The Colonel and His Daughter (6 page)

“Sandra,” Trudy said, her throat suddenly dry.

“I can’t say I’m sorry,” Julia’s mother said. “All my sister ever brings with her to celebrations is an atmosphere.”

She reached for a bin bag, but Trudy took it away.

“No, you get off home,” she said. “We’ll tidy up.”

Wellington and Roger did their bit, clearing up the food that had been dropped on the floor while Diana drifted among the tables, gathering up the balloons.

Bill got his stepladder out to take down the streamers and ribbons while the Colonel and Trudy filled the bin bags.

“Something troubling you, Trudy?” Potts asked when they’d finished.

She bit her lip. Diana and Bill were looking at her too. Perhaps if she involved them in this they might . . .

“I’ve done a terrible thing,” she cried.

Haltingly she explained about Sandra.

“Perhaps your law firm would defend me, Diana,” she finished hopefully. “You could say my mind was deranged.”

They all laughed. Bill ended up bent double, his hands on his knees, red in the face and choking. Potts had to sit down and thump his thigh and Diana started giggling and couldn’t stop.

Gradually they stopped laughing, but they were all still smiling. A thaw seemed to be setting in between Bill and Diana.

Trudy saw a look pass between them. It was the kind of look that people give each other when they forget others are present or that they are supposed to be putting on an act.

“Blinking isn’t going to like this,” Potts said, shaking his head. “I believe he keeps his communion wine in that room. Mark my words, there won’t be a drop left.”

“Reggie doesn’t have to know,” Diana said and when they all looked at her, she shrugged and added, “Well I’m not going to tell him. Are you?”

“I could replace the wine,” Bill said.

“That would be kind of you,” Diana murmured.

“Well, for Trudy, you know,” Bill said gruffly. “Do you have a key to the church, Trudy?”

She nodded.

“Then we’ll go and let her out and we’ll claim she had some kind of blackout. She’ll like it if we can blame it on a new disease.”

“And if that doesn’t work,” Diana said, placing her hand on Trudy’s shoulder. “Then I’ll defend you myself.”

“Well said, Diana,” Bill said, then he went all red and looked as if he wished he’d kept his mouth shut.

Upset as she was, Trudy didn’t miss any of this. They belonged together. Why couldn’t Diana see that?

They crept from the pub to the church like commandos. Crouching, running, diving and hiding beside walls and behind gravestones.

Trudy unlocked the door and each turn of the key seemed to echo around the silent village. Bill had brought a torch and led the way to the tapestry which Diana and the Colonel held to one side as Trudy unlocked the door.

She expected Sandra to fly out spitting and scratching like a trapped cat, but she was sitting in the chair as still as Trudy’s heart which appeared to have stopped beating.

“Is she dead?” Potts whispered.

“That would be a turn up,” Bill muttered. “If she actually genuinely had something wrong with her for once.”

“We could be looking at manslaughter,” Diana said. “Unless of course she’s drunk herself into oblivion.”

“Sandra, dear,” Trudy said. “Are you all right?”

Sandra rose slowly to her feet and turned to face them. There was no agonised groan, no cough, no clutching at her stomach and, Trudy noted, the bottles of wine were all intact.

“I’ve never been better,” she said serenely. “In fact, the most wonderful thing has happened. I’ve found God. And I’ve decided to become a nun.”

On Monday Diana drove Trudy to town, but as they were about to go into the ladies dress shop, Diana spotted the wedding dress shop opposite.

It was time, Trudy decided, to come clean and tell Diana the truth. But before she could, Diana was dragging her across the street.

“Oh, come on, Trudy,” she urged. “It won’t hurt to have a look.”

They stood in Veronica’s Gowns on a spotless cream carpet, surrounded by dresses in all shapes and sizes and every shade of white from ice white to vanilla cream.

Veronica swept out from behind a flowing white curtain.

“Ah,” she said. “I have just the thing.”

“We’re just looking,” Diana explained.

“Of course,” Veronica replied and she pulled a stunning white gown from one of the rails.

It was long and sleek and would cling to every slender curve.

“Madam,” Veronica said. “I give you your dress!”

She held the dress up against Diana and turning to Trudy said, “Don’t you think your daughter would look beautiful in this?”

“Oh, but I’m not . . . she’s not . . .” Trudy spluttered and to her horror, Diana’s face scrunched up like a paper bag and she began to cry – loudly.

Veronica whipped the dress away smartly before it succumbed to the deluge of mascara laden tears while Trudy wrapped her arms around Diana and hugged her.

“Oh, my dear girl, whatever is it?” she said and was aware of Veronica slipping discreetly away. “Diana, dear. Do tell me.”

“I could never wear a dress like that,” she sobbed. “Not now.”

“But of course you can,” Trudy said. “Why, there’s Bill from the Frog and Dumpling . . .”

The mention of Bill’s name brought forth a fresh flood of tears. Trudy grasped a handful of tissues from the box which was always on hand in Veronica’s Gowns for emotional mothers.

“I’ve ruined everything, Trudy,” Diana whimpered. “I’m pregnant. I’m going to have a baby. So you see, Trudy, I can’t marry anyone.”

Pregnant. Diana? But it wasn’t the end of the world these days was it? And Diana was a clever, independent woman, she’d be able to cope beautifully.  Except looking at this crumbling, frightened girl in front of her, Trudy found that hard to believe.

“What about the baby’s father?”

More tears. Trudy thought it best to decamp to the coffee bar across the road. In Diana’s current fragile state, being in a shop surrounded by wedding dresses wasn’t the best place to be.

Diana declined coffee. It wasn’t good for the baby she said. She had freshly squeezed orange juice instead.

“Does the Colonel know?”

“He’ll go spare,” Diana said. “Look at me. Nearly thirty and about to become an unmarried mother. It’ll break his heart, especially when I tell him I’ve given up my career so I can be a proper mother.”

“You don’t have to give up your career,” Trudy said. “The Colonel and I could look after the baby for you.”

Diana’s face creased again, this time with a smile.

“How kind you are. You’re going to be a smashing stepmother and a wonderful grandmother. But my job is very demanding. I work long hours and while I want to support us,” she halted for a moment and gently rubbed her flat stomach. “I also want to spend time with my baby. I was thinking of maybe just working two or three days a week at a local firm, just doing wills and a bit of conveyancing.”

Diana seemed quite calm now and Trudy decided to risk bringing up the subject of the baby’s father again.

“How does the baby’s father feel about all this? Won’t he support you?”

Diana smiled. “He probably would. He’d see it as his duty. But how would I know he was marrying me because he loved me and not because I was pregnant?” she asked.

“Do you love him?”

“With all my heart.”

“Is it Bill?”

“Yes, it’s Bill. We met up when he was in London a few months ago, just as friends, but our companionable lunch together turned into a date and then another,” she broke off, her eyes shining with the memories. “It was a real whirlwind romance.”

“But he loves you, Diana. He told me.”

“But does he mean it?” Diana asked uncertainly.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Trudy said. “Talk to the man.”

“I can’t, Trudy,” Diana said. “I feel such a fool for getting myself in this situation in the first place. Can you imagine what people will say? And how can I tell him? I’ve tried and tried to find the words, but I just can’t.”

“It takes two, Diana,” Trudy said. “And it doesn’t matter what other people say. It’s no concern of theirs.”

“But you know Bill. He’s thirty-five and he’s never shown any sign of wanting to settle down. He may think he loves me, but those feelings may change when he learns the truth. Which is why I don’t want him to know.”

Trudy took a sip of her cappuccino. It was delicious. She took another sip.

Diana smiled at her. “Trudy . . .”

“No, you’ve had your say,” Trudy said firmly. “Now you must listen to me. You can’t keep the baby a secret, not if you’re planning to live with your father.”

“But Trudy . . .” Diana tried again and this time she stroked her top lip with her finger and wiggled her neatly arched eyebrows.

“Bill’s going to put two and two together and it’s just possible he could make five and think the baby belongs to someone else. Then he’ll be hurt.”

“Trudy, your . . .”

Diana stroked her upper lip again, then licked it and nodded towards the older woman.

Trudy was well aware that pregnant women sometimes did strange things. Why her own sister used to eat marigolds. And they got all sorts of odd itches and tickles. She’d never been in the family way herself, but she’d seen it often enough in others.

It would be best just to ignore it rather than draw attention to it.

“Trudy,” Diana hissed. “You’ve got a milky moustache.”

It took a moment to sink in, then Trudy took the paper napkin Diana was holding out to her and dabbed her lip with it.

“I didn’t realise,” she said, blushing. “How silly of me.”

“I can see why Dad has fallen for you,” Diana said fondly.

“Because I’m what my late husband used to call dizzy?”

“No, because you’re charming and sweet. And Dad’s a dear. You both deserve all the happiness you can get.”

“Troodles! Fancy seeing you here,” Bernard called across the coffee bar. “What a coincidence.”

“Some coincidence,” Diana whispered. “He’s been following us since we left home. I didn’t say anything before because I didn’t want to worry you and I was rather hoping we’d lose him.”

“Our paths are destined to cross,” Bernard said, pulling up a chair and grasping Trudy’s hand.

“Mr Chumley isn’t it?” Diana asked as she calmly took a notebook and pen from her bag.

“What’s it to you?”

“Because as well as being my future stepmother, Trudy is also my client. I don’t know if you’re aware of the law regarding stalking, but I’m a solicitor and . . .”

Bernard whipped his hand away and his whole head went red.

“A solicitor? Don’t you think I’ve suffered enough at the hands of solicitors with six ex-wives to my name?” he said. “Troodles, how could you?”

“There,” Diana said, dropping the notebook back in her bag as Bernard scuttled from the coffee bar. “No one messes with my future stepmother and gets away with it. You and Dad getting engaged is the best thing that’s happened to me for months.”

Oh, this was dreadful, quite dreadful.

How could Trudy tell her the truth now? The web got more and more tangled. Trudy couldn’t discuss this latest revelation with the Colonel because he didn’t know about Diana’s pregnancy.

It was going to be very difficult to call off their fake engagement without upsetting Diana. And in her condition, she shouldn’t be upset.

Colonel Potts stood in front of the full-length mirror in his new suit. It would do, he supposed, for a summer party, but if all went to plan it might even double up as his father of the bride suit!

Diana said he looked dashing. Was it all right for the father of the bride to cut a dash? Or should he look a little more sombre?