‘Nice place for a picnic, I thought. Actually, I was looking for you,’ I said.
‘Me? Why? Couldn’t you wait until Saturday?’
‘I’ve got to talk to you.’
He licked the corner of the handkerchief and dabbed at my cheek with it.
I stood, still dripping, until he was satisfied with his handiwork. I was plastered with mud from head to toe, my feet were cold in my water-filled boots and my new jeans were probably ruined.
I don’t think I had ever felt so stupid.
He shook his head. ‘Oh, Louisa—’
Suddenly there was the sound of a horse snorting or whiffling or whatever it is horses do and it pranced into view – with its rider obviously – stopping in front of us.
The rider laughed long and loud, so much so that the horse threw its head up and started trampling around. The woman on board pulled at the horse’s bit.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ she called.
Oh great. Of course it was Ellie. She was immaculate in proper riding gear, hard hat, jodhpurs, a yellow polo-neck sweater, a waxed jacket and a superior expression. Her horse was somehow equally grand with just an artistic trace of mud on its hooves. It was steaming gently and puffing out big snorty breaths of vapour.
‘Oh hi,’ Joe said, and he smiled up at her.
She stared down at him with a dazzling beam. She looked as though she had been riding all her life. Straight back, heels down, thighs like whipcord. There were some back issues of Horse and Hound lying around in Barracane House and I’d leafed through them, so I knew.
‘I was just taking Dickie out for a hack,’ she said. ‘Glorious day, isn’t it? We’ve had a fantastic ride out. I thought I saw you mending the gate, Joe. And I see you’ve met up with an old friend.’
Old friend?
‘Yes that bit of the fence is pretty rotten. I think I’ll need to replace it,’ Joe said.
He rubbed the horse’s nose and it whiffled a bit more at him.
‘Well give me a shout if you need a hand,’ Ellie said, patting Dickie’s neck with a resounding smack. ‘Remember when we had to rebuild that wall? It was rather fun wasn’t it?’ She darted me a look. ‘Life in the country is like that I’m afraid, always something needing to be done. And if you’re trying to get into the swing of things, you don’t need to get quite so close to the mud.’
I gave her a cheerless grin and peeled off my gloves, which was perhaps a mistake as now I had to hold on to them and they felt like a pair of lifeless slugs in my hand.
And who calls a horse Dickie, FFS?
Joe turned his attention back to me and his smile faded.
‘You’re a sight. I think you’d better get home, don’t you?’
Ellie pulled her horse’s head away from me and it curved and tittuped around so its hooves dug out great muddy divots and flicked them at me almost as though it was doing it on purpose.
‘I’d give you a lift but I don’t think poor Dickie would take the weight,’ Ellie said sadly.
Cow.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort it,’ Joe said.
I stood, hands dangling like a sulking toddler.
‘Well good luck. Joe, I’ll pop in with the details of the Show later, or perhaps we could meet up for a drink? I’ll be in the Cat on Saturday, I could pass them over then?’
‘Well …’ he said.
Bugger.
Ellie favoured me with a smug smile and watched me plodding behind Joe towards the quad bike.
Much to the sheepdog’s annoyance Joe turfed him off and pulled me onto the quad bike behind him, ignoring my protests that I would make everything filthy. Slowly he took me back down the hill to Lower Tor Farm. The ride was bumpy and I winced and whimpered at every jolt. At last we reached the farmyard where mercifully Ken/Jim had gone and wasn’t there to see my humiliation.
‘Have you got any other clothes in the car?’ he said as I clambered down.
At that moment there was a shout from the lane and Ivy appeared, carrying her bag over one shoulder. She must have just been deposited there by the school bus.
‘It’s Lulu! It’s Lulu! Have you come to see me?’ she called.
‘How are you, Ivy, good day at school?’ I said, trying to appear relaxed.
She pulled a face. ‘Okay. Why are you all covered in mud?’
‘I fell over. In a big muddy puddle,’ I said.
She giggled, holding her sides. ‘You look like a big swamp monster! You’re so funny.’
‘I don’t feel very funny, I feel a bit silly,’ I said.
‘Come and see the kittens! They only arrived yesterday. I told Daddy you wanted to see them. They are so sweet. I’ve called the tabby one Silkie and the tabby and white one Mittens because she looks as though she has gloves on.’
‘I’d love to but I can’t come in looking like this,’ I said, edging toward my car and wondering if there was something in the boot I could sit on to protect my beautiful cream leather seats.
Undeterred, Ivy grabbed my hand, hustled me to the back door and brought the kittens out to show me. They were really delightful, looking around with big eyes, their noses twitching at the fresh wind. Or possibly at the smell emanating from me.
Eventually Ivy took the kittens back into the house and I made my way to the car. Joe came with me, offering an old feed sack as a protective covering for my car seat.
‘Take care,’ he said, his mouth twitching, ‘I’m sure you’ll get the mud out by Saturday.’
‘That’s why I’m here. I can’t do Saturday. I forgot I have to go back to London on Friday. I’ve got a long-standing date with a bridesmaid’s dress. I really can’t get out of it. It’s a fitting for a friend’s wedding dress too. It’s a bit of an occasion. I’m sorry.’
He shrugged. ‘It’s fine.’
‘Oh. Is it?’ I said, disappointed that he didn’t seem to mind. Perhaps he would meet up with Ellie instead and give her the benefit of his night off.
We stood and looked at each other. I wanted so much to kiss him. Or perhaps for him to kiss me. Did he feel the same way? Apparently not.
He stood very still for a moment. ‘I’ve been thinking about it all. You said that man is not your fiancé; he seemed to think something very different.’
‘It has been sorted, believe me. I’ve made it very clear. To him I mean.’ I suddenly felt rather stupid and uncomfortable.
‘But you seem to be—’
There was a shout from the house.
‘Daddy! Come quick! Silkie’s run up the curtains and I don’t think she can get down!’
‘I’d better go. I’ll see you,’ Joe said.
I drove away, feeling perfectly disgusting in my muddy jeans and wet coat and sick with my failure. And of all the people to witness my clumsiness, Ellie the perfect country girl with the posh horse and the ringing laugh and the un-muddy trousers had seen me. Ellie with the glossy hair and the years of shared history with Joe. Ellie who knew how farms worked, who would undoubtedly make a splendid farmer’s wife once she got rid of the spotty oik with the baseball cap. My heart plummeted as far as it could go.
A horrible thought struck me; if Joe believed at any level that I had been intimately involved with Benedict recently, what would he think of me leaping into bed with him? I bet he thought I was a right tart. I didn’t need to look in the mud-smeared rear-view mirror to know I was flushed with embarrassment.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Now normally I’m great at shopping. Normally I enjoy it. That day I didn’t.
Keira the blushing bride had arranged for us to meet up at the shop, I mean the atelier Evanka Mila. Birgitte – a fussy over-tanned woman who sported a manicure that I would have thought prevented her sewing anything – was going to do the final fittings.
First we had to get through security, which meant standing in the outer hallway until a massive man with a neck as thick as Keira’s waist decided if he would let us in or not. Then we had to be escorted up the sta
ircase to the room where Birgitte was waiting with her two habitually silent assistants.
Maudie and I watched from our brocade chairs, while Jassy – who wasn’t a bridesmaid but didn’t want to miss anything – poked around in the cabinet of tiaras and feathered headdresses. Then she sat down heavily as though she was carrying a suitcase and put both hands on her small bump. I’m beginning to think this is what pregnant women do so no one thinks they are just tubby. I looked at her for a few minutes, marvelling at what was going on inside her. Would it be a boy or a girl? Guy or Sparkler? How did it feel? More importantly, what would the birth be like?
Jassy had already expressed a wish to have a tranquil, candle-lit birthing pool with soft music playing and a bottle of Cristal champagne on ice waiting for her once the whole thing was over. I wondered if this was likely. Not that I’ve thought about it too closely, not when it pertains to me anyway. The whole thing sounds too ghastly for words but, still, at the end of it Jassy and Ralphie would have a son or a daughter. Despite myself I felt a teeny pang of curiosity. It might even have been envy.
Jassy saw me watching her.
‘What?’ she said crossly.
‘Nothing; pregnancy hasn’t improved your temper has it?’ I replied.
She huffed and stroked her bump again. ‘See how cheerful you’d be if you were throwing up every morning, had heartburn most of the day, and needed to wee every five minutes.’
Back in the real world Keira was quickly hauled into her dress, a delicious ankle-length confection of pale coffee-coloured silk with enough embroidery, beading and lace to satisfy a Romanov tsarina. We all got a bit tearful when we saw her. She really did look glorious. Keira climbed up onto the carpeted podium so we could all admire her.
‘What do you think?’ she said, knowing what we would say.
‘Oh my God, you look like an absolute dream,’ Maudie said rather breathlessly. ‘I hope I look that good in my dress.’
‘Fergus is a lucky boy, he won’t know what’s hit him when he sees you,’ Jassy chimed in.
‘Fabulous,’ I said, ‘just wonderful.’
‘Really? Are you sure?’ Keira said, twisting and turning to get the best view of herself in the mirrors. ‘I mean it’s not too Disney Princess is it?’
‘You look wonderful,’ I said, ‘you know you do.’
Keira gave a pleased smile. ‘I do rather, don’t I?’
Birgitte twitched at Keira’s skirts and muttered at her assistants who brought her a velvet pincushion shaped like a dachshund. She used a couple to adjust some infinitesimal thing she didn’t like.
‘So this will be ready for you one week before the wedding. Don’t lose weight. And whatever you do don’t gain weight – that is all I am asking,’ Birgitte said sternly.
We all laughed at the very idea. As if. I think Keira has been a size six all of her adult life. She eats like a horse and never seems to gain an inch. It’s very impressive. And annoying.
Maudie darted eagerly into the other dressing room and I was led away to my doom. I knew exactly what was going to happen, I’d even started having nightmares about it.
A few minutes later from the other side of the curtain I heard Keira twittering and exclaiming about how amazing it all was.
‘You look incredible. No, you do, Maudie. Oh God, I love that dress. So slinky and gorgeous. Don’t you hate those shapeless things most bridesmaids wear? Your waist looks so tiny, Maudie!’
‘I love, love, love it,’ Maudie sighed back. ‘We look so fabulous. Hurry up, Lulu.’
There was a great deal in the same vein for a few minutes. I heard her outside, twirling and probably admiring her non-existent bottom in the unforgiving mirrors while Jassy heaved herself up out of her chair to try on veils and satin shoes.
I stood in my strictest underwear and looked at my dress, hanging optimistically in front of me. It was beautiful, the palest dusty-pink silk and organza, knee-length and swirled into a tight bodice and skirt. This was a dress that would take no prisoners. It looked down at me, a slight smirk on its face. You’re never going to do this, it seemed to say. You have sacrificed me for several packs of chocolate digestives, some Wagon Wheels and that pie and chips you snarfed up. Remember?
Irritated by my tardiness, Birgitte flung back the curtain and joined me in the chamber of despair.
‘Now let’s see,’ she said, taking the dress off its padded hanger and holding it out encouragingly for me to step into, ‘I’m not sure …’
No, I wasn’t sure either.
Between us we managed to get the dress over my new writer’s arse and Birgitte wittered and fussed for a few minutes.
‘What has happened?’ she muttered. ‘I’m not sure this is … surely …’
She tugged the sides together and little by little the zip did up. I wondered if I was going to be able to breathe and if I did, would I suddenly burst forth?
‘I’m sure … this is the right dress.’ Shamingly she even went to check the label on the hanger.
‘Come on!’ Jassy called. ‘What’s the problem?’
Eventually there was nothing for it, I had to come out and show them.
‘You look …’ Keira started brightly before she’d had a chance to see me. Her tone dropped. ‘Really … curvy.’
As far as the Gang are concerned ‘curvy’ is code for something worse. Much worse.
Jassy frowned. ‘It’s a bit tight,’ she said. ‘Are you sure that’s the right one?’
‘Quite sure,’ Birgitte said defensively.
‘Oh.’
The room went horribly quiet for a few seconds while everyone stared. I felt tears fill my eyes.
‘Well there must be something wrong. You must have used someone else’s measurements,’ Jassy said crossly. The other two started nodding and tutting.
I shot her a grateful look. She was shifting the blame from me and my sloppy eating habits on to the hapless shoulders of some seamstress somewhere. I could almost imagine the poor woman, hunched over her sewing machine in an attic, snivelling while Birgitte whacked her with a fabric offcut.
Birgitte hesitated for a second and then rose to the occasion magnificently.
‘I can only apologise, I am mortified at my mistake,’ she said, fluttering her hands in dismay.
The mood in the room lifted in a second and the other two started twirling and chattering again.
‘What a shame, Lulu darling, I’d be crushed if it was me,’ Keira said.
Oh yes, Keira with her bird-like wrists and tiny arms, who had probably never in her adult life found a garment that was tight or too small.
*
Shortly after that we decamped to a wine bar to celebrate, or in my case get over the humiliation.
I sat nursing a glass of champagne, vowing never again to look at a chip or a biscuit and above all wishing I was back in Devon.
‘It will be fine,’ Jassy whispered, ‘you heard her, she can get those alterations done in no time.’
‘Thanks,’ I said humbly.
‘Silly woman, I bet this sort of thing happens a lot.’
‘Yes I expect so.’
‘You looked really nice though,’ Maudie said, rubbing my arm. ‘The colour really suits you. Sweet.’
Oh God.
I saw Keira and Maudie exchange a little, swivelling look. It didn’t matter how much this was excused or brushed under the carpet, it would be all round the Gang before sunset. There was a certain aspect to the friendships that delighted in this sort of thing. Schadenfreude. It wasn’t very nice really.
*
Keira decided the four of us would all go out and meet a few more of her friends that evening and have supper together. I felt so bad about my dress that I couldn’t really refuse, although all I wanted to do was go to sleep. Just as I was trying to think of a suitable excuse my mobile rattled with the arrival of a text from Jassy.
‘Where are you? We’re waiting for you!’
I got up, collected my handbag and wen
t down to hail a taxi. When I got to Vino Verity (another new wine bar that last time I looked was a cake shop) the other three were already sitting at a table, in almost complete darkness. Why do they do this? Do they not want people to be able to read the menus and order?
Looking at the general décor it was obvious someone had spent a lot of money on mirrored tables, green velvet chairs and retro advertising signs for things like Pernod and something called Moxie. The one behind our table was for Noilly Prat, which I’ve always thought sounded a bit rude. And next to that one proclaimed: Gin Drinkers are Sassy, Classy and Smart Assy. I was unsure whether that was a recommendation or not.
Maudie and Keira were already slugging down Prosecco like there was no tomorrow while Jassy scowled at her fizzy water and lime.
‘How’s the new book going?’ Keira said after a few minutes of desultory chat about the weather and an on-going political scandal concerning a cabinet minister and his cleaning lady.
‘Okay,’ I said accepting a glass of fizz, ‘I’ve dumped the one I was working on and started again.’
‘Oooh brave,’ Maudie said, ‘and Jassy says you’ve sold your flat?’
‘Just about. I’m supposed to be exchanging soon, and completing soon after that.’
I realised one disadvantage of the mirrored tables was they allowed a view up everyone’s noses. I sat back a bit.
‘I think you’re insane,’ Jassy said crossly. She put her drink back onto the table and rested both hands on her bump again.
‘Yes I know you do, but it’s too late now. I’ve made up my mind,’ I said.
‘But why? You have everything you could possibly want here,’ Jassy said. ‘Where are you going to live?’
‘I’ll find somewhere,’ I said. And that’s far from the truth.
‘Someone I work with told me they are converting an old warehouse by the river into apartments,’ Maudie suggested, ‘near the Thames Barrier. They look fabulous. They’re going to have air con and Jacuzzi baths.’
‘And every road jammed with people wanting to get to the O2,’ I muttered.
At this point a snake-hipped waiter with a white cloth tied around his waist slithered up with a tray full of calories.
The Mini-Break Page 24
