Party Girl at Heart

by Karen Elaine Campbell

  Off balance, and in a delicate mental condition, the waiter in his white coat had looked like a doctor, and the tugging on his sleeve had infuriated Giles still further, in his current muddled state. Without conscious thought, he’d blamed the hapless waiter for all of his problems and turned and thumped the poor guy on the nose. The brawl that had followed had included the taxi-driver and a couple of passers-by, though why they’d joined in was anybody’s guess.

  It had taken a while at the police station before the whole mess had been sorted out, and he’d sobered up enough to drive and to realise just what an idiot he’d been. He’d only arrived back at the house on the green half an hour before Jazz had rung and practically ordered him to help out with the current predicament.

  He’d managed to avoid being ‘charged’ by the police once he’d paid the bill, along with a large tip, apologised profusely to the waiter and explained in triplicate why he’d behaved so irrationally, much to the amusement of the desk sergeant on duty. It was truly a harrowing experience. He’d previously thought that he’d seen it all, working as a solicitor in the harsh inner-city conglomerate of corporate London, and often wondered how his ‘clients’ managed to get themselves into such ridiculously unsuitable situations, but he had first-hand experience now, and knew he wouldn’t be quite so judgemental in future.

  As to the current situation, Imogen was upstairs, in Jazz and Crystal’s guest bedroom getting ready for the celebrations and he needed to get her alone. He had to find the opportunity to have a private conversation with her, before news from last night leaked out. She wasn’t going to like it, he didn’t like it either, but it had to be done.

  Crystal glanced back at Giles, waiting for him to corroborate her story and then kicked him hard on the shin when he stared back vacantly and failed to utter even one word. She was not getting very far with her brother, he hadn’t even picked up the carefully drafted papers, and they’d been sitting here for ten precious minutes already. Now that she’d told him that there was a time limit with regard to the signing, she at least expected Giles to give the impression of knowing what she was talking about. She looked from one to the other and drilled her fingertips on the tabletop. Giles’ face wore an expression even more bland than usual and Jeremy had slipped in behind a disinterested mask, his features were completely devoid of emotion, she recognised her twin at his most stubborn.

  Her stomach lurched again, OMG, she was going to be sick, she could feel the bile rising in her throat and she raised a shaking hand to her mouth. Perspiration broke out on her forehead.

  “Excuse me,” she squeaked from behind her hand as she abruptly shoved the kitchen chair back on the terracotta tiles so that the wooden feet scraped against the hard surface with an air-splitting screech, “must go.”

  She passed Jazz in the hallway, hand over mouth and eyes bulging.

  Jazz stopped, stock-still, where he stood. A broad grin spread out over his face. He wondered when she’d tell him, he hoped it would be today. He slung his hand into his trouser pocket for confirmation, thumb and forefinger sliding against the cool slippery surface of the silken jewellers pouch. On impulse he followed Crystal along the corridor and up onto the first landing where he halted outside the heavy oak door of the ‘family’ bathroom.

  Giles followed him up the stairs, heading for Imogen in the guest bedroom.

  Jeremy remained in the kitchen. Now that he was alone, he leafed idly through the scattered papers, he was curious to see what Saskia had written, if he’d truly blown the wedding, he may as well actually know the details of what it was over.

  Chapter

  15

  BRIDAL FEVER

  At the Dog and Duck, Olivia stared out of the window at the green opposite, watching the way that the clouds scudded across the sky. It was a clear morning, the weather was favourable, it was set to be a glorious day. She fingered the material of the curtains thoughtfully, she remembered this room, she’d been here before, with Phil. That was a start, wasn’t it?

  She screwed up her nose in concentration, the farmhouse, when she’d visited her parents yesterday, had seemed familiar too. She had flitting images of a party and a vampire in a black swirling cape, he was cross with her, but she didn’t know why. Snippets of her previous life kept flashing into her mind and then on again, one second there and lucid, the next gone again, like a dream or a figment of her imagination.

  It had started on the plane, when they boarded the flight from LA earlier in the week. She’d reached out to take the headphones and the champagne that the flight attendant had offered her and in that one instant she’d remembered a similar flight, long ago. Phil had been making an in-flight purchase, cigarettes, and she’d been looking at perfume in the catalogue that they placed in the pocket of the seat in front. It wasn’t much of a memory, as memories went, but it was a start. The cigarettes had significance, she was sure of it, but when her brain jolted as she realised that it was a recollection from her former life and she raised her hands to her temples to try to focus, the thought drifted off, floating away on a sea of mist.

  No matter how she tried to focus, for the remainder of the flight, she’d been unable to recall even one second of related information. By repeatedly battering the darkest recesses of her mind with endless questions all she managed to foster was a blistering headache, and little else. There wasn’t a shred of information there, only the deepest void.

  Now though, after a good night’s sleep, the memories were returning, just like the nurse in the hospital had reassured her that they would. It had taken long enough, but she felt like the tide was turning. She pottered along the corridor, looking for Phil, he’d be overjoyed.

  The hairdresser passed Olivia in the corridor with big fat tears streaking down her face and Carrie in hot pursuit.

  “Matilda, Matilda, come back,” Carrie squawked, long past reason. “You’ve been paid to do the bride’s hair, and she’s not ready yet, you can’t leave now!” she howled, as she snagged her only pair of decent stockings on a wonky nail which was protruding from the newel post as she passed by the top of the stairway. They were the only people remaining in the pub now, all of the other guests had left early, intending to walk the mile or so to the church.

  “There are blueberry muffins and cinnamon flapjacks on order,” she offered, in a last ditch volley, as she watched the poor girl duck under the low beam into her tiny attic room.

  Tilly stopped and turned. “Real American muffins, and proper flapjacks?” she asked, unable to resist the temptation.

  “Yup,” carried lied, and crossed her fingers behind her back. She’d have to get them couriered in from that posh chain store in Bath, and it was debatable whether they’d get here in time, but were the nearest thing to the original that was available this side of the Atlantic, and she’d go fetch them herself, if it meant that Saskia got her hair and make-up done on time.

  As Tilly turned and made her way reluctantly, back along the corridor, Carrie looked down at the ladder streaking down her leg, she’d better add hosiery to that list too, she supposed, what a day.

  Reg was used to the shenanigans of the ‘American’ contingent, as he liked to call them, so he was down in the bar already, he intended to stay well out of their way this morning. It wouldn’t take him long to get into his morning suit, brush his teeth and put a ‘closed’ sign on the door. He’d decided to shut up shop for the lunch time trade, for the first time since he’d been proprietor here. Everyone in the village was either talking about the wedding or attending it, and he wasn’t going to miss out on the party. He’d open up later tonight, of course, after the wedding breakfast, if anyone wanted a nightcap before bed.

  A message came in on his phone, he read it surreptitiously and snapped the case shut. Well, well, that was a turn up for the books, suited him just fine, that did, he thought. He hummed a couple of bars of ‘Another one bites the Dust’, under his breath, as he cleaned the optics and then unable to settle to any one task, he threw his
cleaning cloth down decisively.

  He passed Carrie at the head of the stairs, and wondered if he should tell her that she had a hole in her panty-hose and a long ladder snaking its way down her leg, but one look at her face, and he thought better of it. He stuffed his hand in his trouser pocket instead, and ambled off to find the latest poem that he’d written for his lady-love, she liked romantic sentiments, especially in tasteful settings, he’d share his thoughts with her later, given half a chance.

  Over at the vicarage, Peter was following his ‘usual’ wedding routine. He’d woken without the aid of an alarm clock, right on the dot of seven a.m. Mary had still been sleeping, so he’d gone on down to the kitchen to make a nice hot cup of tea. He’d have a couple of pieces of toast and marmalade at the kitchen table with his wife when she woke up.

  The verger would be already up at the church making sure that the last of the preparations were in order, there was plenty of time, but he liked everything to be completed well in advance. It was an important day for the whole village today and almost all of his parishioners would be present, in one form or another. It wasn’t often that they got to celebrate such good news in such opulent style, he was quite looking forwards to it all himself. He and Mary had been invited to the wedding as guests for the reception, as well as in his official capacity as vicar conducting the ceremony; it was going to be a wonderful day.

  The newspaper had been on the doormat as he’d walked past and he sat down now to read the headlines. He’d barely had time to settle himself in his chair before he took a deep breath, ‘Lord have mercy’ he muttered, as he recognised the face in the large black and white picture on the front cover. Oh my! That was going to cause a bit of a stir, today of all days too.

  Chapter

  16

  THE BRIDAL MARCH

  Crystal was one of the first to arrive at the small village church, she’d wanted to make certain that everything was in place and running smoothly. As she tiptoed in through the heavy oak doorway, the sunbeams danced on the dust motes suspended in the late summer air and she breathed in deeply. The sweet smell of summer meadows mixed with dried corn mingled together pleasingly and lent the old place a healthy country air. The bride would be pleased, she decided.

  As she glanced around, looking to see if anyone else had arrived ahead of her, she took in the delicate flowers, fresh from the hedgerows in the village and thereabouts. The earliest corn from her uncle’s field had been used to create the backdrop and an abundance of white and cream blooms from the tiniest rare flowers to the wildest weeds had been interwoven into a majestic display. Now that everything was finally in place the church all but glowed under the reflected aura of the soft amber light. Truly magical.

  Carrie was in charge of the bride, down at the pub and Jeremy was on his way here with Mark, he’d finally signed the papers just five minutes before his elder brother arrived to collect him. It appeared that Saskia wanted them to start married life as ‘equals’ and against all other advice had signed over half of everything that she owned to Jeremy, in advance of their marriage, no strings attached. Inequalities in wealth would not hamper their marriage, they began life together on an equal footing, a true partnership forged from a meeting of minds, souls and bank balances.

  It was an interesting concept, and most certainly not one that Saskia’s legal team had advocated, but it was a truly heart-felt and romantic gesture on a grand scale.

  Crystal smiled, she had to hand it to Saskia, she’d truly out-manoeuvred the cynics in her own inimitable style. As she silently savoured the moment, the murmuring of deep male voices and the crunching of footsteps on the gravelled pathway outside heralded the arrival of her brothers.

  As the men ducked inside the church, Jeremy looked nervous and composed and was ably supported by his older brother, their heads close together as they discussed manly issues in quiet but serious voices. Guessing that sisterly affection was probably not needed or wanted, she backed silently into the shadows and left the two men to it.

  Ruth was probably already at Gran’s by now, with Luke and Milo in tow. Her two lively nephews would never manage to stay quiet for long, so it was likely that they would be some of the last family members to arrive.

  The other guests began to drift in slowly, one or two at a time. She recognised her aunt and uncle, Lolly’s parents, and some odd assorted cousins. What on earth had great aunt Margaret got on her head? She smothered a giggle. Her family were rather a strange bunch. They hadn’t been all assembled together for quite some time, the last ‘family’ occasion had probably been here in the same church for Mark and Ruth’s wedding, a couple of months before she’d gone off to America, with Phil.

  She waved to great aunt Margaret and craned her neck to see who else had turned up. She did a double-take as she caught sight of Bertie. Wow, he looked dapper in a top hat and tails and he was carrying a silver-topped cane and a pair of white gloves, hardly recognisable at all in that get-up. He turned as he scoured the room looking for someone. His searching gaze stopped as he spotted her lurking in a corner and he made his way up through the church to where she was hiding. He gave her a wink as he slid into the small alcove beside her.

  “Jazz not here yet? You look beautiful, darlin’,” he complimented, as he bent to dust a perfunctory kiss on her cheek.

  “Bertie,” she acknowledged, as she tilted her head in his direction. “I hardly recognised you in the posh clobber, you old rogue,” she added, as he expertly guided her over towards the front row of pews.

  He smiled a dazzling smile. “The kit is for me young lady, if she shows up. D’you like it?” he asked.

  “It suits you,” Crystal remarked, as she cast around looking for the lady in question.

  “She’s not here yet,” he offered. “I’ll let you know when she gets here,” he added.

  “Jazz has been tying up a few loose ends at home,” Crystal murmured, crossing her middle finger over her index finger, as she settled down into the seat beside him.

  In truth, all hell had broken loose at their house when Giles had thoughtfully cornered Imogen in Jazz’s study, and broken his news. So far as she knew, Jazz was still trying to placate his sister and ‘mop up’ the fallout.

  Bertie glanced down at her crossed fingers and gave a small thoughtful frown. He wondered which of the balls that Jazz had been carefully juggling all summer had finally come unstuck. His own appearance here was likely to cause a few ripples later, and for that he was sorry, but the hounds of hell wouldn’t have prevented him from attending the wedding today.

  The hushed silence of the church gradually gave way to a genteel hum, as the pews filled up and friends and relatives of both the bride and the groom continued to make their way in. There was a murmur of excitement as a few well known celebrities arrived along with Saskia’s entourage, but she’d been a feature in the village, along with Jeremy, for long enough now to prevent outright hysteria taking place as their joint show-biz friends arrived.

  As the organist gave an experimental blast on the pipes and began to play the opening chorus of the chosen order of service, Jazz finally slid into the pew beside her, reaching over to shake Bertie by the hand, and then settle down to drape a reassuring arm around her shoulders. The scent of his aftershave, discreet and fresh, wafted past Crystal’s nostrils and her stomach contracted in recognition. She slipped her hand into his and drew him closer.

  “All sorted?” she asked, with a smile.

  “Mmm, better for seeing you,” he murmured against her lips, as he kissed her thoroughly and reached for her left hand, nestling demurely in her lap, surreptitiously rubbing his thumb over the ring winking with diamonds on the third finger, proudly staking his claim.

  “Can I tell them, after the ceremony?” he asked.

  “Once you’ve spoken to Mark,” Crystal replied against his lips. He’s head of the family; he has to be told first.

  “I’ve already asked him,” Jazz murmured. “I collared him when he came to pic
k up Jeremy, and your gran knows as well, coz’ I told her too!” As Crystal raised an eyebrow in mock outrage, he added, “That’s it madam, the cat is well and truly out of the bag, you’re mine.”

  Phil and Olivia were among the last people to enter the church and Lolly cast her eyes around the assembled crowd nervously, as her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. Without a word, Phil offered a steadying hand under her elbow and gave her a small nod of encouragement.

  She took a deep steadying breath, how would she know which people were family and which were just acquaintances? She might speak to the wrong person by mistake, or worse, get everyone jumbled up. She was quite sure that she didn’t know any of these people at all, apart from the ones she’d been introduced to after the ‘accident’.

  As she stared slowly around, searching the faces for signs of familiarity, her eyes collided with the most beautiful pair of warm brown eyes that she had ever seen. The man from her dreams, the one that had taunted her, every night for the past three months. Just there, over in the corner, partly in shadow, she took a deep breath, was she imagining this, had she just conjured this guy up out of thin air to satisfy her longings?

  She didn’t think so, he was as aware of her as she was of him; his gaze locked with hers.

  Like an automaton she released her elbow from Phil’s supportive hold and simply followed her heart.

  Phil frowned and let go, just like that, he watched her trip up the isle totally mesmerised by someone in the crowd. Not a word passed between them, but dread filled his heart.

  So, that was it. He willed her to turn back to him, change her mind, but Lolly was working on auto-pilot, lost in the moment. He stuck his hands in his pockets and traced the pattern of the tiling on the floor with the toe of his shoe. Ever since first light, when she’d woke him up to tell him that the memories were returning, he’d been living on borrowed time. He’d not expected her recovery to be complete for several days yet, but in this instant he knew that her lover was in the room.