by Jenny Kane
‘Grace, are you OK?’
‘Oh my goodness, I’m sorry, Daze! I was miles away.’ Grace smiled. ‘Are you ready for the off?’
‘All systems go!’
Forcing a smile onto her face, Grace tried not to think about the fact she didn’t know any of the guests beyond the bride, groom, and their parents. Daisy and Marcus had kept the wedding small, and only invited family – apart from her; and as she hadn’t invited a plus-one of her own, the nearest Grace would get to a slow dance in her dream dress was with Daisy’s elderly uncle and his walking stick.
Following her radiant friend into the stunning surrounds of Hardwick Hall, Grace was unable to stop her heart aching when she saw the look of love and devotion Marcus gave his almost wife as he caught his first glimpse of his bride walking towards him.
Grace felt as though her facial muscles had undergone some sort of living rigor mortis. Surely she was seeing things? It had to be her imagination playing tricks. She’d been so caught up in the romance of Mathilda’s and Robert’s story that she was hallucinating. Rob couldn’t possibly be standing in front of the chair next to the one she was due to sit on once the procession reached the front of the aisle. Mrs Marks must have cut off the blood supply to her head with all that lace-tugging.
Struggling not to wobble and fall off her heels, Grace came to an abrupt halt behind Daisy, took her bouquet, and closed her eyes for a split second. When she opened them again she fully expected the chair in question to be empty.
It wasn’t.
But Rob’s in Houston. The thought stubbornly played itself on continuous loop through her mind despite the evidence of her own eyes, which told her categorically that Rob really was there, looking extremely handsome in a navy blue suit.
‘I’m sorry if I startled you. Daisy said it should be a surprise.’
Much to Grace’s relief, the quartet that had accompanied the bridal party up the aisle from the balcony stopped, and the registrar began to welcome the guests, giving her an excellent excuse for not even looking at Rob, let alone replying.
Grace didn’t hear a word of the ceremony. Fiddling with Daisy’s’ bouquet of cream roses, she stared unwaveringly at the back of the bride’s dress, her mind so overloaded with questions it actually felt blank. Her lips moved in time to the words of the hymns, but no sound came out of her mouth, and as the registrar declared Marcus and Daisy man and wife, it was only the clapping of the guests behind her that pulled Grace back to her senses.
Speaking out of the side of her mouth, Grace finally muttered, ‘But you’re in Houston.’
‘Apparently I’m not.’
‘Why are you here, you hate me.’
‘Hate you?’ Rob shook his head, his expression heavy with regret, as he produced a piece of paper from his suit pocket. It was well creased and worn, as if it held words that he’d read, and reread, many times. With a half-smile he passed it to Grace.
Uncertain, Grace took it, and found herself confronted by a page of her own scribbled writing. It was obviously not the original, but a scanned or photocopied version of the list of things she liked about Rob that she’d made when she’d been staying in Daisy’s spare room.
Speaking under his breath so as not to disturb the proceedings, Rob said, ‘Did you know that even when you go pale, your freckles stay dark? It’s as if they’re tiny dots that someone has added on with a brown felt tip. Very cute.’
Letting the fact Rob had mentioned she was cute warm her heart for a moment, Grace kept her eyes on the list. ‘Daisy sent this to you? She stole your email address off my phone?’
‘She did.’
Grace looked across to where Marcus and Daisy were chatting to the registrar while they signed the wedding certificate, just as her best friend turned and winked at her.
‘Why are you here, Rob?’ Unwilling to allow herself to feel hopeful, Grace stared him squarely in the face. ‘Why talk to me now, when you walked out on me then?’
‘Daisy managed to convince me that you’d forgive me for being an idiot, that you felt guilty about Malcolm, but were too stubborn to ever say so.’
‘I see.’ Grace felt a smile nudging her, but she wasn’t prepared to let him off the hook that easily.
‘She also told me about Malcolm’s stepmother, and how you’d been cornered into the coffee date.’
Grace fiddled with the petals of the flowers lying in her lap. ‘You let Daisy explain, but not me?’
Rob sighed. ‘My only excuse, apart from being an idiot, is that I’ve been hurt before. Sounds feeble, but it’s true.’
‘It’s not feeble.’ Grace glanced up at him, but turned away quickly. The way he was holding his hands out to her was redirecting her mind away from the matter in hand, and to their time together in her kitchen. Returning her gaze to the married couple, Grace said, ‘but what is feeble is not giving me a chance to explain myself.’
‘I …’ Grace stopped Rob in his tracks. ‘We’ll have to do this later. Daisy and Marcus are coming back to the front.’ She stood up, ready to return the bouquet to Daisy, ‘unless you intend to disappear again, that is.’
‘Not a chance.’ Rob grinned, his eyes twinkling in much the way Grace had described Robert’s as he looked at Mathilda. ‘For a start, Daisy would kill me!’
Grace wasn’t sure how she got through either the photographs or the line-up before the reception. Daisy kept nudging her, ‘Try and smile naturally, woman, you look like a waxwork model!’
‘Don’t blame me. It’s your fault.’
Daisy wriggled her eyebrows, ‘Don’t tell me you aren’t pleased to see him, Dr Harper, ‘cos I won’t believe you.’
‘And I don’t suppose I’m allowed to hit you on your wedding day, Mrs Stevens; so I suppose I’d better forgive you!’
Daisy smirked, ‘I’ll take that as a “thank you, Daisy, I’m thrilled you persuaded Rob to cut short his conference and fly thousands of miles to see me in my pretty frock”, shall I?’
Unable to prevent her own smile now, Grace took two glasses of Bucks Fizz from a passing waiter, ‘I think we need a drink! How long till the meal starts?’
‘Just long enough for you to go and apologise to Rob, for him to apologise to you, and for me to make nice with my new mother-in-law.’
Not wanting to interrupt Rob, who was talking to Marcus and his brother, Grace took the opportunity to rest her feet. Sitting at the same table she’d sat at only twenty-four hours ago, dreaming of what might have been, she realised that thanks to Daisy, she’d been given a second chance. ‘Hello again.’
Grace jumped, slopping her drink alarming as Rob appeared next to her. But rather than be cross as droplets of orange flavoured alcohol hit her dress, she burst out laughing.
Rob’s face creased in confusion as he produced a handkerchief to dry her off, ‘I’m so sorry. Why aren’t you shouting at me?’
‘You making me jump reminded me of Robert and Mathilda, that’s all.’
‘It did?’
‘Yes; and that’s the second time today my own life has echoed that of my literary protagonists.’
‘Does that mean you’ve finished your novel then?’ Rob looked so proud and genuinely pleased that Grace mentally kicked herself. She had been just as much of a fool as he had.
‘Yes,’ Grace smiled, ‘just a few hours ago in fact.’
‘So what did you decided to call it in the end?’
Grace frowned. ‘That’s the bit I’m not one hundred per cent sure about. Folville’s Girl is still in the running, but I thought I might go with The Butterfly Girdle.’
Rob’s eyes twinkled mischievously as he sat down next to Grace, ‘I can’t deny that The Butterfly Girdle sounds very sophisticated, but as it happens, I have come up with the perfect title for you.’
‘You have?’
‘Yep! You should call your book Romancing Robin Hood.’
‘Romancing Robin Hood?’ Grace narrowed her eyes, not quite sure if her fellow historian was serious or teas
ing her.
Winking, Rob slid an arm around Grace’s waist and squeezed her playfully, ‘After all, that’s what you and Mathilda have been doing all your lives, isn’t it!’
Laughing, Grace shook her head, ‘For one awful moment I thought you were serious.’ Without waiting for Rob to expand on his thoughts for her title, Grace grabbed her chance to apologise before her bridesmaid duties called her away.
‘I’m sorry, Rob. I should have told you properly about Aggie and her matchmaking. Thing is, I never took it seriously, so it didn’t occur to me that you would. As Daisy told you, I didn’t really have the heart to let her down, or get the opportunity to get out of seeing him.’
‘You mean let Malcolm down surely?’ Rob sat on the bench next to her and stared out across the landscape.
‘Malcolm probably wouldn’t have noticed if I was there or not. He seemed happy as long as someone was making “I’m impressed” noises about his sporting and business achievements.’
‘Oh, one of those men.’
‘Sadly for Aggie, yes. But bless her; she loves Malcolm in spite of the whole self-centred arrogance thing. It was her feelings I didn’t want to hurt.’
They sat for a while, admiring the gently rolling hills.
‘You can see them can’t you?’ Rob placed a hand over Grace’s palm, holding it as he examined the roll of the landscape with a historian’s eye, ‘the medieval population working the land; doing what they can to survive in a world that was, even by today’s standards, cruel and relentless in its demand for hard work.’
As Rob but her own imaginings into words, Grace nodded but said nothing, not wanting to ruin the moment. After a while he said, ‘I’ve finished something as well.’
‘You have?’
‘Our paper. I went ahead and wrote it using your evidence. I emailed it to you this morning, but if you hate it I won’t submit it.’
Grace was gobsmacked. ‘But I assumed …’
‘You thought because we had a teenage-style falling out that I wouldn’t want to write a paper with you any more?’
‘Well, yes. I mean, you did say so!’
‘Well, I wasn’t going to at first. But then I realised I was being unprofessional mixing up my personal feelings with my professional ones. You’re an excellent medievalist. A moment of idiocy isn’t the sort of thing that would want to stop me wanting to work with you. And doing much more than work, for that matter!’
The sound of the gong ushering all the guests to dinner interrupted just as the conversation was beginning to get interesting, making Rob sigh with resignation, ‘You’re back on duty now, and this isn’t the place to talk properly. Even afterwards you’ll have the round of relatives to dance with and stuff, but I wondered …’
Grace looked up at him. Rob seemed anxious. ‘Yes?’
Reaching into his inside pocket he pulled out another piece of folded paper and passed it to Grace. ‘What do you think? I’ve never actually had the time to explore Nottinghamshire properly since I got back from the States, and somehow it seemed the ideal place to get to know you better.’
As Grace read the printout of a booking form, for a room in a hotel hidden away in what was left of Sherwood Forest – for that evening and the following two days – her mouth fell open.
‘Daisy said you deserved a break. Will you come with me, Grace?’
Posting the piece of paper back into his pocket, Grace stood on her tiptoes and kissed Rob gently on the lips, before taking his hand and walking with him toward the dining room. ‘I will, on two conditions.’
‘And your conditions are?’
‘That we share a room.’
Rob beamed; his expression telling Grace exactly how he approved of this clause in the agreement. ‘And the other condition?’
‘Oh that’s obvious isn’t it?’ Grace squeezed his hand playfully. ‘That we can visit the Robin Hood gift shop, of course!’
Footnotes
1Roger Belers was murdered in 1326 in the field of Brokesby, Leicestershire. The incident was recorded in the Assize Rolls – Just1/470
2Each county in England was split into hundreds, which served as individual administrative areas. By 1326 each hundred had its own court. Ashby Folville, Twyford, and Reresby were all in the Leicester Hundred of East Goscote.
3The Outlaw’s Song of Trailbaston, Dobson & Taylor, Rymes of Robyn Hood: An Introduction to the English Outlaw (Gloucester, 1989,) p.253
4Piers the Plowman, Langland, W., The Vision of Piers the Plowman; A Complete Edition of the B-Text (London,1987), Passus XIX, line 245, pp. 242-3
5Scattergood, J., ‘The Tale of Gamelyn: The Noble Robber as Provincial Hero,’ ed. C Meale, Readings in Medieval English Romance (Cambridge, 1994)
6The real-life steward of the Folville Manor at Ashby Folville was John de Sproxton. I have only made Robert de Folville the steward for the purposes of this story.
7Leyser, H., Medieval Women: A Social History of Women in England 450-1500, (London, 1995)
8Robin Hood and the Monk, Dobson & Taylor, Rymes of Robyn Hood: An Introduction to the English Outlaw (Gloucester, 1989), p.113
9Bellamy, J., ‘The Coterel Gang: An Anatomy of a Band of Fourteenth Century Crime’, English Historical Review Vol. 79, (1964)
10Edmund de Ashby, sheriff of Leicestershire, was ordered to pursue and arrest Thomas and Eustace de Folville (with others) after they were indicted in the murder of Belers. Calendar of Patent Rolls, 1324-1327, p.250
11Nichols, ed., History and Antiquity of Leicester, Vol. 3, Part 1, p.389, p.96
12Hanawalt, B.A., Crime and Conflict in the English Communities 1330-1348 (London, 1979)
13A Song on the Times is recorded in the ‘Harley Manuscript’ No.913, folio 44. Wright, T., The Political Songs of England, From the Reign of King John to that of Edward II (Camden Society, First Series, Vol. 6, London, 1839)
14A Geste of Robyn Hode, Dobson & Taylor, Rymes of Robyn Hood: An Introduction to the English Outlaw (Gloucester, 1989), p.112, stanza 456
15Robin Hood and the Potter, Dobson & Taylor, Rymes of Robyn Hood: An Introduction to the English Outlaw (Gloucester, 1989), p.127, stanza 17
16Robin Hood and the Monk, Dobson & Taylor, Rymes of Robyn Hood: An Introduction to the English Outlaw (Gloucester, 1989), p.117, stanza 22
17A Geste of Robyn Hode, Dobson & Taylor, Rymes of Robyn Hood: An Introduction to the English Outlaw (Gloucester, 1989), p.79, stanza 10
18Sir Robert Ingram was sheriff of Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire on four occasions between 1322 and 1334. Lists of Sheriffs for England and Wales from the earliest times to AD 1831 Preserved in the Public Record Office (List and Index Society 9, New York, 1963) p.102
19The most scandalous crime committed by the Folville and Coterel families in unison was the kidnap and ransom of the justice Sir Richard de Willoughby. This is this felony that I alluded to as the ‘future crime’ Mathilda becomes aware of the brothers plotting.
Further Reading
If you are interested in learning more about Robin Hood and the historical felons of the English Middle Ages, there are many excellent reference books available. Here a few of my personal favourites.
Dobson & Taylor, Rymes of Robyn Hood: An Introduction to the English Outlaw (Gloucester, 1989)
Holt, J., Robin Hood (London, 1982)
Keen, M., The Outlaws of Medieval Legend (London, 1987)
Knight, S., Robin Hood: A Complete Study of the English Outlaw (Oxford, 1994)
Pollard, A.J., Imaging Robin Hood (London, 2004)
Prestwich, M., The Three Edwards: War and State in England 1272-1377 (London, 1980)
Another Cup of Coffee
Thirteen years ago Amy Crane ran away from everyone and everything she knew, ending up in an unfamiliar city with no obvious past and no idea of her future. Now, though, that past has just arrived on her doorstep, in the shape of an old music cassette that Amy hasn’t seen since she was at university.
Digging out her long-neglected Wal
kman, Amy listens to the lyrics that soundtracked her student days. As long-buried memories are wrenched from the places in her mind where she’s kept them safely locked away for over a decade, Amy is suddenly tired of hiding.
It’s time to confront everything about her life. Time to find all the friends she left behind in England, when her heart got broken and the life she was building for herself got completely shattered. Time to make sense of all the feelings she’s been bottling up for all this time. And most of all, it’s time to discover why Jack has sent her tape back to her now, after all these years…
With her mantra, New life, New job, New home, playing on a continuous loop in her head, Amy gears herself up with yet another a bucket-sized cup of coffee, as she goes forth to lay the ghost of first love to rest …
Another Cup of Christmas
Five years ago the staff of Pickwicks Cafe in Richmond were thrown into turmoil when their cook and part-owner, Scott, had a terrible accident. With help from his friends, his wife Peggy, and the staff at the local hospital, he made an amazing recovery. Now Pickwicks is preparing to host a special Christmas fundraiser for the hospital department that looked after Scott.
Pickwicks’ waitress Megan has been liaising with the ward’s administrator, Nick, as all the staff who helped Scott’s recovery are invited are invited. As the problems of organising the fundraiser take up more and more of their busy lives, Megan and Nick contact each other more frequently, and their emails and phone calls start to develop from the practical into the flirty.
But can you actually fall for someone you’ve never met?
As the fundraiser draws closer, Megan is beginning to think that she had imagined all the virtual flirting between herself and Nick – he promised to arrange to meet her for real, but he hasn’t done so. Now he’s bringing someone with him to the fundraiser, and they’re just bound to be everything Megan feels she isn’t.
Copyright © Jenny Kane 2014
