The Vintage Cinema Club

by Jane Linfoot

  But her mum had made it okay. In the end. Her beautiful, amazing, lovely, talented mum, had picked up all the pieces, and, with the strength and determination of a superhuman, she had glued them back together again. Their new life was very different from the life they’d left, but, all credit to their mum, it was definitely not worse, and in some ways it was a whole lot truer, and maybe better than what had gone before. Izzy had learned so much, hanging on in there with her mum, as they started again from zero.

  And a lot of what she’d learned was that you didn’t have to have a house like this pink one, or that other one she’d once lived in, to be happy. Being happy was about many things, and what her mum had taught her was that the last thing on earth being happy was about, was splashing money around. Her mum had made everything alright, and her mum had made everything good again, and now they were all okay. Different yes, but definitely okay.

  Once she’d moved on from that thought, she took in the understated grandeur of the house in front of her. Something about the pink stucco made her smile. Without giving herself any time to think about what she was going to find inside, she thumped her shoulder into the van door, which was the only way to guarantee that it opened, and jumped to the ground. Damn. A stab of pain, shooting through the sole of her foot, reminded her she should have been more careful getting down.

  The house door was already open a crack, so it looked as if someone was expecting her. She took a deep breath, and imagined the huge potential sales that Luce had been banging on about. Right. Definitely no swearing, regardless of the four by four she’d spotted parked outside. A big house like this would take a lot of filling, which could mean a shed load of sales. Izzy tweaked the corners of her mouth into what she hoped was an acceptably agreeable smile. She tucked in the bit of vest that had accidentally hitched up to reveal her midriff, smoothed down her oversized dungarees, and adjusted the belt that clinched them in at her waist. If she’d realised she was coming anywhere this upmarket, she might have changed into something less paint spattered. As it was, she hadn’t wanted to be seen to be making too much of an effort. Much as she appreciated Luce’s efforts on her behalf here, going phwoar over hot guys when she and Luce were bored at work was a whole different ball game from being set up. Izzy really wasn’t interested in joining in that game, no matter how much Luce had her best interests at heart. If her friend was trying to set her up against her will, she sure as hell wasn’t going to cooperate by trying to look pretty, hence the ‘take me as I am’ dungarees. As she walked, a little unevenly, towards the beautiful six panelled front door, with the worn stone surround, her heart did a teensy flutter, not for who she might meet inside, but simply because the doorway was so perfect. She took a moment to admire the deep midnight blue of the paint, the original detailing, and the white china door knob. But the door was already swinging open.

  ‘I’ve brought a delivery…’ Eyes lowered meekly, she heard her own voice, sounding sweet enough to be someone else entirely, and gave the imaginary Luce, who was lurking, barely three feet behind her, a mental thumbs up.

  Beyond the doorstep Izzy caught a glimpse of luxurious polished boards. Then bare feet, tanned and male appeared, sticking out below frayed jeans. She assumed this must be HIM. Had she been at all interested in Luce’s hunk, she would have called that initial view promising.

  ‘A delivery from Vintage at the Cinema…’

  She pressed on with her announcement, as she slowly lifted her gaze, and prepared herself to take in the full glory of what Luce had enthused about, confident that it would leave her completely unmoved.

  Her eyes skimmed up impeccably-muscled denim clad thighs. So far so good, Luce, but still not interested. Past a perfect six pack beneath a tattered Superdry t-shirt, beyond a jaw with just a brush of stubble, to a chiselled cheekbone with a tiny scar. Then the words died in her throat, and her smile crashed to the floor, as she met a horribly familiar, dark brown gaze, coming through a flop of straggly brown hair.

  ‘Bloody he…’

  Izzy zipped her lips, in a dual effort, to keep her mouth under control, and stop her wildly jolting heart from escaping, and landing somewhere, far along the hallway.

  The guy from the skip. The guy who had been hammering round her head all afternoon. And now he had teleported, changed his city suit for something way more casual, and re-appeared, behind the front door of the pink house. And he was looking disgusting. Better than anything Luce could have expressed. Completely disgusting. Completely disgustingly, amazingly awesome. Drop. Dead. Gorgeous.

  ‘Did you know you’ve got paint on your face?’

  He was laid back, cool, laconic even, and giving nothing away through that steady, narrow eyed gaze of his. And shit, shit, shit to the way his impossibly low dusky voice sent shivers scattering down her neck. Her hand had risen in slow motion, and now she was rubbing her cheek, trying desperately to locate the offending paint, but without a mirror there was no chance. And somehow this caveman didn’t look at all surprised that the girl who’d been rooting through his skip had rocked up at his very own front door.

  ‘And you’ve got paint on your vest…’

  Another useless observation from him, and definitely no need to look that pleased with himself about it. Great. Whatever… She resisted the urge to say the words out loud. Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she shuffled her shoulders, fiddled with her vest strap, and shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her dungarees.

  If he was trying to pull off a snarky smile, he’d just failed. Epically.

  ‘So…Vintage at the Cinema?’ He sounded vaguely bad tempered. ‘Does this mean I’ve just bought back what you took from me yesterday?’

  From somewhere she found the fire to reply to his taunt.

  ‘Well you’d only have yourself to blame if you had bought everything back – given that you threw it out in the first place.’ Shit, she was jutting her chin out, and that meant she was careering towards out-of-line, at a hundred miles an hour. Future business. Right. Keeping that thought firmly in her head, she sweetened her tone. ‘But, I’m equally happy to assure you, nothing here was pre-owned by you.’ She was cringing at the saccharine here, but the fact it was starting to sound like she was taking the piss, made it easier to carry on. ‘And incidentally, I also apologise profusely for any paint in the wrong places, but this is an out of hours delivery, and some of us have actually been working elsewhere before coming here.’

  Izzy was wincing at the grammar of the thing, but she hoped this speech would lick the requisite number of boots. Given the teensy size of the items, and the fact that this glowering man had his Range Rover languishing in the drive, she was questioning why she’d had to make this delivery at all. She suppressed her exasperation, and reverted to detached, ultra-professional mode.

  ‘Okay.’ Time to bring on the no nonsense approach. ‘I’ll bring the items from the van, and you can tell me where you’d like me to put them.’ If he couldn’t have been bothered to stick these few things in the back of his car when he was at the cinema earlier, he was hardly likely to want to carry them in for himself, was he?

  She marched across to the van, flung the back doors open, grasped a cupboard, and arrived back at the house. The door was open, but the guy had disappeared, so she dumped the cupboard on the doorstep, and returned to the van for the second one. She was on her way to the house with the rocking horse by the time he re-appeared.

  ‘Just went to get some shoes…’

  ‘Sure.’ Damn she shouldn’t have said that, even though that might have been the hint of a shamefaced grimace on his face. ‘Too late now, this is everything.’

  Shit, his feet looked sexy in those flip flops he’d put on. She gave a shudder. Feet, sexy? He grabbed a cupboard, and headed off inside. ‘Come in, follow me.’ He’d already set off down the hall.

  She stepped, tentatively, into a light echoing space, kicking off her converse as she hit the floorboards. Lugging the rocking horse past an elegant staircase, she
wrinkled her nose at the sharp smell of paint and newness. If the house had looked impressive from the outside, now she was inside, she could see it was to die for. Not that she would have personally. But she knew high quality when it smacked her in the face. Even though she’d only seen the hall, she could already tell from the impeccable finish, from the plasterwork to the perfect wide oak floorboards to the brushed stainless electrical switches, that this was a stylish, luxurious, money no object renovation.

  Izzy knew from working with her mum, that for a finish like this, you were talking serious dosh. As for the man of the house, if his jeans were slipping down over his bum as he made his way into the next hallway, she, for one, was not going to notice.

  ‘It’s all newly done.’ He offered an unexpected burst of conversation over his shoulder as he went. ‘All that’s left to do now is the furnishing.’

  Stating the obvious here, obviously.

  Izzy always found it strange plunging into the heart of people’s homes as she carried furniture in. One lucky family, moving into this place, although she suspected that houses like this had a lot less to do with luck, and more to do with hard work on someone’s part.

  The guy thumped down his cupboard on the hallway floor, opposite a doorway.

  ‘Dobbin’s going to live here.’ He pushed open a wide panelled door, and stepped back, and gestured for Izzy to walk through first with the rocking horse.

  She hesitated slightly, trying to take a line through the doorway, to ensure she made it into the room, without knocking into either the paintwork or the customer. Her heart lurched as she arrived in the huge space, and saw toys scattered across the floor.

  ‘A playroom…’ Of course, why wouldn’t it be a playroom? Her mouth went dry, and her gut dropped. Why the hell did she feel as if she’d been thumped hard in the stomach?

  ‘Are there children?’ It came out as a croak, but she had to say something to fill the space until she started breathing again.

  She kicked herself for being ridiculous. Of course he’d have children. Why wouldn’t he? Hunky, virile, thirty-something men like him did. He was hardly going to live in this big family house on his own was he? She’d had no expectations at all in his direction, so why the hell should it matter to her if he had children or not.

  ‘Two, actually.’

  His gravelly confirmation echoed around the room, stamping on the hopes she hadn’t even know she’d had. Not just one child then, but two. That was doubly resounding. She took a deep breath, and asked herself why she even cared that he was spoken for. Of course he’d have lovely children, and a beautiful wife. A life and a family to go with the perfect surroundings.

  She needed to remind herself. She was making a delivery to a resoundingly unfriendly, arrogant customer, who was too idle to take his own purchases home, who she happened to have encountered the day before. Who was completely and utterly unavailable. It was nothing more, or less, than that.

  ‘I hope Dobbin will be very happy here with them.’ She lowered the rocking horse to the floor, gave the horse a pat on his dappled grey velvet rump, tugged his woolly mane for the last time, and turned to leave.

  Izzy had to get the hell out of here and fast, before she made any more of a fool of herself. She arrived at the door, expecting the guy to have already melted away down the hall, but instead she came to an abrupt halt, faced with the faded grey of his t-shirt.

  ‘Excuse me.’ She looked up at him, close enough to see the stubble on his jaw, the creases on his lips. He smelled just the same as the other day. She shuddered, then reminded herself to get a grip.

  He hesitated, staring straight at her, with those eyes full of darkness, his head inclined, for what seemed like an age, as the blood rushed through her ears, and her heart clattered against her chest wall.

  Then he cleared his throat loudly.

  ‘S-sorry. I was miles away’ He shook his head, stepped back, and turned to walk down the hall.

  Izzy followed him, her hands scrunched into tight fists, her nails digging into her palms, her breath coming in shallow bursts. She had the strangest feeling that he had been about to kiss her back there. It was only half a feeling, the kind that makes you feel totally wrong, and stupid all at the same time. Perhaps she’d completely misread the moment, which she had every reason to have done, given how out of practice she was. The immediate thrill that had pulsed through her was replaced by a seeping revulsion. What a sleaze. A great looking guy who thought he could, literally, have it all. Well that went some way to compensating for the fact that he was taken. Not that she was in the slightest bit interested, because she wasn’t. Who would want a guy who behaved like that?

  ‘Thanks anyway.’ She hurtled towards the open front door, overtaking him half way down the hall. Remembering Luce’s firm instructions, she yanked herself to a halt at the door, and as she shoved her feet into her shoes, she forced out a sickly smile. ‘You know where we are if you need anything else.’

  Vaguely aware of his slightly bemused expression as he squinted after her, rubbing his chin, she stumbled over the cabinet on the doorstep, and fled for the sanctuary of the van.

  13

  Text from Luce to Izzy:

  And…?? Was the hot guy hot enough for u Izzy? Did you nail a date? Need deets!!!! :D xx

  *

  Text from Izzy to Luce:

  Already spoken for xx

  *

  Text from Luce to Izzy:

  OMG!!! Really???? :( xx

  *

  Text from Izzy to Luce:

  Married with two kids. Also loaded. You KNOW I’d never do loaded xx

  *

  Text from Luce to Izzy:

  Eeeek, sorry :/ XX

  *

  Text from Izzy to Luce:

  Give you deets l8r ok? xx

  *

  Text from Luce to Izzy:

  Might give Corks a miss 2nite…need to do Steffie’s dress :/ x

  *

  Text from Izzy to Luce:

  Me too. STACK of painting height of house. Catch u 2moz then, hugs xx

  *

  Text from Luce to Izzy:

  ((((HUGS)))) for you 2 Izzyboots :) xx

  14

  Saturday Afternoon, 7th June

  LUCE

  The Bridal Suite

  Coup de Kerr

  ‘So, do you have anything special in mind?’

  Luce put down the mugs on the table next to the chaise lounge, and waited for Jules the bride, who was tentatively flipping through the wedding dresses hanging on the rails. So far, so good, with her very first Bridal Studio appointment. Even though she’d done it lots of times before at her flat, something about being in her own studio made her heart beat really fast. It was scary, yet at the same time, exhilarating.

  It was so strange how life worked out. If it hadn’t been for The Vintage Cinema Club needing her to do this, she’d never have taken the plunge. As it was, Izzy had kind of fast forwarded it, so Luce hadn’t had time to put out the mental anchors, and resist. She hadn’t even had the time to feel how far out of her comfort zone she was going, and like so many things, once you were there, it wasn’t half as uncomfortable as you thought. In fact now it was done, and she was into her first appointment, she was feeling incredibly happy about it. Whatever happened with Aidie and the cinema, she’d always be able to say she’d had her own Bridal Studio. Luce mentally mouthed OMG, then punched the air with an imaginary fist.

  Luce looked back at Jules. She was small, with a neat figure underneath her oversized shirt, and most of the dresses Luce had in stock would be an option for her. And not your everyday bride either, given she’d said no to the chilled cava in champagne flutes, which had been Dida’s contribution to Luce’s new venture, and opted for tea instead.

  ‘You know I’m really not a wedding-y kind of person.’ Jules sank down on the grey velvet chair. ‘I hated it the first time around, and at forty it’s even worse. I really don’t want anything white and pouffy, but the gu
y I’m marrying loves vintage, so here I am. I really hope you can sort me out.’ Jules gave a hopeless shrug, and a sigh.

  Oh dear. Somehow Luce was used to more enthusiasm in her brides. ‘Is there anything on the rail that catches your eye at all? You’re not having a “coup de coeur” moment?’

  A lot of brides said they knew instantly, the moment they saw “the dress”. Often it was a love at first sight thing, but Luce definitely wasn’t sensing any love here.

  ‘To be honest, I can see all those dresses would be beautiful for someone, but for me they’re all a bit lacy, or satiny, or beady…’ Jules trailed off, and pulled a face.

  At least she was being honest. Was this her first anti-wedding bride? If so Luce was completely sympathetic.

  ‘Lace and tulle and beads tend to go with the territory, even for the vintage dresses.’ Luce gave her a smile that came right from her heart. ‘But don’t worry, we can easily do something different. What kind of wedding are you having?’

  Jules took a sip of tea and gave a desperate grimace. ‘It sounds awful, but I’d really rather not be doing it at all. I’d much rather just wake up one day and find I’m married, but it’s really important to Joe, so here I am.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Luce had never had anyone this reluctant before.

  Seeing someone else mortified at the idea of a wedding was almost like looking in a mirror. Somehow it spun her straight back to Ollie, and the way she’d reacted to him, when he’d started suggesting they should take things further. At the time, the idea of Ollie crossing the great metaphorical divide, from being friends, to landing in her bed, had sent her right up in the air. Looking back, she wondered if she hadn’t over reacted. There was something about today’s bride and her reluctance that reminded Luce of herself. She’d always kept Ollie firmly on the friends side of the divide, not because he wasn’t hot, but because she valued his friendship too much to lose it. Breaking her own very rigid rules would not only make things complicated, but there was too much at stake to risk it.