Naked Truths (21 page)

They had a good turnout too: there had to be at least two hundred people there. As well as all the villagers, Caro spotted a few faces she knew from Bedlington and the surrounding villages. Even Sir Ambrose and Lady Fraser had come, both looking immaculate in matching tweeds. They were standing rather stiffly on the edge of the crowd, Ambrose looking grumpier than ever. Frances spotted them and gave a relieved wave.

‘I say! Caro!'

Freddie left to fetch something from the house, and the little group made their way over.

‘Bonfire looks marvellous!' Frances congratulated Clementine.

‘Yes, doesn't it?' she agreed. ‘Fred and the boys have done a splendid job.'

‘Wish I'd known about it, there's a load of old fencing I could have got rid of,' grumbled Ambrose. ‘Blasted stuff is lying about the estate, clogging everything up.'

Frances rolled her eyes. ‘Ambrose, do go home if you want.'

‘What's that?' he growled.

‘Go home! You clearly don't want to be here.'

‘Don't be so bloody stupid. I'm not leaving you to walk home by yourself.'

‘I don't mind walking,' Frances started to say, but he waved her off impatiently.

‘I'm staying, and that's final!'

‘He wants to watch the fireworks, even though he says they're just for children,' Frances told the others.

Ambrose stared grumpily into the distance and pretended not to hear.

Frances looked over at Angie. ‘Has Freddie come round to the
Soirée
Sponsors idea?'

Angie grinned. ‘We had a setback the other day, when Freds found one of those Rizla papers from Archie's unfortunate phase down the back of the sofa and nearly changed his mind, but I think we're nearly there.'

Frances looks confused. ‘What's a
Rizla
?' She made it sound like a score from a classic Italian opera.

Angie hesitated. ‘Well, er, it's what young people use to . . .' She stopped. ‘Oh, forget it, darling, you don't need to know.'

Caro realized she needed the loo, and, leaving Milo in Angie's capable hands, wandered back to the house. On her way, she bumped into Clementine coming down the path.

‘Everyone seems to be having a good time, Granny Clem!'

Her grandmother smiled. ‘I was worried the higher ticket prices would put people off, but we've completely sold out. Mind you, it is for a good cause.'

‘Which charity is it this year?' asked Caro. Clementine was an ardent fund-raiser. Over the years the village's efforts had helped many causes, from starving Third World countries to the World Wildlife Fund and a local bird sanctuary.

‘Frances Fraser gave me the idea, actually. Have you heard of
Soirée
Sponsors?'

‘Of course, that's the magazine Harriet works for!' exclaimed Caro. ‘You know the Fox-Titts are thinking of getting involved? Angie might be getting a young chap from London to help in her shop.'

‘Indeed,' said Clementine. ‘Frances has been talking about the scheme for months; she's been very impressed with the way they run things. Coming from a charity connoisseur like Frances Fraser, that's high praise indeed. So I decided to find out more, and Harriet put me in touch with a very able woman called Gail. She sent me an information pack, and I must say I've been thoroughly impressed with the whole organization.'

‘Good on you, Granny Clem,' said Caro fondly.

‘It's a worthwhile cause to donate to,' the older woman replied briskly. ‘We may live in the country, darling, but it doesn't mean we all drift around in an idyllic rural bubble!'

Just then Ted Briggs's voice boomed out over the megaphone, ‘Right then, everyone, the fireworks display is about to start! Stand back behind the safety ropes!' A frisson of anticipation ran through the crowd. Above their heads Caro could see Milo, hoisted high on Benedict's shoulders and wriggling with excitement. She went over to stand between them and the Fox-Titts. Freddie had a tray of plastic wine glasses filled with Jack Turner's Bonfire Punch. He offered one to Caro, but she turned it down.

‘No thanks, Freddie, I don't really feel like it.'

Benedict raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you ill? I've never seen your mother turn down a drink before,' he added in a mischievous voice to Milo. Caro pulled a face at her husband, but she had been feeling a bit peaky recently. There was a spate of illnesses at Milo's nursery at the moment; she hoped she wasn't coming down with something.

Freddie took a sip of his drink. ‘Bloody hell, this stuff is strong,' he spluttered. ‘What's in it?'

Angie laughed. ‘Knowing Jack, everything!'

Someone behind them shouted. ‘Look, the guy's caught fire!' The flames had finally worked up to claim their victim.

‘Hold on a sec, that hat looks familiar!' exclaimed Angie. She turned to Freddie indignantly. ‘Freds, how could you? I only bought that for your last birthday.'

Freddie's face burned the colour of the bonfire. ‘Sorry, old thing,' he blustered. ‘We needed a hat and well, that one's just a bit too much. Made one feel like bloody J. R. Ewing.'

Luckily Freddie was saved from further reproach by a loud WHOOSH as the first rocket went up and exploded in a ball of light and colour above them. The crowd oohed and aahed, and Milo's eyes nearly popped out on stalks. For the next ten minutes they were treated to a visual extravaganza as Catherine Wheels, whizz-bangs and squealers went up one after the other.

Afterwards, as the last streak of colour faded from the sky, everyone stood around chatting or made their way back to the buffet tables.

Caro started to feel very odd. It was as if the firework display was continuing in her head, as bright lights danced past her eyes, and pins and needles pricked at the back of her lids. The ground suddenly became wobbly under her feet. She tried to clutch on to Angie.

‘Caro? Are you OK?' she heard her say. Then Angie's voice and everything else was rushing away as Caro's knees buckled. Just before she went into a dead faint, she was vaguely aware of a strong pair of arms catching her.

Caro felt something cool and wet being pressed against her forehead. She opened her eyes and looked up into Benedict's anxious face. He was tenderly wiping her with a flannel.

‘Thank God you've come round, I was so worried,' he said. Clementine and Angie were standing behind, looking equally concerned.

‘I've called the doctor,' Clementine said. ‘He should be here any minute.'

They were in the large, wood-panelled dining room at Fairoaks. Caro struggled to sit up on the chaise longue, but Benedict gently pushed her down again. ‘Stay there, darling,' he said, his voice soft but firm.

‘I'm fine!' she protested. ‘I just felt a bit woozy. Really, I don't need a doctor.'

‘Sweetheart, you went down like a sack of potatoes!' said Angie. ‘Thank heavens Freds was there to catch you.'

The front door bell clanged.

‘That's Doctor Bond,' said Clementine, as she went to answer it.

Caro looked at Benedict and Angie. ‘Really, I'm fine!'

A few moments later Clementine re-entered the room with a tall, silver-haired man wearing an immaculate navy-blue suit. Dr Bond ran his private practice from a very plush surgery in Cheltenham, and had been the Standington-Fulthrope family doctor for years.

‘Hello, Caro, got yourself in a spot of bother?' he said, kneeling down beside her. He laid his hand against her face and then held her wrist to get a pulse. He glanced up at Clementine and Angie. ‘Would you mind leaving us?'

‘Of course,' said Angie, and both retreated, leaving Caro and Benedict with the doctor.

Caro repeated herself. ‘I'm OK, honestly, I just had a bit of a funny turn.'

Doctor Bond got out his thermometer. ‘You look all right to me, but let's make sure.' He stuck it in her mouth for a minute and then looked at the reading.

‘Temperature's OK. Pulse is a bit slow, but that's to be expected under the circumstances. Everything else seems to be in order. Is this the first time this has happened?'

Caro looked sheepish. ‘Actually, no. I have been feeling a bit faint recently, but I just put it down to tiredness.'

Benedict looked worried. ‘Darling, you never said . . .' Caro squeezed his hand apologetically.

Doctor Bond studied her. ‘How about your periods? Are they regular?'

Caro thought for a moment. ‘I am rather late, but my periods are always irregular. I mean, I'm not on the pill at the moment . . . it took so long to conceive with Milo I haven't really been thinking about it . . .' she trailed off and looked at Benedict. His face was beginning to show both shock and elation. ‘Oh my God!' she gasped. ‘Do you think . . .'

Doctor Bond snapped his black medical bag shut. ‘I think you need to do a pregnancy test as soon as possible. Then ring up my secretary and book yourself in for an appointment.'

To their astonishment and delight, Caro was twelve weeks pregnant.

‘I still can't believe it!' she exclaimed as she and Benedict left Doctor Bond's surgery on Monday. ‘But then again, I haven't had morning sickness like I did with Milo. I have put on a bit of weight round my tummy, but I just thought I'd been eating too much.'

‘I hadn't noticed,' said Benedict gallantly.

‘I know it sounds strange,' Caro said thoughtfully, ‘but I do feel pregnant now. Somehow it's different from when I was carrying Milo. Of course, I was overjoyed then, but I did feel anxious and worried the whole way through. And there was Sebastian . . .' she trailed off. ‘Maybe, deep down, I knew I was pregnant but I didn't want to admit it to myself. Maybe I was scared I'd equate it with a time when I was miserable. Not about having Milo, of course,' she added quickly. ‘It was just, you know . . .' She paused. ‘But it's not like that this time, not at all. Now I just feel excited and full of hope. Oh, Benedict, we're having a baby!'

He stopped and pulled her in close, cradling her face in his hands.

‘You and Milo are the best thing that has ever happened to me,' he whispered. ‘I promise to be the best father I can to our baby. I love you, Caro. I love our baby. I love you all more than anything in the world.'

Her eyes filled up, and the pair embraced passionately. A car drove past and beeped.

‘Get in there, my son!' shouted a male voice.

‘Bugger off,' murmured Benedict, as he started kissing Caro again.

EVERYONE WAS OVER
the moon at their news. ‘I knew you looked different!' shrieked Angie. Caro's mother, Tink, burst into floods of tears when she phoned, and lost the power of speech, so Caro's father had to take over the call.

Both Caro's sisters called too: Calypso from her mobile in what sounded like a very loud nightclub. ‘Like, that is so fucking cool!' Camilla managed to make contact on a very crackly line from an ashram in Peru before the phone went dead.

Doctor Bond had advised rest for Caro, so Benedict called into work and they stayed on at Mill House for a few days longer.

When they eventually got back to Montague Mews on the Wednesday, a garish-coloured ‘Congratulations' banner was hanging across their front door. Stephen popped round shortly after to own up.

‘Sorry it's so ghastly, but I didn't find out about the good news till this afternoon, and the corner shop was the only place I passed on the way home.' He shuddered. ‘I wanted to get you a card as well, but everything they offered seemed to involve ample-chested women dressed as French maids, or gorillas riding a tricycle.'

Amelia was waiting when they walked in, with champagne and flowers. ‘That is such great news! Congratulations, guys.'

‘Thanks, little sis,' replied Benedict, kissing her on the cheek, just as Milo gave a wail and threw Pickles on the floor. ‘Uh-oh, it's someone's bedtime,' said Benedict. He leant down and scooped the little boy up.

‘Thanks, darling, I'll be up in a minute,' said Caro, and flopped down on the leather sofa. Amelia sat down in the chair opposite. ‘Those flowers are beautiful! You shouldn't have,' Caro said.

Amelia smiled. ‘It was the least I could do. Besides, I'm looking forward to becoming an aunt for a second time.'

‘Did you manage to find everything you needed?' Caro asked.

Amelia nodded. ‘Yup, I just chilled out. Watched television, sent a few emails, that sort of thing.'

‘Are you going to catch up with your London friends?'

Amelia shrugged evasively. ‘At some point. I just feel like keeping a low profile at the moment, you know? Sometimes it's nice just to hide away.'

‘To get away from it all,' said Caro, thinking she had never known Amelia to shun the company of others.

Amelia nodded vigorously, as if Caro's words somehow validated everything. ‘Exactly!' The landline rang, making Amelia jump. Caro glanced curiously at her as she went to answer it.

‘Hello? Hello?' she said. There was no one there. Shaking her head, Caro put the phone down. ‘Must be a wrong number.'

Milo started crying upstairs, and as Caro went to placate her son, she failed to notice the sudden change in Amelia. Every drop of blood had drained from her face as she sat there, as still as one of Velda's sculptures.

The
Soirée
team were in the final throes of the Christmas issue, due on magazine stands at the start of December. Three down, three to go. Optimism was cautiously high, and everyone agreed this latest issue was even better than the last. Adam emailed Catherine the mid-month audit of how the on-sale November issue was selling – and it was up by at least 20,000 copies. A great start, but as Catherine told herself, it was very early days yet. Even if circulation did continue to rise, would it be enough to save them? The young British actress they'd chosen as their cover star for the December issue was talented, opinionated and the right side of cool. Definitely
Soirée
material – but she still wasn't Savannah Sexton.