A Vintage Wedding (18 page)

Beth was in a very deep sleep when she gradually became aware of someone banging on the front door. It sounded so urgent she just fell out of bed and made her way downstairs, blinking, trying to wake up. There must be an awful emergency – perhaps someone was ill, or there’d been a car crash or something – and she ought to be alert and able to help. She debated pulling on her jeans for decency but decided if there was an emergency, no one would notice her thighs.

The man on her doorstep, grinning and dangling car keys, was Charlie. Beth had been so sure it would be a policeman or an anxious stranger she took a second to register it was him.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked huskily, checking her brain to see if there’d been arrangement to drop in on her insanely early after delivering something locally.

He grinned. ‘I’ve brought your van after its second valet. Not even toffee-nosed Rachel will complain about the smell now. Are you going to ask me in?’

She flinched inwardly at this slur on Rachel, but she didn’t comment. ‘Of course. Come in.’ She waited until he was in the hallway and then said, ‘I’ll just get some clothes on.’

‘I think you look fine as you are,’ said Charlie. He gave her a long, lazy look that told her he was all ready to carry on from where they left off last time he was here.

Beth didn’t know how she felt about this and didn’t comment. ‘I won’t be long,’ she said and retreated to the bedroom.

Maybe it was the fact she was wearing an outsized Hello Kitty T-shirt she’d worn in bed since she was twelve, but she didn’t feel she wanted to get straight back into bed with him. She needed a bit more wooing, she decided.

She didn’t spend much time getting dressed. She more or less pulled on what she’d taken off the night before, brushed her teeth, gave her hair its usual ruffle and joined Charlie in the sitting room. ‘Good morning!’ she said, feeling cheerful now she was wearing knickers and had cleaned her teeth.

‘Good morning, beautiful. I’m a little bit disappointed that you felt you had to get dressed just for me, but maybe I’ll forgive you if you make me breakfast.’ He pulled her too him and kissed her in a way that made her wonder if she was actually breakfast.

‘You should have had it already, being a farmer and up at dawn,’ she said teasingly when he let her go.

‘I’ve had coffee and a bit of bread and butter already, but now I need food.’

Beth went into her tiny kitchen. As it happened, she did have a packet of bacon and one of her newly online older friends had given her a box of fresh eggs as a thank-you present. She dug out her frying pan.

There wasn’t a lot of difference between a hung-over student and a hungry farmer, she decided as she loaded up his plate. She’d made toast for herself but Charlie had several rashers of bacon, a mountain of scrambled eggs, fried mushrooms and tomatoes and fried bread. She’d been a breakfast chef for a while one vacation and knew how people appreciated an overloaded plate. She put it down in front of him with a proud flourish.

‘Awesome!’ he said. ‘You rock!’ He pulled her to him in a hug and patted her bottom.

She went and fetched her tea, examining why that innocent little pat made her feel a bit – tawdry.

‘Well, that was delicious,’ said Charlie, wiping his plate with his toast. ‘If there’s nothing more you can offer me, maybe you should drive me home?’ He drained his tea mug, keeping his eyes on hers, making sure she didn’t misunderstand him.

She smiled. She didn’t want to turn him down but she didn’t want to take him to her bedroom, either.

‘Toast? Peanut butter?’

He shook his head but with a wicked grin. ‘Not quite what I had in mind. But no hard feelings. I need to get back to the farm. Time to relieve Dad on lambing duty.

Beth returned his smile. She liked him for not forcing the issue. She wasn’t a prude but she had an internal clock that told her when it was right to take a relationship to bed. Although it was nearly right, she felt that she and Charlie hadn’t quite reached that point yet. He probably realised he wouldn’t have to wait too much longer and could be patient.

She’d pulled on her jacket before going with him to the van. She pulled open the door and sniffed. There was still a smell – it was hard to pretend otherwise – but it was far less than it had been. Rachel (whom she refused to think of as toffee-nosed) could use her own car. Lindy wouldn’t mind the van smelling a bit agricultural.

‘Fantastic! I now pronounce it smell-free!’ she said. ‘I’ll just go and get the money.’

She nipped back into the house and took the pile of notes from where she’d hidden them under her suitcase on the top of her wardrobe.

‘Here you are. Used, non-sequential notes,’ she said as she handed them over. ‘Count them.’

Charlie barely glanced at the bundle. ‘I trust you, Beth. And if the money is short, well …’ He grinned. ‘I know where you live.’

Beth decided at that moment that she’d been far too prudish and should have just got straight into bed with him without getting dressed first, or giving him breakfast. It was too late to go back on the decision but, oh, how she wanted to! She gave him a very long kiss goodbye after she had dropped him off.

That evening, Beth tucked her hair behind her ears reflecting, for the zillionth time, on how high maintenance really short hair was. It was easy to wash and quick to dry but without a lot of products it didn’t look right. It needed cutting horribly often, too. Maybe Lindy would do it for her. She was so multitalented she was bound to be able to cut hair.

Beth was behind the bar in the Prince Albert while upstairs there was a village-hall meeting going on. She polished glasses, her ears cocked for the clomp of people descending the stairs indicating the meeting was over.

Not only did she want to be ready for the sudden rush of orders, she wanted to know if the committee had been happy about the decoration of the hall. They knew about the wedding, of course, and that something had had to be done smartish, but when they were used to maroon and dark green, how would they cope with the white? Beth knew there had been a mass trip to inspect it before the meeting.

She really hoped, for Rachel’s sake, there hadn’t been a rebellion. For although Rachel said she knew the paintwork couldn’t stay white, she was hoping for a colour so light most people wouldn’t even notice it had colour in it.

Rachel was first into the bar. ‘A large white wine, Beth, and one for you too if you’re allowed.’

Beth hesitated. ‘Celebrating or commiserating?’

Rachel grinned. ‘Celebrating. They loved it, basically, and are quite happy for me to choose paint colours. The architect sent in a written report about some structural stuff but he didn’t comment on the colour scheme.’ Rachel wrinkled her brow. ‘It’s Angus, apparently. I met him briefly when we were decorating.’

‘Oh, yes, Lindy’s brother-in-law. I must have missed him.’ Beth placed a rapidly frosting glass of wine on the counter. ‘I won’t have a drink, thanks. I might give someone the wrong change.’

Lindy and her mother came up to the bar. ‘Well, that went well!’ said Sarah. ‘Lindy? Glass of wine? Rachel? Oh, you’ve got one. Beth?’

Sukey came up while the drinks discussion was going on. ‘Why don’t you take a break when this lot are served, Beth? I’m sure you want to discuss the meeting and the wedding.’ She sighed. ‘I do hope I’m going to get extra trade because of it.’

‘Of course you will,’ said Rachel. ‘As you know, there’s going to be a keg each of beer and cider and wine provided but when that runs out, they’ll all come over here.’

‘Oh, good. Beth, just clear this lot’ – she indicated the little queue of people – ‘with me and then you can bunk off for a bit.’

Rachel made a dash for the big table and Beth saw Sarah hesitate before being beckoned to sharply by Lindy and Rachel. It wasn’t long before Beth joined them, clutching a lime soda.

‘The reason I’m butting in,’ said Sarah, looking embarrassed, ‘is that I’ve had a call from April.’

‘Oh, God! Why?’ said Rachel, worried.

‘She’s having trouble with her seating plan. She didn’t want to mention it to Lindy, when she had a fitting.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Beth, summoning sympathy.

‘She’s hoping you can help her,’ went on Sarah.

‘I’m not sure we can really,’ said Rachel. ‘We don’t know who anyone is. It’s for the bride and bridegroom to sort out. And their parents.’

Sarah put a hand on Rachel’s. ‘The trouble is, April hasn’t got a mother and her father is so tied up with the farm he can’t help. And her fiancé isn’t terribly involved in the wedding either. That’s why she needs you three.’ She hesitated, looking a bit embarrassed. ‘I’m afraid I told her you’d be happy to help.’

‘Well, I’m sure we can,’ said Beth, who would do anything for Sarah, she was so unlike her own mother, so controlling and critical.

‘But we won’t know who anyone is,’ persisted Rachel, obviously unhappy. ‘We could put ex-wives on the same table!’ Then, realising she’d sounded a bit hysterical, she felt obliged to explain. ‘Sorry, I really hate doing anything I can’t do perfectly.’

Sarah laughed gently. ‘It won’t be ex-wives you need to worry about but who hasn’t spoken to whom since nineteen sixty-four.’

Beth joined in the laughter. ‘Oh well, it’ll be a piece of cake then.’

‘We’ll need somewhere to have a final session with April, to sort out all the little tweaks,’ said Lindy. ‘And not my house because it’s full of wedding dress and miles of bunting.’

‘Bunting?’ said Rachel, instantly concerned. ‘I thought we were having boughs of greenery, not bunting! That’s more suitable for summer!’

‘I know, sorry! Don’t worry,’ said Lindy. ‘I’m making sashes for the bridesmaids to unify their look, and I just meant all the material looks a bit like bunting at the moment.’

Rachel pushed her hair away from her face as if she were too hot suddenly. ‘OK, I’m probably just panicking. There is so much to do!’

‘There’s nowhere big enough in my cottage,’ said Beth. ‘The table seats three when it’s fully extended.’

‘I wonder if Sukey would let us spread out in the upstairs room?’ said Lindy. ‘It’s a bit cold up there but there’s plenty of space.’

‘Why don’t you use your house, Rachel?’ said Raff, who’d appeared behind them.

They all looked at Rachel. Beth realised she knew Rachel really quite well, she lived nearby and yet she’d never been in her house.

‘Erm—’

‘Well? I really think the girls would like it,’ said Raff. ‘Especially now you can light the stove.’ He looked round, twinkling wickedly. ‘It’s very – er – white in Rachel’s house.’

‘What?’ began Lindy.

‘It’s wevet!’ snapped Rachel. ‘The colour is wevet!’

‘Oh, sorry,’ said Raff. ‘But you could have the meeting there. There’s lots and lots of space.’ Then he’d moved off before Rachel could reply.

‘I would really love to see your house, Rachel,’ said Lindy.

‘Yes, right,’ said Rachel, who seemed to have gone a bit pale. ‘We’ll get together tomorrow, if that’s all right. Will you be able to get childcare, Lindy?’

‘Yes,’ said Sarah. ‘She will.’

Lindy put a hand on Rachel’s. ‘Really, we don’t have to go to yours, not if you’d rather not. I totally understand about not wanting people you’re not actually related to by blood coming into your space. I feel like that often.’

‘It’s fine. I love my house and I’m proud of it but sometimes I feel – judged – when people go in it.’

‘We’re none of us judgemental,’ said Beth. ‘And it can’t be as untidy as Lindy’s.’

Rachel laughed. ‘It’s really not at all untidy!’

Rachel removed the freshly ironed, antique Irish linen tablecloth she had just put on her refectory table. In spite of her desperate urge to cover the dark elm boards with a crisp protective covering, even she knew it was overkill. She folded it carefully. Beth and Lindy knew she was obsessed with white, but there was no need to ram the fact down their throats.

She got her white-wine glasses out of their box and put cheese straws and hand-fried crisps in white bowls. Then she giggled. The sort of evening she seemed to be preparing for was so different from when they went to Lindy’s and sat where they could find a space in the tiny sitting room and drank whatever was available out of a variety of tumblers and Paris goblets. At one time she’d have been a bit horrified but now her elegant lifestyle seemed the odd one.

The spare bedroom upstairs was cleared for action so that April could have a final fitting for her wedding dress at the same time as they sorted out the seating plan.

Rachel felt almost exhilarated. It hadn’t been an easy assignment, the timescale being so short, but she felt they were pretty much on top of it.

When the doorbell went, Rachel found Beth and Lindy had arrived together. Usually she was wary of people coming into her space and making it look untidy but now she felt she wanted to show off her creation.

‘Oh my God! It’s amazing,’ said Beth, looking round her. ‘It’s like it’s in a magazine or something.’

‘Rachel,’ said Lindy, ‘I’m now so embarrassed that you’ve been to my house, coming from this.’

‘No, Lindy! I love your house,’ said Rachel, putting a glass with an inch of chilled white wine in it into Lindy’s hand. ‘Your house is normal. Mine is like a sort of – shrine to whiteness.’ She handed Beth a glass too. ‘It’s exactly how I want it, but who has a house exactly how they want it? No one normal, Raff would say. Now have a cheese straw, both of you, and note I’m not giving you plates to eat them off. That’s progress for me. What time is April coming?’