A Vintage Wedding (40 page)

An hour later, Beth had passed the problem of the marquee over to Rachel, and filled up the van with fuel, grateful for the money that her father had put into her account. She wondered briefly if her mother knew her father had been subbing her from time to time and chose to ignore it. She’d always got on much better with him than with her mother. But since they’d been doing the wedding together she’d somehow understood her a little better. And now she no longer lived with her she didn’t need to feel bullied. She was still a nightmare but somehow a less frightening one.

Beth was a bit anxious about setting off into unknown countryside. At six thirty in the evening it was already beginning to get dark and she reckoned she had about an hour and a half of daylight left. There was a map in the van, which was good, and she knew roughly in which direction she was headed, but trying to find somewhere in the dark was always tricky. It would get harder when she reached Newberry Parva. She might have to ask and there might not be anybody about. But what she was really worrying about was the welcome – or not – she might receive. Sukey had been genuinely reluctant to disclose the address, even when she knew why Beth needed it. Finn might be very angry. She was poking her nose into what was not really her business. She hoped he’d understand and be pleased once she’d explained but she couldn’t rely on it.

At last she found the place. A group of farm buildings, all now obviously converted to something more lucrative than the housing of cattle and horses. There were big double gates that were locked and an entryphone. She contemplated the entryphone and decided it would be far too difficult to explain who she was if anyone but Finn answered. And he might refuse to stop what he was doing to come and investigate.

She parked the van in a lay-by and climbed over the gate.

Half expecting a pack of trained Dobermans to come rushing out at her, she was relieved when nothing happened. She was in. Now all she had to do was find out which building the band was in. Suddenly a dull throb began to issue from the biggest barn. Beth took a breath and made her way towards it.

As she got closer to the building the noise increased. She noticed thick electric cables emerging from under the door. This was definitely the one. But how should she proceed? Should she knock? Would they hear her? Should she wait for a break in the music and then knock? She decided to just open the door – if indeed it did open – and go in. It did.

It was dark and loud and she realised only the stage was lit; the rest of the space was in darkness. Not wanting to go up to the stage like a lone fan she decided to just find a corner and wait until they stopped for a break. There was probably a reason it was so dark and they would put the lights on soon. She felt a bit like Goldilocks breaking into the three bears’ house while they were in. She hoped she wouldn’t give them an awful fright when she appeared.

She felt her way to where some old chairs were gathered round a low table. She pulled one out and turned it so it faced the stage; then she settled back to listen.

At first she couldn’t get a sense of the music, of what sort of music it was. Then she got used to the volume and realised it sounded great.

She had (being human) checked out Finn’s boy band on YouTube and quite liked it – wanted to like it, probably – but this was a much more complex, richer sound.

Then suddenly it stopped. She froze, as if she was playing musical statues. Should she come forward now? Or hope someone spotted her? She cleared her throat as loudly as she could but the sound coincided with a huge guitar chord. No one heard.

She decided to relax and just listen to the music. Eventually someone would notice there was stranger present and with luck she could explain why she was there before they threw her out.

She found it easier to concentrate if she closed her eyes, and she was really getting into the music. Finn, as lead guitar and vocalist, was really good. His voice was musical but with a hint of rawness that was extremely sexy. It was warm in the barn and as she relaxed she found the words became clearer and she thought she heard her own name. ‘You’re imagining things,’ she told herself. But there it was again: her name, in Finn’s gently rasping voice. Then suddenly the music stopped, but she could still hear her name.

‘Hey, Beth,’ said Finn. ‘What are you doing here?’

Beth jumped. ‘Oh my God! I can’t believe I did that. I fell asleep.’ She was in a dark and noisy place and for a moment was completely confused. She’d heard her name and there was Finn. But somehow he wasn’t the Finn she’d been dreaming about. He was different. He was frowning down at her. He wasn’t at all pleased to see her. He was very cross.

Finn nodded. ‘But that’s not the odd thing, really, though, is it? Why are you here?’

Beth felt she needed time both to work out how to tell Finn her news and to get to grips with the fact he was annoyed. ‘The falling asleep in movies and things, it’s really embarrassing. I never thought I’d do it here.’ She smiled. ‘Not a movie. Obviously.’

She got up out of the chair. She needed to be a bit more upright if she was going to have to explain herself.

‘I’m assuming you didn’t come here because you felt a bit tired and wanted a nap,’ said Finn.

‘No,’ Beth agreed.

‘So there was a reason? Because we are here to get work done, not to socialise. And this was supposed to be a secret location. Sukey swore to me she wouldn’t tell anyone. Why did she tell you?’

Beth sighed. ‘There is a reason, a really good one, and if we could only go somewhere where there’s proper light and it’s not so noisy—’ There was a huge twang of a guitar just as she spoke. ‘I could explain.’

She realised that Finn was very, very angry and keeping it all under control. She realised she hadn’t seen him in a working environment – his environment – before. He’d always been at the pub, or in a social situation. Now she’d invaded his space. She was hurt, though, that he didn’t feel he could trust her when before he’d disappeared he’d said he wanted to get to know her better.

‘We’ll go into the house,’ he said. Then he went back to the stage and presumably explained what had happened.

It seemed to take a long time to get from the barn to the house, although they weren’t that far away from each other really. Beth was beginning to wonder if she should have come after all.

She’d been so convinced she was doing the right thing, being their messenger angel, dashing across the country in the van to stop them doing the wrong thing so they could have their big chance. Now it looked as though she’d made a horrible mistake. And if she had, literally hundreds of people would have every good reason to be extremely fed up with her.

Her mother for one. And Lindy and Rachel, who would have a lot of extra work because of the change in venue. Belinda, Raff’s mother, doing the catering, would have further to transport things, although Rachel had convinced Beth it would be much easier to cook in a tent with rented equipment than in a kitchen that was really only a kitchenette. Then there were the guests, who’d already had to change the day but now the venue too. What a bloody nightmare. And all Beth’s fault. They’d have to tell the guests at the church. With maps.

Finn opened a door that let them into the kitchen of a property that looked to Beth like a holiday let. It was a far larger, grander holiday let than the one she lived in but it bore all the signs. It also bore the signs of having been lived in by a group of men who had better things to do than tidy up after themselves. The worktop was strewn with dirty mugs and there was a heap of empty beer cans in a corner. A couple of empty bottles of whisky and rum were lined up next to the beer cans along with empty mixers. It wasn’t as sordid as a group of drunken stags would have left it, but the inhabitants did not include anyone who was obsessively tidy. If she hadn’t been so confused she’d have laughed – Rachel would have conniptions here!

‘I’d better make some tea,’ he said. But as he filled the kettle and switched it on, hunted for tea bags and opened the huge fridge to find milk, his expression was still grim.

Beth sat down at the huge kitchen table. He hadn’t asked her to but she felt silly standing around. Although she was still embarrassed and felt guilty she was also beginning to feel a bit cross. Finn was being angry just because she was there, had broken the cordon of security he seemed to think was necessary. Why didn’t he wait to hear her side of the story and then decide if she was as bad as he now seemed to think her?

He handed her a mug of tea, the tea bag still in it, and then took a seat. He pushed the carton of milk across the table. Then some semblance of manners came back to him. ‘Oh, sorry. Do you need sugar?’ Without waiting for her reply he got up and found a bag of it, hardened by drips of tea and coffee.

‘It’s OK thanks.’ She fished out her tea bag and left it on the spoon before adding milk to her mug. She very much wanted to sniff the carton to make sure the milk wasn’t sour but felt that would be too rude.

‘So, why are you here?’ he said.

Although she was longing to tell him, to put everything right between them, this felt very abrupt. She took a sip of tea before answering. ‘I answered the phone in the pub. It was Mickey Wilson.’

He swung his head towards her and she was horribly reminded of a lion suddenly catching sight of its prey. She floundered on. ‘He said he can’t come and hear you on Saturday night. He’s going to the States.’

He didn’t answer immediately. He seemed to be taking it in. Beth realised she’d delivered more than just a simple phone message.

‘Mickey Wilson? Rang me? At the pub? How did he get that number?’ He got up and strode across the room and kicked the cans in the corner. They went everywhere. Beth had the impression that only very deeply entrenched rules about not swearing violently in front of women prevented a whole stream of invective.

Beth flinched. She was not expecting this. She was expecting surprise, some irritation that the date of the gig would have to be changed and maybe annoyance that she had come in person with the news. She was not expecting him to make such a fuss about her getting the call.

‘Well, obviously I can’t tell you that.’ He looked for a minute as if he doubted her. ‘I don’t really know who Mickey Wilson is!’

Finn sighed deeply. ‘He is an extremely important, influential man. With him at our backs we could go to the top. Straight away. No messing.’

‘And yet you seem put out that he’s rung you. That he’s willing to come and hear you play on Friday instead.’

‘I should think I’m bloody well put out. How did he know to ring the pub?’

Beth shrugged. ‘You’re not answering your phone, Finn. Mickey Wilson’s calls went straight to voicemail.’

‘I’ve had my phone switched off – it’s distracting, like visitors,’ he growled.

‘OK, which explains why I’m here. I had to come personally, because there was no other way of getting in touch. And before you go off on one – again – I’ll tell you that I told Mickey that you’d do the gig on Friday, as originally planned.’

‘Isn’t that the day of your sister’s wedding?’

‘Yes it is!’ Beth roared back. ‘But we’ve moved the venue. You can have the hall.’

He frowned. ‘Run that past me again?’

‘My sister is having her wedding party in a marquee now.’ She mentally crossed her fingers. ‘The hall is yours. I told Mickey Wilson he can still hear you. Sukey said that Twitter and Facebook will make sure you still have an audience. It’s all going to be fine. The only bad part is you have a day less to rehearse than you thought.’

Finn sat back down. ‘This could be a feckin’ disaster.’

Beth yearned to ask why but sensed the answer would be loud and possibly a bit sweary. She got up and made herself another cup of tea instead.

‘I’m going to have to talk to the guys about this,’ he said, getting up. Then he slammed his way out of the door.

Beth didn’t know what to do. She found a loo and washed her hands and spiked up her hair a bit with water, and then she went back to the kitchen.

Part of her, the part that worked as a barmaid and a tiny part that was close to Rachel and liked a tidy space, wanted to clear up. The rest of her refused to slip into the womanly role. If Finn had been pleased to see her, grateful for her coming in person with the message, she would have, without thinking twice. But that would make her look like a groupie, a mad fan who was prepared to do anything to get near their idol.

Annoyingly, her stand meant she had to entertain herself with a three-day-old copy of the
Daily Mail
. She could have just gone home, she realised, with her wounded pride, but her curiosity meant she had to know the end of the story.

She decided she’d have to pretend they were doing the gig on the Friday, even if they didn’t. Otherwise it would be just too embarrassing.

Then the door opened and the band walked in. There were four of them, including Finn. He made introductions. ‘Liam and Seamus you know, and this is Pat.’

The three men, about the same age as Finn, grinned at her. They were all good-looking and she wondered if they’d all been members of his original band or if anyone had been added. They also all sounded unnervingly like Bob Geldof.