Making Hay

by Veronica Henry

  As well as cucumber sandwiches and miniature scones with jam and cream, she had iced hundreds of pastel-topped fairy cakes with Henry’s initials – HJL – a labour of love which she swore she would never repeat. Not for anyone.

  The cake itself was a triumph. She’d made an enormous square devil’s food cake, dense and moist and chocolatey, then covered it carefully with smooth, white frosting. Around the edges she had fashioned dozens of tiny frolicking bunny rabbits out of icing, thrown into relief by little blades of green grass and the odd flower. Because it was so detailed, it was just on the right side of good taste.

  Satisfied that it was perfect, she re-covered it with a damp tea cloth to stop it drying out too much before carrying it out on its silver tray. She double-checked all the food. Everything seemed to swim slightly before her eyes in the haze. She tried to open a window, but it made no difference. The air outside was as hot. A couple of waitresses came in to get the plates, ready to pass round. Suzanna waved a hand at the scones and sandwiches and rushed to the cloakroom.

  Upstairs, Kitty and Sasha were putting the final touches to their outfits, bickering over eyeliner and lipgloss. They were both in slithery little pink velvet dresses that showed off the tans they’d spent hours perfecting in the tiny garden at Tinker’s Barn, much to the shock of people passing as they went brazenly topless.

  They were singing at Henry Liddiard’s christening, outside on the patio, with Barney on a ridiculous grand piano they’d hired for the occasion. It had occurred to Sasha, somewhere along the line, that if she and Kitty were identical, she should be able to sing as well as her. It was just that she’d never really tried. They’d experimented one night, after a bottle of Martini, and been astounded by the results, laughing with glee at the fact they could harmonize, duelling with their voices, and the result was amazing.

  And so Double Trouble was born. With Barney’s help, they produced a sample CD and within weeks they’d secured bookings singing at weddings and parties, as well as a regular slot on Sunday nights at the pub, which had proved to be a real crowd-puller. They sang mostly well-known jazz classics, but also more up-to-date songs that they put their own twist to, moving effortlessly from romantic ballads to more raunchy covers.

  And Barney’s contact from London was coming down to see them soon. He’d made them think about it long and hard before contacting Jez and didn’t pull any punches when he described to them what might be ahead. They talked it over and decided that no one could make them do anything they didn’t want, so it was worth the risk.

  And Ginny had backed them all the way. Ginny, who had very coyly come to them the week before with an announcement. Their lease was up in a month’s time, she said. She could renew it, of course. But Keith had asked her to move in with him. There would be room for both the girls in his house, and they would be more than welcome. But if they didn’t want to, if they thought it was a terrible idea, then they’d all stay in Tinker’s Barn. It was entirely up to them…

  They were moving in the following week.

  Barney was ushering everyone outside for the toast. He’d worked tirelessly over the past month making sure the garden was on a par with the interior of the pub, and although it wasn’t mature yet, it still looked magnificent, with pots of white geraniums and marguerites interspersed with the lavender and nicotiana he’d planted earlier. A Rambling Rector was starting to insinuate itself tentatively across the brickwork. Cream parasols and awnings shielded the guests from the blazing sun. Everywhere he looked there were beautiful people wafting about in silk and linen. Even Henry looked as if some casting director had spent months scouring the country for the perfect child, with his riot of ginger curls and freckled nose. Champagne circulated freely: no doubt everyone would regret it later, but for the time being it flowed like water.

  It was, apparently, time for the cake and speeches. Everyone gathered round expectantly. Barney took his place at the piano and began the opening notes of a serenade to Henry. And as Kitty and Sasha began to sing ‘My Baby’s Got Blue Eyes’, even the most cynical guests felt tears pricking their lids. There was no doubt about it: the girls were fantastic.

  As the notes finally faded away and everyone had a good old dab with their hankies, Suzanna carried the cake out to the waiting crowds, who broke into spontaneous applause when they saw it. It was only James’s quick thinking that averted a disaster when he saw her sway. Being the gentleman that he was, he caught Suzanna rather than the cake as she fell to the ground in a dead faint.

  She came to, ten minutes later, in her bedroom. There was a fan blowing delicious cool air on to her. Barney was sitting on the bed, looking at her anxiously.

  ‘The doctor’s on his way.’

  She managed a smile.

  ‘There’s no need,’ she said. ‘I know exactly what’s the matter.’

  She struggled to sit up. Barney was alarmed.

  ‘For our christening’, she said defiantly, ‘I’m getting someone else to do the bloody catering.’

  Then she lay back on the pillow and fell fast asleep.