A Vintage Wedding (27 page)

‘I think it’s time you went home, darling,’ said Belinda. ‘It’s too dark to see properly, even with all the lights on. And you must be exhausted!’

‘There’s just that one big cupboard over there I haven’t been through …’ Rachel began, and then put her hand on her back. ‘Ow. Too much bending.’

‘You need to get home and into a hot bath,’ said Belinda.

‘That does sound like heaven.’ Now the thought was in her head she wanted to be in one, as soon as possible.

‘Well, Raff has got most of the stuff in his truck but I don’t suggest he unloads it all into your shed tonight. You’ve spend enough time humping boxes around.’

‘And I might have to do some rearranging to make it all fit.’ Rachel bit her lip. ‘You are absolutely
sure
you don’t want to have the money for the stuff we sell?’

‘Rachel, darling, haven’t we had this conversation? Having the space is reward enough.’

Rachel considered. While she knew Belinda wanted to make a flat for herself in her house and rent the rest, she felt there was something Belinda was keeping back. But Belinda had been kindness itself all day; Rachel couldn’t press her. No matter: Raff would know what it was. She’d ask him.

At last, the convoy was ready, Rachel in the lead with Raff following with his truck full of china. Rachel pressed ‘home’ into the satnav and drove, and as she negotiated the country lanes she was dreaming of hot water and wine, in no particular order.

She was really tired but she’d had such a good day. As well as lots of lovely china they had discovered at least eight huge platters that would be really useful for events: Belinda’s and for Vintage Weddings. There were also dozens of plates that didn’t fit into proper sets, so Rachel didn’t mind accepting them as a present.

In between Rachel sorting and washing (it had taken her a bit of time to convince Belinda that some of the really good stuff shouldn’t just be shoved into the dishwasher) Rachel had had the opportunity to discuss Belinda’s catering. Rachel was certain that Belinda would be able to convince Beth’s mother to have the sort of food that Belinda could do well. The antique platters would definitely help. And privately she decided that Belinda being so posh would also help. She didn’t voice this thought – she didn’t want to be seen as a snob (although she accepted she was one) – but she felt it was true. If Helena was seen to be having a wedding where the guests ate off Spode plates (among other varieties of high quality) her mother would deem it a success, even if it wasn’t the sit-down dinner with four courses she’d imagined she’d wanted.

Rachel couldn’t remember a time, before now, when she felt everything in her life was right. She wasn’t craving to live anywhere different, with a different job and a different husband. She was in the right place, doing the right thing, and if there was a man in a truck behind her who caused a bit of stress from time to time, well, in every life a little rain must fall. In her case the rain was called Raff.

When at last all the china in Rachel’s car and some of that in Raff’s van was safely stored in her shed, she locked the door.

‘Well, that’s all done then,’ said Rachel. ‘Thank you very much for your help. No need for you to wait.’

Raff shook his head. ‘Mum said I was to make sure you got in all right. She also said I was to run your bath. She feels bad about all the work you’ve done for no reward – as she sees it.’

Rachel laughed. It seemed a harmless enough offer. ‘OK, run my bath if you insist. But you will have to leave before I get in it.’ She put her key into her front door, slightly surprised the hall light wasn’t on. She must have forgotten to turn it on. Never mind; better for the planet.

‘Oh,’ she said as she flicked the switch and nothing happened.

‘No lecky?’ said Raff, coming in behind her.

‘Apparently not. I wonder what’s happened?’ She found the torch on her keyring.

‘Would you like me to check the fuse box?’

‘There shouldn’t be anything wrong,’ said Rachel, leading the way to the back of the house. ‘I had it all rewired.’

‘Well, the trip switch has gone,’ said Raff, who now had control of the torch.

‘Switch it on again then,’ said Rachel. ‘And you don’t need to sort me out. I can do it myself.’

‘You are joking, aren’t you?’ said Raff. ‘If my mother found out I’d left you in the dark she would change her will in favour of the donkey sanctuary!’

‘I won’t tell her if you don’t.’

He ignored this and flicked the switch. Rachel had been resetting her own trip switch for some years and yet she found she was relieved not to be on her own, in the dark, when she was so tired.

The lights came on. ‘Hooray!’ said Rachel. ‘Thank you so much for helping me. And, really, you’ve done enough. You don’t need to run my bath. I’ll be fine now I can see.’

Raff looked down at her and shook his head. ‘We need to find out what caused it all to go pop. What did you have on apart from the hall lights?’

‘Well, nothing really. I’m meticulous about turning things off after I’ve used them. I didn’t even straighten my hair today because I knew I was going to be working.’ She sighed, aware she was cold as well as tired and dirty. ‘I’ll get an electrician in first thing. Now I just want to fall into the bath – or maybe just have a shower – and go to bed.’ She realised she was on the verge of feeling tearful and really wanted him to go.

‘Your wood-burner doesn’t heat the hot water, does it?’ said Raff, still studying the fuse board.

‘No. It’s an immersion heater – Oh.’ A wave of despair fell over her. No hot water, no possibility of getting off the dirt of the day. She couldn’t go to bed dirty, she just couldn’t, not into her clean white sheets. She’d have to boil kettles and have a strip wash in her freezing bathroom, splashing dirty water all over the place. She’d never be able to get properly clean and the mess in the bathroom would be horrendous. She bit her lip. She really did not want to cry in front of Raff. She’d got her OCD so well under control lately but now she was tested to the limit.

‘I’ll just check it,’ said Raff calmly, unaware of her turmoil. ‘In the meantime, why don’t you get some things together?’ And he set off to investigate.

She prayed he wouldn’t hear the tears that constricted her throat. ‘What sort of things?’ She called out to him. She couldn’t think straight. Was he suggesting she find electrical screwdrivers and fuse wire so they could mend a possibly broken immersion heater?

‘Pyjamas, sponge bag, electric toothbrush. You’re coming to stay with me. Something is definitely wrong with it. I’ll take a proper look tomorrow. You can’t stay here tonight,’ he added as he rejoined her in the hallway.

Just for a second Rachel allowed herself to imagine what that meant. Warmth, hot water and, even more briefly, the bliss of being looked after. But the thought of it put her into a panic. It would be Raff looking after her.

Then she thought of the alternative: lying in her percale sheets (put on only that morning) in sweat and grime. ‘No.’ She didn’t know if she was saying ‘no’ to his invitation or ‘no’ to the dreadfulness of her situation.

‘Would you rather stay here?’

‘No.’ It came out as a squeak. She forced herself to sound calm and logical. ‘But I’ve got friends I can stay with.’ Then she remembered that Beth didn’t have a spare room and Rachel didn’t sleep on sofas. And Lindy? Well, it would be the sofa or the floor in her house.

‘So? Which friend?’

Rachel took a moment. ‘OK, I realise that neither of them can really put me up at no notice, but I could go to a hotel …’ The conversations they’d had about where Beth’s mother might stay came back to her and how there was nowhere local she’d be able to tolerate. Rachel’s standards were possibly even higher. Anyway, how could she turn up anywhere so filthy and untidy?

‘Sweetheart,’ said Raff, gentle but firm. ‘I know this is difficult for you, but I have a spare room, hot water, food. I promise that I won’t do anything you don’t want me to and in the morning I will help you sort out your immersion heater. Now, just be brave, and come with me. I will look after you.’

It was the endearment that finally undid her. She burst into tears. Raff took her into his arms and patted her back while she hiccuped and sobbed. When the worst was over she pulled away. She swallowed and sniffed hard. ‘OK,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s really very kind of you, but …’ She paused. ‘How did you know I had an electric toothbrush?’

He produced a tartan handkerchief. She took it and blew her nose.

‘I know you,’ he said, taking the handkerchief back when she’d used it. And he looked at her in a way that made Rachel feel both very cherished and very nervous.

Raff lived in a long, low house attached to his reclamation yard. She instantly longed to get out her loppers and hack back the plant that covered most of the front of the house, nearly pulling down the porch it scrambled over. She could tell the outside needed repainting – maybe the rendering needed replacing too. But it was charming. If you overlooked the clutter of the yard that encroached from its designated area to the front of the house. Like mother, like son, she thought.

He unlocked the front door and she followed him into the house. It was warm, she realised, and light.

There was a fairly narrow hallway with rooms going off each side but Raff led her to the back of the house to the kitchen. This was new and if you ignored the view of the yard it was a lovely space, she realised. And all the fittings were real quality. It was a surprise and, looking at him, she saw he’d known she was going to be surprised and was happy that she was impressed.

‘Nice gaff you’ve got here,’ she said.

‘Glad you approve. Now, why don’t you let me show you upstairs?’

There was a staircase at the end of the kitchen, and going by the shape of the building she guessed it wasn’t the only one. ‘This leads to my bedroom and bathroom,’ said Raff as they reached the landing at the top. ‘This is where you’re going to sleep. I’ll be up the other end in the guest accommodation.’

‘That sounds very grand,’ said Rachel approvingly.

‘It’s a dump actually, but fine for me. I’m going to find clean sheets.’ He opened a cupboard and began pulling out bedlinen. ‘Why don’t you check out the bathroom? Through that door there.’

Rachel went in and looked in the mirror. She really wished she hadn’t. Tears had made the general layer of dirt took even more filthy. Still, it was too late. Raff had seen her like this and to frantically wash now would just highlight her insecurities.

She distracted herself by admiring her surroundings. This too was newly done. It was a bit more modern than her own en-suite but also had good-quality fittings. It lacked the high-end toiletries she’d put in her bathroom but in among the more generic products she spotted a bottle of Penhaligan’s Douro. Hmm, expensive, she thought. Was it a present from Belinda? Or, more likely, a girlfriend? Or did Raff buy it for himself?

Rachel went through to the bedroom where Raff was pulling off the duvet cover. ‘Do you want to eat first or wash?’ he asked.

She hesitated. She didn’t want to eat while she felt so dirty but she didn’t want to have to put clothes back on after her bath. ‘I’m not sure …’

‘It’ll take me a little while to cook. Why don’t you have a bath and then come down in your pyjamas.’

It sounded so tempting. ‘I haven’t got a dressing gown—’

‘Borrow mine,’ he said. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, get the other side of the bed and tuck in that sheet.’

It was odd making up the bed with him. That was a task one usually did with another woman or a partner, not someone like Raff. Quite how Raff could be defined she wasn’t sure. He wasn’t a partner or a boyfriend but nor was he a friend in the ‘just a friend’ category.

The bed made, she ran the bath while Raff disappeared downstairs. As she slid under the water Rachel wondered, not for the first time, if there was anything as luxurious as lowering your cold, dirty body into water that was exactly the right temperature – in other words, very slightly too hot.

She couldn’t resist submerging her head so only her face remained above the water, even though she knew she was now committed to washing her hair. She stayed there until she began to overheat, relishing the thought that although of course she would clean the bath after her, she wouldn’t have to go to quite the lengths she did normally. That involved polishing it after it was dry to make sure there was no trace of cleaner left in it. For Raff she would just make sure it was clean. He wouldn’t have the equipment – the special bath cleanser, the soft cloths – that she used on her own bath.

Although she had brought make-up with her Rachel decided it would be just too weird to put it on after a bath. She added the tiniest flick of mascara so as not to feel naked and then put on Raff’s dressing gown.

It felt as though she was wearing a warm, masculine hug. It was a dark green tartan and was made of some sort of very soft, thick wool. It smelt of him: part Penhaligon, part Raff. If it hadn’t been so warm and luxurious she’d have rejected it, it was so unsettling. She almost changed her mind about getting dressed, but the thought of putting on underwear, jeans, jumpers, when she was so warm and relaxed was just too horrible. She’d have to put up with being unsettled to be so wonderfully warm. She pulled on her own cashmere bedsocks she’d had the forethought to pack and prepared to join Raff.