A Vintage Wedding (19 page)

Beth glanced at her watch. ‘She should arrive any time now.’

April duly arrived, flustered and untidy. She had a bundle of files under her arm.

‘Hello! I’m so glad I found the right house. I was worried I’d get lost.’

Rachel ushered her in, swanlike in her calm and poise. ‘April, we’re so pleased you could come. Do sit down. Here, at the head of the table. Wine?’

‘God yes!’ she said. ‘Charlie dropped me off and is picking me up so I can get legless if I have to.’ She glanced at Beth. ‘He said he’d love to see you at the pub after.’

‘That would be lovely, if we get it all done.’

‘I brought all my lists of who’s invited,’ said April. ‘My lot, Tristram’s lot. So you can help me with the plan?’

‘Of course we can,’ said Rachel, hoping she was right. ‘Now, who do you want on the top table?’

The day before the wedding, Lindy left her sleeping boys safe in her grandmother’s house. She’d put a note under her grandmother’s door explaining what she was up to and left the house as quietly as possible, the key to the van in her pocket.

The dress was perfect, the bridesmaids’ dresses had been suitably upgraded by her expert needle, she’d even cobbled together outfits for the three of them to wear while serving at the wedding; it was either too late or too soon to do anything else wedding-related. So Lindy was going foraging.

Although it was going to be a very busy day, it wasn’t really necessary for her to raid the hedgerows while it was still dark – there would have been plenty of time for her to do it later. But she preferred to go when no one would see her dragging plant life out of the hedges, snipping at garlands of old man’s beard; basically stealing stuff.

Lindy had raided the hedgerows before for various reasons, but she’d never needed so much previously and she really didn’t want to bump into anyone she knew. Rachel and Beth had offered to go with her but she had very little time on her own in her life and so she had refused. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts and the greenery.

She parked the van in a lay-by and had taken her father’s loppers, some secateurs and a roll of bin liners with her for the plants. If there were any berries about she’d take those too but she was expecting to use fake ones to add colour to her garlands. She had just snipped off a lovely long trail of ivy and was about to put it into her bag when she heard a noise behind her.

‘Excuse me! What on earth do you think you’re doing!’

Lindy shot round. The voice was loud and angry and panic shot through her. A tall figure, shrouded in waxed cotton and woollen scarves, was outlined against the mist.

‘I’m picking ivy. It doesn’t actually belong to anyone, you know, it’s wild. Oh. It’s you.’

Angus allowed a smile to disturb his stern expression. ‘Well, technically, it does belong to someone. It belongs to me.’

Lindy was at a complete loss. She had deliberately driven miles from home to somewhere out of the way to find material for her garlands and now here was Angus. ‘Really?’

He nodded. ‘I own the land this hedge borders on.’

Lindy stared at him, trying to think of something to say. She was dreadfully embarrassed. He wasn’t to know that she’d spent a lot of time thinking about him since that Sunday lunch but now she felt as if it was written in neon across her forehead. She briefly considered chiding him for the state of his hedgerows but knew hedges like this weren’t supposed to be tidy. She also knew she should have asked permission to take the ivy but couldn’t make the words come out of her mouth. She felt so caught out, as if she’d been stealing apples from a garden, not wild foliage from a hedge that really wouldn’t miss it. She couldn’t tell how he felt about it. He looked inscrutable – which was his default expression. ‘Oh,’ she managed when he didn’t say anything helpful either.

‘What do you want all that stuff for?’

‘April’s wedding. We’re decorating the village hall with garlands.’

His expression relaxed. ‘Oh, the wedding! Of course. I’d forgotten. The event that’s going to encourage people to rent the hall as a venue?’

Lindy also relaxed a little. ‘That’s it. It’ll look amazing when I’ve finished with it.’

‘How much more stuff do you need?’

‘Masses and masses. You’d be amazed how much you get through making garlands long enough for a hall. And it’s going to go all round and possibly some across, too.’ Although she’d known this all along, hearing herself say it out loud made her realise quite how enormous her task was.

‘I’d better help you then.’

She bit her lip. She needed help, she really did, but it didn’t seem fair. He had obviously been going somewhere; she couldn’t hold him up. And she’d turned down Beth and Rachel when they’d offered help, sure she could do it all on her own. It had been a crazy decision.

‘You’ll get filthy and, besides, you can’t see properly in this light and you never know when you’re going to come across a briar that’ll rip your palm open. You need gloves. It would be dangerous.’

‘You’ve obviously done this before.’

‘Yes, for the school and church sometimes but I don’t usually need so much.’ She allowed herself a bit of a smile – a sort of apology. ‘I always come here. It’s so far away from home I’m not likely to be seen robbing the hedgerows by anyone I know.’

‘Bad luck for you I caught you then. I wouldn’t have, only I spotted the van in the lay-by and thought you might have broken down or something. I’ve just given hay to some sheep that are grazing on my land.’

‘You knew it was our van?’

He nodded. ‘Your van is famous locally. Although to be fair, this time it was the decals and fancy writing that drew my attention, not the hole in the exhaust.’

Lindy, who had stuck on the decals and had a propensity for guilt, frowned. ‘We are going to get the exhaust fixed, really. It’s only just appeared. Beth swore it was fine when she first had it.’ She didn’t elaborate on how annoying it had been to have something go wrong with the van so soon after they’d bought it. Beth had been mortified; she’d felt responsible. ‘The boys helped with the decoration.’

‘I can tell.’

He might have been teasing but she couldn’t see his mouth properly because of the scarf that was draped round the lower part of his face. ‘I’d better get on.’

‘I’ll go back to the house and get some gloves and give you a hand. I feel it’s the least I can do.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s my ivy. It’s only polite it should get to you as quickly as possible.’

As she watched him walk away, she wondered what he was really thinking. Did he think she was a bloody nuisance, and was only helping to get her out of the way quicker? Or did he really want to help? Her mother said he’d been really useful over at the hall, taking quite a lot of time to work out what needed doing. Was he different from his family? His snooty mother and his brother who had very little sense of responsibility? She felt he was but how could she really tell?

She worked faster, determined to do her best before he came back. He might have been really kind but she didn’t want to take advantage. His mother had once accused her of trying to trap Edward, to connect herself with their family. Although it had happened a long time ago, she hadn’t forgotten. She didn’t want Angus thinking along the same lines.

She had filled another bin liner before Angus came back. He had a ladder with him and was now wearing wellingtons.

‘It’s very kind of you to help me,’ she said. ‘You’d be perfectly entitled to let me steal your ivy without your help.’

‘That’s OK.’ He set up the ladder against the hedge, testing it for steadiness.

‘And shouldn’t you be at work?’

‘It’s still early.’

‘I suppose it is.’

‘Do you want to climb up here?’ he suggested, indicating the ladder. ‘There’s some lovely stuff.’ He smiled. ‘I’ll hold the ladder.’

‘I’m sure you don’t need to,’ she said, feeling single-mother proud and independent.

‘I do need to. Trust me.’ He smiled. ‘I’m an architect who doesn’t especially like heights. I’d feel a lot happier if I held the ladder.’

Sympathising, Lindy climbed up the ladder. There were indeed some very nice strings of ivy with neatly spaced leaves, just what she wanted for her wreaths. She gathered as much as possible and handed it down.

She climbed down the ladder and then up it again. She resumed lopping and tugging at nature’s bunting, filling her black sacks as she went.

‘Where are the boys?’ Angus said as she pushed the last bag into the van.

‘With Gran,’ she said. ‘We all spent the night with her last night so I was able to sneak out this morning without disturbing anyone.’

‘Then have you time for breakfast?’

Every part of Lindy was certain she ought to get away from Angus – she found him far too attractive than was safe – and back home with her booty as soon as possible, so she was surprised to hear herself say, ‘I have, actually.’ Realising she’d accepted an invitation she’d meant to refuse, she added, ‘I’d love to see your house.’

He laughed. ‘It needs a hell of a lot of work doing to it but I’d be happy to show you round.’

As they walked back to the lay-by where they’d left their vehicles, Lindy was surprised to feel a camaraderie with him. Angus had always been the older brother, the one she’d had a crush on, but just for now he was someone she’d enjoyed doing something with. She wanted to see his house, too, to see how much work it really needed doing. It felt like a long time since Lindy had done anything that wasn’t to do with the boys, the hall or April’s wedding and she was enjoying the prospect.

She pulled the van up behind his in front of a large Georgian-style house covered with scaffolding.

‘My goodness!’ she said as she got out. ‘Ripe for restoration, eh?’

He laughed. ‘Indeed!’ He stood looking up at his house. ‘Actually, I probably shouldn’t have bought it.’ He paused. ‘In fact I know I shouldn’t. I just fell in love. I mean …’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I saw the potential. I don’t think architects are supposed to fall in love.’

For a moment Lindy didn’t understand this, and then she realised: architects shouldn’t fall in love with houses because it would be unprofessional. That’s what he meant. Somehow she couldn’t help being disappointed.

He unlocked the huge front door and Lindy went in. ‘My goodness!’ she said again.

The hall was enormous. There was a double staircase leading down into it and there were fireplaces at either side. The dimensions were magnificent – it would make a perfect wedding venue – but, thought Lindy, only after about two million quid had been spent on it. It was a beautiful ruin.

‘Correct me if I’m wrong – you’re the architect – but wouldn’t the technical term for a house like this be “money pit”?’

‘You have the term exactly right. It’s a money pit. And no, I haven’t let my parents see it and won’t until a few years and several hundred thousand pounds have gone into that pit.’

‘They might mutter about the heating bills,’ said Lindy with a smile.

‘They’d do more than mutter.’

‘Can I see some more?’ Lindy realised she felt flattered. He was showing her something he wouldn’t show his family.

‘Come on then, but before you ask me, no, I’m not sure what I’m going to do with it when it’s done. It’s certainly far too big for a bachelor pad.’

‘Oh well, I can help you there – it’s a wedding venue! And a place for weekend courses, et cetera., if you want to do anything other than live in it?’

He shook his head. ‘No, this house will have to earn its living. I couldn’t keep it as a pet.’

He opened a door and ushered her into a grand drawing room, which had black mould covering the walls but a fine plaster ceiling.

‘Heavens!’ said Lindy. ‘I’m sorry to be rude but how are you going to afford to renovate this house?’

‘I’m going to do it in stages. The plan is to get some rooms usable, see if they can earn a bit of money and then go on to the next bit. I didn’t pay a lot for it – the surveyor’s report had a few issues on it that brought the price right down.’ He paused to inspect a bit of wainscot that had come away in one piece. ‘My first project is to get the chauffeur’s cottage habitable.’

‘Really?’

‘So I can live in it and stop paying for accommodation. But I promised you breakfast. Come through to the servants’ quarters.’

The kitchen was a joy. ‘I love this!’ said Lindy, looking round delightedly. ‘The old range is still there. That amazing built-in dresser. And there’s a sofa. You could live here quite easily with a few more home comforts and a telly. I’ve always wanted a kitchen big enough for a sofa and a telly. As it is I’ve hardly got a
house
big enough for a sofa and a telly, not when the boys are home anyway.’ She stopped, suddenly worried in case it looked as though she was complaining about her lot. ‘I mean … I love my little cottage but you wouldn’t need to do more than do up this bit for you to live in, if you wanted.’

‘I think I might find it a bit spooky living in this huge house on my own,’ he said solemnly.

Lindy didn’t know if she was being teased or not. ‘Maybe divide some of it into flats? Just keep the main rooms and enough for some accommodation?’

He nodded. ‘That’s what I thought. A house like this could be a home for lots of people. They could share the garden.’

‘Aren’t you much of a gardener then?’

‘No! I’m not much of a cook, either, but I can do a bacon butty. Would that be OK?’

‘Lovely,’ said Lindy, her mind full of possibilities. She was glad it wasn’t her house – her money pit – but she loved playing with its potential in her mind. ‘Shall I make tea?’

They ate their butties sitting on the old sofa next to the huge calor-gas heater. It was really cosy. She was surprised to find herself relaxed in his company. He seemed genuinely interested in hearing about her life, and about Vintage Weddings, but they could also munch in silence; either was easy.

‘So why did you buy this house?’ she asked when she’d finished chewing. ‘Apart from falling in love with it. Was it just because you could afford it?’

‘Well, having fallen in love I did manage to justify it. Basically, it’s not as bad as all that, structurally. It’s a lovely house that shouldn’t be allowed to fall down and I wanted a project, something I could do for myself instead of just for clients.’