In a Country Garden

by Maeve Haran

  For a beat of a second silence engulfed the room, before Sal climbed onto a chair, with Lou looking on anxiously.

  ‘And if you lot don’t stop arguing,’ she shouted as loudly as she could manage, ‘I won’t ask any of you to be my bridesmaids!’

  Twenty-Four

  ‘Sal, you’re getting married! How absolutely bloody wonderful!’ Claudia was the first to pounce on her friend and embrace her in delight. She knew sympathy for her revelation would be the last thing Sal wanted.

  Ella followed her cue. ‘I’m so incredibly happy for you both. You couldn’t have found a more perfect man.’

  Laura, still reeling from shock, followed. ‘And you as well, Lou, millions of congratulations. I know you’ll be really happy.’

  ‘I am so utterly thrilled,’ Rose beamed. ‘You are very special people in my life, both of you.’

  ‘But this frightful illness, Sally,’ Mrs Lal interjected with all the subtlety of a double-decker bus, ‘how long have you known about that?’

  ‘I was thinking of keeping it to myself,’ Sal replied, looking embarrassed. ‘Crazy, I know, after last time but at least until the diagnosis was certain. And then Mr Interfering Busybody here’ – she grinned lovingly at Lou – ‘worked it out and turned up at the hospital in a taxi.’

  ‘What a very sensible man,’ endorsed Olivia. ‘I do think a taxi improves most situations.’ The others tried not to smile at the idea of how improving it might have been to go to the guillotine in a taxi instead of a tumbril.

  ‘And you’re sure it’s really serious?’ Mrs Lal persisted, despite black looks from Rose.

  ‘I’m focusing on the not entirely reassuring words from my consultant: if you must get cancer, then breast is best.’

  ‘And you will definitely let them chop off your breast if it is?’ Mrs Lal ploughed on, entirely impervious to the desperate signalling from the others.

  ‘Lalita!’ Even her new ally Olivia decided enough was enough. ‘This is supposed to be an engagement celebration.’

  ‘Absolutely! Come with me, Mrs Lal.’ Bella linked her arm through Lalita’s. ‘Let’s go and look for some champagne!’

  They managed to find two bottles amongst the few remaining in the hotel cellar and Lou popped them with all the panache of a lifetime’s experience.

  ‘So when’s the wedding going to be?’ Ella enquired, passing round the glasses.

  ‘Cancer waits for no man – or woman – so hopefully next week,’ Sal replied. ‘As long as my daughter Lara and family can make it over from Oslo. I can’t go ahead without them. And Lou’s daughter, of course, and a couple of his ex-wives maybe.’ She raised her glass at him, grinning.

  ‘I don’t have that many and you know I wouldn’t ask them. You make me sound like Bluebeard.’

  ‘No, just an American.’

  ‘Ms Grainger,’ replied Lou affectionately. ‘You are going to have to get over this absurd prejudice against my countrymen.’

  This time she kissed him. ‘I’m working on it. I like you and that’s a start.’

  ‘Where will it be?’ asked Laura.

  ‘We wondered about the town hall, but amazingly it’s booked up.’

  ‘Wait a minute.’ Bella was looking thoughtful. ‘I’m sure they had a licence for weddings here at the manor. They were bound to really. Lovely country hotel, pretty grounds. Half the hotels in the country only survive with weddings.’

  ‘This one didn’t,’ pointed out Rose. ‘I know, let’s ask Murdo. I’ll phone him now.’

  As soon as he heard the news Murdo arrived straight away with two bottles of vintage Ruinart which meant the party could keep going.

  ‘I’d been saving them for another occasion,’ he announced meaningfully, his eyes on Mrs Lal.

  ‘Murdo,’ Rose replied briskly, ignoring the tactlessness of this admission, seeing as he had previously been pursuing her, ‘I’ve become very fond of dear Lalita here, but the idea of you and she settling down together is about as likely as a monsoon in the Isle of Wight. She’s a force of nature and you like a quiet time.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ he conceded, brightening visibly. ‘You wanted to know about a wedding licence at the hotel. Indeed there was one. And it’s still valid, I checked.’

  ‘That’s brilliant!’ Sal sipped her champagne with delight. ‘I can’t think of anywhere I’d like to get married more!’

  ‘The only thing is,’ Murdo added, ‘the pretty pagoda where they held the weddings started to rot and has fallen down.’

  ‘I’ll rebuild it!’ They turned to find Don beaming from the doorway. ‘It can be my contribution to your wedding.’

  A slightly strained silence ensued.

  ‘You don’t think I’m up to it!’ accused Don. ‘Ah, but that’s because you haven’t heard of Men in Sheds!’

  ‘I certainly have,’ Olivia corrected. ‘Leonard used to spend his whole life in one.’

  ‘No,’ Don explained patiently, ‘Men in Sheds is the organization I belong to, so I won’t be doing it single-handed, though it’s great to know I’m getting such a vote of confidence in my new skills,’ he added in a wounded voice.

  ‘Don, that sounds absolutely wonderful,’ Sal announced, repressing the question on the tip of her tongue about whether it might make more sense to get married in the lounge rather than a flimsy pagoda since it had been raining for days.

  ‘Sally, I have been thinking,’ announced Mrs Lal ominously. ‘It is very kind of you to invite me to be a bridesmaid and believe me, I am very moved, but do you not think it should just be your closest friends?’ She indicated Ella, Claudia and Laura. ‘After all, they are old but we are even older!’

  Rose and Olivia both nodded in agreement.

  ‘And you have your daughter to consider and maybe your little granddaughter as well,’ Rose insisted. ‘It’s a wedding, after all, not a freak show with ninety-year-old bridesmaids!’

  ‘I don’t give a flying fuck about whether it’s a freak show!’ protested Sal robustly.

  ‘Spoken like a true English lady,’ congratulated her fiancé.

  ‘Look at it this way,’ Don put his oar in. ‘I’m a mere bloke but just having the Coven as your bridesmaids does have a certain emotional rightness. You’ve been there for each other through thick and thin.’

  ‘Sometimes very thin,’ Laura endorsed, thinking about Simon and now the whole of the Gavin fiasco.

  ‘I agree with Don,’ Olivia said, slipping her arm round her daughter Claudia. ‘You girls have something really special. I wish I had a friendship like yours.’

  Claudia hugged her back, realizing it must have been very lonely for her mother, especially with the episode of bipolar she’d suffered, and all with no women friends to share in the worries.

  ‘Is it going to be a white wedding?’ Mrs Lal enquired.

  Sal looked at Lou. ‘Well? What do you think?’

  ‘I think it should be whatever kind of wedding you want,’ Lou smiled at her lovingly.

  ‘Classic male,’ Sal replied, returning his smile. ‘Too scared to get off the fence. I would like a fabulous, colourful, outrageous wedding with lots of fun and as many clichés as possible.’

  ‘In that case,’ beamed Mrs Lal, ‘I could be in charge of sourcing your dresses.’

  ‘From Good Age?’ Claudia couldn’t resist asking.

  ‘No. I’m not sure that would be appropriate. I was wondering, since you want to go for colour, what you would feel about an Indian wedding?’

  ‘Well, that makes perfect sense, seeing as neither of us has any connection whatsoever with India.’ Sal laughed, looking enquiringly at her husband-to-be.

  ‘Oh, what the hell,’ Lou replied, holding Sal next to his side and winking at her. ‘It’d certainly make a change from my previous outings.’

  Sal pretended to scratch his eyes out, while Don managed to squeeze the last drop out of the Ruinart.

  Later when they finally dispersed for bed, Ella persuaded Laura to come ba
ck to her cottage before she headed off to her daughter Bella’s to sleep.

  ‘Laura, I just wanted to say, I’m really, really sorry if I’ve been an interfering bitch. It’s just that I was so worried about you.’

  ‘Come on,’ Laura suggested, ‘call me an old soak, but let’s have one glass of white wine before bedtime. With what I’ve been through, I need it.’

  Ella produced two glasses and sat down next to her on the sofa.

  ‘I don’t know why I can’t just admit it.’ Laura’s voice shook with suppressed emotion. ‘I was conned. Gavin didn’t exist. And there’s worse.’

  She put down her wine, suddenly convulsed with sobbing. ‘I gave him five thousand dollars! What kind of stupid gullible pathetic idiot hands over five thousand dollars to some man she’s never even met?’

  Ella held open her arms. ‘Lots of people,’ she said softly, holding Laura tight. ‘I read the cuttings about all the people who’d been scammed. There was even an Oxford professor who’d lost hundreds of thousands. It’s not about being naive, it’s about how you’re feeling when they hit on you. You were raw and hurting after Simon and then Calum . . .’

  ‘And now Gavin. I seem to be an excellent picker.’

  ‘Laura don’t. You’re so lovely.’

  ‘I don’t want to tell Bella and Sam. I can’t bear for them to know I’m that stupid and naive. Is that just as crazy?’

  ‘I quite understand, but Laura, it isn’t really such a big sum.’

  ‘Or, my God, Simon. He’d go mental. One good thing has come out of it, though.’

  She smiled wanly through her tears. ‘God, I look like a panda with hay fever. If there’s a cottage free, I’ve decided to come and join the Coven.’

  ‘Laura!’ Ella’s voice rang with delight and relief that Laura wasn’t going to cut her out of her life. ‘Everyone will be absolutely delighted!’

  ‘Even if Bella moves on and develops her own business, at least I’ll get a little while with my grandson. After all, you never know how long you’ve got, do you? Look at Sal.’

  They grabbed each other’s hands.

  ‘Let’s hope her consultant’s right,’ Ella said in a low voice. Neither of them could imagine a world without Sal.

  ‘And you lot do seem to be rubbing along together somehow or other down here,’ Laura smiled.

  ‘With occasional eruptions from the volcano that is Mrs Lal.’

  ‘Speaking of my grandson, if I don’t go back soon, I’ll miss seeing him tonight.’

  At the door of the cottage Ella gave her one last hug. ‘I really am thrilled you’re thinking of joining us. And so will the others be.’

  ‘Well, living in London, just me and the dating app, it wasn’t that much fun without the rest of you.’

  ‘If you take to dating again, you’d better try Mrs Lal. I thought she was going to fix you up with someone who deserved you.’

  ‘I think I’ll leave well alone, thank you very much.’

  ‘A wise decision, I suspect. Especially if Mrs Lal is involved.’

  Laura waved goodbye, relief flooding over her. They were all going to be together again. The future, living with her family and friends all around her, suddenly seemed brighter.

  The deputation from Men in Sheds arrived the very next day, with Don obviously loving being in charge. Wonderful Bella had discovered a photo which featured the wedding pagoda and the four-strong team happily bickered about how to reconstruct it until one of them who had sat quietly down at a table produced a workable sketch.

  ‘Mike, that’s amazing,’ congratulated Don.

  ‘Actually,’ the one called Mike confessed modestly, ‘I pinched it off Pinterest.’

  ‘I don’t care if you personally requested it from Xi Jinping,’ Don persisted. ‘It looks doable to me and that’s enough.’

  ‘Who the hell’s this Xi Jinping?’ demanded one of the others. ‘Is he from the Guildford branch?’

  ‘President of China, mate,’ replied Mike with an engaging grin.

  ‘Oh, I see. He knows a lot, Don, doesn’t he?’

  Before the admiration went to his head, Don and Mike sat down to make a list of the materials they were going to need to reconstruct the pagoda.

  Don studied the photo again. ‘The back and sides can be normal wood but how do we get that fretwork effect for the front?’ He looked at the sketch. ‘And that curvy roof looks a bugger to me.’

  Mike calmly reached for his laptop again. ‘I saw some trellis with fretwork a bit like that in the posh new garden centre. The roof’s a bit trickier. I’ve got a pal who’s a boat builder, I think we might need to get him involved.’

  ‘On our budget?’

  ‘He’ll do it for mate’s rates. Keep him out of the pub.’ He laughed as though this might be doing his pal a favour.

  ‘But could he do it for next week?’

  ‘I’ll have to ask him.’ He picked up the photograph together with his laptop. ‘Why don’t you lot all go down the builders’ merchants and start with the rest of the stuff, then we could at least get cracking on the base and sides tomorrow.’

  The other two leaped to their feet while Don looked mutinous. They all knew that Mike had quietly taken charge, but none of them would admit it. Least of all Don.

  Claudia, Ella and Laura, sitting in the lounge having a coffee, witnessed this masculine interchange and tried not to laugh.

  ‘I love men, don’t you?’ Ella grinned. ‘Adam and Eve would never have survived on their own in the Garden of Eden. Men need other blokes to play power games with.’

  ‘I just hope Don doesn’t sulk,’ Claudia grinned. ‘Or I shall have to go out there and remind him it’s for a higher cause.’

  ‘I thought this organization of his was all about building self-esteem.’ Ella shook her head. ‘They looked as if they were point-scoring to me.’

  ‘Maybe that’s how men build self-esteem. They take it in turns to point-score. Next time it’ll be Don’s turn.’

  ‘Mike seemed nice,’ Laura shrugged as the others started giggling. ‘Oh, stop it, all of you! Women are supposed to support each other instead of scoring points, remember?’

  In a rare outbreak of sensitivity, egged on by her new friend Olivia, Mrs Lal decided that Sal should be allowed to choose her own wedding dress.

  She arrived with a carful of rainbow-coloured saris in which bright red and shocking pink seemed to have the starring role.

  ‘So,’ Ella enquired. ‘What colour would the bride like to wear?’

  Mrs Lal held out a beautiful and surprisingly tasteful coral-coloured length of fabric, heavily encrusted with pale gold, plus large golden earrings and a ruby drop to be worn in the middle of the forehead. ‘I thought perhaps this was the one.’

  ‘It’s beautiful, Lalita.’ Sal held it up against her in the mirror. ‘Can I try it on?’

  ‘Only the sari. Bad luck to try all together before the morning of the wedding,’ Mrs Lal pronounced grandly.

  ‘And what about the bridegroom?’ Sal enquired. ‘What exactly will he be wearing?’

  ‘He will be even more resplendent than the bride,’ Mrs Lal announced reverently. ‘In the costume of a rajah.’

  ‘The perfect ensemble for a property developer from Brooklyn,’ Sal laughed.

  Spike’s Uncle Billy had generously agreed to provide the food, as long as it wasn’t Indian as well. After great consideration, and much to the amusement of all, Mrs Lal had generously consented.

  Excitement mounted when Lara and her family arrived from Oslo and joined in the sense of general anticipation.

  ‘Just whose wedding is this?’ Ella was moved to demand when her plans for tasteful flower arrangements were abandoned in favour of Mrs Lal’s more ambitious ones.

  ‘Christ knows,’ Sal hid her head in her hands, laughing uproariously, ‘but I love it all!’

  Reassuring sounds of hammering could be heard from outside. Don had taken control once more as the pagoda began to be reconstructed. />
  At least the concrete base had survived and wouldn’t have to be replaced.

  Despite the rain the back wall went up with impressive speed, then the fretwork sides, sourced as Mike had suggested in the upmarket garden centre. The trellis looked surprisingly effective.

  Ella stood at the lounge window watching the construction. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong’ – she began to get a serious case of the giggles – ‘but isn’t a pagoda supposed to be Chinese?’

  Giggling being as infectious as yawning, by now they all joined in when Mrs Lal, followed by Olivia, reappeared in the lounge. ‘Are you ladies all right?’ she demanded testily.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Sal reassured before another wave overtook her. ‘Everything’s hunky dory, thanks.’

  The pagoda construction continued apace. Mike’s boat-building friend was happy to create the roof from some old bits of hull he had lying about.

  Things were moving so fast that Sal had hardly a moment to worry about anything else. At least she still had her hair. A bald bride would test anyone’s sense of optimism, especially the bride’s. ‘Have you noticed how many cups of tea Laura’s been making for that friend of Don’s?’ she whispered to Ella. ‘If he drinks any more, he’ll explode!’

  ‘Not to mention all the nice warm towels she keeps giving him in case he catches cold in the rain,’ Ella grinned.

  ‘Now, now, ladies,’ Don intervened, overhearing them. ‘As a matter of fact, Mike’s been asking me what Laura’s current situation is.’

  Once the pagoda was finished, Don proceeded to paint it in shades so bright they might outshine the saris.

  ‘Well, you did say you wanted a colourful wedding,’ he reminded Sal.

  The pièce de résistance was when Mike went out to buy nails and came back with a Nepalese wedding arch he’d discovered in the antique market in Godalming.

  ‘Now all we need is one of those lucky cats that wave their paws in Chinese herbalists,’ Claudia pointed out, trying to keep a straight face at the increasingly over-the-top nature of the celebration.

  ‘Don’t be such a cynic,’ Ella chided. ‘I think it’s all wonderfully global, especially as the celebrant’s a humanist from Wallingford.’