by Jane Linfoot
He gives a low laugh. ‘There you go again. Delighted to hear you’ve got the styling covered, but there’s still a lot to work on with your swearing.’
If I had a custard pie in my hand, right now, I’d like to slap it onto his face and rub. Long and hard. But seeing as I don’t happen to have one with me, I visualise it instead. And while I’m doing that, I take a few long slow inhalations. I’m so lost in the moment it comes as a shock to open my eyes and see he isn’t scraping squirty cream out of his stubble.
‘Right. Moving on.’ I make my voice bright, and this time I go at top speed, leaving no gaps for argument, counting the rooms off on my fingers. ‘We’ll put the exhibitors in the marquee, the winter garden will be set out for a ceremony, we can put a “top table” in the ballroom, and have examples of table settings there too.’ Up to this point he’s been nodding benignly. ‘And maybe some of your approved caterers could serve snacks in there too.’
His face freezes in mid nod. ‘Approved what?’
‘You said you’d make a list of approved suppliers? In the office on the open day?’ If he was staring at me coldly before, now’s my chance for pay back. ‘Seems like you can quote my mum word for word. Is your memory more selective when it comes to your own obligations?’ If he was freezing me out before, this is the start of the ice age.
There it is again. The ‘whatever’ shrug. ‘I don’t remember promising anything of the kind.’ And a point blank denial.
I get out my best line of office-speak, polish it up, and throw it in. ‘I’m not here to discuss semantics.’ Hopefully it’s weighty enough to make up for my missing briefcase. I pause for it to sink in, and hurry on. ‘Fancy balustrades and a massive lake are the tip of the wedding iceberg. The rest is down to you. You damn well need to get your act together. And fast.’
‘So you keep telling me.’ He’s got his hands in the pockets of his jeans and his tanned forearms are glistening in the sunlight. What’s more, it’s obvious he doesn’t give a flying fig.
I shouldn’t have to be saying this. If my mum hadn’t backed this loser of a pony, believe me, I wouldn’t be. But at the same time his throwaway attitude is making me want to fight him. Hard.
‘That’s your family all over, Kip – only interested in plundering the good bits.’ As I spit out the words, my eyes are wide with surprise at what I’m daring to say, and how bitterly it comes out. Not that I meant to drag up the past, because it’s the last place I want to re-visit. I force myself back to the present. ‘After all, why work when you can play on the terrace instead?’
For a second the corners of his mouth pull down, but then as he leafs through my lists again, his eyes dull. ‘Great to know you’ve got such a high opinion of us.’
As he lets out a long sigh, suddenly I realise the truth. The guy is completely bored. Worse still, he has no interest at all. I’m trying to cover up my horror, because the penny’s just dropped.
‘You don’t know the first thing about weddings, do you? And I’m not sure you even care. Am I right?’ If I make a huge effort not to sound judgmental, I’m more likely to discover the truth here.
He folds his arms, and scrunches up his face as if he’s thinking hard, although it might just be because the sun’s in his eyes. ‘You might be closer than you think with that. Guilty as charged. I admit the whole bridal thing is a bit of a mystery. But …’ The lines on his forehead melt away. ‘On the up side, I’ve already got my first approved supplier on board.’
‘You have?’ Who’d have thought? That’s taken the wind out of my wedding dress. ‘And?’ I tilt my head expectantly, because I can’t wait to hear this.
‘Yep, my wedding style expert is all lined up. A complete rookie, but she more than compensates for that with her bossiness. Welcome to the team.’ He’s sticking out his right hand, waving the sheaf of papers in his other. ‘As for the rest, this remarkably comprehensive exhibitor list you’ve put together should provide everything I need. Thank you for that too.’
Damn. That’s a scumbag move if ever I saw one. But there’s no point protesting. It’s game set and bloody match to Kip Penryn. And I’m the fool here for handing over the names. If I hadn’t been so eager to show off, I’d have kept them to myself. What’s worse, a lot of those names came from Poppy. I’ve just leaked him a whole lot more ammunition to use to beat the opposition. How did I need reminding he was going to play dirty?
‘Well done yet again, Kip, for achieving maximum results with zero effort.’ A perfect example of what I was talking about two sentences ago. There’s no point in complaining, but this way at least we both know I’ve got him worked out – as a complete and utter lowlife.
From his laugh, he couldn’t be enjoying this more. ‘There’s no such thing as a free lunch, Water Lily. Brides by the Sea are getting a damned good deal out of this fair. By the time Jess sends me her bill, I’ll be paying for your work ten times over.’
If it’s really that bad, I’ve no idea why he finds it so funny.
‘Great. If there’s nothing else you want to talk about, I’ll let you get back to your swing ball.’ More fool me for expecting a more productive discussion. If I thought Kip was going to be difficult to work with, he’s just proved he’s bloody impossible. At least this way I get to make a fast getaway. By the time I pass the linen sofas and reach the door to the garden, I’m practically running.
Kip’s voice stops me in my tracks. ‘Leaving so soon?’
From the warmth of the wind blowing through my hair, it could almost be summer. ‘There’s more to say?’ I hate the way I’ve jolted to a halt on the step. And that he’s got me hanging here, like a puppet.
‘If you’re in too much of a hurry forget it.’ He’s tossed the folder I gave him down on a chunky oak coffee table. ‘But if you want to save us both some work, there’s something outside in the Coach House that might be the answer to all our problems.’
I’m not sure I want to be included in a collective problem with anyone, even in a throwaway comment, least of all with Kip. Didn’t he just tell me, there’s no such thing as a free lunch? I should know better than to be drawn in. But before I know it I’m following him. Sometimes I’m my own worst enemy.
Chapter 14
Monday, 6th March
In the Coach House at Rose Hill Manor: Frogs and demolition experts
Did I expect to be following Kip around to the stable block? Am I comfortable being led on yet another wild goose chase, by the biggest weasel in Rose Hill? It’s a big fat ‘no’ to all of the above. But at least it moves us on from the testosterone spillage by the sofas. As I follow Kip around the end of the house, and into the shelter of the stable yard, the half round windows, and the tall doors under the triangular gables take me right back. Years ago, we always took the route past the stables to reach the lake.
‘Still just as beautiful.’ I kick my feet on the stone sets, and make my next comment louder to cover my slip. ‘If I were a bride, I’d insist on getting married here rather than in the house.’ Although given I ended up at The Harbourside Hotel for my wedding, I’m clearly a lot more easily pushed around than I’m pretending.
Kip gives my comment the bemused stare it deserves. ‘There’s no pleasing some people. Lucky you’re not a customer then.’
I hesitate by the old mounting block. When I slide onto the dip where the step has worn, the stone is warm under my bottom. It’s only for a second. But it’s so familiar it might only have been yesterday I was sitting here. Before we go wherever we’re going, there’s one thing I have to ask, so I prop my chin on my hand. ‘So remind me why you’re doing weddings again?’ I suspect we both know it’s a random choice for Kip. And now we’re outside, with luck and a following wind I can pass off the interrogation as casual conversation.
As Kip rests his shoulder against the stone doorway the shadows under his eyes darken. ‘You don’t always get your first choices in life. There are times when you end up doing stuff you never thought you would.’ He roll
s, and leans his back against the wall. ‘But you have to get on and make the best of it.’
If anyone knows about life not going to plan, it’s me. Even so, I can’t quite believe what I’m hearing. ‘But weddings are so full on.’ Even though he’s a Penryn, my heart’s sinking on his behalf. Not to mention my mum’s. ‘So why not do stag parties? Or hens? Or Airbnb instead?’ If I’m sounding like a careers officer on amphetamines, it’s only because I suspect he’s so far out of his comfort zone.
‘We can hardly let stags loose here, let alone hens. Whereas weddings work well. Or so Quinn assures me.’
‘Quinn?’ My gulp is so huge, I almost fall off the step.
Kip’s explaining. ‘My younger brother. Wild and outrageous. Everyone knows Quinn.’ As if that was necessary.
Another gulp at the name, and I feel like I swallowed a balloon. ‘I know the one. Best man at Sera’s sister’s wedding. The pictures are mega. But that wedding didn’t happen by itself. A lot of people moved heaven and earth to pull that biggie together.’ Mahoosive doesn’t begin to cover it.
‘So, there’s a lot to pick up. Quinn’s photos sold it to me, and until something better comes along, this is me.’ Kip gives a shrug. ‘According to Quinn, it’ll be a piece of …’ He hesitates momentarily, before filling in his own blank. ‘Cake.’
‘Right.’ I decide to skip over the bull and china shop allegations, even though my sources are reliable. If Quinn was my brother, I’d know not to believe a thing he said.
Kip almost lets a smile go. ‘That’s my surprise.’
Quinn? In the Coach House? You hear of people who are so shocked their hearts stop beating. From the bang on my chest wall, for a second I think that’s me. I jump off the steps, hoping to hide my shock.
This time Kip’s smile breaks. ‘No need to look so terrified. The good news is, we can plunder what’s left from that Christmas wedding to use for the fair. Fairy lights. Candles. Jam jars. I’ll show you.’ Now Kip’s talking about a wedding he wasn’t involved in, he’s a lot more enthusiastic. Or maybe he just likes free stuff.
I grin, relieved it’s left-over wedding accessories and not actually Quinn that he wants to show me. ‘So long as you only take bookings from brides who want twigs and white lights we’re all good for the future then.’ The photos are full of them, but I’m joking, obviously. Then my stomach sinks, because from Kip’s earnest expression, he thinks I’m serious.
He’s suddenly fired up. ‘Like Quinn says, armed with the Penryn charm, weddings should be easy as falling off a log.’ Somehow the imagery is muddling. And Kip can’t rely on any legendary charisma either. From where I’m standing, the so-called Penryn charm’s not exactly gushing. It’s not even a dribble.
As I follow him into the Coach House, my jaw drops when I see the wall of boxes marked fragile. ‘Wow, are those all fairy lights?’
Kip gives a cough. ‘No, those are all full of broken glass. Left over from one of Quinn’s more significant accidents.’
Luckily, the dimness in the Coach House hides how gobsmacked I am. When Poppy mentioned Quinn’s smashed crystal, I imagined a trayful. Forget a bull in a teensy china shop. This is more like totalling the entire glassware department of Johnny Loulous.
‘Looks like Quinn’s not your best role model then.’ Although some of us knew that anyway. ‘Maybe you need to visit another venue to see how weddings actually work, and get on top of the job. Choose one with good reviews on Trip Advisor, and pick their brains.’ Under the circumstances, it seems a sensible suggestion.
Kip’s interest perks. ‘Like Daisy Hill Farm, you mean?’ As if he’d be welcome next door at the venue he’s driving out of business.
What the hell do I do with someone so clueless? ‘Definitely not Daisy Hill. Best choose one a few counties away. At least.’ As I move further, and come to the next humungous pile of boxes, I peep into one. ‘Here we go. Enough fairy lights to light up most of Cornwall. From what I gather, the Christmas wedding had branches and twinkly lights suspended over the whole ballroom.’
Kip gives a nod. ‘Apparently the fire brigade came to put up that twiggy ceiling.’ For any normal person that would set their alarm bells ringing, but Kip looks delighted.
‘I heard that too.’ When Quinn failed to come through on that one, Chas and his fire-fighter work mates came to the rescue. ‘But you do know you can’t ring 999 every time you have a booking, Kip?’ Somehow it would be funnier if I didn’t have to say this. I’m prodding at the next pile of boxes. ‘Ooo, chair covers. They’ll be useful. Do you have tables and seats, or do I need to hire them in?’
There’s his familiar shrug. ‘Who knows? I haven’t seen any yet.’
I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then. ‘They’d be a good investment – in the long term.’ As, I sense him flinch, I understand exactly where he’s coming from. I won’t necessarily be making a big commitment to St Aidan either. Moving on to another box, I crouch, then pull out a glass jar to see if it’s anything we could use. When I realise he’s watching me, I look up.
His brow furrows as he meets my gaze. ‘So how about you, Water Lily? Are you in this for the long haul? Whatever happened to all your hotels?’
The question is so unexpected it makes me jump. Literally. As I lurch, and wobble on my haunches, the mug slips out of my hands. It skitters away across the cobbled floor, and comes to rest next to the toe of one of Kip’s ragged Converses.
He stoops, picks it up, and hands it back, still in one piece. ‘No damage. Toughened jars are a popular choice when the best man’s big on demolition.’ Then he gives a low laugh. ‘Sorry, did I hit a nerve there asking about your old job?’
I sniff as I slide the jam jar back into the box. ‘As you say, opportunities come in all shapes and sizes. I’m where I need to be to help with my mum’s wedding, and after that I’ll …’ I slam the brakes on just in time. It’s one thing shutting Kip up, quite another spilling my guts. The first rule of dealing with the Penryns is never to over-share. The less they know the better.
Even though it’s almost dark, his eyes are narrowing. ‘What I’m picking up is you’re here, but not here. Maybe wishing you were in another place entirely, doing something very different?’ It’s as if he’s dissecting a frog. He’s sliced his scalpel through the skin, and he’s poking round to see what’s inside.
I need to stamp on this here and now. ‘Absolutely not. I love weddings. I’m about to love styling. Who wouldn’t love living in St Aidan?’ All almost true. If there are other nuances, he’s being damned perceptive to pick them up. And whoever heard of a guy being that sensitive? Although maybe he’s just downright sneaky. ‘I suspect my problem is you projecting your problems onto me. You might have screwed your life up, but I damn well haven’t.’
After all that, he’s laughing. ‘Deny it all you like, but it takes one to know one, Water Lily. Sounds like we’re both in a similar place. Washed up somewhere we’d maybe rather not be. We should stick together.’
Me like him? I’d rather eat my own parka than admit there are any similarities. As for sticking together, how about NO NO NO? With the caps lock on. I’m still shuddering with horror when I literally have one of those moments of clarity about why Kip’s here. Seeing the amount of fairy light bulbs around here, and David flagging it up, I must be dense not to have realised before. And obviously this makes our situations completely different, which is why I’m going to have to bring it up.
‘But of course, I’ve got it now. You’re actually only here because …’ So what is the etiquette when someone’s company has gone bust? I’m struggling for the best way to put it when Kip jumps in.
‘Because the London division of Penryn Trading went broke?’ His shrug is diffident. ‘Great deduction, Sherlock. It’s no secret. It’s been splashed all over the nationals. In case you missed the details, I was at the helm at the time.’
‘Oh shit.’ It comes out as a croak.
He takes a deep breath, and slams his shoulder agains
t the wall again by the door. ‘Six brothers, the other five all busy being super successful elsewhere. I was the one left holding the proverbial family baby. And I broke it. It’s as simple as that.’ He drums his fingers on his arm, and blows out his cheeks. ‘Believe me, I couldn’t have screwed up any worse. There’s a lot of ground to make up. I need to come good.’
Wherever I meant to go with this, it wasn’t here. ‘But to try and come good with weddings?’ If the word comes out as a shriek it’s because I’m incredulous. He’s so obviously unsuited to the job, he can’t seriously be pinning his hopes on such a precarious career move.
‘It could hardly be worse, could it?’ He lets out a hollow laugh. ‘But this is the lifeline Bart’s thrown me. I’ve got to turn it into a success. I can’t run out on this one.’
For a second I think of Poppy and Rafe and how much easier it would be for them if Kip wasn’t in competition with them. ‘But if you’re hating it, isn’t it better to walk away?’ It’s worth a try. For all of us.
He shakes his head hard. ‘Totally out of the question.’ A bitter smile spreads across his face. ‘We Penryns are a damned determined lot at the best of times. When we’ve failed, it’s a thousand times more important to win next time around. That’s why it’s non-negotiable. I’ve got one chance to redeem myself here, and the family reputation too. It’s “do or die”. I have to make this business work.’ With so much public shame to live down, he couldn’t be more driven.
