A Vintage Wedding (11 page)

Beth’s smile was definitely a bit silly. ‘Well, as you know, he’s April’s brother. And I’ve told you about the van.’

‘Oh, you. You know what I mean,’ said Rachel with a smile.

‘We’ll have to get on with selling the wedding dress, to get the money for it,’ said Lindy, ever practical where money was concerned.

‘We’ll need to get a good picture of it to put on eBay, and it might be better if someone – me probably, as it fits – models it. It’s one of those that looks better on a body than on the hanger.’

Rachel nodded. ‘I’ve got a nice camera and I don’t take bad photos.’

‘We’ll get together at mine when it’s ready,’ said Lindy.

‘Or mine,’ said Beth.

‘I’d rather it was at mine, if you don’t mind, Beth. I don’t like asking my family to babysit if I can avoid it.’

‘Oh no, that’s OK! Mine’s really small anyway.’

Lindy went on, as if worried in case Beth was offended: ‘I’ve always been a bit frightened of putting things on eBay. I need to learn how to do it.’

‘I’ll show you. It’s not that hard,’ said Beth.

‘We’ve all got a lot to learn, one way or another,’ said Rachel. Although she wasn’t looking at him, she was thinking about Raff. What she needed to learn was how to deal with people like him.

The girls chatted some more and then Lindy and Rachel left Beth to her serving duties and headed home. The pub became busier as the evening wore on and Beth certainly earned her keep. Her mother might not think being a barmaid was up to much but Beth really enjoyed it and was gratified that Sukey seemed very pleased with her. And it had been great to see Charlie again, albeit briefly as he’d had to dash off to sort out something on the farm. All in all, it had been a lovely evening.

It was Saturday and Beth and Rachel were standing outside the hall, having both arrived at the same time. It was Chippingford Village Hall transformation day – or a giving it a fresh lick of paint day anyway.

‘At least it won’t show if you get paint on it,’ said Beth, looking at Rachel’s pristine boiler suit with surprise. A pair of old jeans and jumper had been enough for her but perhaps Rachel didn’t own such things. Beth thought perhaps she didn’t; Rachel was always so well groomed.

Rachel shrugged. ‘That’s what I thought.’

‘Is it new?’ asked Beth, obviously not ready to ignore what Rachel considered the proper gear for painting in.

‘No. Just clean. Now, what’s the plan?’ Rachel wanted to get on with it. She hadn’t been in the hall since the night the three of them met and she wanted to see just what sort of condition it was in.

‘It’s unlocked and people have arrived already. Lindy will come if she can but obviously on a Saturday she’s got her boys, and I’m not sure if her dad can help out or not.’

‘Well, let’s get in there!’

Rachel checked that Raff wasn’t one of the early arrivals and then chatted for a bit with the people who were there. There was Bob, whom she remembered from the first event in the hall, and a couple of people she’d spotted in the pub. Then she did what she was desperate to do: investigate the decorative order of the hall. The fact it was so gloomy even though all the lights were on and it was a bright day did not bode well.

Rachel found Sarah in a cubbyhole with a sink and a broken electric cooker that described itself as a kitchen. ‘So who’s in charge of the painting?’

Sarah, who had a smudge of dirt on her face already, regarded Rachel. ‘As chairman I appoint you to be in charge of anything you’d like to take charge of. I’m worrying about this kitchen, which you wouldn’t cook dog food in, given a choice.’

‘Did you tell April there was a kitchen in the hall?’

Sarah shook her head. ‘I can’t remember what I told her. I just wish I hadn’t had this mad idea. This place is a dump and we can’t change that in just under a month.’

Rachel, who had been feeling pretty pessimistic about it all herself, instantly felt proactive and protective. ‘Don’t worry. We can sort this. When Raff gets here I’ll see if he can get one of those paint sprayers. We can have the whole place white and clean-looking in a couple of days.’ Although as soon as the words were out of her mouth she realised how incredibly hard they’d have to work.

Sarah looked sheepish. ‘Lindy said you weren’t to have anything to do with Raff and I mustn’t encourage him to go near you.’

Rachel smiled. ‘I can handle Raff. Lindy needn’t worry.’

As she left Sarah looking at her list of contacts on her phone, trying to find a plumber, Rachel couldn’t help laughing at herself. When she’d decorated her home she’d spent weeks and weeks on preparation, only allowing herself to apply the final coat when the surfaces had been sanded back to silky perfection. Now she was blithely suggesting something that would probably mean painting over the cobwebs, let alone the dirt of ages.

Fortunately her weird euphoria over the size of the challenge didn’t instantly evaporate when she turned round and saw Raff and Bob coming through the door with a scaffold tower.

She went up to him with an I-need-a-favour smile. ‘Hi, Raff. I was just talking to Sarah in the kitchen – if you can call it that – and we decided we need one of those sprayers so we could just spray the entire hall white, really quickly.’

‘Good morning, Rachel. Very nice to see you too. Lovely day, isn’t it?’

‘Oh – hello – yes – lovely day,’ Rachel said impatiently. ‘So what do you think about the spray thing?’

‘Put on a mist coat, you mean?’

‘Oh,’ said Beth. ‘Like that programme when the man redesigns people’s houses for them? And makes everything white so they can get a sense of the space?’ Beth cleared her throat. ‘Sorry. I probably do watch too much television.’

‘Not from now on,’ said Rachel. ‘We have a hall to decorate.’

‘That’s not a bad idea, actually, the mist coat,’ said Raff.

Rachel had a flicker of satisfaction at praise from Raff. ‘So, can you get the equipment?’

He seemed to take this question as a challenge. ‘Yes. I’ve got a friend who’s got the kit. I suppose you want it now?’

‘If possible. Although I suppose later today would be OK.’

‘You’re very demanding. But I like that in a woman.’

Rachel scowled and made Raff laugh again. ‘OK, I’ll make some calls. Maybe you could have it tomorrow. Is that soon enough for you, Ms Impatient?’

‘Absolutely soon enough, Mr Fix-it!’

As they watched Raff stroll into the corner of the room to make his calls, Beth, who’d watched the conversation as if it were a tennis match, said, ‘But what shall we get on with until we can do that?’

‘Wash,’ said Rachel. ‘Get as much loose dirt off as we can. It’s filthy so it’ll be hard work. Did we all bring rubber gloves and things? I’ve got some spares if you want them.’ Rachel didn’t explain that she’d gone through a phase of buying rubber gloves along with her phase of buying bedlinen, and produced four pairs from the bag slung over her shoulder.

‘You have got a lot of gloves in there,’ said Raff, rejoining them at just the wrong time for Rachel.

She decided to go on the offensive. ‘Are you any good at plumbing? Or electrics? If so, Sarah needs you in the kitchen. That’s the cupboard down the end.’

Raff inclined his head in acknowledgement of this request and went off to find Sarah.

‘My God, Rach! Respect. You’ve got him well trained, haven’t you?’ said Lindy, who had quietly joined the group.

‘Thank you,’ said Rachel. ‘I just feel really determined to get this hall done. But I have realised that we’re going to have to do all this washing in cold water!’

There was some discussion as to whether the rafters needed washing when no one would really see them but Rachel was firm. ‘No, we must. We’re going to decorate properly at some time – it would be mad to paint over dirt.’

‘Well, who’s going to get up there and do it?’ objected Justin, who’d managed to donate an hour of his precious time to the project.

‘We have a scaffolding tower in case you hadn’t noticed,’ said Raff, who had done as much as he could for Sarah and rejoined the others.

‘Sorry, mate, I had noticed, but I don’t do heights.’

Several other people said they didn’t do heights either. Rachel suspected it was really that they didn’t do washing in cold water. ‘I’ll do it,’ she said. ‘I’m OK with heights. And my rubber gloves are lined.’

Rachel had changed the water in her bucket several times, climbing up and down the scaffold tower intent on her task before she realised that everyone else had gone. Except Raff.

‘Oh,’ she said, startled, about to refill her bucket and go back up there. ‘Did you want this back?’ She gestured to the tower.

‘Not right this minute, no. But we have to go.’

‘No, it’s all right. I’ve got the key. I can lock up when I’ve finished. But you don’t need to stay.’

‘It’s five o’clock. We’ve been here since nine without a proper break. I’m hungry and you must be too.’

‘I’m fine! Do go.’

He shook his head. ‘Not without you. I’m taking you to meet my mother.’

Rachel blinked at this, but found her sense of humour. ‘That’s a bit early in the relationship, isn’t it?’

He grinned. ‘Nice that you think we have a relationship.’

Rachel stopped being amused. ‘We haven’t. And didn’t you have lunch with her yesterday?’

‘I couldn’t make it so I promised to come today instead. And I’m going to take you with me. Now, do you want to go home and change? Or go as you are?’

In spite of being tired – something she had only just noticed – Rachel was feeling strong. She’d really enjoyed scrubbing away at rafters that probably hadn’t seen a cloth since they were last decorated in the fifties.

‘OK, so if I agree to go with you to meet your mother, does that count as our date? For the wood?’

‘Rachel!’ He shook his head reproachfully. ‘What do you think?’

Rachel didn’t know what she thought and she didn’t know what Raff thought either.

‘So? Change or as you are?’ he said.

‘Shower and change,’ she said. ‘I’ll meet you somewhere in an hour.’

He shook his head. ‘I’d rather wait at yours.’

‘Don’t you want to get changed yourself?’

‘No. I can shower and change at my mother’s.’

‘Well, you can’t stay at mine,’ said Rachel firmly. ‘Wait in the pub.’

‘Closed for a private party.’

‘Knock on the door. Sukey will let you in.’

‘Sukey is out. Besides, why won’t you let me in? Do I make the place look untidy?’

Rachel gritted her teeth. There were two reasons why she didn’t want Raff to be in her house while she showered and changed. One was because she didn’t know him well although her logical mind told her she shouldn’t worry: he was well known in the village, Sarah thought he was a good man and while Lindy said he was a womaniser, no one had implied he wasn’t safe. The other reason was exactly as he’d expressed it: he made the place look untidy.

‘Listen,’ he said, ‘I do have a deep desire to …’ He searched for the word. ‘Rumple you—’

She gasped with shock.

‘But I promise I won’t.’

‘That would be assault!’ Rachel realised that sounded as if she was afraid of him and now she thought about it, she knew she wasn’t.

‘It wouldn’t be assault if you wanted it too.’

Rachel felt as if she’d hardened her muscles to take a blow from one direction only to find herself knocked from somewhere else altogether. ‘That will never happen!’

He shrugged. ‘I’m prepared to wait. Now come along. Time for you to get clean and prettied up and me to sit in your white house and wait.’

She glared at him. ‘It’s not white, it’s “wevet”.’

She left him, still in his coat, in her sitting room reading a copy of
Country Living
that she produced from a drawer. She showered and washed her hair at a speed unknown to her previously. She didn’t iron her hair. This was a big deal for Rachel, who preferred her reddish locks to be sleek and controlled, not rioting round her head like damp candyfloss. Having dried herself (but not between her toes and with no application of body lotion – almost unheard of) she pulled on some black velvet jeans, boots and several layers of jumper and cardigan. She didn’t usually wear a lot of make-up but now it was only a smear of foundation round her nose and some mascara. Then she flew back down the stairs.

‘That was quick!’ Raff said, putting down his magazine and inspecting her. ‘There’s no great hurry. Still, you look great. I like your hair like that.’

‘Thank you,’ said Rachel, feeling wrong-footed. Why had she felt obliged to rush so? Why hadn’t she taken her time and got ready properly? Now it looked as if she was desperate to see him. In fact, it was because she was desperate to get him out of her space. Even if she had to get out of it too.

‘You obviously don’t feel the cold,’ he went on.

‘Er – why do you say that?’ She
was
feeling the cold at the moment – damp hair in winter was chilly. She searched her mind for where she’d put away her hat. Unusually for her, she didn’t instantly know.

‘Because you haven’t lit your wood-burner although you’ve got dry wood and dry kindling.’

‘How do you know?’ she demanded.

‘There is no soot or anything inside the stove.’