I’m attempting to comfort Tory and Mabel while Noah’s on the landline, frantically trying to book seats on the next flight down to Southampton.
Jason keeps going outside, trying to get hold of his father, but so far Hugo’s mobile is still switched off.
Tory’s managed to get through to the hospital and it seems that her father is currently in a stable condition but further surgery may well be needed if he pulls through the night.
Aileen’s answer to everything bless her, is to keep supplying us with tea and shortbread, which she does very efficiently while mumbling, ‘Tatties o’wer side and no mistake.’ I remember her saying something similar the last time we were at Bloodstone Tower. Is there a disturbing pattern here?
There’s no sign of Nicole for which I’m profoundly grateful.
‘Have you managed to get us a flight?’ Tory asks tearfully as Noah puts down the phone. ‘There aren’t any flights from Glasgow today, so I’ve booked us a private jet. We have to be at the airport in two hours, so get your skates on ladies and gents.’ I look over at Jason who’s just returned from outside in time to hear Noah’s announcement.
‘Do you have enough room for all of us?’ he asks tightly
‘We’re not leaving anybody behind,’ Noah answers decisively, ‘Even Dotty…’
Well it has to be said, it’s been a hell of a day. We arrived down in Southampton by lunch time and were at the hospital in Portsmouth for early afternoon. It really is amazing what an unlimited budget can get you.
What it can’t get you of course, is your health. It was a shock to see the Admiral lying motionless in his hospital bed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so still. In fact it didn’t really look like him at all.
The only people allowed in the hospital room were Tory, Mabel and Noah, so I busied myself looking after Isaac and tried not to think about my aunt’s impending operation, the possibility of Tory’s father dying, or my break up with Jason. The last especially was pretty difficult when he was sitting a mere few feet away. Emily and Jimmy were also waiting – on opposite sides of the room. Their silence spoke volumes. Jimmy simply looked stricken. I’m sure he thought his old friend was pretty much indestructible.
Half way through the afternoon Jason finally managed to get hold of his father, and being privy to the one-sided conversation that ensued, I think I can safely say Hugo won’t be adding another adventure to his bucket list any time soon. He claimed they’d come to Portsmouth so that he could attend a reunion dinner at HMS Nelson. On the face of it, totally credible. But I could tell that Jason wasn’t buying it and would be demanding full disclosure when they met at our hotel later…
He saved the news about the Admiral until last, and I could tell from the way Jason’s voice softened that it hit Hugo hard. It sounded as though he wanted to come straight to the hospital but Jason persuaded him – in a far gentler tone than before – to wait for us at the hotel.
I took a bit of time out to call Freddy. It almost feels as though my business back in Dartmouth is part of someone else’s life, but a few seconds speaking to my second best friend brought it all flooding back, a bit like a tsunami. Before I can tell him about everything that’s happened, Freddy launches into a tirade he’s obviously been storing up…
‘Don’t ever ask me to get involved in your professional life again Kit Davies – first chocolate penises, then Dracula’s bloody burial chamber. It’s enough to put me off getting married altogether…’
It’s heartening to know that my burgeoning business is in capable hands…
We finally left the hospital at around six and headed back to the hotel Noah had booked for all of us. Needless to say it’s dog friendly and both Pickles and Dotty spent a much more relaxing afternoon than the rest of us getting acquainted with the queen size bed.
Unfortunately, not being aware of our less than amicable break-up, Noah booked a double room for Jason and me. The plus (or minus, depending on how you look at it I suppose) is that there are two queen size beds in our room, so at least we’re not going to be forced to share…
We don’t speak as we get ready for dinner, and every time I look over at Jason, he looks like he did when I first knew him – remote and withdrawn. My heart feels as though it’s been torn into a thousand pieces and I have no idea how to bridge the chasm between us. Perhaps there really is nothing else to say.
Just before we leave the room, Jason’s mobile rings and I can tell by his glance towards me that it’s Neil. After a short conversation, Jason hands the phone to me, murmuring, ‘I think you should hear this.’
Aunt Flo is going to be okay. The operation was a success. I want to berate him for keeping me in the dark, but I’m too relieved. Promising faithfully to keep me in the loop from now on, Neil hangs up and I automatically turn to share my joy with Jason, only to find that he’s gone.
It seems that Hugo Buchannan has a paramour. Apparently her name is Alice and they knew each other when they worked in HMS Collingwood together, over forty years ago. I can see his admission has completely taken the wind right out of Jason’s sails, especially as it appears she pre-dates his mother…
If I’m making it sound too much like we’re having a bit of a party, I can assure we’re not. After Hugo’s confession, the silences are lengthy and painful, punctuated mainly by Mabel’s quiet sobbing. It’s almost worse that Hugo looks in such rude health, like the stroke never happened. Perhaps that’s what a night of wild sex does for you after being celibate for a couple of decades. I suspect it might be something I’ll get to learn.
The next morning we all troop over to the hospital again, this time to much more positive news. The Admiral has come through the night and is scheduled for surgery this afternoon. He’s much more lucid and demanding to see Hugo to find out how his friend’s night on the tiles went. He’s also insisting on seeing Jimmy. Both men are allowed in for a brief ten minutes.
We all crowd round the window that looks into the room, I suspect to see if we can eavesdrop on Hugo’s confession. Instead we’re treated to the sight of Jimmy breaking down, his head resting on his old friend’s bed, while the Admiral holds the small man’s hand tightly.
When they come out, Jimmy’s eyes are red from crying, and without saying anything, Emily pulls her husband to her for a hug before taking him outside for a spot of air.
At lunchtime I decide to go back to the hotel. I want to call Neil for an update on Flo and I also need to touch base with Freddy again in case he has a heart attack of his own. Plus I thought I’d take Pickles and Dotty out for a walk. They’ve been incredibly well behaved over the last couple of days, but I think the spaniel especially has been bewildered by the absence of his master.
Of course the other bonus is that I am putting space between myself and Jason. Being close to him without the intimacy is cutting me in two. If Tory wasn’t so pre-occupied with her father, she would be demanding to know what the hell is going on. As it is, I can feel Noah’s eyes on me speculatively.
Arriving back at the hotel, I head to my room to phone Neil. Our conversation yesterday was a little short and I want to make sure Flo really is okay and it’s not just more bullshit based on my aunt’s misguided attempts to protect me.
‘Your aunt is going to be fine Kit,’ Neil assures me for the twentieth time. The operation was a complete success and she’s as strong as an ox. Please try not to worry, and for God’s sake don’t tell her you’ve seen through her attempts to treat you like you’re still ten.’ Tearfully I promise not to drop him in it, but as I put the phone down, I wonder what she’ll say when she knows Jason and I have finished. That’s another thing I won’t tell her – that her health is the reason for our split.
I think back to the awful argument with Jason yesterday, and I sigh. Lies and secrets, however well meaning, have a way of causing havoc with everyone, and here I am perpetuating them. Was Jason so wrong after all?
Determinedly putting the whole thing out of my mind, I head to Tory and Noah�
��s room to pick up the two dogs. Both of them are gratifyingly ecstatic to see me, and yes I know it’s cupboard love, but I’ll take anything I can get at the moment. Clipping on their leashes and tucking some dog treats in the pocket of my jeans, I decide to postpone speaking with Freddy until I’m out walking.
Our hotel is situated close to Southsea beach, a long shingly stretch of sand that extends out from Old Portsmouth. As it’s summer, dogs are not allowed on the beach itself, but there’s a lovely large grassy area, aptly named Southsea Common adjacent to it – perfect for walking dogs.
Once we reach the Common, I let them both off the lead, and it really lifts my spirits to see them so happy, bounding about, playing and chasing each other.
Before I get the opportunity to call Freddy, and let’s be honest, I have been putting it off slightly – as much as I love him, and am truly grateful for his help, Freddy’s tendencies towards the dramatic can be singularly wearing at times – my phone rings. Talk of the Devil, it’s Freddy and call me clairvoyant, but somehow I don’t think it’s good news…
~*~
Of course, he wouldn’t dream of telling Kit, but Freddy was actually enjoying himself. It might be a trifle unorthodox, but everyone really seemed to be getting into the swing of things.
He’d met the groom last night to go over some last minute details and once you got past the fake fangs, white pancake makeup and blood red lips, he seemed like a real stand up bloke. His name was Norman and he spoke with a broad Liverpudlian accent. He was actually about as far away from the image of a sexy vampire you could possibly get, and kept saying, ‘Nice one,’ to everything Freddy ticked off his list.
So, all in all Freddy wasn’t as nervous as he thought he would be come their big day. He’d been up at the crack of dawn, checked and double checked that everyone was doing what they were supposed to be doing, and now all that remained was to get in character before heading up to the cemetery for the ceremony. Kit was absolutely right, he did love dressing up and while of course he didn’t want to steal Norman’s thunder, he had to admit, he made a damn good vampire.
He stared at his reflection before adding the final touches – the cape and the fangs. Unfortunately the latter were bloody uncomfortable and when he practiced speaking with them in, his words came out just like Kaa in Disney’s version of Jungle Book, along with a mountain of spittle. Still, it wasn’t like he was going to have to make a speech.
After glancing at his watch, he noted that he still had another hour and fifteen minutes before everything kicked off, so he decided to leave a bit early. He hadn’t visited the cemetery yet, because Norman had assured him that everything was in hand, but it wouldn’t hurt to go up and check before the guests started arriving.
Strolling in the early July sunshine to pick up his little Renault, at first he enjoyed the curious glances cast his way. However, his car was parked down by the river front, which was a bit of a hike from his flat. By the time he finally got there, he was sweating buckets and his make-up was starting to slide.
Getting into the driver’s seat, he pulled down the mirror and groaned. His face was now covered in white patches that looked as though he’d got a bad case of leprosy. He rummaged around and found an old tissue and gave his face a bit of a dab. The result was pretty impressive actually – he now looked as though he’d been dug up. He chuckled to himself, thinking how impressed the wedding guests were going to be, and started the car.
Five minutes later he was parking up at Dartmouth’s only cemetery. There was now only half an hour to the ceremony, so after congratulating himself on his ongoing planning skills, he climbed out of the car and made his way into the graveyard.
Entering through the arched gateway, he expected to spot the wedding party without too much difficulty – after all, a wedding’s not something you see every day in a place like this. Glancing round, he couldn’t spot anybody at first, and looking back at his watch, he frowned. Just over twenty minutes – he’d have thought that most of the guests would have been assembled by now.
He took out his mobile phone, and was just about to give Norman a quick call, when he spotted the wedding party by the eastern gate. Of course, he’d come in through the wrong entrance. Hitching up his cape, he hurried towards the group of people milling around. As he arrived, puffing and panting, he gave his best Vincent Price chuckle and apologized for not getting here sooner. ‘I’m not kidding,’ he joked looking for Norman, ‘I’m sure I’d be late for my own funeral.’
All eyes turned to him and he briefly registered that the entire party was dressed in black, before a large woman standing a few feet away, screamed loudly and fainted…
~*~
‘You’ve done what?’ I hiss as I listen to Freddy’s garbled account of what’s just happened. ‘Oh my God Freddy, what the bloody hell were you doing up at the cemetery anyway?’
‘What d’you mean, what was I doing there? What the hell do you think I was doing there? I was doing your bloody job,’ he hisses back. ‘I know you said I didn’t need to attend the ceremony, but I thought I’d check everything was running smoothly before heading over to the crypt for the reception.’
I squeeze my eyes shut in horror. ‘The ceremony isn’t in the town graveyard you dork,’ I yell, eliciting a few disapproving stares from fellow dog walkers, ‘It’s in the pet cemetery over by the creek.’
‘But… but, what about Norman’s father Rupert? He’s not buried in the pet cemetery is he?’ Freddy was horrified
‘No but his bloody dog Rupert is…’
I feel sick. Freddy assures me that no one at the funeral would ever be likely to recognize him again, and the minute he cottoned on to his mistake, he’d legged it back to his car and driven off before anyone got a chance to take his registration number.
I instruct him to head straight for the wedding breakfast at the crypt and to tell absolutely no one. With a bit of luck, it won’t make the front page of the Dartmouth Gazette.
I cut the call and look around for Pickles and Dotty, thinking my life can’t get any worse. Wrong.
After a few minutes frantically calling them both, I’m just about to call for back up, when I spot Dotty barrelling towards me with a large German Shepherd in tow. Pickles appears to be attempting to keep up from the rear.
I can’t tell from this distance whether they’re playing or not, but a few seconds later when Dotty launches herself at me from a distance of six feet, only inches away from the Shepherd’s jaws, I have my answer. Snatching the little dog to me, I screech and lift her high in the air, just as the large dog jumps up at me, snarling and dribbling.
‘DOWN BOY,’ I yell, panicking. If this dog gets me on the ground, both Dotty and I are toast. Not daring to take my eyes off it, I vaguely hear someone shouting, ‘Max,’ in the background.
The Shepherd’s nose is inches from mine, when suddenly the dog bends its head and starts sniffing round my crotch. ‘What the fu…,’ I gasp as it suddenly starts tugging on my jeans, slowly but surely dragging them down over my bottom. Both hands are taken up with a shaking Dotty and I’m forced to stand helplessly as ‘Max’ slowly but surely yanks the legs right down to my ankles, then begins nosing around in the pockets until he unearths the treats I put in there earlier.
By the time his owner finally puts in an appearance, I’m standing in my knickers with my jeans in shreds round my ankles, thanking my lucky stars that I’m not wearing a thong…
It’s almost three o’clock by the time I get back to the hospital after having to leg it into the city centre to buy a new pair of jeans. As I arrive in the waiting room, I’m just about to recount my adventures, thinking it might lighten the mood, when I realize there’s no sign of Jason or Hugo.
I look over at Tory and my heart lurches as she stares back at me in sympathy. ‘They’ve gone Kit,’ she says gently, ‘I think Jason wanted to take his father home as soon as possible, hopefully this time to get some rest.’
I take a deep breath, trying to forc
e back the tears that are threatening to spill at last. ‘Did…did he leave a message for me?’ I manage to ask finally. Tory sighs, handing Isaac over to Noah, then she stands and walks over to me, enfolding my resistant body in her arms. ‘Yes he did Kitty Kat, he said, tell her to be happy.’
Chapter Fifteen
The Admiral’s bypass surgery is a complete success, and after staying in Portsmouth for another three days, Noah drives us back to Dartmouth. That is, all of us but Jimmy who’s decided to stay behind – with his wife’s blessing – to make sure his oldest friend does exactly what the doctor orders.
It appears the tables have turned somewhat, and, as Tory emphatically stated, ‘It will do the old goat the world of good to do as he’s told for once in his life.’
Mabel was packed off to look after Pickles, after the Admiral stated she was as much use as a chocolate teapot. So romantic…
My aunt’s also recovering from her surgery and Neil’s hoping to bring her back to her cottage in a couple of weeks. He’s been instructed to tell me that, ‘Flo’s come down with a bit of a bug, so she’s decided to stay in London for an extra week.’ I sigh when he tells me, but promise to keep up the pretence. When did my life become so complicated?
I’ve no sooner dumped my bags on the bed, when Freddy arrives with wine and chocolate and I surmise that Tory’s already broken the news to him. Still, I’m glad of his company on my first night home in what seems like ages, and he does his usual good job of taking my mind off my woes, especially when he gleefully shows me the headline on the front page of yesterday’s Gazette…
Did local dignitary attend his own funeral from beyond the grave?
Well at least the wedding breakfast went off without a hitch. The crypt was suitably spooky and no one set themselves or anyone else alight with the multitude of candles. In fact, it actually sounds like everyone had a really fabulous time, so much so, the happy couple have asked Freddy to be a godfather for their first child.
Chasing Victory: A Romantic Comedy Page 13
