I narrowed one eye at him. ‘Were you standing there with a packet of bloody Smarties up your sleeve this whole time?’
‘I conjured them from the ether, I’ll have you know. One day you’re going to have to accept I’m just more magic than you.’
‘Were you though?’ Tom asked.
‘Yeah. In case of emergencies.’
I jumped when I felt someone kiss my neck from behind.
‘Jesus, Cole!’ I said, patting my heart. ‘You scared the life out of me.’
‘Oh. Sorry.’
My face relaxed into a smile. ‘Well, I’m glad you made it.’
‘I promised, didn’t I?’ Cole nodded to Marcus and Tom. ‘Are you going to introduce your friends?’
‘We’ve met before,’ Tom said. ‘Tom Donati.’
‘Ah. Of course. Um…’
‘My brother-in-law?’ I shook my head. ‘You really are dreadful with names.’
‘Marcus Teasdale,’ Marcus said. ‘Nice to meet you finally. Becky’s told me all about you.’
‘Don’t believe a word of it,’ Cole said, smiling as he shook hands. ‘What did she tell you?’
‘You’re a painter. Er, that’s about it actually.’
‘That’s right. A busy one at the moment.’ He turned to me. ‘I’m sorry, darling, but I can’t stay long. I just stopped by to say happy birthday to Pippa.’
‘Still working on that commission?’
‘Yes. I want to have it finished before our anniversary. Then we can enjoy the evening together without it weighing on my mind.’
‘Anniversary… oh! Did you book a restaurant yet? Because I really want to try that new tapas place.’
‘Leave it with me. I won’t forget.’
‘You don’t really have to go, do you? Dad and Cynthia were looking forward to seeing you.’
‘I really must get the painting finished. There’s so much still to do.’
Pip came bouncing over, her little face flushed with excitement and sugar.
‘Papa, can I go to Evie’s for tea and stay for a sleepover?’ she gabbled in one breath. ‘Daddy says to ask you.’
‘You still want tea after all that jelly and ice cream?’ Tom shook his head. ‘You little porky piglet.’
‘Please, Papa! Evie’s mummy says we can get pizza and watch Moana.’
I nudged him. ‘Go on, Tommy. It’s her birthday.’
‘Oh… all right. But don’t eat anything else now until teatime, Pips.’
‘Ok.’
‘Promise?’
She held up her potato masher solemnly. ‘Promise.’
Tom nodded to Cole. ‘Say hello to Cole before you go rushing off again.’
Pip turned guileless grey eyes up to Cole. ‘Hello.’
‘Hello, Pippa. Happy birthday.’
‘Pip.’
‘She prefers just Pip,’ Tom told him.
‘Oh.’
Cole looked a bit lost for what to say next. I helped him out.
‘Pip loved the present we got her.’
‘Did she? Wonderful.’ He lowered his voice. ‘What was it?’
‘Cupcake-maker.’
‘Right. I’m glad you liked it, Pip.’
‘Say thank you,’ Tom instructed her.
‘Thank you,’ she echoed dutifully.
‘You’re welcome,’ Cole said. ‘Um, why have you got that potato masher?’
‘Coz it’s my ’tato masher,’ she said, rolling her eyes. Her face suddenly lit up. ‘Hey. I haven’t told you my new joke.’
Tom laughed. ‘Think you’re the last person in the western hemisphere, mate.’
‘Ok, go on,’ Cole said.
Pip fixed her face into the sober expression she always used for comedy. ‘’K, right. Why is Aunty Becky called Aunty Becky?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Because she arrr!’
Cole frowned. ‘I don’t get it.’
‘Because,’ Pip repeated slowly, as if she was talking to a slightly dim toddler, ‘she arrr.’
Cole looked at me helplessly.
‘Just laugh,’ I whispered.
‘Er, haha.’
Pip giggled. ‘Ok, bye.’ She ran off to join her friends, still brandishing the beloved masher.
‘Do I sense you’re not used to kids?’ Marcus asked Cole, smiling.
‘Yes, they’re a bit of a mystery. I’ve not really spent much time with them.’
‘Soon fix that when we have one of our own though,’ I said.
‘Is that on the cards then?’ Marcus asked.
I glanced at Cole. ‘That’s the plan.’
‘But there’ll be plenty of time to think about that.’ Cole gave my waist a squeeze. ‘We’ve got a wedding to plan first.’
‘Come on, let’s go see my parents,’ I said to him. ‘They’re in the conservatory with Gerry and Sue.’ I nodded to Tom and Marcus. ‘See you in a bit, guys.’
Cole took my hand as he followed me towards the conservatory. ‘You’re not too disappointed I can’t stay, are you, darling?’
‘A little,’ I confessed. ‘I was looking forward to showing you off to the family. You’ve been here over a month now and it still feels like they hardly know you.’
‘There’ll be plenty of time for that.’
‘You know, that’s starting to become a catchphrase,’ I said impatiently. ‘It just feels like there’s always some reason to be putting things off. I thought once you were here it’d be the start of our exciting new life, but I’ve barely seen you.’
‘This is the last big job, Becky, I promise. Then I’m all yours.’ He lifted my hand and kissed it.
‘Hmm. Ok.’ I glanced back at Marcus and Tom, remembering what else I wanted to talk to him about. ‘Cole, can I ask a favour?’
‘If it will get me back in your good books.’
I stopped outside the conservatory and turned to face him. ‘I know you’re super busy, but I was wondering if you might find time to paint a couple of backdrops for the panto. Nothing fancy.’
He laughed. ‘You’re not serious?’
‘Course. Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘My landscapes sell for hundreds, Becky. You can’t really want me to give my time for free?’
‘Well, yeah. I’m giving mine. I’m sorting costumes through the shop at cost.’ I nodded to Marcus. ‘That guy’s a professional children’s entertainer, but he’s doing the panto for nothing. Everyone is, because it’s for the Temp.’
‘That’s hardly the same.’
I frowned. ‘Why isn’t it the same? Because your job’s proper and ours aren’t?’
‘That isn’t what I’m saying. I only mean, my time has a certain value attached to it. I have to be careful how I spend it. And how much I let it take me away from the other important thing in my life.’ He drew me into his arms. ‘Let’s not fall out over it, darling. I didn’t mean to offend you.’
‘So will you do it?’ I asked, slightly appeased.
‘I’ll see what I can fit in. How’s that?’
‘Perfect.’ I stood on tiptoes to kiss his nose. ‘Come on, let’s go in to the old folk.’
***
‘So that was the future Mr Becky,’ Marcus said when Cole had said a quick hello-goodbye to my parents and gone home to his painting. I’d spotted Marc eating alone near the bouncy castle and wandered over to steal a chicken goujon.
‘Yeah. What do you think?’
‘Seems nice,’ Marcus said. ‘Plummy, isn’t he? Where’d he get an accent like that?’
‘Oh, some little comprehensive near Slough,’ I said airily, nibbling my goujon. ‘Doubt you’d have heard of it.’
I watched his eyebrows raise as he caught my drift.
‘You’re not seriou
s! Eton?’
‘Yeah, scholarship boy. Don’t say anything though. He’s got chronic posh-lad guilt.’
‘He sounds like he should be dating a Middleton sister or someone. How’d he end up with you?’
‘Thanks, Marc,’ I said, lowering my gaze so he couldn’t see my face crumple. ‘You know, there’s teasing and there’s teasing.’
‘What, you thought that was an insult?’ he said, blinking.
‘That you think my posh fiancé’s better off with some peachy-arsed minor royal than slumming it with a pleb like me? Erm, yes.’
‘I didn’t say he’d be better off.’ He squeezed my arm. ‘It was a compliment, Becks, I promise. I bet you’re ten times more of a laugh than Pippa Middleton. Prettier too.’
I smiled. ‘You know, you’re just digging a bigger hole for yourself.’
‘Honestly, it really was a compliment. I’m crap at compliments.’
He made his eyes wide, fluttering his eyelashes until I couldn’t help laughing.
‘Badly phrased, but all right.’
‘I just wondered how it happened, that’s all,’ Marc said. ‘No offence, but you don’t seem like you hang out down the local pony club. How did you meet?’
‘It was three years ago. His mate Ryder had just opened this new gallery and he hired me to do the photography for the launch event.’
‘You? What for?’
I shrugged. ‘That’s what I do – well, some of the time. I’m a professional photographer.’
Marcus looked impressed. ‘Never knew you were so multi-talented.’
‘You still trying to dig yourself out of that Pippa Middleton thing?’
‘Maybe a bit,’ he said, grinning.
‘Anyway, Cole was there, and we got chatting. There was a Westminster scene of his on display I was admiring. Next day, it arrived at my flat by cycle courier with a note asking me out. Romantic, right?’
‘Fairytale. Bit of a catch really, isn’t he?’
‘I know. Never quite worked out what he sees in me.’ I slapped his arm. ‘Right, I’m off to get a drink and make good with the mingling, as befits the hosts’ daughter. See you in a bit.’
I left him and made my way to the trestle table where Cynthia had laid out drinks.
There was a woman I didn’t recognise there, youngish and quite pretty, and she stood aside to let me serve myself.
‘Oh no, you were here first,’ I said, nodding Britishly to the wine.
‘Thanks.’ She smiled at me as she topped up her prosecco.
‘Are you one of the mums?’ I asked, helping myself to a glass of white.
‘No, I’m a friend of Stewart and Lana’s. Carol. How about you?’
‘Becky. My niece is the birthday girl.’ I indicated Pip on the bouncy castle, bouncing hand in hand with Lana.
‘Ah, ok. You know them then.’
‘Yes, very well.’ I took a sip of the warm-but-welcome wine. ‘Have you known them long?’
‘Not too long. They seem a lovely couple though.’
‘They are.’
‘Nice family too,’ she said, glancing at Tom and Cam, who were standing with their arms round each other, watching Pip and Lana bouncing.
‘On the Donati side,’ I said, smiling.
‘Sorry?’
‘Well, there’s Harper Brady on the McLean side. Never met him myself but he sounds a bit of a handful.’
She frowned. ‘Not Harper Brady off TV?’
‘Oh, sorry, didn’t you know? God, I must sound like a right name-dropper.’
‘What relation is he to Stewart?’
‘Cousin. But they’re more like brothers really. Stew’s mum and dad half brought him up.’
‘He’s got quite the bad-boy reputation, hasn’t he?’
‘Yeah. Stew and Lana are very fond of him though.’
‘Wasn’t there something about a three-in-a-bed romp with a couple of sex workers a while back? It was in all the tabloids.’
‘He’s calmed down a bit since then, from what I’ve heard. He helps out with charity stuff in the village sometimes.’
‘What, a big star like him?’ Carol said. ‘Must be exciting for a sleepy place like this.’
I laughed. ‘Don’t you believe it. You should hear about Kit Beeton’s Friday-night hot-tub orgies.’
‘Blimey! Really?’
‘Absolutely. They’re the talk of the village.’ I took another mouthful of wine. It was slipping down very easily. ‘And Lana and Stew have had their wild days too, you know.’
‘Oh?’
‘Mm-hmm. They once posed nude for a calendar.’
‘Did they?’
‘Yep. Nothing left to the imagination. And Lana once said the f-word to a bat conservationist live on TV.’
‘She didn’t!’
‘Her sense of humour’s a bit wicked.’ I drained the last of my wine. ‘Oh, sorry. Wittering on, aren’t I? What is it you do?’
‘I’m a social worker.’
‘That sounds interesting. What sort of thing?’
‘Kids, mainly. I work for an adoption agency.’ She nodded to Lana. ‘That’s how I got to know them. I’m one of their assessors.’
Chapter 10
I stared after Carol as she wandered away.
‘What’s up with you?’ Marcus asked. I spun round to find him helping himself to a beer.
‘I just – oh God, Marc, think I just –’
‘You just what?’
‘Did you know there was someone here from the adoption agency?’
‘Yeah, Lana invited her so she could see them doing some aunty and uncling. Why?’
‘Well no one bloody told me!’
He examined my face. ‘What’s wrong, Becky?’
‘I just got chatting to her. Had no idea who she was, or I wouldn’t… would never have…’
He frowned. ‘What did you talk about?’
‘Hot-tub orgies. Nudity. The costly and colourful sex life of Harper Brady OBE.’ I buried my face in my hands. ‘Oh God. I’ve fucked it, Marc. Haven’t I? Their last shot at being parents and I’ve fucked it for them.’
‘Come on, you were only joking. The adoption lady’ll know –’ He broke off. ‘Hey, can you smell that?’
I sniffed, and my eyes went wide. ‘Is that what I think it is?’
‘Who the hell’s smoking weed at a kids’ party?’
‘Oh my God! If Carol gets a whiff of that then it’ll really be game over.’ I grabbed his arm. ‘Come on.’
‘Who could it be?’ he said as we moved through the garden inhaling the heavy, sickly-sweet scent of cannabis. ‘Surely not a parent?’
‘It’s not your Deano, is it?’
‘Don’t be daft. What makes you think Deano smokes weed?’
I shrugged. ‘The look in his eye?’
‘All my brother’s hallucinogens are 100% natural and provided by the gremlins in his brain.’ He stopped outside the garden shed. ‘It’s coming from in here.’
I opened the door and poked my head round, blinking in the gloom. ‘Hello?’
‘Shit!’
There was the sound of moving plant pots, then an overhead lamp flicked on.
‘Hiya, Boo. Um, were you looking for me?’
‘Jesus! Dad?’
‘Oh my God!’ Marcus said. Then I heard him snort.
I turned to fix him with a stern look. ‘Not funny, Marcus.’
‘No. Sorry.’ He made an effort to straighten his face. ‘I’ll leave you two to talk.’
‘Yeah. Listen, can you do something for me?’
‘What?’
‘Can you find my stepmum and keep her busy? And if you see the adoption lady, try to pass the smell off as muck-spreading or something.’
He
saluted. ‘Roger that. Try not to be too hard on your old man, eh?’ He disappeared, and I closed the shed door behind me.
I turned to my dad, arms folded. ‘Well? What’ve you got to say for yourself?’
‘Not guilty,’ Dad said quickly.
‘Not guilty of what?’
‘Of, er… whatever it is I’m supposed to have done.’
‘You’re guilty as sin, mate.’ I nodded to an upturned plant pot. ‘There’s a joint under there.’
He winced. ‘It’s just a roll-up.’
‘The hell it is. It reeks.’ I shook my head. ‘God, the state of your pupils. You look like a fucking Manga cartoon.’
‘Oi. Language, young lady.’
‘Oh, no. You do not get to play grown-up today, Danny Finn.’ I pointed to the plant pot. ‘Put that thing out properly, before the lady from Lana and Stew’s adoption agency smells it.’
He grimaced as he turned over the pot and stamped out the smouldering joint. ‘Shit, is there someone here from the agency?’
‘Yes there is. And she already thinks this village is a hotbed of group sex thanks to me. We don’t need you adding drugs to the menu too,’ I said. ‘Now come on, Father, where’d you get the weed?’
‘I told you, it’s just a…’ He sighed. ‘All right, I’ll come clean. Off Pagey.’
My eyes widened. ‘Mr Page? My old drama teacher’s selling you drugs now?’
‘No, he gave it me. Confiscated it off one of his Year 11s.’
‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’ I exploded. ‘It’s your granddaughter’s birthday, for Chrissakes! I knew you were going through some stuff, but I never thought you were such a selfish bugger you’d sabotage a little girl’s party for the sake of a quick high.’
He looked ashamed, as well he should. ‘I’m sorry, Becky. Thought I could sneak off for a sly smoke without anyone noticing. It’s been a stressful afternoon, I wanted a time-out.’
‘Without anyone noticing, are you kidding? I don’t know what breed of skunk Mr Page has been confiscating but it stinks to heaven.’
Dad cast an appreciative glance at the flattened joint. ‘Yeah, it is good stuff. Couldn’t afford that kind of quality when I was sixteen.’
‘Are you a connoisseur now?’
He shrugged. ‘Back in the day. In the seventies we used to sneak it into gigs in film canisters. God knows how kids manage now, with just their cameraphones.’ He let out a wistful sigh. ‘Happy days.’
The Perfect Fit Page 7
