by Susie Martyn
‘Oh…’ The truth was dawning on him. ‘Well, er, would you like to join us?’
She followed him over to a half empty table, where he pulled out a chair for her, taking one close beside her. His arm brushed momentarily against hers, sending little electric shocks flying between them. It felt inevitable somehow. Like Lizzie couldn’t have stopped it if she tried.
‘I didn’t know,’ confessed Tom. ‘I always thought you and Leo were a couple, otherwise I’d have switched the seating plan and you could have sat here instead of my deadly cousin Dora… Susie’s idea of a joke, putting her of all people next to me…’
‘Anyway, I’ll fill you in about some of this crowd that I’m lucky enough to count as family…’
As Lizzie looked around, this eclectic mix of the oldest and oddest of the Woodleighs seemed among the most extraordinary collection of individuals she’d ever come across. They had a certain style too. Grand but in a mothballed kind of way.
‘Stay well away from old Jasper. Over there, in that ancient suit…’ Tom nodded towards an angular, bony looking man of about fifty-something, who was cruising around the marquee, a shifty look in his eyes.
‘He’s a notorious groper with terrible breath I’m reliably informed, to be avoided at all costs! I’ve never got close enough to find out!’
Urghh, thought Lizzie, quite revolted.
‘Oh,’ Tom continued, ‘and over there’s another cousin Rebecca, known as Bex, absolutely without doubt out off her head on some illegal substance or other.’
Lizzie looked disbelievingly at the expensively dressed, regal looking blond weaving around the dance floor with a vacant look in her wide blue eyes. It reminded her immediately of Tilly.
‘Now,’ Tom grinned, ‘here comes Auntie Melons, so named for two obvious reasons. We don’t actually call her that, though I don’t think she’d notice,’ he added in a whisper.
‘Auntie Melanie,’ he stood up and offered her his chair. ‘Can I get you a drink? This is Lizzie. I’ll be back in just a tick, and don’t you dare tell her any of your stories about my misspent youth!’
He winked at Lizzie, as Auntie Melons leant towards her squashing her ample bosom against her, and taking her arm conspiratorially. She was probably in her late seventies, guessed Lizzie, and was wearing a tailored dress and jacket in Queen Mother blue, with the ubiquitous pearls. Her pale grey hair was carefully curled and her face powdered, but her pencilled-on eyebrows didn’t match at all, giving her a permanent air of surprise.
‘Dear,’ she said to Lizzie, ‘isn’t it such a lovely wedding? I do love weddings’ she added wistfully. ‘Quite something isn‘t it, little Susie married. Only seems like yesterday that she got stuck up the apple tree and wouldn’t come down. Oh, dreadful business it was…had to call the fire brigade. Very odd dress though…I mean, black… Fancy!’ The eyebrows frowned comically for a moment, as she thought about what she’d said.
Then she patted Lizzie’s hand. ‘Now, how about you and young Tom…You make a lovely couple, just like me and my Alfie. Such a nice boy he was…Don’t you go leaving it too long dearie...’
Just as Lizzie was thinking what a sweet old lady she was, Auntie Mellons moved closer and lowered her voice.
‘Someone’s stolen my jewels,’ she almost whispered to her, a frown making the eyebrows even more lopsided. ‘See these earrings?’ She touched her little hands to the enormous diamonds in her ears, adding conspiratorially, ‘They’re not real you know, they’re fakes... Someone put them there. They probably thought I wouldn’t notice...But they’re plastic you know, I can tell. You have them… They’re not much good to me...’ and to Lizzie’s horror, she started taking them off.
Fortunately Tom reappeared at that point. ‘Dance, Auntie.’ Mellons giggled slightly flirtatiously, forgetting about her ears, temporarily at least.
‘Oh, I doubt you’d keep up with me young man, but why not? And then you simply must dance with this lovely young lady.’
Turning to Lizzie, she whispered, ‘He’s such a nice boy,’ and winked at her.
And then there were the young cousins, and Susie and Rory’s London friends. Gorgeous young things, all of them, and so friendly. The exception, Lizzie soon noticed, were the teenage girls, who were regarding her with a degree of hostility.
More of the villagers joined the party for the evening, and Lizzie could see Toby, who was a bit of a groover as it turned out, whirling an unusually glamorous Antonia around the dance floor. Even Mrs Hepplewhite made an appearance, and after a large glass of sherry took to the dance floor for a quick boogie with Mr Woodleigh. Lizzie kept well out of her way.
Shar was having the best time. After all, this was her best mate, the girl she’d grown up with and shared every rite of passage with. Susie’s family felt almost like her own, she’d known them so long. And this wedding was head-to-toe fabulous, from the frocks to the flowers, with the most divine food and the most delicious men. And having someone to share it with had brought everything more sharply into focus.
She could see Rich and Tom across the marquee. Curiosity got the better of her and she pulled a chair up beside Lizzie.
‘So…’ she said teasingly. ‘What’s with you and Tom, then?’
Lizzie blushed hopelessly. Shar was intrigued. She wasn’t at all Tom’s usual type. Historically, his girlfriends were quite glamorous, dull and extremely short term. Lizzie was very pretty, but you’d never call her glamorous. And all that long tawny hair was beautiful but bore no resemblance to his usual shade of blonde. Lizzie was interesting - not at all what she expected.
‘And you and Rich.... I mean, you are together aren’t you?’ retaliated Lizzie. Shar giggled. ‘You know, I think I’m in lurve’ she confessed reluctantly. ‘And actually, you’re the first person I’ve told!! Cheers!’ They chinked glasses.
‘Do you know,’ she confessed, ‘until a few weeks ago, I’d had the worst crush on Tom forever! He used to make my knees knock, seriously, every time he walked into the room. So loudly I swear everyone heard them! Can you imagine how excruciating it was for years, spending school holidays with my best friend in a perpetual state of embarrassment because I fancied her brother?’ She shook her head, laughing at herself. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter now, but that bloody man is the sole reason I stayed single for about 5 whole years you know…’ she shook her head in Tom’s direction. Well, that was nearly true, single except for the odd fling as she‘d tried and failed to conquer her obsession.
‘Oh.’ Lizzie swallowed. She hadn’t known this, but quickly Shar added, ’Go for it! He really is as lovely as he looks. Just clueless! On another planet! Doesn’t see what’s right under his nose, as I know from bitter experience!’ She looked at Lizzie and they both giggled. ‘In fact, I’ll let you in on a little known secret. So far in his choice of women, he is a total disaster. He seems to go for a particular type – you know – the obvious kind, with trowel loads of make-up, tight clothes, high heels and all that. And you’ve probably realized by now that Tom mooches round in faded jeans and old shoes all the time. He doesn’t even think about what he looks like. Anyway, there was this girl who was crazy about him…very pretty and not altogether that bright… We were all going out on Rich’s boat and one of her Jimmy Choo’s broke as she climbed on board and she fell in. I don’t think he even noticed…’
They were engulfed in laughter by the time Tom and Rich returned with even more champagne, exchanging mystified looks, especially when a slightly sloshed Shar raised one finger towards Lizzie, saying, ’Not one word, don’t say I said…’
Seconds later, Antonia collapsed into the chair next to them. She was wearing the most gorgeous dress which looked horribly expensive and showed off her toned figure and seemed utterly at home as she kicked off her high heels.
‘Simply marvellous bash isn’t it? Pass me some champers will you darling, I’m parched…’
Lizzie passed her a glass, and looked at Shar. ‘Antonia, this is Shar, she’s Susie’s br
idesmaid. Shar, this is Antonia. She lives down the road with her daughter Cassie, and Hamish. Her horse…And Dave, who’s a sheep…
Shar looked at her curiously. Antonia extended a hand in front of Lizzie towards Shar.
‘Good to meet you. Golly! Haven’t danced this much in yonks. Tobes is simply inexhaustible, darling!’
‘Antonia’s man,’ explained Lizzie. ‘Toby. The estate manager. You’ve probably met him.’
‘Aah.’ A look of enlightenment dawned on Shar’s face. ‘He does seem, erm, rather dynamic...’
Antonia snorted. ‘He certainly is. I say Lizzie, have you seen old happy Harry? She’s looking frightfully jolly…’
Harriet was indeed twirling around with a nameless man, resplendent in tangerine taffeta. Antonia hid behind Lizzie. ‘I’m hiding darling – don’t move… Oh Lord, hope he doesn’t spot me. Really could do with a rest.’
‘It’s the age difference,’ teased Lizzie.
‘What is?’ enquired Rich, pulling up a chair to join them.
‘Toby and Antonia. She was just saying she can’t keep up with him!’ Lizzie glanced at Antonia.
Antonia glared at her.
Rich and Shar had danced and danced, lost in the music and each other, and before long Tom had persuaded Lizzie to join in. He was a great dancer, whirling her around until laughing and out of breath Lizzie told him she needed to stop. He took her hand and led her outside.
Apart from the odd bleat from a hidden sheep, peace permeated the garden and Lizzie followed Tom down to the furthest part, where from under an old oak tree they looked across the fields to where the sun was sinking slowly in a glorious sky that was a similar shade of orange to Harriet’s dress. The air was still warm and if you could have painted your perfect summer evening, this would be it. In fact, the whole day had been perfect, every second of it. And it was about to get even more so, when hesitating only briefly, Tom gently pulled Lizzie close. Looking down at her, he stroked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. Her heart was pounding so hard Lizzie thought he must hear it, but then he bent his head towards hers and kissed her. And as their lips touched, for one blissful moment it was as though they too had melted into the landscape as everything – the music, the people, the marquee - all of it faded into the background.
‘I’ve had a wonderful day,’ she said softly when they came up for air, looking up at him, her hands linked tightly with his.
‘Me too,’ he replied, ’But… it’s far from over yet... You, young lady, have a whole lot more dancing to do!’ he added mock-sternly as he swept her back towards the marquee. ‘And while we’re at it, how about some more champagne? The night is young…’
It was well into the early hours of Sunday morning with the glimmer of dawn breathing life into the new day, when the last of the die-hard party-goers called it a night. The dog-breathed Jasper was still stalking the marquee in hot pursuit of a victim who’d luckily given him the slip, and Susie and Rory had long since departed in an ancient jaguar, rattling the usual assortment of tin cans tied on with baler twine along with a muddy pair of hunters. A distinctive aroma of sheep pooh had filled the air when Rory eventually started the engine, and Susie had refused to throw her bouquet, insisting instead that her mother should dry it so she could keep it forever.
The party mood subsided slightly after that, and after declining the invitation for a skinny dip in the Woodleigh’s pool, a slightly awkward Tom muttered something about walking Lizzie home.
Ha ha! thought Shar triumphantly. I just knew it! See her home indeed…
And it seemed at last that this wonderful day was over, unless, Rich whispered suggestively in her ear, she might like to come to his room, just for one little nightcap…
Chapter 29
It was with some surprise that it dawned on Lizzie as she awakened later that Sunday morning, that she wasn’t in her bed. In her sleepy, semi-conscious state, she registered the fact that she was lying on her sofa in her party dress, extremely warm and comfortable, apart from the slight thumping in her head and a mouth that felt like sandpaper.
Dimly aware of sounds coming from the kitchen, she prised one eye open and wriggled into a more upright position just as Tom appeared carrying two mugs.
Lizzie blinked disbelievingly at him, as he sat himself on the floor next to her, and passed one of them to her. And then it all came flashing back, how they’d giggled and danced and kissed their way down the lane last night, talking some more as the sun came up. And once back at the cottage, there’d been more talking, and much more kissing, which ordinarily might have progressed to something, had an exhausted Lizzie not fallen fast asleep in Tom’s arms. Tom, though, who would happily have continued kissing Lizzie for a whole lot longer, was sleepy too, but had felt strangely peaceful lying there with this girl in his arms. Eventually, he too had drifted off to sleep.
‘Thank you, this is the best cup of tea ever.’ She tried to sit up but winced. ‘Oh…I think I have a hangover...’
Tom laughed. ‘I should think you’re exhausted after working for my sister, even without some thoughtless man forcing you to dance all night. Great sofa though…’
‘Darius and Angel gave it to me… can you tell?’
He grinned and then a muscle twitched in Tom's cheek. A frown crossed his face. ‘I’m glad you said you’re not with Leo. He's not good enough for you...’
But it wasn’t just that… Crap. Tom knew he was useless at these things. He wanted to tell her that he thought that they could be good together, that he’d like to see her again, often…but the words just wouldn’t come to him. The risk of another rejection hung over him. It was complicated. And he couldn’t imagine how he could have a relationship with a girl who lived just down the road from his parents.
Tom leant over and kissed her again before getting to his feet.
‘You know, I better get back and change. There’ll be pandemonium at the parents and they could probably do with some help. But do you fancy an early supper, if you can drag yourself out of bed by then, that is?’ he teased.
Once he’d left, Lizzie gratefully collapsed back on the sofa. She wasn’t entirely sure what Tom had been trying to say, if anything and anyway, she was too tired to think about it. Her whole body ached. All she wanted was orange juice and sleep, and the instant her eyes closed she was out.
Next time she awoke, she was horrified to see that it was four in the afternoon, and her phone was ringing. When she answered it sleepily, she found it was Bella, wanting to thank her. No sooner had she put the phone down when it rang again, only this time it was Antonia.
‘I say, awfully jolly party wasn’t it? Must say I’m pooped though…Tobes has only just left… Has Miriam spoken to you? Only she left me the strangest message…’
The next call was indeed Miriam.
‘It’s been the most astonishing day,’ Miriam told her rather excitedly. ‘We
had more visitors than Boxing Day! I had to call in extra helpers and there were all
these people who wanted to look at the gardens… Lizzie? Are you still there?’
‘Sorry! Had a late night! But that sounds fantastic! The magazine article
isn’t out yet… I wonder what caused it?’
‘Some of the schools sent notices home… but oh Lizzie… I don’t know if we
can cope with much more…’
Tom took Lizzie to the Goat, predictably, where a number of yesterday’s
wedding goers were already tucking in to sandwiches, and quite a few glasses of
mineral water, Lizzie noticed, with a slightly more of a subdued air than the previous
day. All except for Darius and Angel, who were larger than life and full of their usual
enthusiasm.
‘Lizzie flower!’ they both kissed her. ‘And with Tom Woodleigh…darling…’
Darius swooned and Angel gave Lizzie an exaggerated wink.
‘We were simply devastated to miss yesterday,’ Darius said sadly. ‘I can
’t tell
you, flowers. Auntie Marigold has just the worst timing. It was deadly, darlings. Feel
sorry for us...’
‘Lethal…’ added Angel. ‘And she’s so doo-lally she’d never have missed
us… Anyway! Do tell! It must have been simply wondrous…’
After an evening re-living the previous day with the various occupants of the
Goat, it wasn’t until they returned to Lizzie’s much later on that they actually had a chance to talk properly.
‘I still haven’t figured out where we met before, you know,’ said Tom as they went to sit outside, the back garden still warm in the evening sun.
‘Nor me,’ said Lizzie. ‘And you know it’s funny – I remember every bit of the wedding, but after that, it’s a little blurry…’
‘Are you flirting with me Lizzie Lavender? Maybe I need to jog your memory…’
‘Perhaps you could try…’ Lizzie gazed innocently back at him and her insides did a back flip.
‘What did you have in mind?’ But before she could answer, he leaned over to kiss her and it was just like before. All Lizzie could feel was his lips on hers, his hands in her hair as everything faded around them.
‘I’d say you remember rather well…’ he muttered, gently kissing her neck then moving up to her mouth again.
Still in those earliest days and a little uncertain of what they are to each other, Tom took Lizzie out for lunch on the Monday. Away from Littleton and Oakley. Somewhere where they wouldn’t know anyone and could blend into their surroundings. He knew just the place.
They drove in Tom’s Boxster with the roof down so that Lizzie’s long hair flew out behind in the wind. Tom had always liked the Spotted Pig. It was a proper pub. He’d first ventured in here under age, secretly thrilled at getting away with buying a pint, and had been back over the years with various girlfriends. It was part of his history. And unpretentious and untrendy, with red velvet seats inside and wooden tables alongside the canal, it was just his kind of place.
