The Vintage Teacup Club (18 page)

‘See you then,’ Dylan said.

When she stepped back inside, Owen and Jack had started on the food and Owen was talking, waving a hand at his friend to emphasise the point he was making.

‘But seriously, last season we didn’t take home any silverware and it drives me crazy.’

Maggie settled into her seat and reached for a duck wrap.

‘Honestly, we deserve more than this and if we had a decent manager …’

‘But it’s not just that,’ Jack said, ‘morale’s been low for a while and I think it’s to do with—’

Jack finally noticed Maggie and raised a hand very slightly to signal the end of the football conversation. Owen shook his head and looked
down, clearly wanting to finish their chat, but deferred to his friend and, at this point, boss, on the matter.

‘Sorry, Maggie. Everything OK with your work call?’ Jack asked.

‘Oh yes, fine thanks,’ she said, taking a delicate bite of the wrap. A bit too much soy sauce, but still pretty good. Joey must have employed a new chef. They never seemed to last long, though.

‘I wish all my clients made me smile that much,’ Owen said, half under his breath.

Maggie narrowed her eyes at him. ‘And just how many clients do you have, Owen? I’m dying to know. Got many weddings of this size under your belt, have you?’

‘Maggie, I’m thirty-one, not thirteen,’ Owen said, not rising to her bait, ‘so do me a favour and st—’

It was Jack’s look of panic that made Maggie step in. ‘Sorry, Jack.’ She said, putting a hand on his arm. ‘We’re friends really, aren’t we, Owen?’

‘Oh yes,’ he said, a weary look in his eye. Was he really in his thirties? Maggie thought. He looked younger.

‘So,’ she got out her notebook and wiped off a tiny smudge of soy that had fallen on it. ‘We’ve agreed on the following ideas, and I’ll get some costings. Look, here’s the list. She turned it so that Jack and Owen
could see and they read carefully through it.

‘OK, yes – looks good to me,’ Owen said. ‘Jack, what do you think?’

‘Great, yes. Email it to me and I’ll run it by Luce tonight,’ Jack said, smiling and relaxing for the first time.

‘Owen – once we have Lucy’s OK, we can work out quantities and finalise the orders.’

‘Sounds good,’ Owen said. ‘Although with the tunnel, I’m not sure which flowers are going to work best. I’ve got a structure at my workshop, a mini version. You might want to look at that for ideas?’

‘Oh yes,’ Maggie,’ Jack said. ‘You should definitely go and see it, it’s really cool. Owen’s workshop’s only about twenty minutes’ drive from here.’

‘I see, yes,’ Maggie said. She’d hoped to wind up the rest of the planning without too much face-to-face with Owen, but it would be useful to see his model to work out which colours would be best to weave in. ‘I can’t today, though,’ she said, motioning for the bill. ‘And to be honest the whole of this week’s pretty manic. I have a wedding in Hove. How about two weeks’ time? Shall we put something in the diary?’ She got hers out.

‘You
are
a busy lady,’ Owen said, ‘but sure, there’s no hurry. How about Friday, the tenth of July?’

The waitress brought the bill over on a saucer and Maggie passed her the cash, hushing Jack’s protests. ‘Sure. Friday the tenth it is.’

Maggie gathered her things. ‘OK, I’ve got to shoot. I don’t like to leave Anna alone for too long. The truth is she’s getting so good at her
job I’m worried she might take over.’ Maggie smiled and reached out to shake Jack’s hand, then Owen’s, but this time his eyes didn’t meet hers. ‘Do give my best to Lucy, Jack. I look forward to hearing what she thinks of the ideas.’

‘The scallops look good,’ Maggie said. She’d popped into the fishmonger after shutting up the shop that afternoon. ‘Yes, fresh in this morning, as always,’ the man replied.

‘Could I have a dozen, please,’ she said, and scanned the display to see whether there was anything else she could add.

The fishmonger handed the scallops to her in a bag. She’d get some fresh asparagus and prosciutto from the supermarket on the drive home, and pick up some samphire. For dessert there was butterscotch ice cream in the freezer and some raspberries, and there was plenty of white in the wine rack.

She stepped back outside. The high street was buzzing, the pavements lively with people enjoying the warm summer’s evening. She put her shopping and handbag on the passenger seat of her Beetle. She didn’t know exactly where she and Dylan were headed, no, but there were butterflies in her stomach and she was looking forward to seeing him as much as she had
when they’d first met.

*

Maggie was sitting in the living room with a glass of sparkling water when she saw Dylan pull up into the drive in a green convertible MG. She leapt up and went to the door, where he met her with a bouquet of stargazer lilies and a kiss.

‘Hello, gorgeous,’ he said, handing her the flowers.

‘Hello,’ she said, taking the flowers from him with a smile. ‘And thank you, these are beautiful.’ Lilies weren’t her favourite – she’d looked after too many funerals for that, but these ones were very pretty.

‘Phew,’ Dylan said, pretending to wipe the sweat from his brow. ‘It’s never been easy buying flowers for you, you know.’

Maggie laughed. ‘And the car?’ she said, craning her neck to see it.

‘I rented it today. Seemed worth it as I’ll be travelling around England a bit – what do you think?’

‘Very nice,’ she said.

‘Fancy a quick spin?’ Dylan asked.

‘I’d really like to, maybe another evening though,’ Maggie said, looking back into the house where she had been preparing their dinner.

‘Sure,’ he said, stepping inside.

Maggie led Dylan through to the kitchen and he slipped a hand around her waist as she walked.

‘Glass of Prosecco?’ she asked, picking up a bottle
from the counter.

‘Yes please,’ he replied.

She popped the cork and as she turned to fill two slim glasses he kissed the nape of her neck. He’d always liked it when she wore her hair swept up like it was tonight. The back of her flowery dress was low, and with his kisses the spaghetti strap slipped off her shoulder. He held her, but his kisses stopped suddenly as he took a step back.

‘Your tattoo, Maggie,’ he said, running a finger over her shoulder blade and following his touch with another kiss. ‘Your songbird. I’ve missed it.’

She turned around to pass Dylan his glass, and there was sadness in his eyes.

‘It’s so good to have you back, Maggie. I don’t know how I let you go.’

‘So I’d forgotten how spectacular the colours in Brick Lane are,’ Dylan said later, as they sat in the dining room during the meal. ‘The Bangladeshi sweet shops, you know, the ones filled with pinks and oranges, all those delicious-looking treats … and then the sari shops? Incredible. I sent some of the first pictures over to the American client and they went crazy for the concept.’

‘Oh really, yes I—’ Maggie started.

‘Said they wanted
all
the photos taken
there,’ Dylan said.

‘That’s nice,’ Maggie said.

Over dinner they talked through old times, the years when they were first together, the paths it was safe to retread, the days before they were married. They reminisced about the cramped but cosy one-bedroom flat they’d lived in back then. Maggie had been training up in flower arrangement and brought in a bit of cash from her jazz singing; Dylan was learning the ropes as assistant to a notoriously demanding photographer. Slowly though, the conversation had shifted back to the here and now, and Dylan told her about his work plans for the summer.

‘I have a new client who wants something completely different. They’re a Boston-based fashion brand, classic, far less edgy, targeted at a middle-aged, more conservative market. They’re putting together their autumn catalogue now.’

‘Is that a bigger job?’ Maggie said, passing him a bowl as she opened the ice cream tub.

‘In a way, but it’s pretty straightforward. They always pay on time, but to be honest it’s not my favourite type of work – it’s very tame. Have a look for yourself,’ Dylan said, getting a spring catalogue out of his bag to show her. She flicked through the pages, taking in the glossy shots of flawless models in floral blouses and pressed chinos.

‘See what I mean?’ he said.

‘Sort of,’ Maggie replied.

‘But this project does come with an
advantage – or rather the potential for advantage.’

‘Oh yes, and what’s that?’ she asked, tilting her head slightly.

‘This is what I wanted to talk to you about.’ A smile spread over Dylan’s face. ‘The look they’re going for this time is quintessentially English,’ he said. ‘You know, pretty twee,’ he laughed. ‘Not a style I’m nuts about, but the upside is that Charlesworth is the perfect location.’

Maggie flinched inwardly at his comment. Charlesworth was her home now, after all, and she was really fond of its quaint cottages, lilting pace of life, and the rolling hills that surrounded it.

‘I’m thinking of doing a shoot up in the cornfields,’ Dylan said, and Maggie warmed to the idea. The expanse of warm yellow she could see from her bedroom was one of her favourite things about the house, and she was glad he could appreciate the beauty there.

‘But I think what they’ll probably like best,’ Dylan continued, ‘are photos taken on the green, with the high street in the background. You know what I mean, a few old ladies doddering around in the background, outside the post office maybe.’

‘OK,’ Maggie said, trying to imagine how an outsider would see the place where she worked and lived.

‘The thing is,’ Dylan started, ‘it would mean I’d be able to stay here in Sussex for most of the summer. Luca has offered to keep an eye on the US side
of the business for me.’

Maggie was listening, but she wasn’t sure she was really keeping up with what he was saying.

‘What do you think?’ he asked, his face expectant.

‘About which part?’ Maggie said, trying to piece together what he’d been saying. Dylan had been talking so quickly she’d lost track.

‘I love your house, it’s beautiful. But more importantly, and I hope you know this by now – I’m still in love with you.’ He took her hands in his, over the table. Her heart was beating hard now. ‘Would you have room for me here?’ His dark blue eyes were wide, waiting for her answer. ‘Let’s live together, just the two
of us again.’

‘OK girls, it’s half eight – you should be out of the door by now,’ Alison shouted upstairs, holding a hot mug of tea in her hands. Holly came running down first, her rucksack and PE kit bag in one hand, school shoes in the other. She sat at the bottom of the stairs doing up her laces, dodging enthusiastic licks from George and getting the giggles.

Sophie came down next, at a more leisurely pace, tying her black hair back in a hairband. ‘There’s no hurry,’ Sophie said, her voice cool. ‘I’m not going with Dad. Matt’s driving me into school today.’

‘Oh he is, is he?’ Alison said, caught off-guard. She adjusted her posture to compensate, put her shoulders back and ensured her face gave away none
of her worry. She was really starting to long for the Sophie who’d been her friend, rather than her constant adversary. ‘Well I hope he’s got time to come in and meet us first.’

Holly looked up eagerly. Sophie rolled her eyes. ‘Of course not. Don’t be silly, Mum, we’d be late.’ Holly’s face fell, and Alison’s heart did too, she felt her last shred of power slip out of her hands. ‘And I don’t want you guys peering out of the front window at us either.’

‘He better be a safe driver,’ Alison said, trying to claw some control back. ‘When did he pass his test? Come to think of it, how old is he?’

‘Eighteen. He passed his test ages ago.’ Sophie shrugged off her mother’s concern. Eighteen? So he’d really only just passed. And he was three years older than her – wasn’t three years a pretty big age gap? Alison’s patience was wearing thin. She hadn’t been sleeping well for days, kept up by worries about money. She couldn’t face starting today with another argument with Sophie. She looked at her watch.

‘OK, fine Sophie. Have it your way this time. Hol – seeing as it’s just you, could you nip over to Amy’s house and see if her mum can fit you in their car? It’d give Dad a bit more time this morning.’

‘Sure, Mum,’ Holly said, getting up. Alison gave her a kiss on the head goodbye.

‘And Soph, don’t worry,’ she said, turning to her elder daughter and trying to lighten the
atmosphere, ‘we won’t be staring out the window. Believe it or not, we have better things to do.’ Sophie’s face was blank and she didn’t respond. ‘Just make sure Matt drives slowly. And bring him in next time, will you?’

Once Holly had left, Alison walked through to the living room, where Pete was sitting reading the paper.

‘You’re off the hook this morning, darling. Holly’s getting a lift with the Boltons and Sophie’s new boyfriend’s giving her a lift to school. He’s eighteen, Pete. What do you think about that?’

Pete didn’t look up. ‘Hmm,’ he replied, turning a page.

‘Did you hear what I said, Pete?’

‘Yep,’ he said, glancing up from a feature about house prices, his eyes wide and innocent. ‘No school run this morning. Great.’