That would be weird.
‘That’s amazing. I don’t know how to thank you.’
‘I do.’ Dianne winks at me. ‘I know my pack would absolutely love to help out on the day, and it would really help them work towards their badges. A few of them are working towards their circus performer badge, for example, so if they could showcase their skills at the festival, that would really help them out.’
‘Of course. In fact, one of my ideas was a talent contest, so that would fit right in.’ The beauty of a talent contest is the festival-goers will provide the entertainment themselves, with only the costs of prizes for me to deal with out of my savings.
Julia raises her hand, as though she’s back in the classroom. ‘How about a karaoke competition too? You could borrow our equipment.’
‘That would be brilliant, thank you.’ I shove my head into the cupboard under the pretence of grabbing more mugs, but the truth is I’m getting a bit choked up here. These people are willing to put aside the fact that I’ve lied to them over the past few weeks and help me out. They’re under no illusions of who I am. They know I’m just plain old Rebecca Riley. I have no power or prestige, and I haven’t had to scream and shout to get my way.
‘Obviously, you can leave the cake stall to me.’ Mrs McColl leans in towards Dianne. ‘Though if you have any Brownies working towards their baking badge, the help would be appreciated.’
We continue the discussion over cups of tea and coffee, and I’m feeling so positive by the time I’m showing Dianne and the others to the door that I practically float across the living room. Dianne is going to set her pack the task of spreading the word as far and wide as they can, plus Julia and Elsie are going to use their positions within the community to get the word out. Tomorrow, I’ll design and print posters and drop stacks off at the church hall, ready for the Brownies to distribute, and the pub and charity shop. I’m also going to set up a Facebook page to publicise the event outside the village and hopefully entice festival goers from further afield.
Maybe, just maybe, I think as I flop down on the sofa, we may just pull this off.
*
I’m impressed by the work that has been carried out in the house, and I feel a sense of pride as I move around the living room. It’s my favourite room of the whole house so far. Already a huge space with its double aspect windows and super-high ceilings, the magnolia (sorry, Soft Jasmine Blush) on the walls make the room feel never-ending and full of light. A feature wall is covered in a delicate floral pattern, with the palest pink and mint green shimmering in the light. I can see the progress made on the garden through the bi-fold doors to the back of the room, and already there has been a vast improvement. The grass has been trimmed to create a luscious lawn, the new fence has been put in place, and the trees and bushes have been cut back to reveal an even bigger plot than before. Space has been cleared for the decking and patio areas, and tomorrow we’re expecting a huge delivery of flowers and shrubs to fill the garden with colour and life.
Movement out on the drive catches my eye, and I see the builders have arrived back from their lunch break, making their way across the drive where the block paving is starting to take shape. The builders now know about my true identity and have reacted in very different ways; Vince seems let down that I deceived him, though he hasn’t said as much and has simply avoided eye contact and conversation as much as possible, while Harvey thinks it’s hilarious and has wondered (out loud) whether it would have counted as a threesome if we’d slept together. I’m not sure Todd has fully taken on board the change, bless him.
‘Oliver, can I have a quick word?’ I’m moving carefully over the newly laid drive, mindful of undoing the guys’ hard work.
‘I’m a bit busy.’ He indicates the stack of paving blocks still to be laid. ‘Can it wait?’
‘No, it can’t.’ Taking my key out of my pocket, I unlock the guesthouse door. ‘I’m sure Vince can spare you for five minutes. Right, Vince?’ I don’t wait for an answer and instead step into the guesthouse. Luckily, Oliver dutifully follows, and this time he makes it further than the doormat, throwing himself sulkily into the armchair.
‘I need your help.’ Grabbing the sketch I’ve put together for the layout of the festival, I set it out on the coffee table.
‘You’re really doing this?’ Oliver shuffles forward so he can look at the plans in more detail. We have lots going on, from the karaoke and talent contests, to a candlelit pumpkin parade and fireworks display, as well as an array of food and drink options.
‘Yep. It’s all coming together really well. We have a Facebook page and everything.’ I turn the laptop so Oliver can see the screen. The page is already open and I notice we’ve hit the two hundred likes milestone. There’s a real buzz building up in the comments section, with people excited and curious about the festival. We’ve already had registrations for the talent contest and four bands have signed up to take part in the battle of the bands we’re hosting, including Todd’s band, which I’d had no idea he was part of until now. We’ve also had donations for raffle prizes, including a three-treatment voucher from a spa a couple of miles away, admission to a food festival that will be taking place at Durban Castle, and a hamper of fresh fruit and vegetables from the allotment.
The newly formed festival committee have been a godsend, especially with Julia’s position behind the bar at the Farmer’s. One of her customers has a nephew who runs a burger van, and although he was booked for this weekend, he did provide contact details for acquaintances, and we now have mobile catering booked for jacket potatoes, Mexican food, burgers and hot dogs, veggie fare and donuts. Plus, the bloke who runs the local ice cream van is also a regular at the Farmer’s, and he’s agreed to pitch up and sell his treats.
Oliver wafts a hand over the plans. ‘You’ve seriously organised all this? For this weekend?’
I nod, my cheeks starting to warm at the awe in Oliver’s voice. ‘But the thing is, we need a small stage. For the talent contest and stuff.’ I place my hands together and adopt my best puppy dog expression. ‘Dominic has some pallets and old planks of wood, but he needs help putting it together.’ I widen my eyes further, hoping they convey just how much I need Oliver’s help and prevent him from telling me to get stuffed.
‘Fine.’ It’s a dull, monosyllabic word, puffed out on a sigh, but I want to perform a happy little jig. ‘Tell Dominic I’ll be over once we’ve finished here.’ Oliver thrusts his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the drive before he slopes off back to work. With two days to go before Vanessa arrives for the grand reveal and the festival is opened, the builders are almost finished, the gardeners are transforming the outdoor space at a mind-boggling pace, and the decorators have sprinkled a whole vat of fairy dust on the interior. Tomorrow, with the drive complete and clear of debris and equipment, the furniture, household appliances and decorative pieces Vanessa has been holding in storage will arrive, ready to transform the house into a home. I can’t quite believe I’ve managed to pull this project off, though there’s no way I could have done it without the builders’ hard work. I owe them, big time. But I also need to give myself a pat on the back too.
Grabbing a bin liner from the cupboard under the kitchen sink, I march into the bedroom and open the wardrobe. The space is stuffed with Vanessa-inspired clothes. The burgundy leather skirt that caught my eye from the charity shop’s window, the white pussy-bow blouse, the wide leg jumpsuit. I fold them carefully and place them into the bin liner, along with all the other clothes I’ve accumulated during my stay in Little Heaton that just aren’t me. Tailored trousers, leather-look leggings, silk blouses. In the bin liner they go, until all I’m left with are leggings, jeans and T-shirts. I even toss in the peep-toe boots. I never did like them.
It’s so satisfying tying the bag, closing off that chapter in my life and shedding the pretence. I will no longer pretend to be someone else and hide behind their personality. I’ll drop these items off at the charity shop and then I’ll be fr
ee to be me. Rebecca Riley. Nothing more, nothing less, because she’s good enough. Always has been and always will be.
Chapter 38
It’s the morning of the festival, with two hours before the gates will open, and I’m already frazzled. I barely slept last night and when I finally did succumb to slumber, my alarm snapped me awake again almost immediately. There’s so much to do, so much to organise, but luckily I’ve had Dianne and Dominic on hand to help, plus a dozen excited Brownies. Even Oliver’s turned up to help with setting up, which I’m both surprised by and eternally grateful for.
The generators are up and running and we have toilet facilities on site, and most of the catering vans are here. Dominic is directing the caterers into the right places according to my plans while I’m busy setting up the Trick or Treat Treasure Trail, hiding the clues the children will soon be following in order to earn their goody bag prizes. We’ve still got to set up the stalls, place the bales of hay Dominic has provided for seating in strategic places, and put out the oversized board games Dianne has loaned to us for the day. The community has really come together, with villagers taking up stalls to sell their crafty creations, allotment produce, and homemade beauty products.
‘Where do you want these, love?’ A van driver sticks his head out of the open window as he approaches, and I direct him to the other side of the field, hurrying to catch up so I can held unload the bulk order of pumpkins that will later be carved by festival goers and displayed in a pumpkin parade at nightfall. With battery-operated tealights, it should look magical.
Afterwards, I set up the story time corner for our younger visitors, which was Dianne’s idea. A different Halloween-themed children’s story will be read by one of the Brownies every hour, which I love because not only does it cater to the family-friendly feel of the festival, it’s also cost-free entertainment as we’ve borrowed the books for the day.
The field starts to fill up as opening time approaches, with the rest of the catering vans finally turning up, along with the balloon modeller and face-painters Mrs McColl organised, having had a sneaky look in Stacey’s contacts, and the bands lug their equipment towards the stage. There’s already a buzz of activity outside the field as people queue, and I feel a half-happy, half-queasy sensation in my stomach as I realise there are only a matter of minutes to go.
‘You’ve done a great job here, Rebecca.’ I press a hand to my chest as Oliver’s sudden presence behind me makes me jump. ‘I can’t believe you pulled it off in such a short space of time.’
‘I can’t believe I managed to pull it off.’ And it’s true. I never knew I had this in me, not deep down. I never knew I could take an idea and run with it. That I could lead a team, organise an event, be a success. But I did it, and I did it as myself.
‘Do you think Stacey will come?’ Mrs McColl has popped over to the animal sanctuary to finally break the news about what we’ve been cooking up over the past few days, now it seems we’ve pulled it off.
‘I hope so.’ Oliver looks around, at the stalls and the entertainment we’ve organised for the day. ‘She should see how much effort you’ve put into all this.’
‘Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?’
Oliver places a hand on my arm, and I try not to read too much into the contact but fail miserably and feel a flutter of hope in my chest. ‘She knows you didn’t do anything maliciously, and we can’t really blame you for your boss’s actions.’
‘Really?’ There’s that flutter again. Stronger, almost taking my breath away. But Oliver removes his hand and starts to back away.
‘Really.’ He gives a firm nod, but he’s still backing away. ‘I’ll see you around, yeah?’
I open my mouth, to ask if he can ever forgive me, but I’m pretty sure I’m about to burst into tears. Instead, I close my mouth tight to ward off any sobs, raise my hand in farewell and turn and flee before I make a fool of myself.
*
I don’t have time to cry. I don’t even have time to think about Oliver and how badly I’ve messed up as the festival kicks off with an almighty bang, with hordes of people piling into the Blackwoods’ field. A couple of the Brownies and their parents are manning the tables acting as a ticket booth, but I step in to help keep the flow of visitors going. It’s so busy, I miss the start of the first round of the talent contest, and I have to dash across to the stage in time to catch Harvey’s stand-up routine, which definitely isn’t family-friendly. Elsie, who has stepped away from her tombola stall to act as one of the judges, is far from impressed and I see her cross out Harvey’s name on her notepad with such force, I’m sure the pen cuts through several layers of paper. I hold on long enough to watch the Brownies perform their newly acquired circus skills before I have to slip away from the festival and hurry back to the house as Vanessa is due any minute for the grand tour. I’m nervous and excited to show off the house all at the same time, which leaves me feeling jittery and on the verge of hysterics as I jog across the footbridge.
I have so much to show Vanessa, so much to be proud of, but I know how temperamental my boss can be. Will she still like the wallpaper she picked out for the second floor master bedroom months ago? Will she appreciate the workmanship that went into the coving in the living room? Or the manhours it took to lay the bespoke flooring? And what will she think about the festival? It seems like a huge success from where I’m standing, but Vanessa may view it differently.
I have to slow down and take deep, even breaths as I reach Arthur’s Pass, partly because I’m out of puff due to legging it across the village, and partly because I’m in danger of hyperventilating through fear when I spot Vanessa’s red mini pulling up in the drive ahead. She’s here. Vanessa is here. It’s judgement time.
Picking up speed again, I reach the drive just as Vanessa is emerging from her car, smoothing down the black lace pencil skirt of her dress. With a flick of her wrist, the door closes as she strides towards the stone steps that lead up to the house.
‘Vanessa. Hi!’ My voice is a wheeze as I canter across the drive, hand waving to catch her attention. She turns to aim her fob at the car and spots me, a look of bemusement on her face as I stagger to a halt in front of her, hands resting on my thighs as I try to catch my breath.
‘Are you alright, Becky?’ Vanessa peers at me. ‘Do you need a glass of water or something?’
I shake my head, still gulping greedily at the air. ‘I’m fine. Really. Shall we go inside?’ I waft a hand towards the house before it flops back down to my thigh again.
‘Ooh, yes.’ Vanessa rubs her hands together as she strides towards the steps. ‘I’m so looking forward to this! Is it beautiful? Please tell me it’s as beautiful as I imagine.’
‘It’s stunning.’ I stagger after Vanessa, handing over the key once we reach the door as I don’t have the energy required to gain entry myself. Vanessa slots the key in the door and twists, pausing dramatically before she pushes the door open. She’s mid-stride over the threshold when she stops with a gasp, her hand covering her mouth as she gazes around the welcoming space of the hallway. Light is flooding in through the huge windows, making the highly-polished tiles sparkle. With a white, high-gloss finish to the walls, staircase and furniture, the room is gleaming and appears to never end, but there are splashes of colour in the vases of flowers on each windowsill, vibrant hues of pinks and green on the upholstery of the wooden bench and storage unit, and framed prints catching the eye on the walls.
‘Well, this is simply divine, isn’t it?’ Vanessa steps fully into the house, turning three hundred and sixty degrees in slow motion as she takes in every little detail. She moves towards the staircase, her hand resting on the newel post as a tiny sigh escapes. She’s beaming when she turns back towards me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Vanessa genuinely beam before. It’s rather unsettling.
‘Would you like to see the kitchen?’ I’m still feeling a bit jittery but my breathing is more level now. ‘There’s champagne in the fridge.’
Vanessa looks down at her watch. It isn’t yet lunchtime. ‘Oh, go on then. But just the tiniest drop for me. I need to be back in Manchester for three – Ty’s whisking me off to Vienna for our six-month anniversary. Don’t worry, I’ll be back for the party next week.’ She clip-clops across the gleaming tiles as I do the maths in my head.
‘Hasn’t it only been, like, four months?’
‘Four and a half.’ Vanessa gasps again as she reaches the kitchen, this time her delight propelling her forward into the room. ‘But Ty’s been booked for a shoot, so he’s taking me with him for an early romantic getaway.’ She runs her hand along the glossy work surface. ‘How sweet is that?’
‘Very sweet.’ I grab the champagne from the fridge and set it down on the island. ‘There’s something I want to show you, though, before you leave.’
‘Hmm?’ Vanessa drags her eyes away from the futuristic-looking coffee machine and turns to me, meeting my eye before something catches her attention over my shoulder. She gasps again before scurrying across the room and throwing open the bi-fold doors. ‘Oh. My. Goodness.’ She steps carefully onto the decking, her eyes moving left and right as she tries to take the huge garden in. ‘Just look at this. It’s … it’s …’ Vanessa shakes her head, her mouth opening and shutting without producing any more words. I have never known Vanessa to be speechless. This, too, is rather unsettling. ‘I just can’t believe it.’ Vanessa turns to me, beaming again. ‘Get that champagne open, Becky. We need to toast this triumph!’ She totters back into the kitchen, clapping her hands together. ‘The party is going to be amazing. I knew I could count on you!’ She joins me at the island as I place two gold-rimmed flutes on the surface. I offer the bottle of champagne to Vanessa, for her to do the honours, but she shakes her head and waggles her manicured fingers at me. ‘I have to say, though, I am looking forward to having you back in the office.’
‘You are?’ I’ve never actually popped a cork before, and it isn’t as easy as it looks. I’m basically gurning as I twist the bottle, anticipating the sudden pop as the cork is released.
The Accidental Life Swap Page 24
