The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights

by Sarah Lefebve

  Terrified of being spotted, identified and grilled, Tom drove round to one of the houses that bordered onto the pub’s beer garden, gave the landlord a quick call and soon took charge of two glasses of Pimm’s over the fence, which he delivered triumphantly to Amanda, who was sitting in the car.

  ‘Don’t worry. I know the people who live here, and I do know they’re away at present. Cheers!’

  ‘Cheers to you too. The car looks nice.’

  ‘It does, doesn’t it? Much better, and the bonus is that everyone is still looking out for a yellow car, so they don’t spot me. Elizabeth had it done as a gift.’

  ‘That’s nice.’

  Tom did sometimes wish Amanda wasn’t quite as polite. Any normal woman would have been asking why, not just sipping their drink. And just as politeness was part of Amanda, deception was not an integral part of Tom. He needed to tell her what he’d agreed to do.

  ‘Stop worrying about the wedding and ask me why she did it. Besides, if Sam thinks we’re an item she might back off.’

  ‘But she knows we’re not.’

  ‘I could persuade her otherwise.’

  ‘Don’t you dare.’

  ‘This is more fruit cocktail than alcohol. Amanda, I—’

  ‘Oh damn, it’s Pip texting, they’re wondering where we are. Oops and another one. She’s worried we’ll get locked out because they’ve got all this security on the gate, to check the press don’t get in.’

  ‘I thought that was the whole point, the press.’

  ‘Only the right press.’ She typed a quick answer out. ‘We really should go. Sorry.’

  Tom was sorry too. There were things he wanted to say to her, things he wanted to explain. Things that he couldn’t cover in a two-minute drive with paparazzi lining the route.

  ‘Amanda?’ He turned off the lane that led from the pub and onto the narrow winding road that took them over to Tipping House.

  ‘Mm.’ She was distracted, gazing out of the window, which didn’t help. Though he did know that the whole wedding thing bothered her, in fact it seemed to be some kind of massive ordeal that he couldn’t quite fathom. Sure, he appreciated that it might bring back memories. But she’d seemed fine in their recent chats. This was more of a twitchiness than sadness.

  ‘Amanda, there’s a reason I’m comfortable at Folly Lake Manor, a reason I keep coming back.’ He swerved to avoid a photographer, who appeared to have fallen off the high wall that bordered the estate.

  ‘Not just to see little old me, then?’

  ‘Sorry, that sounded awful. I didn’t mean it like that. Of course I come to see you, but there was a reason I was drawn to the place from the beginning. I,’ he slowed to turn into the driveway, wound down the window to show the invitations, ‘I was born there.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘I was born at Folly Lake Manor. Then my parents had to sell up and leave when I was still a baby. I didn’t remember the place really, but in some strange way I felt like I’d come home.’

  ‘Oh.’ She stared ahead, a small frown creasing her brow, sharp lines between her eyebrows. ‘Are you trying to say you want to buy it?’

  ‘No, no, good heaven’s I could never afford it. But I think that’s why I’d love to see it restored to its former glory, it means a lot to me, I—’

  ‘Oh, Tom, you’re so sweet.’ She kissed him lightly on the lips. ‘Come on, we better go in, Pip is texting me again. We can talk more inside.’ And as she got out of the car, then took his hand, he wondered when the hell he was going to have the opportunity to tell her the part he really wanted to. To ask her if what Elizabeth had told him was true.

  ***

  The wedding service was as uneventful as one can be when the guests are a mix of B-list celebrities who want to hit the A-list, A-listers who can’t remember anyone’s name and aren’t quite sure why they’re there, magazine journalists and photographers who just have to have the perfect shot because they’ve paid a bloody lot of money to be there, footballers and their very glamorous wives and girlfriends who are comparing heel heights, frock labels, tan lines and wondering when the bubbly corks are going to start popping, and a number of Tippermere and Kitterly Heath residents in various states of bemusement, shock, awe and last-minute panics that they hadn’t turned the horses out.

  It was the bit that followed, the posed shots for the glossies (well, one particular glossy) that caused the problems.

  The whole thing was closely orchestrated by a very bossy girl called Jasmine, who had been sent by the glossy magazine that was sponsoring the event, and the photographer’s assistant, Xander, whose sole purpose in life seemed to be to spot celebrities (which he was excellent at) and make sure they took centre stage.

  ‘This is like herding cats,’ he raised his voice from a mutter to a shriek, ‘look, darling, will you just take the heels off so we can see the guy behind.’

  ‘I certainly won’t.’ The ‘darling’ in question, who had credits in Doctor Who and had been considered for a role alongside Sean Bean no less (or so she told everyone), glared at Xander. ‘It isn’t my fault he’s small.’ She turned to see the manager of the groom’s football team (known by Pip, and many others, as Yummy Jose), who was not used to having his lack of stature pointed out.

  Jasmine, sensing a riot was about to break out, rushed in to usher Jose into a more prestigious spot, and gave the ‘darling’ an assessing look in an attempt to work out just how important she really was as far as readership figures went.

  ‘She shagged Sean, Jazz.’ Was Xander’s whispered message.

  ‘Bean or Penn?’

  ‘Bean.’

  In a quandary, Jasmine weighed the importance of a tenuous link to Game of Thrones against an established link to the World Cup team, which normally would be a no-brainer, except this one was a worthy pin-up with a massive female following and speculation was rife (particularly in their magazine) about an imminent divorce.

  Snub Jose and she might be saying goodbye to the promotion she had been working on for the last five weeks. And she had made more sacrifices than normal this time, given that the man she’d had to woo was overweight, had halitosis and a nasty line in the need to spank. Hard. With a brush, which she was sure had left bruises that would never go. ‘We’ll go with Jose, Xander, unless she takes her shoes off.’ Which, she had to admit, was also partly because she had her own ideas on what Jose could be doing after the wedding, and partly because aspiring actresses with big boobs and even bigger egos got on her tits. They needed bringing down a peg or two sometimes, and she had the power.

  Pip, who had immediately assessed the situation and taken a seat in the wings with a bottle of bubbly, was working out an angle for an exclusive of her own and wondering just how much she could piss off the overbearing Jasmine by getting to Jose first.

  ‘What are you plotting?’ Mick, who had recognised that a mere farrier and part-time eventer wasn’t going to cut the mustard with the glossy mag brigade, had spotted Pip and decided to corner her. Since their little encounter on the trip back from the airport, she’d been surprisingly elusive, which just made him more determined.

  ‘Apart from taking over the world?’ Pip, looking surprisingly relaxed, winked and passed over the bubbly so he could have a swig. ‘I so need to corner yummy Jose.’

  Mick laughed. ‘Before Jasmine eats him up, you mean?’

  ‘An exclusive would be such a scoop.’ They watched Jasmine stick out her chest as she coaxed the manager into a more prominent position. ‘I hope he doesn’t trip up, he’ll suffocate in those.’

  ‘Oh, the claws are out today, aren’t they? I’m sure he’d be more than happy to handle both of you.’

  ‘Yeah, sure he would. Want to know a secret?’

  ‘Not if it’s football-related.’

  ‘They’re married.’

  ‘Well I know that darling, we’re at the wedding.’

  ‘No, I mean they already were. This is just a publicity thing; they got hitched on holiday
. Sam told me, but don’t mention it or David will kill her.’

  ‘Can’t say it surprises me, with them lot. Anything goes.’

  ‘What do you think Elizabeth’s up to with that pair?’ Pip nodded in the direction of Tom and Amanda, who she had just spotted walking shoulder to shoulder, the picture of elegance, towards the marquee that was housing the reception. They were in deep conversation, Tom’s floppy fringe mingling with Amanda’s blonde waves as he concentrated on her every word.

  ‘I’m not sure, darling. But we’re not the only ones that are wondering.’

  Off to the right, champagne glass in hand, Dominic Stanthorpe’s gaze was fixed on their every step, his mouth a tight, thin line.

  ***

  It was hard to know who was more excited about the plans for the house, thought Amanda. Her, or the enthusiastic Tom who had inspired her to actually invite Anthony Simcock into Folly Lake Manor and suggest what could be done.

  Tom, however, was finding it a struggle to keep up his level of interest. He loved Folly Lake, was drawn to it as though by some magnetic force of nature that was impossible to resist, but talking about blueprints wasn’t really his bag. But he had promised Elizabeth to stay by Amanda’s side, to hang on her every word. And he had wanted to explain, if her damned phone hadn’t gone off mid-Pimm’s.

  ‘I was thinking of contacting Mother, I’m sure she’d love to hear about the house and your plans.’

  ‘You could ask her over.’

  ‘That’s probably a step too far, but who knows. Amanda, it was Elizabeth who told me about my parents.’

  ‘I think she’s probably quite nice underneath that forbidding exterior.’

  ‘And she asked me to look after you today.’

  ‘That’s so lovely of her, and I wasn’t sure she really liked me, I mean I’ve not lived here forever, and I’m not horsey—’

  ‘I think she likes you a lot.’ He took a breath. ‘Amanda, she knows what’s been going on.’

  ‘No.’ Amanda stopped dead, her hand over her mouth, and instinctively knew he was telling the truth. ‘She can’t, we’ve been so careful.’

  ‘You need to be more than careful with her around.’ He gave a short but good-humoured laugh. ‘Is that why you had the riding lessons, for him?’

  ‘Yes, I, well I was trying to… It’s complicated, but Tom, I never thought I fitted in here, but now….’

  ‘You’re fitting in fine.’ He grinned. ‘I’m not sure you’ll be competing at The Horse of the Year show any day soon, but…’ He took her hand, raised it to his lips. ‘He’s a lucky man, but he really needs to stop pussyfooting about.’

  ‘I need to talk to him.’

  ‘You do, it would make life a hell of a lot more peaceful for the rest of us if Elizabeth could step down from her battle station.’

  ***

  Dom was startled when Amanda stood on tiptoes to kiss Tom, and even more startled when she spun around and started to head in his direction.

  Brought up by a mother who believed in standing one’s ground, he did so.

  ‘Dominic, we have got to talk.’

  ‘Should this wait a few minutes? The photo shoot seems to have finished and everyone’s going past into the marquee.’

  ‘I don’t care any longer. I really don’t. I’ve tried to be restrained and sensible about this, but if I don’t actually tell you how I feel I’m going to explode. And I’ve waited for you to do something, because you did promise. And I am patient, and I wish I’d rehearsed this, because I haven’t a clue where it’s going now.’ Amanda ran out of steam and stood rocking slightly. Then added the punchline. ‘And I think she knows.’ And held her breath.

  Dom pursed his lips and took what seemed to be an age before he finally spoke. ‘I did wonder. When mother gets an idea she’s worse than those dogs of hers once they’ve got wind of the Sunday roast. No stopping them.’

  ‘I think she encouraged Tom to be nice to me just to see if she could get a reaction from you. Does that sound horrid? I mean, I’m probably completely wrong, and she wouldn’t dream of doing anything like that, but…’

  ‘Oh yes she would. Mother knows a hundred ways to smoke a fox out of a hole. It’s been a bit chaotic around here since old Marcus died. She must have been in her element kicking Tippermere out of its normal slumber. And she probably thought poor Pip would get all the flak for getting us in the press. Wicked woman.’

  Amanda stared open-mouthed. Not only because Dominic was taking it all so calmly, but because it had never occurred to her that Elizabeth may have been instrumental in all the headlines and gossip.

  ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘Well, for one, I need a proper drink, and then I think it’s time to turn the tables.’ Amanda decided it was probably best not to say that she had a good idea that was exactly what Elizabeth had expected, and wanted, her son to do. ‘Can I ask you one question, though, Amanda?’

  ‘Of course, ask me anything, you know you can.’

  ‘What exactly made your mind up about staying on at Folly Lake?’

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’

  Dom shook his head. He’d worked out possible reasons, but he wasn’t that keen on voicing them. ‘It was a bit unexpected.’

  ‘Let’s get that drink, then I’ll explain.’

  ***

  ‘Oh I do love it when a plan comes together. Isn’t that what they say, dear?’

  Lottie looked at her gran and raised an eyebrow. ‘Well it depends who you’re talking about. What have you been planning now?’ After an extensive buffet, which seemed to consist of excessively fancy but exceedingly small morsels of food, and more wine than she’d had in a week, interspersed with some hilarious and very impromptu speeches, Lottie had let her guard down and allowed herself to be cornered by Elizabeth. And Rory, who supposedly had just popped to the gents (for the third time, once he started he couldn’t stop), had conveniently, for him, not reappeared to save her.

  ‘You’ll find out, all in good time. Did you and young Richard have a nice weekend in that Spanish place?’

  ‘You know he’s not called Richard.’ Elizabeth shrugged. ‘We didn’t go, we just booked into a luxury hotel and spent two days in the bath tub. It had bubbles, and champagne.’

  ‘In my day, a lady didn’t discuss those things, too much information, dear.’

  ‘I bet you did what you liked, and discussed what you liked.’

  ‘And did you decide whether you want to stay, or go off gallivanting again?’ The question was a touch sharp, and Elizabeth’s eyes were boring into her as though she was an eagle about to pounce on a mouse. Lottie didn’t like being easy prey.

  ‘I don’t think I ever said I was going again.’

  ‘I don’t recall you saying you were staying either, child.’

  ‘I’ve got to stay for Dad.’

  ‘This is not about your father, dear. He’ll survive whatever happens, and he’s got that Tiggy person as well.’

  ‘He hasn’t “got her”, she works for him.’

  ‘Oh, I think you’ll find it’s more than that.’

  Lottie decided she didn’t really want to linger on that possibility. ‘Well I don’t know yet what’s going to happen, do I?’

  ‘The fate of Folly Lake Manor doesn’t matter. Stop digressing and say what you really feel.’

  Lottie didn’t think she’d ever heard her gran refer to how someone felt before. Things were done out of a sense of duty, a need, and things like that. She sighed. It was hard really to work out why she’d left, on days like this. Even if Rory did seem to have buggered off again. When she’d been away all she really thought about, if she was honest, was coming back. Of what she was missing. Of Rory.

  ‘I don’t think I ever had a choice really, did I?’ She’d been scared of staying, of him finding out just how crazy about him she was. Scared of being rebuffed and living forever in her father’s shadow. Just doing the same old stuff and not knowing if she wanted to or not.


  But it had been daft. Tippermere was in her blood; Rory was the boy she loved. Her dad, annoying as he could be, was her dad. Why couldn’t she just have faced up to it?

  ‘Mick said,’ she wrinkled her brow, trying to remember exactly what he’d said, repeat it word for word, which wasn’t easy after a few glasses of wine on a relatively empty stomach, ‘it’s the people, not the place, treasure. You can be anywhere, or nowhere.’

  ‘He seems quite fond of you, and what do you think, dear?’

  ‘He also said that they had a saying when he was at home, about your feet taking you to where your heart is, I think I get it now.’

  ‘Charlotte, you do digress almost as much as poor Dominic does. Beating around the bush and being whimsical never got anything done.’

  ‘You’re funny.’ Lottie grinned, and knew that she was one of the few people who dared talk to Elizabeth that way. ‘Uncle Dom doesn’t digress or dither, he’s just careful. And he doesn’t want you to run his life.’

  ‘As if I would.’ She sounded faintly huffy, but pleased.

  ‘Mick was right, I came back for Rory. I love him, Gran, and I think he loves me, and I think maybe he does notice but he didn’t think I was that bothered.’

  ‘Well I’m glad we’ve got that settled. They’re a clever lot the Irish, and such a way with words. And with looks like that you can see why it works for him, silver-tongued is much sexier than silver-haired, now if I was younger…’

  ‘Gran!’

  ‘And he’s clever enough to sort out little Philippa. She needs a man who isn’t afraid to handle her properly.’

  ‘She’s not a dog or a horse. And what do you mean, sort out Pip? She doesn’t even like him.’

  ‘Really? I think I need a proper drink, these bubbles give me indigestion. Catch that man’s attention will you dear? The staff seem to have fallen asleep on the job, it’s so difficult to catch their eye. In my day you only had to think about it and someone would be there at your elbow with a fresh glass. Ah, and look who’s finally heading our way.’

  Lottie looked and was surprised to see Dom and Amanda, which was a bit weird. Especially as Amanda had sworn that she wasn’t plotting with Dom and, as her and Amanda were supposed to be good friends now, she had assumed that they’d be totally upfront with each other.