And somewhere in all this, I need to find time to buy a frock. Nothing too over the top, but elegantly befitting the occasion. Honey and Johnny have taken a whole table and rather unfortunately, out of a misguided sense of solidarity, Johnny invited Ryan. But the trouble is, with everyone else being couples, I’ve a horrible feeling it’s me who’s going to be lumbered with him…
But before any of that can happen, there’s work to do.
‘Right!’ I say bossily. ‘Listen up please! This is really important.’
I still find it hilarious bossing Honey around. She’s learning, my vociferous friend. I can tell she’s dying to answer back, but she doesn’t, just clenches her teeth and listens.
‘Skye – I want you and Honey to set the vases up on the tables, on the round mirrors, with four candles on each table. I’m going to decorate the mantelpiece and then we’ll see what flowers are left after that. And can we not take too long because I want to have a shower and wash my hair before it starts.’
True to form, Mrs Orange arrives, just as we’re loading the van and sticks her head inside, frowning.
‘It’s a charity dinner, not a wedding,’ I say a little sharply, before she starts imparting pearls of wisdom about bride’s hair and all that nonsense.
‘That explains it,’ she nods knowingly and gives me a witchetty grin. ‘I couldn’t understand, duck – didn’t feel like no wedding. You can tell.’
Leaving me staring after her as she crosses the road and goes to talk to Mr Crowley.
I know for a fact that Lulubelle’s going to be delighted, because not only is she getting free labour from three outstanding florists (us) but Milo, too, cut us a deal on the flowers, which was more than covered by the sale of the unwanted Hindu wedding flowers.
Some of the tables are having tall vases and others low ones, of gorgeous yellow lilies and lots of wild green foliage. It’s simple - but fantastic. Then on the ornate mantelpiece, beneath the huge guilded mirror which is hung above it, I make a long decoration which snakes along the length of it, with candles and lots of wild bits of twigs and foliage poking out. It’s more Constance Spry than modern florist, but it catches the eye and is perfect for the setting.
We even finish early, which means lots of time to shower and pamper and make myself glamorous. And already, I’m starting to look forward to it. Maybe I’ll even meet a man – an interesting one, who will be charming and handsome and slightly impressed when I modestly let slip I did the flowers. Except I won’t. I’ve already decided no-one’s going to know. For once, I’m not going to boast about them.
As I walk out to the van, I’m looking forward to a hot shower with my new exotic, body scrub and the sexy underwear I treated myself to because even I can’t wear grey old knackered pants under a posh frock. But as I’m just about to drive away, in my driving mirror I catch sight of a flustered looking Lulubelle rushing after me.
‘FRANKIE! Oh Frankie! I don’t know what to do… Only the band aren’t here… I was expecting them a couple of hours ago, just to set everything up.’
‘Call them,’ I tell her. Duh…
‘You don’t think I haven’t tried… I’ve actually called them a dozen times now.’ I’ve never seen her so frantic. ‘What are we going to do? I’ve sold all these tickets promising music and dancing – and at this rate, there isn’t going to be any. Oh my God…’ She runs her fingers through her hair. ‘It’s a complete disaster…’
She stands there, distraught. After all the effort she’s put into tonight, I wish more than anything I was the kind of person that knew about bands. Or even just a band – we only need one. And with a flash of pure genius, I remember I do.
I leap out of the van and grab her hands. ‘Do you trust me?’
She looks worried. ‘Oh no, Frankie – what are you thinking?’
‘I can’t say.’ I shake my head, my mind racing at a million miles an hour. ‘But I might just be able to lay my hands on a fantastic musician – not literally – I don’t know of course until I speak to him, but…’
A flicker of hope appears on her face. ‘Is he good enough? He has to be really good…’
‘Oh, yes,’ I say, sounding like the dog on the Churchill advert. ‘You can safely say he’s good.’
She stares at me, then decides. ‘Ok! But he has to be really, really good,’ she shouts, as I climb back into my van.
‘Okay…’ I yell through the window, speeding away.
Once I’m home, I call Maria, who has my number programmed into her phone now and greets me like an old friend.
‘I’ve a massive favour to ask you,’ I say, slightly nervously, wondering if I dare do this. ‘Only, I’m helping with this fundraising ball tonight. It’s for Briarwood and the band haven’t turned up… You don’t have er any ideas, do you?’
‘Like Pete?’ she says, sounding a little cautious. ‘Hold on a minute, I’ll get him for you.’
He’s there almost instantly. ‘Yo! Frankie! How’s it going?’
‘There’s been a disaster, Pete – and it’s such a massive thing to ask, and I’ll give you a discount on your wedding flowers if you can help…’ I gabble, desperate. ‘Twenty per cent, no – fifty per cent, yes – fifty - only the band for the charity ball haven’t turned up. We have no-one… I don’t suppose you could do anything, anything at all…’
There’s silence and suddenly I realise, I’ve only tried to bribe one of the most famous faces in rock history.
‘It’s a bit complicated,’ he says. ‘You know – I was lying low, keeping out of the way…with the wedding coming up…’
‘Okay,’ I swallow my disappointment. ‘I understand. I’m so sorry, Pete. It was really cheeky of me to even ask you – it’s just that I was desperate and couldn’t think of anyone else…’
‘Hold on a minute, babe.’ Yep – the great Pete McNamara actually calls me babe! The line goes quiet and I hear faint mutterings in the background.
‘Ok. You’ve got a deal. Only this is how we’re going to play it…’
I’ve done it! I’ve managed to get Pete and a couple of his band for the ball tonight! I’m so excited I could fly! I call Lulubelle.
‘I have got you the greatest band you won’t believe,’ I tell her breathlessly. ‘Everyone is going to love them, guaranteed – only there’s one condition. They’re going to make their entrance as soon as the auction is over, so we’ll need some background music for the beginning.’
‘That’s already set up,’ she says, sounding relieved. ‘We’ve already got the hotel’s music system in place, just in case - so no problem there. Frankie?’
‘Yes?’
‘You are absolutely one hundred per cent certain that nothing can possibly go wrong?’
‘Hundred per cent,’ I tell her, crossing my fingers and feeling a flutter of panic. ‘Trust me Lulubelle – it’ll be fine.’
31
Breathe deeply. What can possibly go wrong?
For once, not my outfit. I love my gorgeous, multi coloured, swirly new dress, because I’m not a slinky black sort of person and in this one, I feel like me, only a better version of me. For once, my hair too has gone exactly as I want it, loosely pinned up, just the odd strand escaping in keeping with my new, sexy-but-glamorous image.
‘Honey’s dress…’ I whisper to Lulubelle. ‘Definitely Charlie’s touch, wouldn’t you say?’
She smiles. No way would Honey have chosen that for herself. It’s soft and slinky and slit to the thigh and her hair is a mass of waves.
‘And you look completely amazing,’ I tell Lulubelle. She’s wearing a black designer dress and her hair looks professionally styled. Now how did she find time for that? ‘Like a film star. Now, I hope you’re not worrying... Everything’s under control.’
She still hasn’t asked me who the band is. I’m just about to tell her when I see Alex walking towards us. Oh God. My heart sinks, because he’s completely drop-dead gorgeous. And after everything that’s happened, I really don’
t want to feel like this.
‘Hello Frankie, you look great.’ His eyes linger on me and suddenly I feel rather hot.
‘Hi, Alex. Thank you. Oh – I’m so sorry – could you just excuse me…’
It’s so much easier this way. And just like that, I walk slowly off to join Nina and Will, feeling his eyes boring into my back.
‘Very cool flowers, Ms Valentine.’ Nina looks incredible. Her golden dress seems to be poured onto her and a very handsome Will is attentively at her side.
‘Why thank you,’ I whisper. ‘But I’m incognito tonight. Not touting for business, just a guest like everyone else is… Isn’t it fab here?’
Nina nods. ‘It really is. It’s fantastic.’
With all the guys in bow ties and dinner jackets and the girls in every shape and shade of designer under the sun, it’s quite a sight. Then as Lulubelle comes to join us, I frown.
‘Lulubelle, you really remind me of someone.’
‘People always say that to me! It’s only because you’ve never seen me in anything other than my Mummy clothes…’
She nods. It’s true, but even so, there’s something very familiar about her.
‘Anyway, what’s going on with you and Alex?’ she asks me.
I stare at her. ‘Absolutely nothing. Didn’t he tell you?’
‘I thought you got on well… I saw you talking at the fundraiser.’
‘He was talking,’ I say pointedly. ‘He wasn’t remotely interested in listening to me.’
But before she digs any deeper, some VIP’s arrive and she hurries over to greet them.
Dinner is sublime, but then these tickets are just under a hundred pounds a pop, so it had to be. I know Lulubelle’s dreading something going wrong, but if it does, it’s covered up so cleverly, absolutely no-one knows. The service is seamless, with empty bottles replaced by full ones, plates cleared and each course appearing as if by magic – all exactly as it ought to.
There’s only one rather large blot on the landscape, in the form of Ryan, sat as predicted next to yours truly.
I try. I really do.
‘I was so sorry to hear about you and Elise,’ I say, after all, a broken heart isn’t fun.
His eyes narrowed. ‘She was a bitch,’ he said. ‘Everyone says so.’
Okay. We’ll lose the sympathy. ‘So, are you enjoying this evening?’ I change the subject swiftly.
He just shrugs. ‘S’okay.’
That does it. Feeling shitty or not, no way is he ruining it for me.
‘I’d say it’s far more than okay, Ryan,’ I mutter at him, warming to my subject, thinking why didn’t Elise dump him years ago? ‘It’s a truly wonderful evening for the most worthy of worthy causes… And for your information, Elise isn’t a bitch in the slightest, as you jolly well know, seeing as she put up with you all that time. So stop feeling so sorry for yourself and pull yourself together.’
Through the auction, Honey and Johnny peruse the list like kiddies in a sweet shop. When Johnny wins a luxury weekend for two, he whoops loudly and they grin excitedly at each other. Incredibly, the bids for more or less everything skyrocket. In the spirit in which the evening was intended, these wonderful people are giving more than any of us imagined.
Then it’s done. We’re just waiting for the band and everyone’s eyes are on Lulubelle, as she walks across to take the microphone from our auctioneers.
But as she opens her mouth to speak, a deafening chord resonates through the room. Then comes another, and another, from the corners and as a beat starts up, everyone, it seems, recognises it. And then people are on their feet, cheering, screaming even, as the band cross the room towards the stage.
And by the stage, I watch Lulubelle frozen, watching them.
32
I can’t move, just watch, completely mesmerised as the wrinkly rockers show us what they can do - and they’re truly out of this world. After several minutes have elapsed, I glance around for Lulubelle again, desperately wanting to catch her eye and see how thrilled she is, but all I see is her back view as she disappears out of the room. Oh my God – is something wrong?
I so want to watch Pete, but I have to go and find her. Everyone’s too engrossed in the band to see me slip outside after her and as my eyes adjust to the darkness, I make out her dim shape walking across the grass.
I call after her but even out here, the music’s so loud, she doesn’t hear me.
‘Lulubelle… LULUBELLE…’ I shout, running after her.
By the time I catch her up, she’s sitting on an old stone wall under the moonlight, her cheeks bright with tears.
‘Lulubelle, what is it? What’s happened? Is it Cosmo?’ I say, suddenly panicking.
But even upset, she has such dignity. She mops her cheeks and shakes her head. ‘It’s not your fault, Frankie. You weren’t to know.’
‘Oh my God… What have I done?’ I cry hysterically. ‘You have to tell me? Not the band – aren’t they good enough? I thought Pete McNamara would definitely be good enough…’
‘It’s not that.’ She shakes her head and mops up more tears. ‘They’re good, Frankie. Really, really good. It’s just… Oh Frankie, Pete’s my bloody father...’
And then slowly, all kinds of things start to fall into place. My legs are suddenly like water and I look for something to sit down on, as I try to put all the pieces together and make some vague sort of sense of them.
‘Pete?’ I say stupidly. ‘Your father? No…’ I shake my head. ‘He can’t be… Maria told me…’
‘That his own daughter won’t come to his wedding,’ she says flatly. ‘It’s true. That’s what I said. I’ve always taken Mum’s side.’
I frown again, because for the life of me, I can’t begin to imagine Lulubelle’s Mum married to Pete.
‘Well, that’s understandable, isn’t it?’ I’m struggling. ‘Maria told me how he reckons he deserves it too, for being unfaithful to her.’
‘She told you that?’ says Lulubelle bitterly.
‘It’s like being a hairdresser,’ I say hastily. ‘You know, people tell you things when you’re a florist. And Maria’s nice, Lulubelle – you’d really like her.’
‘Maybe in another life,’ she sighs. ‘But now, I just think too much has happened.’
‘She made a huge donation to Briarwood,’ I tell her. ‘I’ve been asking all my wedding clients to donate – just a tiny bit – and she was really generous.’
‘She can afford it,’ says Lulubelle, quite rightly.
‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am.’ I shake my head remorsefully. ‘I really am, Lulubelle. God. How didn’t I realise?’
Suddenly it’s so obvious, I can’t believe I hadn’t worked it out. We sit not speaking, listening to the band, who in spite of what’s going on, sound incredible.
‘We used to play together,’ says Lulubelle softly, another tear rolling down her face. ‘With my old bass guitar… I don’t even know what happened to it after the divorce.’
And then I know where I recognise her from. Forgetting I’m supposed to be comforting her, I jump up and stand there in the moonlight, pointing at her.
‘You’re Bella Mac! That’s how I know you! Fuck, Lulubelle – why didn’t you tell me?’
In spite of herself, she manages a ghost of a smile. ‘Remember that old life I told you about? That was it, with recording contracts and gigs and wild parties… That’s where Bella Mac belongs, not in the life I have now. Please, Frankie – don’t tell anyone…’ she begs. ‘With Cosmo to worry about, I really couldn’t cope.’
‘Of course…’ I’m puzzled. Bella Mac was the star that every girl wanted to be. With looks, talent, rock star blood in her veins – but I do understand and if that’s what she wants, I’ll keep her secret.
We go back inside for the last half hour and in there, the atmosphere’s electric. The dance floor is packed and there’s an energy I’ve never felt.
‘Could have charged twice as much for those tickets,’ shouts
Johnny, when he sees us. ‘Bloody brilliant, Lulubelle! Best evening ever!’
Even Ryan’s stopped scowling, still sitting there but twitching slightly, as if he’s mad. Nina and Will are out on the dance floor of course, boogying away with the rest of them. I watch, a little enviously. Trust her to find a handsome man who can dance as well.
I stand in the background watching them all as the tempo changes to a song I recognise. It’s Star Flight, one of Pete’s most beautiful ballads ever, with a haunting riff that fills you with sadness and hope and love all at the same time. Then I hear a voice in my ear.
‘May I have the pleasure?’
I turn round to find Alex standing there. Talk about being put on the spot. I’d rather dance with Ryan… Actually, I take that back. As I look into Alex’s warm, dark eyes, I really wouldn’t.
‘Okay,’ I say cautiously and as we walk towards the dance floor, I feel his hand lightly on the small of my back. Then suddenly I have goose bumps and as he takes me in his arms, I don’t know if it’s the music, but I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.
‘It’s been a great evening,’ he says in my ear. ‘Lulubelle’s done a fantastic job organising it. And getting Pete McNamara was a coup, wasn’t it? Really clever of her, keeping it a secret like that. People will be talking about this for months.’
I want to tell him everything about this crazy, brilliant night - that it was me who got Pete here, that he’s Lulubelle’s father and that Lulubelle used to be Bella Mac, but I don’t. Instead I just nestle slightly closer, enjoying his closeness, liking how he smells kind of woody and male – I breathe it in.
‘Frankie?’ He sounds curious. ‘Are you sniffing me?’
‘No, of course not,’ I lie. ‘I have a sniffle, that’s all. Just a little overcome, I think, with this whole, magical evening…’
Wildflowers Page 20
