by Susie Martyn
‘I really am not sure about this,’ she hissed, then glared at Lizzie again. ‘I hope you are a professional, young lady. Do you have liability insurance? We can’t allow just anyone in here you know, oh no…’
As Susie opened her mouth to speak, Mrs H marched down the aisle, continuing, ’you need something there, by the altar,’ as she pointed at a sad, decaying effort on a rickety stand. ‘I always think chrysanthemums look nice. They’re jolly good value - I’ve known them go for five weeks. Five weeks... You’ll need two little vases on the altar, and another by the pulpit, see where that arrangement is?’
Another stiff, triangular creation appeared out of the gloom. It was hideous. Susie nodded and smiled. The only place for that monstrosity was the compost heap.
‘Now, especially’ Mrs H’s tone sharpened as she fixed Susie with her sternest gaze yet. ‘You. Absolutely. Must place something under the memorial - there.’ She pointed to a plaque on the wall near the back of the church. Sounding positively angry now, the lecture continued. ‘If it wasn’t for those brave young men, God rest their souls, you wouldn’t be here today’.
Did she really have to be quite so tyrannical? No wonder everyone chose to get married at St Oswald’s in the next village.
‘Kindly ask your mother to speak to me about the organ and that will be all. Good day to you’. And with that, Mrs H abruptly switched off all the lights and swept out of the church, leaving them alone in the gloom.
Listening until the click clack of her heels had definitely died away, Susie breathed a huge sigh of relief and collapsed into the last row of pews.
She giggled. ‘Sorry about that. I didn’t dare tell her that she wouldn’t be playing the organ either. Rory’s already booked such a cool string quartet... I might ask Mummy to break it to her gently! Anyway, tell me what you think, and please, not a chrysanthemum in sight…’
The Goat was quiet when they arrived, and Leo was already there, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was chatting up the tight-skirted blonde behind the bar.
‘What will it be then ladies?’ Leo’s eyes twinkled wickedly. ‘How about a bottle of that pink wine you like so much? Er - you go on outside…’ He obviously hadn’t finished, ‘…and I’ll be out in just a minute.’
Linking her arm through Lizzie’s, Susie said in a low voice, ‘He’s such a flirt! Oh, he’s not your boyfriend is he?’ She looked apprehensive for a moment, but when Lizzie shook her head, carried on. ‘It’s just that I know his type. Oh you must know it too - drop dead gorgeous isn’t he, but you could never trust him an inch…’
‘Actually, he has tried it on but that’s all! Nothing happened...’
‘Oh, there they are… Over here!’
She followed Susie across the garden to a table in the shade of an apple tree, where two men sat with their pints. A strange feeling came over her. Then Susie spoke.
‘Hey guys, this is Lizzie!’
At that moment, the world seemed to grind to a stop. Even as Lizzie set eyes on the man whose back was towards her, a sixth sense was telling her she knew him. And as he turned to face her, she froze.
‘Lizzie, this is Tom. My brother.’
She couldn’t believe it. It was him…
‘Hello…’ An incredulous look spread across his face as he saw who his sister had with her.
‘Um, have you met before, you two?’ Susie’s puzzled voice seemed to come from miles away.
‘Not exactly,’ said Lizzie just as Tom said, ‘well, we have, but neither of us can remember where…’
The other man looked resigned as he held out his hand to her. ‘I’m Rich.’
‘Hi!’
‘So how do you two know each other?’ asked Tom.
‘Darius and Angel had a Lizzie party…’ said Susie.
‘Ah. The one I missed. So what part of the lovebirds little hideaway are you responsible for?’
‘The garden,’ Susie butted in. ‘And now she’s doing my wedding flowers!’
Tom pulled out the empty chair beside him. He’d seen the garden and it was cool. Just then they were joined by Leo, tucking the barmaid’s phone number into his pocket. And suddenly next to Tom and Rich, it became glaringly obvious what was wrong. Leo was a lightweight. Glamorous, but completely lacking in substance.
Rich grinned at her across the table.
‘So you don’t remember how you met him? Well that’s a turn up for the books mate,’ he teased Tom. ‘You must be losing your touch…’
‘I’ll remember eventually,’ he said amiably. ‘Maybe it was a bar, or a party or something like that…’
In the middle of a conversation about the rat run drivers, Susie suddenly shrank in her chair, as another group of people wandered across the far side of the garden.
Tom leaned forward. ‘Don’t worry Sis, its only Mrs Hepplewhite and her family. I know, let’s ask her to join us!’
Susie thumped him. ‘God, her daughter’s ghastly too. Looks more like a horse than her mother if you can imagine it,’ she muttered. ‘Tom, we can’t stay here, not like this! She’s such a bully, she’ll be over as soon as she spots us, just you wait.’
‘Good God, you’re right’. Tom’s eyes grew rounder. ‘She is, too.’ He winked at Lizzie.
‘Stop it,’ giggled Susie, ‘Oh she’s not, is she?’
But Mrs Hepplewhite had indeed marched over and she bent to hiss in Susie’s ear.
‘Young lady, what’s this I hear about a string quartet? Most untraditional I must say. I don’t know what Father Sim will have to say about this. You have asked him I take it?’
Tom let his sister squirm a little longer than strictly necessary, before stepping in to the rescue.
‘Hello Mrs Hepplewhite! It was a terribly difficult decision, but you see, our cousins play in that quartet, so we had to ask them. Susie really wanted you to play the organ for her, but for the sake of keeping the peace in a rather, er, tricky situation, she didn’t have much choice. I do hope you er, understand.’
Almost falling for Tom’s charm, which he used to far greater effect than his sister, with a loud ’hmph’ she turned and stalked back to her family, who were all watching with looks of disapproval on their sour faces.
‘You shouldn’t have said that’, said Susie, looking at him. ‘I forgot to tell you- they’re called BlackJack…’ She giggled uncontrollably. ‘They’re Nigerians!’
The Hepplewhite contingent looked over as the table erupted into laughter, all, that was, except for a neglected Leo, to whom feeling marginalised and overshadowed was not his idea of a good time. Susie was ignoring him and he’d picked up on the vibe between Lizzie and that Tom bloke, so it wasn’t a surprise at all when he stood up and made his excuses, terribly apologetically of course.
‘I’m on call first thing,’ he explained. Always a good excuse, he found, reminding everyone of his impressive professional standing, which he followed with ‘you ready Babe?’ twenty-first century cave-man claiming his woman.
After much manly hand shaking, they left - Lizzie more reluctantly, tossed and turned by the most unfamiliar sensations feeling Tom’s eyes gazing after her.
Once home, Lizzie hadn’t planned to ask Leo in, instead wanting to sit in the quiet dark, alone with the maelstrom of thoughts that was raging in her head. All those times they’d run in to each other by chance and now this… Tom. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. But she hadn’t bargained on Leo being so devious. Completely without scruples and knowing exactly how to play it, he wasn’t going to let the opportunity go.
Uninvited, he followed Lizzie in through the back door. Lizzie could sense him standing close behind her as she put the kettle on, and as she reached for the mugs, he turned her to face him. Slowly and deliberately he kissed her lips, very softly at first, biding his time until she started to respond, when the kissing became more urgent until Lizzie pulled back and tried to push him away.
‘No, Leo.’ Lizzie’s words surprised both of them. She looked into th
ose imploring eyes, which must have got him what he wanted so many times in the past. And very nearly relented. ‘It would be very easy…’
‘Then why stop now…’ Leo nuzzled her neck and kissed her teasingly behind her ear, before finding her mouth again, kissing it softly, light, butterfly kisses, while pinning her against the wall.
But the moment had passed and anyway, Lizzie had made up her mind. She tried to break away from his grip. He certainly wasn’t making it easy for her.
‘Go home…’ she protested, before he could change her mind, then when he ignored her, more firmly, ‘I meant what I said…’
It killed the mood. Leo blinked as he realised that she really did mean it. He knew when he was beaten and kissing her chastely on the forehead, left.
Good thing he didn’t look back. Lizzie slumped weakly to the floor, too muddled to separate the traitorous feelings of lust that Leo had ignited from anything she might feel for Tom. Leaning back against the wall listening to his car go speeding up the lane, she waited for her heart to steady.
But that night, as she lay in bed with her mind wandering this way and that, she knew her decision was the right one, falling deeply asleep to immensely disturbing dreams of being endlessly, passionately kissed in her own rose garden, by a tall, familiar man. When the kissing eventually paused long enough for Lizzie to see who he was, she awoke instantly with a shock, her heart thumping for real. It wasn’t Leo she’d been kissing - it was Tom.
Chapter 22
‘You’re seeing an awful lot of Leo, darling…’ Antonia was digging for gossip.
‘Not as much as he’d like – and not so much now at all, really…’
Antonia was puzzled. ‘Lord, Lizzie, why the devil not? I certainly wouldn’t say no to him…’
Lizzie rolled her eyes. ‘You have Toby, and that would be extremely unfair. He adores you.’
Antonia looked worried. ‘Oh God. Don’t say that. He’s awfully sweet, but it’s nothing serious. Surely he must know that…’ She frowned.
‘You do take advantage of him,’ said Lizzie. ‘And you can hardly blame him when you spend so much time together…’
‘Golly. And I thought it was just for sex,’ said Antonia, aghast. ‘Shall we go to the pub?’
Antonia thought like a man. She’d be the perfect match for Leo, if he didn’t need his ego stroked continuously. Antonia only ever stroked her horses.
Tim was already in the Star deep in conversation with William, who winked at Antonia as they came in. She blushed – just slightly.
‘Hello darling! William – lane’s so much better, don’t you think, sweetie? You farmers did a marvellous job… ’
No-one had ever called William ‘sweetie’ before and a reddish colour tinged his ears.
‘We’ll leave you to it, darlings! Come and join us when you’re talking about something more interesting…’ she added tactlessly.
‘You’re terrible!’ giggled Lizzie as they found a table. ‘Did you see the look on William’s face?’
‘Hilarious wasn’t it? Golly, but he is bloody sexy…’
Lizzie had had a brainwave about Ginny’s ghastly garden. Actually it was a rather inspired idea of how to make it pink without making it horribly, luridly garish, and in the event, Ginny had been thrilled at the idea of coloured uplighters among her plants, which would give everything a pink glow by night, while allowing it to revert to a much more tasteful mix of shades by daylight.
‘So clever,’ Ginny had enthused, clapping her hands together and smiling as widely as the botox would allow. ‘And so original! I can’t think of anyone else who’s done that! I’ll buy pink fairy lights for the party, oh, and pink garden umbrellas…Oh Lizzie, I knew you were just perfect for this!’
And Lizzie had escaped with both her professional integrity and the dignity of the garden intact, safe in the knowledge that Ginny’s unerring instinct for the kitsch couldn’t in any way be blamed on her when it came to organising the party.
Hethecote was on her mind. Now that she was spending less time up there, Lizzie was conscious of Miriam’s workload, and drove over to see how she was. With summer round the corner, the farm was looking green and inviting and Miriam herself was looking better than Lizzie had ever seen her.
‘You haven’t seen the garden for a while – come and have a look,’ she said mysteriously to Lizzie.
As they stepped through the door in the wall, a huge smile stretched across Lizzie’s face as she looked around. She’d never imagined anything quite like this. Every allotment was different, each with its own identity. One of the schools had made a vegetable garden, complete with the most imaginative scarecrow ever topped off with an old mortar board, and lots of handmade labels marking each row of seedlings. There was an old blackboard with a list of tasks that they were ticking off as they completed them, and on the bottom in a childish hand was written, piss off crows.
Another was elaborately floral, with the initials of the school picked out in tulips that were just beginning to go over.
‘Awfully clever idea,’ said Miriam. ‘They’re planting flowers and vegetables only in the schools colours – maroon and white for everything. And they’ve found all these old-fashioned varieties.’
And so it went on. The detail that the schools, and the pupils of course had gone into, was astonishing. But one stood out in particular. The centrepiece was an arch, intricately constructed from wood. Climbing plants were creeping their way up it – but not flowers. These were vegetables.
‘Cucumbers and red runner beans,’ said Miriam proudly. ‘Just think how it’ll look in a couple of months.’
‘But who made the arch?’ asked Lizzie. ‘Truly – I could sell those to my clients.’
‘Ah. Well, it’s the young offenders who’ve done this one. I thought about your idea – about staggering times. They come in after two in the afternoon. It works perfectly! It was a bit of a slow start, but then they really got into it – as you can see!’
‘These are truly amazing,’ said Lizzie. ‘Really, I think that they should be photographed.’ Then she had a real flash of inspiration. ‘It would be wonderful publicity. I don’t know why I haven’t thought of this before, but I used to work for a gardening magazine. I could call them if you like – they might just be interested…’
‘Well,’ said Miriam. ‘If you think so… Goodness!’
It was many months since Lizzie had even thought about Julian’s greasy hair and tight trousers. She steeled herself to make the call.
‘Ah…Lizzie.’
In an instant she was back in that office, suffocated and stifled and dreading the journey home. But this wasn’t about her and her future – it was for Miriam and Hethecote, and quickly she filled him in.
‘Hello Julian. I’m involved in something rather interesting. I thought I’d run it by you before I go anywhere else…’
She put the phone down and sat there for a moment. Buds and Blooms were coming to see Miriam’s gardens! If this went well, it would put Hethecote Farm well and truly on the map. Who’d have thought she’d be calling Julian after all this time... But Lizzie knew without doubt he’d love this and it would make a brilliant feature for the magazine.
‘I’ve found a venue!’ announced Antonia as she opened a bottle of wine. ‘Friend of Harry’s, darling! Got a crumbling old pile a few miles away. He’s a lecherous old sod but we can cope with that - the house is sensational from the outside with a very impressive drive… He says he’ll stick a marquee out the back in return for a couple of tickets! He’ll probably only end up using one of them – no-one will want to go with him…’
‘Should we go and take a look? Before you decide? Only – well, just in case there’s a landfill down the road or something… This weekend – I think Katie’s coming down…’
‘I suppose…’ Antonia was thoughtful. ‘I’ll call him. Actually, I’ll do it now. Won’t be a mo.’
Picturing a balding, bent old man with a monocle, Lizzie listened
in as Antonia buttered him up and arranged for them to go round later that week.
‘Oh that’s so fabulous, thanks awfully sweetie,’ she was saying. ‘And I’m sure we can come to some agreement.’
‘Oh God,’ she said as she put the phone down. ‘He only wants me to go away with him. To Marbella… jolly nice actually, and I know it’s all in a good cause, but darling…he is eighty three...’
There was another party on Lizzie’s mind – Edwards’s, and next day, she checked through the list of plants Ginny had ordered and emailed it to the supplier. She’d dug the borders and started adding the mountain of compost that had been delivered, and Lizzie was looking forward to planting, with all the arduous preparation now behind her.
As always, her client was immaculately coiffed with brand-new highlights and dressed in pastels - palest pink and lilac. Lizzie’s ancient patched jeans were covered in earth as usual, but Ginny, to be fair, didn’t bat an eyelid as she invited her into the conservatory for a much needed coffee break.
Chatting over a large cafetiere of coffee, Lizzie told Ginny about how she’d got involved with Susie’s wedding.
Ginny clapped her hands with glee and squeaked, ‘golly, how frightfully marvellous! Of course you must do it! I have no doubt you’ll do it beautifully, no doubt at all. Now,’ leaning towards Lizzie, she lowered her voice conspiratorially. ’Have you met that brother of hers? Bit of a heartbreaker I’m told,’ she said, the flush in Lizzie’s cheeks answering her question.
A gleam came in to Ginny‘s heavily painted eyes. ‘My older daughters, when they’re home, are always at that pub with the terrible name,’ she rolled them dramatically, ‘desperately hoping he’ll be there. It’s ‘Tom this, Tom that…’ Honestly Lizzie, they drive me insane! He rarely is of course, I‘m sure he‘s far too busy for village life these days. In any case, they’re much too young for him!’ She gave a slightly manic, high pitched giggle as her face stretched into a grimace of a smile.
