by Jenny Oliver
Holly looked at the patterns in the patio floor. Standing next to her, Wilf handed her the plate and a fork, completely oblivious to any looks passing between the group.
‘It’s lovely to see you taking care of Holly, Wilfred,’ Emily carried on and Diana smiled and looked away. ‘We never get to see this sweeter side of you.’
‘Get lost, Emily,’ he narrowed his eyes. ‘Holly, do you need a drink?’
‘I think she’s OK for a drink, Wilfred, Alfonso got her some water,’ Emily grinned, clearly enjoying the tension and the awkwardness. ‘I could do with a top-up though,’ she added, biting the tip of her finger.
‘You know where the wine is,’ Wilf said with a sneer.
‘Children, behave!’ Diane did a clap of her hands. ‘Be nice to each other, it’s my pre-wedding party, I want loveliness and kindness and just all things beautiful.’
Wilf and Emily scowled at each other and then the dog bounded over and pushed Wilf backwards so that he had to sit down and scratch behind the mutt’s ears. Holly took the opportunity to excuse herself. Sliding the plate of food onto the nearest table and picking up the baguette, she made a beeline for the garden where she hoped she might be able to disappear behind the wall of rose bushes.
Chapter Eighteen
Ahead of her, the garden stretched out, green and lush, behind her were the rose bushes, plump and cream, the petals fringed with pink and pruned like prize-winners. To her right was a swimming pool, the water shimmering in the afternoon light. Swallows were gliding down as she watched, skimming the surface to drink, and pausing on the empty sun-loungers that sparkled with splashed water. At the far end the garden faded into wilder plants, tall grasses speckled with poppies. And then it changed again in a shaded area of different types of trees. As she walked up to it, the shadows long in the afternoon sunshine, she recognised some cherry trees, the same as the ones from the island, their white blossom just ending, and wondered if Diana had taken a cutting with her when she left. There was an old gnarled apple tree with a swing hanging from the main branch and what looked like some other fruit trees. She sat on the swing, her back to the house, facing the lavender fields that stretched far and wide ahead of her and found herself sort of wishing that she was back on the road. That everything was done and dusted and she was away from the scrutiny of Emily and Diana.
‘Sorry about that,’ she heard Wilf say from behind her.
She looked over her shoulder. ‘It’s OK. To be expected really.’
‘I should rise above it,’ he said, taking a seat on a low branch of the apple tree. The dog had followed and lay down in front of him. Wilf rested his bare feet on its back. ‘Sorry they’re so full on. Are you alright about churning ice cream?’ he said, one brow raised, looking unsure for the first time since she’d met him. ‘I’ll take you for lunch afterwards to make up for it.’
‘I think it’ll be fun. I’ve never churned before!’ she laughed.
‘You do? Oh good. OK,’ he nodded. ‘They can be an acquired taste, that lot,’ he said, indicating back to the party on the patio.
Holly thought how she’d give almost anything to have what he had in the shape of family. To have that great hustle and bustle and over-the-top sense of everyone’s business being everyone else’s business. She thought maybe that was why she’d so adamantly decided to keep the baby. To create just that. A family.
‘Wilf, I know them all, remember?’
‘Yeah, yeah I suppose you do,’ he said, as if realising that he didn’t have to worry so much about what his mum and the rest of them said or did. That Holly didn’t need the kind of treatment that maybe his girlfriends usually demanded. Not that she was his girlfriend. Just a friend who was a girl. It dawned on her that maybe he was sweeter than she’d given him credit for. Maybe she’d been taken in by the good looks and presumed arrogance.
But then he stretched himself out on the tree branch, put his hands behind his head, shut his eyes and said, ‘My room is just down the hall from yours, FYI. Just in case you find yourself wanting to pop in during the night.’
‘How old is this churn?’ Emily was standing in one of the outhouses to the left of the house, a paddle with holes cut in it in one hand and peering in the inside of what looked like a rotten wooden barrel lined with a bin bag.
Diana, dressed head to toe in white linen, huge diamonds glistening on her fingers, slapped Emily on the arm and said, ‘It’s a vintage classic. Marcel up the road sold it to me.’
‘I think Marcel might have seen you coming,’ said Wilf, who had slept through breakfast and had to be woken up by Diana to come and start the churning. He came outside looking like he’d just rolled out of bed, hair all skewiff on one side, a threadbare T-shirt that he’d obviously got out of the chest of drawers in his room and a pair of jeans that barely stayed up over his bum. There was a scowl on his face like thunder.
‘Nice of you to join us,’ Emily said, peering up at him from under the brim of her super-wide sun hat.
‘I can see right up your nose when you do that, Emily,’ he’d replied and then glanced around for Holly, frowning at her before heading over to the churn.
Before he had joined them, they’d all gone to have a look at the ice cream van. Diana had oohed and ahhed about how sweet it was and they had all crammed into the little serving area while Holly stayed outside and took a photo. Emily had leant forward and switched the nursery rhyme tune on and they’d all had a small sway and dance that made the van wobble.
‘It’s perfect,’ Diana had said, hands clapped together, ‘It’s made the day! And all the ice cream will be made by us, with love.’
Now Alfonso came out with Jean-Paul holding a big vat of warmed milk and said, ‘So this is the base of the gelato. We’ll do one flavour at a time. Emily, you wanted Prosecco, right?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Emily then, sidling up to Holly, whispered, ‘What’s up with Wilf?’
Holly shrugged. ‘I have no idea.’
Emily made a face and tipped her head as if to say he was a law unto himself. Then she took the Prosecco bottle from underneath Jean-Paul’s arm and popped the cork. ‘Do I just pour it in?’
Alfonso shrugged, ‘I think this is going to be trial and error. So…’ he lifted the bottle and slugged it into the mixture, ‘Let’s see what happens.’
‘I think everyone’s gonna get ill from this thing,’ Wilf said, peering into the bucket again.
‘Don’t be such a grump,’ said Diana, ‘How long do we churn for, Alfonso?’
‘Twenty minutes.’
‘Non-stop?’ Emily asked, aghast. ‘I don’t think my arms will last that long.’
Wilf sighed, shook his head and said, ‘This is a joke,’ then sauntered off inside.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ Emily shouted after him. ‘What’s wrong with him?’ she asked Holly.
Holly shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Maybe you should go and find out,’ Diana suggested.
‘It’s probably better if one of you lot go,’ Holly said.
‘We can’t,’ said Emily. ‘We’re churning.’
Holly rolled her eyes and stood up from the old olive press she was sitting on and followed Wilf into the house. She could feel the eyes of the rest of them on her as she went.
It was blisteringly hot again and the air was filled with the noise of cicadas and sprinklers.
It was a relief to be inside, just from the short walk from the outhouse to the front door.
Wilf was in the kitchen making a Nespresso and reading the gelato recipe on the iPad.
‘Have I done something wrong?’ Holly asked, going over to the fridge with the pretence that she was inside to get something to drink.
‘Nope,’ he said, adding a splosh of milk to his espresso.
‘Good.’ Holly nodded, walking over to the cupboard to get a glass for some orange juice. ‘Glad we got that covered.’
‘What is wrong with you?’ he said, flipping round so his back w
as against the counter.
‘What d’you mean what is wrong with me?’ Holly paused, her hand on the open cupboard door.
‘We’ve got on really well, I feel like I’ve done everything to make this work and you just snub every opportunity. I actually waited up for you last night,’ he said, glaring at her.
‘Why?’ she asked, hands spread wide.
‘Because I practically begged you to come to my room.’
‘When?’
‘In the garden.’
‘What, that sort of invitation? That I might want to jump into bed with you for a bit of laugh.’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact.’
‘Forgive me for not seeing through to the heartfelt emotional gesture.’
‘Well it was hardly going to be heartfelt. What do you want? This is real life, people don’t make grand heartfelt gestures, they just go with what’s happening.’
Holly did a sort of guffaw and said, ‘Not when they’re having a baby they don’t. Wilf, this can’t just be fun and games, there’s a child to think about. It can’t happen. We have to be friends, for its sake.’
He shook his head, ‘I don’t understand you. Surely attempting to start something and seeing where it goes could be massively better in the long run.’
‘Or,’ she went over to the fridge and poured some orange juice, ‘massively worse.’
‘That’s just being negative for the sake of it.’
She shrugged. ‘I think you’re being idealistic.’
He huffed and downed his coffee. ‘That’s ridiculous. Sometimes you have to take a risk.’
Holly shut the fridge and licked her lips for a second to think before saying, ‘I think you haven’t given this enough thought.’
‘That can’t be your answer for everything.’ Wilf shook his head and said, ‘I think you’ve given this too much thought.’
‘When you’ve finished bickering, children, there’s gelato to churn!’ Emily shouted from the open doorway. ‘We’re moving onto vanilla and then, Holly, Mum’s bought some cherries as a sort of homage to the island. Fun, eh?’
‘Hilarious,’ muttered Wilf, and he strode past Holly out the kitchen door, the dog bounding after him. ‘I’m going for a swim.’
Chapter Nineteen
They churned all morning and made bucket-loads of gelato. The cherry was the nicest by a mile, especially after they sloshed a load of brandy in. The Prosecco was completely tasteless, the vanilla OK, both the fig and pear had good elements and Jean-Paul’s attempt at menthe surprised them all by being pretty good and luminous green.
Wilf had come out to join them again about halfway through the process and churned non-stop with a frown on his sweating forehead. Some wary looks had passed between the rest of them but no one mentioned anything about his mood again.
‘We go for lunch?’ asked Jean-Paul when he came back inside the outhouse, having had a cigar underneath a walnut tree.
‘Definitely, I’m starving,’ said Emily, ‘Baggsie going in the Ferrari.’
‘I’m going to cycle,’ Wilf said. ‘I need the exercise.’
‘Rubbish you do,’ frowned Emily. ‘You spend half your life on a horse.’
‘I’m cycling.’
Holly bit her lip.
‘You can come with us, Holly,’ Diana said, placing a hand on Holly’s shoulder, ‘I don’t know why he’s being such a brat but I can only apologise.’
Holly drove in the back of Diana and Jean-Paul’s open-topped old Renault 4 with the big, slobbering dog. She spent the whole journey attempting to keep him at arms’ length so she didn’t get his dribble on her.
‘Apologies for the car, the suspension has gone on the other one, or something like that. I’ll be going to the church tomorrow in this,’ Diana laughed.
Holly leant forward, her arms resting between the two front headrests, ‘Have you got a beautiful dress?’ she asked. Growing up, Diana Hunter-Brown had been the most glamorous woman she’d known. When she’d gone with her mum to clean, she’d sat on Diana’s cream satin bedspread and absorbed her surroundings. The elegant dress hanging off the wardrobe door, the perfumes on the dressing table and the Tiffany boxes stacked one on top of the other. She had sat envious of their life, of their togetherness, of what Diana would do and sacrifice for the sake of her children. Some people said she was a gold-digger, Holly had thought she was marvellous.
‘Darling, I have a very simple dress. When you’ve been married as many times as I have you realise that all the trimmings are nonsense. The wedding’s nonsense too, to be honest, but it seemed like a fun excuse for a party,’ Diana said, her arm stretched out of the open window, her fingers spread wide to catch the breeze.
‘I am the first she doesn’t mind if she marries or not. Because I am broke,’ Jean-Paul laughed, speaking around another cigar that he was lighting, one hand on the wheel, the other trying not to get burnt by the rapidly flaming match.
‘He’s not broke.’ Diana turned to Holly and rolled her eyes. ‘He’s just not quite as rich as some of the others.’
Holly smiled. The dog attempted to get his face up next to hers but Diana shooed him back.
‘Marriage, darling, is a funny little thing. Me, I used it to serve a purpose. I got my kids through school and I ended up a wealthy woman. But I paid a price. A lot of that was protecting my children from the mistakes I made. And I have a couple of step-children who resent some of the money left to me, but c’est la vie. I also have a lot who are very dear friends. Did you meet Astrid, lovely girl. I always thought she might end up with Wilf actually…’
Holly remembered the girl in the white bikini from the barbecue and had to swallow a sick feeling.
‘But she’s married to a South African movie producer now. Her and Wilfred went on a couple of dates but obviously she’s not his type at all. Think maybe she was too passive. Wilf’s always liked a challenge.’
Holly sat back in her seat and tried not to think too much about what Wilf liked or didn’t like.
Diana swivelled right round in her seat to look at Holly and said, ‘A lot of people judge me for the choices I made. But my goal was always to get the best for my children. That’s what happens as a mother. What I neglected to realise, however, is that all children want is for their parents to be happy. Because, by default, that leads to their greater happiness.’ She looked Holly in the eye and then smiled, looking at her the way Enid used to, seeing in her potential and spirit. Seeing in her value.
She realised that it was in looks like the one Diana was giving her that Holly had found the courage to move on from her own mother’s leaving. The knowledge that there were other people as important to her who had thought she was special, was invaluable.
It was Enid, most of all, who had filled the gap left by her mum. What had been just an after-school job in the ice cream van became a lifeline.
She remembered her mum coming back and being almost jealous of their relationship. Like she wanted to stake a claim on Holly; that’s my daughter, hands off.
She overheard a hushed argument once when Enid had said, ‘You gave up the rights to her the day you left.’
And it had made Holly feel championed. Maybe it was that feeling, rather than the need to prove herself worthy, that had driven her so far in rowing. When Enid had come with her dad to the Olympics, and Martha, too, the three of them had stood under a black umbrella sheltering from the sun for most of the races and then hightailed it to the front of the stands as soon as Holly’s boat came down. They told stories about being ushered back by officials but ducking and diving them so they could see her in close up. Her father had nearly passed out he was so nervous and excited.
It occurred to her then that if her mum had stayed, her whole life would have been different and who was to say that she would have had the strength and independence that she had now.
That didn’t help with the whole Wilf thing though. Her brain was literally hurting from the set-up.
She thought abou
t the email Annie had sent.
About her mum being susceptible to her emotions. About Holly possibly shutting hers off.
Wilf had said she was overthinking, but of course she was overthinking. This was her life. Her child’s life.
But then, as Diana just said, she’d made loads of mistakes and her kids had turned out cool and lovely and funny.
Worried about the effect of stress on the baby, Holly shut her eyes and tried Annie’s mum’s mindfulness technique. She pictured the lot of them skiing down the mountain as she watched from the side, letting it all flow past her. It was surprisingly enjoyable; she sent the slobbering dog down first, then Wilf having his bad mood rant, then Emily and her hat, Alfonso and his sly little grin from the night before, Diana followed them in a big meringue wedding dress and Jean-Paul and the heady fumes of his cigars. Like a choreographed firework display, it was all set to the nursery rhyme tune of the ice cream van. The bloody thing that had got her into this mess. Aside from the one-night-stand sex.
As she lay with her head on the back seat, suddenly Enid popped up in the daydream, having a vin chaud in a deck chair, wearing her all-in-one purple ski-suit and a bobble hat, a book in one hand, her skis discarded in the snow next to her.
Holly’s eyes shot open. A book in her hand, she thought. And, pulling out her phone, texted Annie.
Enid kept a diary.
She did?
Yeah, when I worked for her in the van, she used to write it when we had no customers. She definitely had a diary.
I didn’t know that.
Well. Might be worth looking into. Might give Martha some closure.
Roger that. How’s Wilf?
Angry.
Why?
He thinks I’m standoffish.
You are standoffish. So?
I think he wants to maybe give us a go.
Whoooooooooooooop whooooooooop.
I don’t know, An. I think he’ll get bored and go off with some model or something.
