With Rex leading the way, Miss Harding by his side and a learning support assistant chivvying the stragglers, the little group made their way past the reservoir and towards the stream.
Rex gave the children plenty of time to stop and look, explaining as they walked and pointing things out they might otherwise have missed.
‘Can we have our picnic now?’ one little boy asked.
‘Later, Cameron,’ Miss Harding replied.
Rex had to smile; clearly the thought of eating his lunch outdoors was far more exciting to the child than the trip itself.
Gradually the path became steeper, and the excited chatter trailed off a little as the children panted and puffed up the hill. Rex sneaked a look at the woman walking next to him. She didn’t seem at all out of breath.
‘Are you a hiker?’ he asked her.
‘Yes. I love it, and I’m so pleased you approached us. I’ve been wanting to take the children out ever since I started.’
‘Have you been at the school long?’
‘Since September. I’m an NQT.’
Rex had no idea what that meant. She must have seen his expression, because she explained, ‘Newly qualified teacher. This is my first proper year of teaching. I only graduated last summer.’
‘Do you enjoy it?’
‘Oh yes! There’s nothing so satisfying as shaping these little minds. You wouldn’t believe it, but some of these kids have never been into the National Park.’
Rex did believe it. Despite living in a rural area, many children led rather sedentary lifestyles. He found the teacher’s enthusiasm quite endearing. Reading, writing and arithmetic were essential, of course, but learning about the natural environment and your place in it was important too.
It took him a while to realise that Miss Harding was flirting with him. She kept bumping into him, for a start, and glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. She asked him loads of questions too, and when she learnt he was single, her efforts intensified.
Under any other circumstances Rex might have been flattered. He might even have reciprocated by flirting himself, but he was working. It wouldn’t be at all professional. Besides, they had twelve pairs of curious eyes watching their every move, and he didn’t fancy an audience.
But the real reason, and one he was only just admitting to himself, was that he wished the woman at his side was someone else entirely.
Chapter 20
Was it her imagination, or was Jarred Townsend flirting with her? Leanne wondered.
For once, two of the judges were having dinner with the contestants, and Jarred was seated next to her. Throughout the meal he’d been very attentive, wanting to know where she came from – even though he already knew everything about her, having read her application – and they had chatted almost to the exclusion of everyone else.
Conscious of the rest of the entrants giving her less-than-happy glances, Leanne tried deflecting his attention onto the others, but every time she attempted to include someone else in their conversation, he shut the other person out. He wasn’t obvious about it, but Leanne could see what he was doing.
To her surprise, after a while she realised he was easy to talk to, and not the pretentious, up-his-own-butt git she’d originally thought he was.
‘I understand you still live at home?’ he was asking her.
She grimaced. ‘Yes, it’s easier that way, and I’m too lazy to cook for myself.’
‘I’m sure you’re not,’ he said with a twinkle.
‘I’m sure I am,’ she retorted. ‘I can’t cook for toffee. I suppose I’ll have to learn one day, but…’ She let the rest of it hang, allowing him to think what he liked.
‘I’m quite a good cook,’ he said. ‘I make a mean Moroccan meatball tagine. I’ll have to cook it for you sometime.’
Definitely flirting. Leanne didn’t know what to say, so she just smiled and played with her food. She was too full of nerves to have much of an appetite, but although the pressure was increasing with each shoot, at least she knew what to expect this time, so that when the next day arrived, she felt a little more confident that she’d be able to cope with the following few hours.
The unseen task for this week was called ‘The Chameleon’ – a double-sided display that looked totally different on each side. Leanne opted for a hot/cold arrangement, using greenery to shield the opposite side from view. To be honest, she didn’t consider it much of a challenge, and wondered if that meant she hadn’t done a good enough job.
A quick buffet lunch followed where she tried her best to mingle and make friends, then it was on to the next task.
When Rory called time at the end of the day, Leanne had a good look at everyone else’s work and was horrified to see that she was the only one who’d gone for such a large display with her office partition. Any confidence she might have had disappeared very quickly, and she took her place on the set feeling like a Christian being fed to the lions, and convinced she’d be going home tonight, never to return.
‘Leanne,’ Rory said when he came to her, and she stood straighter, hoping the camera didn’t pick up the wobble in her knees. ‘The judges thought your unseen task wasn’t creative enough. Pauline, you wanted to say something about this, didn’t you?’
‘We did think it wasn’t your best work,’ the judge said diplomatically. ‘Jarred especially thought you were capable of so much more.’
Leanne thought she might be about to cry – she had guessed it wasn’t as good as some of the others, but she’d been hoping she might have scraped by.
‘However,’ Pauline said, holding up a finger, ‘you redeemed yourself with your prepared task. I love the idea of a living wall, and once again you’ve proved you can think outside the box.’
Leanne’s emotions were all over the place; criticism and praise, one after the other. She didn’t think she could take any more. Just give me the verdict and put me out of my misery, she wanted to yell, but all she did was give the panel a solemn nod. If by the remotest chance she wasn’t sent home today, she fully intended to take the advice on board. She knew she had let herself down.
When the scores came, she lifted her chin and gazed over the judges’ heads, not daring to look at her fellow contestants for fear of crying. She prayed she could hold her tears in until the cameras were off her, not wanting half of Britain to watch her lose control in glorious red-eyed, swollen-faced technicolour. Ugh, no thanks. If she was going out of the competition today, she wanted to do it with dignity.
She didn’t achieve top marks, nor second or third. When it came down to the last two and she still hadn’t been given her result, she resigned herself to her fate.
‘Leanne, Tara… one of you is going home today,’ Rory said. ‘Before I announce who it is, I want you both to know that getting this far is a great achievement. You should be really proud of yourselves.’
Leanne didn’t feel proud at all. She felt terribly disappointed and very, very upset. She willed her eyes not to fill with tears, and took a deep, steadying breath.
‘Tara, I’m sorry, my darling, but you’re leaving the competition,’ Rory announced, and the tears that Leanne was trying so desperately to hold in check trickled down over her cheeks.
Without thinking, she turned to the other woman and gave her a big hug, the rest of the contestants crowding around to offer their sympathy.
It was when she was packing up her things – not that she was likely to ever use the living partition again, but she could hardly leave it here – that Jarred strolled back onto the set. The judges usually disappeared pretty swiftly, so she was surprised to see him. She was even more surprised when he sauntered over to her workbench. She could see the few contestants who still remained shooting her filthy looks as he did so, and she frowned, wondering if these sorts of competitions were all the same – bonhomie and camaraderie while the cameras were rolling, and narrow-eyed stares and animosity when they weren’t. Or was it just for her? Did the other contestants think there was something g
oing on between her and Jarred?
‘You did a good prepared task,’ he said when he got closer, causing Leanne to receive more filthy looks.
‘Thanks,’ was all she said, not wanting to encourage him.
‘I like the way you can see the environment the flowers sit in, and not just the blooms themselves.’ He nodded slowly at her while he spoke.
All Leanne could manage in response was a nervous smile.
‘Do you have to rush off?’ Jarred asked when she’d finally got everything packed ready for one of the runners to take out to her car.
‘Er… yes, I’ve got work tomorrow.’
‘Work? Ah, you’re the contestant with her own florist’s business. You do know that some of the others believe the competition should only be open to amateurs, don’t you?’
Leanne didn’t, but it wasn’t really a surprise. She’d thought the same thing herself.
What did surprise her, though, was that Jarred had chosen this moment to mention it. Why say anything at all? For a second there, the obnoxious Jarred was back, and she wondered whether she’d imagined the other, nicer one. But then, with disconcerting speed, he was back to flirting again.
‘It’s a pity you have to leave. You could have sampled my cooking,’ he said, all twinkly-eyed and as smooth as melted chocolate once more.
‘Another time?’ she suggested hesitantly, meaning ‘never’ but not wanting to upset him. There was no point in alienating one of the judges – possibly the most influential judge – when she could just play nice and keep things friendly.
‘There’s always next week.’ He smirked as a parting shot, and with relief she watched him go.
The relief didn’t last long, however, as one of the other contestants, a plump woman in her fifties, muttered out of the side of her mouth as she was passing, ‘There’s nothing like sleeping your way to the top, is there?’
She swept past Leanne, leaving her with her mouth hanging open. Had the woman really said that? More to the point, did everyone else think the same thing?
Oh bother!
Never mind, she thought, she would probably go out in the next round anyway, so they could believe what they bloody well liked.
Chapter 21
Leanne didn’t go out in the next round, nor in the one after that, and now there were only eight of the original twelve left and things were starting to get serious.
Which was why she had accepted the offer of a night out with Stevie, Tia and their respective partners. She felt she needed to unwind for once. Ever since she’d entered the competition, it had been all work and more work. Play simply hadn’t come into it.
‘Bring Rex,’ Stevie had suggested. ‘It will even up the numbers.’
‘You sound like Julia Ferris.’ Leanne laughed. Julia – or Lady Tonbridge as she was also known – would shortly become Tia’s mother-in-law and was a bit snooty, to say the least.
‘God forbid!’ Stevie screwed up her nose. ‘I’ve nothing against Julia – she’s actually quite nice – but I’m not used to such poshness. Anyway, you know what I mean about bringing Rex.’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Oh yes you do, lady. Don’t act all coy with me. You never stop talking about him.’
Leanne’s eyes widened. ‘I hadn’t noticed,’ she protested. ‘It’s just that he’s got some great ideas.’
‘Yeah.’ Stevie chuckled. ‘So you keep telling us. Look, if it makes you feel better, it can just be us girls.’
‘No, it’s OK. I haven’t seen Nick in ages. It’ll be good to catch up.’
Rex, to her surprise, had sounded delighted to be invited, and Leanne wondered if he was lonely. It must be hard to move to a completely new part of the country and not know anyone, she thought, resolving to try to include him more. Maybe Saul could be persuaded to have a pint with him. After all, they’d seemed to get on OK on the two occasions they’d met. And Rex had appeared to hold his own when confronted with the madness that was her family.
Now the six friends were in the Duke’s Arms enjoying a quiet Friday night drink, which probably wouldn’t end up as quiet as it started.
‘Gin?’ William asked Leanne as he got the first round in.
‘Sparkling water with a twist, please,’ Leanne replied, and Tia nearly fell out of her wheelchair in shock.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ she asked. She turned to Rex. ‘You do realise she normally drinks like a fish, don’t you?’
‘Oh?’ He grinned at Leanne, who pretended to ignore him.
She’d been so pleased – too pleased, actually – when he’d said he’d come that she continually had to tell herself to behave, especially when he was being so teasing and slightly flirty. It didn’t help that he looked gorgeous tonight in faded jeans and a plain black T-shirt. The colour set off the bronze highlights in his hair and—
Oh shit. There she went again, thinking romantic thoughts about him. She’d been OK until she’d kissed him… or had she? Maybe not, she admitted to herself, but the kiss most definitely hadn’t helped.
Rex, however, had seemed to have forgotten all about it. There wasn’t a hint of the discomfort Leanne felt. Although she was convinced everyone could tell what had happened just by looking at the pair of them, in reality she realised Rex was showing no undue interest in her whatsoever. Any fancying was strictly all on one side – hers.
‘Sparkling water?’ William repeated, and Leanne realised everyone was still staring at her, waiting for a response.
‘I’ve got work in the morning,’ she replied, remembering the last time she’d used that excuse. She recognised that it was an excuse, because having to get up at a ridiculous hour the following day hadn’t stopped her previously. In fact, the real reason she wanted to keep a clear head this evening was because it wouldn’t do to get squiffy and make a total prat of herself, not with Rex in such close proximity.
‘How are the wedding plans going?’ she asked Tia, as much to change the subject as because she had a genuine interest in the answer.
‘Ugh. His mother wants to invite half of England – the more influential half, of course – but William and I just want it to be a few close friends plus the necessary relatives.’
‘Who’s winning?’ Nick asked.
‘His mother is. She only went ahead and sent out the invites without checking with us first.’ Tia shuddered. ‘Sorry, Will, but sometimes she’s insufferable.’
‘Only sometimes?’ he joked.
Leanne could see Rex trying to make sense of the conversation and took pity on him. ‘Will’s parents are Lord and Lady Tonbridge,’ she said, then noticed Rex’s blank expression and explained further. ‘They own Tonbridge Manor, that big white mansion just above Tanglewood. You must have seen it,’ she insisted.
He nodded. ‘You can’t miss it.’
‘And Nick is a famous showjumper,’ she carried on.
‘Really? Nick…?’
‘Saunders.’
‘I thought I recognised the face,’ Rex said.
‘Don’t be so modest,’ Leanne told Nick as he bowed his head. ‘You should be proud of yourself.’
‘And so should you,’ Stevie interrupted. ‘You’ve all heard that Leanne is still in the competition?’
‘Shh, I’m not supposed to say anything,’ Leanne pointed out.
‘You can hardly keep it quiet in a place this small,’ Tia argued. ‘I think everyone already knows. By the way, I hope you’ve set aside some time to do our wedding flowers?’
‘Of course. I’m honoured that you trust me.’
‘Trust you! Julia can’t wait to tell everyone that her son’s bridal flowers are being done by none other than the florist who will be designing a display for the Chelsea Flower Show!
‘I’ve got to win first,’ Leanne replied.
‘You will,’ Stevie assured her, and everyone nodded. Their faith in her was touching, even if it was somewhat misplaced.
A few more drinks later, everyon
e had begun to relax. Except for Leanne, who was strung tighter than a washing line, her nerves only increasing as the night wore on.
To give herself some breathing space, she decided to nip to the loo, but the hoped-for respite didn’t happen as Tia followed her in.
‘You fancy him, don’t you?’ were the first words out of her friend’s mouth.
‘Who?’ Leanne washed her hands, refusing to meet Tia’s gaze.
‘Rex, silly. Who else?’ Her friend paused. ‘Or is there someone else?’ She manoeuvred her chair until she was next to Leanne.
‘Of course not!’ Leanne protested.
‘Lea, don’t try to deny it. You look like a lovesick calf.’
Leanne frowned. Whatever that was supposed to look like…
‘If it’s not Rex, it must be someone you’ve met in London,’ Tia insisted.
‘Hardly. Four of the other contestants are women, and of the men, one’s in his sixties, one is gay and the other is very definitely married.’
‘OK, how about someone working on the show?’ Clearly Tia wasn’t going to let this lie. ‘A cameraman? Editor? Key grip?’
‘What’s a key grip?’ Leanne wanted to know.
‘I’ve no idea, but if you watch the credits on any film, there’s always someone called that.’
‘No, no and no. None of those.’
Tia leapt on the remark. ‘So if it’s none of those, that means it’s someone else.’ She stared at her reflection, brushing her fingers through her hair. ‘It can’t be that Rory guy, because he’s gay too, so it must be…’ She clapped her hands. ‘I’ve got it! It’s Jarred What’s-his-face, isn’t it?’
‘No!’ Leanne protested, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut about meeting Jarred Townsend. She was beginning to wish she’d never said anything to anyone about the show at all.
‘I knew it! You’ve got the hots for Jarred,’ Tia crowed.
‘I haven’t!’ Leanne most definitely didn’t, despite his continuing pursuit of her. She’d begun to avoid him, trying not to make it obvious, but it wasn’t easy.
‘Well I never,’ Tia continued, oblivious to Leanne’s discomfort. ‘What’s he like in real life?’
The Tanglewood Flower Shop Page 11