door. ‘I’m going for a shower. Just tell her to give me a knock if she changes her mind.’
‘Thanks, Anthony,’ Mum beamed. ‘What a lovely man!’ she said once the door had swung shut and the sound of his footsteps had disappeared up the steps to his flat.
I didn’t say anything. My skin, my head, my hair were all still tingling from his touch. Smoothing down my dress, I moved to the mirror above the sink to check my hair and apply a layer of red lipstick.
‘So, when’s this Dave arriving then?’ Mum demanded. ‘Has he messaged you yet?’
‘Not yet. There’s still plenty of time, though.’
‘Well, where are the flowers going?’
‘Mayfield Hall.’
‘But that’s miles away. We’ll have to get a move on if we’re going to get them there on time. Give him a ring and make sure he’s on his way. We don’t want them to be late.’
‘Okay.’ I reached for my phone and dialled Dave’s number. He answered on the second ring. ‘Rachel? I was just about to phone you. The clutch on my van has gone. I’m with the breakdown people now.’
‘Oh no! Do you know how long they’re going to be?’
‘I don’t think it’s going to be fixed today. Do you want me to phone my mate and see if he can deliver the flowers?’
I put a hand to my head, stress making my blood rush. ‘No, don’t worry. I’ll try my dad.’
‘I’m really sorry to let you down, Rachel.’
‘No, it’s okay. It can’t be helped. Hope you get it fixed soon.’
‘Thanks.’
Hanging up, I looked at my mum. ‘Where’s Dad?’
‘Playing golf with Eric. He’s not going to be happy if we phone him. Do you think we could split the flowers between our two cars?’
‘I suppose,’ I said, eyeing the big altar arrangement doubtfully. It looked huge, all boxed up. I only had a Smart car. It wasn’t exactly built to carry a lot. ‘I’ll take the bridal flowers now. She only lives ten minutes away and at least then we know the bride will have her bouquet.’
‘Okay, good idea,’ Mum said. ‘Go and sort out your car and I’ll finish boxing up the buttonholes.’
Ignoring the panic rising in my chest, I put down the back seats and spread out a plastic sheet to protect my boot. The bridal flowers would fit easily, I was sure. Going back into the shop, I collected the box containing the two bridesmaid bouquets while Mum carried the bridal bouquet, corsages and buttonholes.
I got to the bride’s house in record time. A harassed-looking woman with rollers in her hair opened the door. ‘Hello! I’ve brought the flowers!’ I said, far more cheerily than I felt, and was rewarded by squeals of excitement as Julie and her bridesmaids appeared from the hall behind.
‘Oh, they’re gorgeous!’ Julie said, throwing herself at me and giving me a hug. ‘Thank you so much.’
‘It’s my pleasure,’ I beamed, hugging her back. ‘Have a wonderful, wonderful day! Are you nervous?’
‘Terrified.’
‘Don’t be. Everything will be fine. Make sure you send me a photograph of you in your dress.’
‘Of course I will.’
‘Enjoy your day. Bye.’
I still felt stressed when I pulled back into my space behind the shop ten minutes later. How on earth was I going to take all those flowers in my tiny car? I knew Mum had offered, but her car wasn’t much bigger and, if Bobbi was ill, Mum needed to stay in the shop. Climbing out, I stared into Anthony’s BMW estate, and realised that the back of it was loaded up with the rest of the wedding flowers.
‘Ah, there you are,’ he said from the top his steps. His hair was still damp from the shower and he was wearing a blue shirt with blue jeans. My stomach bungee-jumped down to my knees and back up. ‘Ready to go?’
I gaped at him. ‘Your…’ I pointed at the flowers in his car. ‘Really?’
‘Of course.’
‘But isn’t this your police car?’
‘I promise not to put the siren on.’ He winked as he came down the steps towards me.
‘Wow. Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver.’
‘No problem.’ He unlocked the car and opened his door. ‘Your mum’s manning the shop and Bobbi agreed to go for a lie-down in my flat. She’s under strict instructions not to be sick in the bed.’
‘Is she in your bed?’ I asked as I opened the passenger door and slid into the smooth leather seat. The interior was spotless and shiny and the smell of Anthony’s expensive aftershave warred with the smell of the flowers in the back. Turning my head, I did a quick check to ensure they were all there.
‘No, the spare bed.’ He shot me a curious glance as though wondering if I was jealous. I wasn’t sure if I was or not. I didn’t know why I’d even asked. I stared out of the passenger window, feeling flustered and confused. I’d asked for space last night, and yet, just a few hours later, I was ogling him in his running shorts and now sitting in his car.
He was doing me a massive favour by helping us deliver the flowers, though. I had to admit that even if Anthony wasn’t really attracted to me, he was still a good man for helping me out. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the flowers would have arrived either damaged or late if I’d had to manage with just my car. The bashing my professional reputation would have taken if that had happened didn’t bear thinking about. Besides which, it would have been horrible to have let my client down on her wedding day.
‘Do you know where we’re going?’ I asked as we headed out over the river and out of Chester.
‘Yes, your mum told me. I know the way.’
‘Great. Have you been there before?’
‘A long time ago.’
‘To a wedding?’
‘No, just a visit.’
‘I’ve done a couple of weddings there before. It’s a beautiful venue.’
Anthony nodded but didn’t say anything else. He seemed a little distant all of a sudden. I stared out of the window at the passing fields. Despite the morning sunshine, white frost nestled in dips and hollows and clung to the coarse grass and mud at the sides of the road. The skeletal trees reached high into the sky, crows circling above.
‘Do you like winter?’ I asked after a few moments silence.
‘Yes, I don’t mind it.’
‘I like it, too. I like being all cosy and warm inside while it’s cold outside. Fluffy socks and pyjamas. Mmm.’
‘But you’re all pretty dresses and high heels. What do you do when it’s really icy or it snows?’
‘I wear thicker tights. Or my tracksuit. I’m quite mortified that you saw me in that, actually. That’s twice you’ve seen me looking hideous.’
‘I haven’t seen you look hideous, Rachel,’ he said, quietly. ‘You looked cute in your tracksuit.’
‘Cute? Ha!’
‘You did.’
‘You’re very sweet,’ I said, feeling suddenly awkward. ‘Thank you again for this. I really appreciate the lift. And thank you for letting Bobbi lie down in your flat.’
Anthony chuckled. ‘It’s really no problem.’
We drove on in silence. Not an awkward silence, but a comfortable silence. I was content to watch the fields from the car window, and Anthony seemed relaxed behind the wheel. After a few more miles, a sign came into view and Anthony indicated left into a long, winding driveway.
‘Oh wow! Isn’t it gorgeous?’ I said as the sandstone house came into view. The pale winter sun glinted off the windows and warmed the stone to a golden butterscotch.
‘If you like that sort of thing.’
‘I love places like this,’ I said. ‘Don’t you? Look at it. It’s amazing. All that history. Could you imagine ever living in a place like this? Imagine the families and the staff that lived here all those years ago. Amazing.’
‘I believe the family still lives here,’ Anthony said. ‘I think they have one wing that
’s private and the rest is for events.’
He drew up near the entrance and parked the car. Climbing out, I looked up at the huge country house, imagining the bride sweeping up the steps in her beautiful wedding gown.
‘What are we doing with these flowers then?’ Anthony went around the back of the car and opened the boot.
‘We’ll take the table centrepieces in first.’ Reaching past him into the boot, I pulled two smaller boxes forward and passed one to Anthony. ‘Don’t drop it, please.’
‘I won’t,’ he said, then pretended to let it slip from his grasp. I gasped, my heart in my mouth, then smacked him on the arm as he grinned at me.
‘Don’t even joke about it! If you drop it you’re dead.’
‘Are you threatening a police officer?’
‘Definitely. Those vases are glass. If you drop them it will be a complete disaster.’
He laughed, showing his perfect white teeth. ‘I won’t drop them. Don’t worry.’
Even so, I watched him like a hawk as he walked up the wide stone steps to the entrance of the hall. A lady approached us as we went in.
‘Are you the florists for the wedding? Wonderful. If you’d like to take them along to the room at the end of the hall, the tables are all set up.’
‘Lovely. Thank you very much.’
I nudged Anthony as we walked along the wood-panelled corridor, flanked on either side by huge ancestral portraits. ‘She thought you were a florist, too,’ I whispered.
‘Yes, I realise that, thank you.’
‘You should show her your baton.’
He gave me a look, raising an eyebrow. ‘Miss Jones,’ he said, his eyes shining, ‘if you want to see my baton, you only have to ask.’
I laughed as we turned into the room. The tables were already laid with place cards and favours and it gave me a little thrill of excitement looking at it all. I placed my box on a chair and took out the first table arrangement, tweaking it carefully as I placed it carefully in the centre of the table.
‘Doesn’t it look lovely?’ I said, taking out my mobile phone and snapping a photograph. Anthony was standing by the next table, looking slowly around the room. He turned to look when I spoke and nodded.
‘Yes, it looks very effective. Do you want me to put the ones in this box out?’
‘Yes, please. I’ll follow you around tweaking.’
‘Twerking?’
‘Nooo!’ I laughed and went red, then couldn’t stop giggling as I put out the rest of the flowers. I looked around, feeling satisfied with how they looked against the crisp white linen of the tablecloths.
We went back to the car to collect the altar arrangement. Anthony slid the big box out of the boot and carried it carefully up the steps while I locked his car with his key.
‘Where’s this going?’
‘The service is in the orangery,’ I said, following him back up the steps and along the corridor to the back of the house. The orangery was a rectangular glass structure with views over the gardens and lake. White chairs were lined up in two rows with a space in the middle for the bride to walk up.
‘Aww,’ I said, following Anthony up the aisle towards the stand that had been left out for the flower arrangement. ‘Look at us, walking down the aisle together.’
‘Steady on,’ he said with a shudder. ‘Don’t make me drop this.’
‘If you drop it, there’ll be a blood sacrifice at this altar,’ I said.
‘Hey! That’s the second time you’ve threatened me!’ he laughed. ‘I think you’ll find that’s a very serious offence.’
Placing the box down on the tiled floor, he brought out the flower arrangement and placed it on the stand. ‘There you go,’ he said, standing to one side. ‘Get twerking.’
I gave him a look and his eyes gleamed with mischief. I didn’t really need to tweak it that much; it had held up well during the journey. I straightened a couple of roses and a feather, then stood back to take a photograph.
‘Do you think it looks okay?’ I asked, anxiously.
‘Of course, why shouldn’t it?’
‘I just think this orangery is so classic and pretty, and then these flowers look so dark and brooding in comparison.’ I turned a slow arc and took in the rest of the room, with its delicate white chairs and their pretty white bows.
Anthony stepped up beside me. ‘It’s what she ordered, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well then. Besides, once it’s got all the guests in it will look different.’ Spinning me round to face him, he took hold of my hands. ‘And when she’s standing here, staring into her beloved’s eyes and saying “I do”, she’ll be holding her black and white flower bouquet, and the bridesmaids will be standing over there with their black and white flower bouquets, and then the altar arrangement will look absolutely perfect.’
‘It will?’
‘It will,’ Anthony nodded, earnestly, and smiled into my eyes. ‘It definitely will.’
‘Thank you.’ I squeezed his hands before letting go and stooping to pick up the box. ‘I’m glad you’re here and not my mum. She’d be panicking with me and saying we should change it on the spot.’
Anthony laughed. ‘It looks gorgeous. You fulfilled your order. Don’t worry so much.’
We went back down the corridor and I stepped into the wedding breakfast room again. ‘It does look nice, doesn’t it?’
‘It looks great. You’ve done a fabulous job. You know, we should have a dance to celebrate.’ Grabbing my hand, he pulled me onto the space that would be the dance floor later that evening. The room blurred and my skirt billowed as he twirled me around, and then I found myself laughing breathlessly and looking at the top table upside down as he dipped me backwards over his arm. Letting me back up, he swayed me softly on the spot and I found myself gazing into his blue eyes, which were alight with amusement.
Someone cleared their throat at the door.
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ the lady from before said, crisply. ‘But do you think you could move this box? It’s a tripping hazard.’
‘Of course. So sorry.’ I broke away from Anthony, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl, and went to retrieve the box. Anthony followed behind, smiling.
‘Excuse me,’ he said to the disapproving lady, ‘is there a coffee shop here? I’m feeling a bit peckish.’
‘Of course. It’s over the other side of the house, though, I’m afraid. Through a different entrance. If you go down the front steps, turn right and follow the house around the corner, it’s clearly signposted.
‘Thank you.’
We put the box back into the car and followed the gravel path round to the tearoom. The smell of coffee and cake welcomed us, and we sat next to a large picture window looking out over the same lake and gardens as the orangery. A herd of deer grazed in the distance. Anthony ordered a full English breakfast, while I had a scone and a cup of tea.
‘So, you can dance. I thought you were joking when you said about it the other night.’
He laughed. ‘I like dancing. I don’t dance very well or anything, but I had lessons as a boy.’
‘You had lessons?’
‘Yes. My mother insisted.’
‘Just ballroom or can you do ballet and tap, too?’
‘Just a bit of ballroom. The waltz and foxtrot.’
‘Tango?’ I raised my eyebrows and he twinkled back.
‘I could try.’
I smiled over the rim of my cup and took a sip of my tea.
‘How long have you been single, Anthony?’
He shrugged. ‘Two years?’
‘And who was she?’
Anthony sat back and looked at me. ‘Just a girl I met when I was out one night. It didn’t last long.’
‘So, it wasn’t serious?’
‘No. Didn’t we discuss this the other night? No, it wasn’t serious and before you ask me again, no, I have never been in love and I don’t intend to fall i
n love either.’
‘Why not? Are you emotionally stunted or something?’
‘No!’ he laughed. ‘It’s not that I’m incapable of feeling emotion. I love my family. I care about my friends. I’ve cared about girlfriends and wanted to be around them all the time, but it’s never lasted for more than a few months.’ He looked thoughtfully out of the window. ‘I’m never sure where lust ends and love begins. How do people know?’ He shook his head and looked back at me. ‘How did you know with Patrick? Was it even real?’
Opening my eyes wide, I stared at him for a moment then looked down at my cup of tea. ‘I don’t know now. It certainly felt like it at the time. But it obviously wasn’t real for him. He was just playing with me. Once he gave me that ring, it was like he thought he didn’t have to bother with me any more. He’d sealed the deal and that was it for him.’
Anthony stared at me thoughtfully. ‘But you’re not broken, are you? You found you could live without him. If it was true love, surely you wouldn’t have felt able to live without him.’
I frowned. ‘I’d been living without him, anyway. It didn’t make a massive difference to my life. I just took off a ring.’
‘Hmm…’ Anthony cleared his throat and stared down at his plate. ‘When my father died, my mother was destroyed. She’d always been so strong and practical, and yet after the police came and broke the news about my dad, she took to her bed for months. Well, it seemed like months to me, anyway. My grandmother moved in for a while and took care of us, but I remember being so scared. The house was so silent and it was just me and my brother, wafting around like ghosts, being shushed by my grandma so we didn’t disturb our mother. I couldn’t understand why she couldn’t get out of bed. My brother and I were devastated and we needed her, but she just couldn’t be there for us. I understand a bit more now about depressive illness and grief, and of course I understand completely that she just wasn’t capable at that time. But I find it terrifying that love can do that to a person. She loved and depended on my father so entirely that when he was snatched from her she just couldn’t cope.’
‘That must have been such an awful time for all of you.’ My eyes filled with tears, imagining a young Anthony and a smaller brother, sad and lonely in a silent house, trying to cope with the loss of their father and understand their mother’s grief.
Meet Me Under the Mistletoe Page 8