From her vantage point high on the hill, the view down The Long Walk was stunning. The lawns either side were a lush green, the trees in full bloom, the central pathway drawing her eye to where Windsor Castle dominated the skyline. Other than a couple of joggers out exercising, the project team and actors were the only people milling about, taking advantage of a quiet time to rehearse before tomorrow’s grand parade.
As adjustments were currently being made to Queen Victoria’s carriage, Lily took advantage of a lull in proceedings to duck behind The Copper Horse statue and take some painkillers. Having assured everyone that she was fit for work, it wouldn’t do to be seen knocking back the drugs.
She opened the nearly empty packet of ibuprofen and washed down a couple of maxi-strength tablets with a swig of water.
The gallant-looking George III statue above stared down at her disapprovingly.
‘What are you looking at?’ she said, wiping her mouth. ‘You’d be popping pills too if you’d had a week like mine.’
His stare continued, his arm raised in battle, the once copper horse beneath him now a tarnished blue-grey, but he refrained from comment… which was just as well. If he’d answered back she might have suspected her concussion hadn’t abated. She’d never had concussion before. She hoped to never have it again.
She’d left Wexham Park Hospital on Monday morning with the gash on her head glued together, a splitting headache, and the promise to return to A&E if the nausea didn’t let up within forty-eight hours. Confined to bedrest for two days, she’d foolishly thought she could ignore the advice, override the dizziness, and complete the final dress for the festival as planned. But her concussion had won over and she’d resigned herself to resting up.
Consequently, the tour guide filming had to be concluded with a frontal-only view of Queen Victoria, so no one could see the array of pins securing the back section of her gown.
Thankfully, by yesterday Lily’s symptoms had started to ease and she’d managed to finish most of the alterations. All that was required today was a tidy up of the hem and adding the lace shawl, which she had completed in the early hours of this morning ready for the parade.
Finishing the bottle of water, she re-emerged from behind the statue, fixed a smile in place, and returned to helping dress the actors.
‘There you are,’ Megan said, looking both relieved and regal in her sapphire-blue ballgown. ‘I thought you’d collapsed somewhere.’
She lifted her water bottle. ‘Just being a good girl and keeping my fluid levels up.’
‘How’s your head?’
‘Peachy.’
‘Liar.’
‘At least I can function now. And once this dress is finished, I can relax.’ She knelt down, searching out her needle in the mass of heavy silk fabric. ‘Hold still so I can finish the hem.’
Megan glanced down. ‘Aren’t you sticking around for the festival tomorrow?’
‘Of course. My contract doesn’t officially end until Sunday, but other than a few alterations, my work here is done.’
‘You did it, then. You completed the project without being exposed.’
Lily sat back. ‘I suppose I did.’
The culmination of six weeks hard work had been completing the Queen Victoria ballgown, a replica of the dress the young queen had worn to welcome Napoleon to Windsor Castle in 1855. Luckily this was at a time when Queen Victoria had still enjoyed wearing colour, before Albert’s death, when her wardrobe had switched to mourning-black.
Lily felt her life was being played out in reverse. Unlike Victoria, she’d spent her early adult life in permanent mourning, grieving for the loss of a stable home life. It was only in recent months that she felt she’d escaped the confines of grief and was finally emerging onto the other side, ready to start phase two of her life. But what that would look like was anyone’s guess.
‘Why aren’t you happier about it?’ Megan asked, looking perplexed.
‘I’m not sure,’ she answered honestly, resuming sewing.
‘You should be ecstatic. You’ve designed a set of exquisite costumes and fulfilled the brief without your embellishments being found out. You’re in the clear.’
‘I guess.’ But it didn’t feel that way. The weight of her lie was curtailing any pleasure Lily might feel at her supposed ‘success’.
Megan bent down. ‘It also means you can pursue ‘you know who’ without fear of being fired. He’s no longer your boss. You’re on an equal footing.’
At the mention of Will, Lily glanced over to where he was in animated discussion with Frankie, as they busily tried to manoeuvre the extras into position along the walkway. ‘Slight issue.’
‘Which is?’
‘He’s avoiding me.’
‘Avoiding you? Why?’
She shrugged. ‘No idea. We were getting along great. We’d had a really lovely time on Sunday boating up the river…’ until she’d decided to go for an unscheduled swim and cracked her head open, ‘…but since then, he can barely look at me.’
‘Didn’t he visit you in hospital?’
‘Briefly, but I was too busy throwing up.’
Megan frowned. ‘And since then?’
She moved to the back of the dress, using sewing as a buffer for the hurt she felt. ‘Get well flowers delivered to my lodgings. The occasional text asking how I was. And an assurance that I wasn’t required on set until I was fully recovered.’
‘Hmmm, interesting.’
Confusing, more like. One minute the wretched man was trying to persuade her into resuming their fling, the next he was acting like he barely knew her name.
Megan twisted her head to look at her. ‘How was he yesterday?’
‘I hardly saw him.’
‘The man is kind of busy.’
‘True.’ Lily glanced over again. He was rubbing the back of his neck, something she noticed he did when he was agitated.
‘So what’s your plan?’
Lily searched around for her scissors. ‘Plan?’
‘How are you going to get things back on track? I’m assuming you want to?’
Strangely, she did. ‘Yes, I want to.’
Even a week ago she’d have given a different response, but something had shifted during their excursion on Sunday. It was the comment he’d made about them both having flaws and secrets, and how they needed to accept each other’s failings if they were to explore the possibility of a relationship. She’d realised that the only thing standing in the way of being with Will was her lie. There was nothing else holding her back.
She liked being with him. She was attracted to him. She wanted to kiss him… along with several other things. And the thought of never seeing him again made her feel physically sick.
She’d suffered enough loss in her life. It was time to evoke some joy. All she had to do was admit to fabricating her career, explain about the mix-up, apologise, and hope that in time they’d laugh about it and see the funny side.
But the idea of confessing filled her with dread. There was a good chance Will would be so disgusted with her falsehood that he’d lose interest. But wasn’t it worth the risk? Wouldn’t it be better to know for certain than always wonder ‘what if?’
This was the conclusion she’d reached as she’d lain in bed for two days, nursing her battered skull. She was going to tell Will the truth.
It would mean admitting to falsifying a reference, but if she stood any chance of a ‘happy ever after’ then she needed to admit her crimes.
But having reached this decision, it appeared that the man in question was now avoiding her, which was kind of making it hard to confess.
Megan nudged her. ‘Quick, go now. He’s on his own. Before it’s too late.’
Oh, heavens. Was she really going to do this?
She cut though the cotton with her teeth and jumped up, stuffing her sewing kit in her bag.
‘Leave that, I’ll do it,’ Megan said, almost shoving her in Will’s direction. ‘Go. Be brave.’
/> Brave. Right. She could do brave.
She jogged over to Will, adopting a casual air. ‘Hi. How’s the rehearsal going?’
He turned at the sound of her voice, but immediately turned away again. ‘Terrible.’
Not a great start.
And then he walked off.
An even worse start.
She followed him. ‘Problems?’
He glanced back, his expression one of stone. ‘The bouncy castle is stuck on the M1. The Windsor Eye has a malfunction, and the local council are pissed off because the funfair trucks have churned up the grass on Brocas Green.’
‘Anything I can do to help?’ she said, struggling to keep up with him, which wasn’t helping her headache.
‘No.’
His abruptness shocked her.
But then he stopped and turned to face her.
She nearly smacked straight into him.
‘I meant, no thanks. It’s my mess. I’ll deal with it.’ His expression softened a fraction. ‘How’s your head?’
‘Better. How are you? I mean, apart from being stressed about the festival.’
‘Fine.’ He didn’t sound fine. Or look it. He looked… pained. Tired. And conflicted.
She tried again. ‘The paramedic said you passed out on Sunday?’
He looked away. ‘Only for a second… too much blood.’
‘Right, yes. I remember you saying you weren’t a fan.’ She tried for a smile.
No response.
Okay, time to quit with the niceties and jump to her confession. ‘I haven’t had a chance to properly thank you for getting me out of the river.’
‘It was no big deal.’
‘Are you kidding me? I would’ve drowned.’
‘Luckily, you didn’t.’
‘Thanks to you.’
‘Like I said, it’s no big deal.’ He turned to leave. ‘I need to go. It’s crazy busy.’
Well, that went well. And then she realised it might be her last chance to talk to him. ‘But you know, maybe once the festival is over and everything isn’t so manic, I could… perhaps… take you out for a drink. To… you know… say thank you.’
‘No need.’
Crikey this was hard.
‘Well, maybe a drink for some other reason. Like… perhaps a date?’
His face fell.
Not quite the response she was hoping for.
She forced herself to continue. ‘Which is something I wasn’t sure was a good idea… but now I am.’
If she’d hoped this admission would soften his frosty manner, she was wrong.
He closed his eyes as if silently cursing… and then rubbed the back of his neck.
Not a good sign.
Oh, well, in for a penny, in for a pound, as her grandma used to say. ‘But before we do, there’s something I need to tell you.’
‘You really don’t.’
‘Actually, I do. It’s kind of a big thing… which I’m hoping won’t be such a big thing once I explain… although I’m aware at first it will definitely seem like a big thing.’ She paused. ‘Am I making any sense?’
‘No.’ He glanced over to where the extras were becoming fractious, no doubt hot in their Victorian costumes.
‘Right. Well, the thing is, I—’
‘Will! We have a problem!’ Frankie scuttled over, her wedged shoes unsteady on the grass. ‘The Household Cavalry are about to practise their display for tomorrow. We need to clear The Long Walk.’
He frowned. ‘But we haven’t finished rehearsing.’
‘I know. I tried to explain, but it seems they have to be ready for Changing of the Guard at eleven.’
‘Christ. Who’s in charge?’ he said, walking off to where the military horses were congregated.
‘The main blokey over there,’ Frankie said, running after him. ‘The one with the fancy hat.’
‘That hardly narrows it down,’ he said, disappearing at speed.
‘Catch you later, then,’ Lily called after him. ‘Good chat!’
Not.
Well, if nothing else, she hadn’t been imagining the change in his behaviour. He definitely did not want to go on a date with her. And she had no idea why.
Feeling despondent, she returned to Megan.
‘How did it go?’
‘It couldn’t have been more disastrous.’
‘How so?’
‘I’m not sure which was worse. The fact that we were interrupted before I could confess, or his total disinterest in going on a date with me.’
Megan frowned. ‘But the man is besotted with you. Anyone can see that.’
‘Obviously not.’
Megan took her hand. ‘He’s probably just preoccupied with the festival. You’ll see. Come Sunday he’ll be eager as anything to hook up.’
Somehow Lily doubted it. ‘He seemed distant. Like he couldn’t even look at me.’
‘Leave it for today. Regroup and try again once this is over, okay?’ Megan gave one of her trademark winks. ‘Trust me, I know men.’
‘Thanks, Megan.’ Talking of men. ‘How’s it going with Zac?’
A moony expression appeared. ‘Darling, not to rub it in, but goodness me, the boy has stamina. The delights of youth,’ she said, looking over to where Zac was touching up an extra’s make-up.
Lily was glad someone was making progress. Unlike the rehearsal, which was rapidly falling apart.
Despite Will’s protestations with the head of the Household Cavalry, the rehearsal had to be cut short and everyone was sent home with a view to regrouping later.
Lily didn’t mind. She could do with a brew and a lie down. Her head hurt. Plus, it would allow her time to recover from the humiliation of being rejected.
She packed up her things and took a slow amble back to the guesthouse.
She’d be sad to leave Windsor. It was a beautiful town. She’d enjoyed her stay. But a new plan was required. A revamp of her CV and the search for another job.
At least she had genuine design experience now. She’d just have to hope Will would give her a decent reference. The irony wasn’t lost on her.
An hour later, she was back at The Crooked House Tea Rooms and enjoying a Danish pastry and cup of tea in the cafe, nursing her bruises… both internal and external… when the bell above the door tinkled.
Zac appeared with Poppy.
He searched the room. His face lit up with relief when he saw her. ‘Any chance you could look after Poppy for an hour or so?’ he said, coming over to her table.
She blinked up at him. ‘Well, sure, but—’
‘Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.’ He kissed the top of Poppy’s head. ‘Be good. Back soon.’ And with that, he headed for the door.
‘Yes, but, Zac…’ She scrambled after him, dodging around the other packed tables. ‘Does her dad know she’ll be with me?’
He dismissed her concerns. ‘He’ll be fine about it.’
She caught his arm. ‘Are you sure? Shouldn’t we tell him?’
‘I’ll only be a short while. No point interrupting him. He’s busy with the project.’
Whoever ‘he’ was.
‘Where are you going?’ As if she needed to ask. ‘Supposing there’s an emergency?’
‘I need to do a practise run on Megan’s hair and make-up before tomorrow.’
Fibber. Her hair and make-up looked fine this morning. She glanced back to check Poppy was okay. She’d seated herself at the vacant table by the window. ‘I’m not happy about her dad not knowing where she is.’
‘This is the last time, I promise.’ He crossed his heart. ‘You’re a star, Lily. I owe you big time.’
He certainly did.
At least he was right about one thing. This was definitely the last time. After tomorrow there would be no reason to see Poppy again… which strangely enough, made her feel incredibly sad. It would be hard saying goodbye to another person she’d grown close to.
She returned to Poppy. ‘Sorry about that. It’s not that I don
’t enjoy your company, but I’d be happier if your daddy knew where you were.’ She sat down.
‘I get it. You’re being a responsible adult.’
Lily laughed. ‘Why, thank you, young lady.’
‘I’m a big responsibility, I know.’ The kid pulled a dramatic face. ‘If only I had a mummy. It’s very saaaaad, you know, being all alone in the world.’
‘Wow, someone’s been practising their Oscars speech.’
Poppy grinned. ‘How’d I do?’
‘A tad overkill on the woe-me routine. You’ll have someone calling Social Services.’
Her grin widened. ‘Please may I have some cake?’
‘You may. What would you like?’
‘A scone with jam and cream, please.’
‘Drink?’
‘Tea. Like you.’
‘Coming right up.’ She ordered another pot of tea, and Poppy a scone, and carried the tray over to the table. ‘Here we go. Tea for two. So… how did the play go? Tell me all about it.’
That was all the encouragement Poppy needed. For the next twenty minutes, she regaled Lily with details of the play and how much everyone had admired her costume, and how she’d watched all the episodes of The Great British Sewing Bee during her stay with her Nanny over the school holidays.
Lily listened, content to sip her tea, and wondering if it was too soon to down another couple of pain killers.
Poppy concluded with, ‘I’m asking daddy for a sewing machine for Christmas, so I can make all my own costumes at big school.’
‘Sounds good.’ Lily passed Poppy a napkin. ‘You have jam on your chin. But you know we need to come clean and tell him I made the costume, don’t you?’
Poppy wiped her mouth. ‘That’s okay, it’s all part of my plan.’
‘Your plan?’
She nodded. ‘That was a very nice scone. Thank you.’
‘Good. What plan?’
She had a mischievous glint in her eye. ‘You’ll find out soon.’
That was what worried her.
Poppy took a gulp of tea. ‘My daddy is up at the castle.’
Lily paused, teacup halfway to her mouth. ‘What, right now?’
Someone Like You: Escape with this perfect uplifting romance Page 26
