The Vintage Summer Wedding (23 page)

Read The Vintage Summer Wedding Online

Authors: Jenny Oliver

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Romance, #Romantic Comedy, #Contemporary Fiction, #Holidays

BOOK: The Vintage Summer Wedding
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‘Yes.’ Anna nodded, ‘I suppose it is.’ The whole idea of Lucinda Warren talking to Razzmatazz was too surreal.

‘There’s nothing like grass-roots dance. Nothing like it,’ Lucinda beamed. ‘And everyone should have access to it. That’s one of our objectives, Anna.’ She turned to look at her. ‘It’s part of the New York job.’

Anna caught Hermione’s eye behind her, who was making a face like they’d won the lottery.

The group were breathing heavily, sweating but still paused, hanging on for whatever Lucinda might say next.

‘I did think, guys‒’ Lucinda nodded her head from side to side. ‘That while the routine is super-awesome, it might need something bigger for the finale. You know, a show-stopper. A final moment of full-on wow.’

‘Yes!’ Hermione chimed in. ‘I thought that too, actually. I was waiting for a lift you know, like in
Dirty Dancing
.’

‘I don’t think we have time for a lift, it’s in two days.’

‘And there’s no bloody great lake to practise in, is there?’ Hermione snorted.

‘No, I suppose not.’ Lucinda rubbed her finger along her lips. ‘Shame.’

‘We watched it, Miss.
Dirty Dancing
,’ Clara called from the back row, her compact out so she could check her make-up was still firmly in place. ‘Everyone came round ours and we watched it. It is in the fifties, Miss.’

‘You did?’ Anna was struck for a moment by the fact that they had all got together in their own time and watched the film that she’d suggested. Thought of them all crammed on the sofa bonding
over Dirty Dancing
.

‘They can do it, you know.’ Lucy said, nodding in Matt’s direction.

‘Shut up, Lucy.’ Mary flushed beetroot.

‘Do what?’ Anna asked.

‘The lift.’ Lucy smirked, clearly enjoying herself. ‘They can do it. We made them do it in the garden after we watched it.’

‘Lucy, you promised.’ Mary whispered.

‘Oh get over it, it’s for the good of the team.’

Hermione clapped her hands together with glee. ‘Oh come on! Show us, we’re dying to see.’

‘Matt?’ Anna ventured, ‘Mary?’

‘I don’t want to.’ Mary’s lip trembled.

‘Don’t be so pathetic!’ Lucy shouted.

Mary looked at the ground. Anna walked over to stand next to her and said in a low whisper. ‘You don’t have to do anything. But I think you’d be amazing if you did. I want people to look at you and go, wow.’ She smiled. ‘You have a lot of talent, Mary. Just don’t worry about what anyone else is thinking or doing and keep the focus inside yourself, do you understand?’

Mary gave a little nod.

‘The trick is to enjoy yourself, and then the job’s half done.’ Anna smiled.

Kim exhaled a puff of electric cigarette smoke, ‘Is this happening or not? I could totally handle a
Dirty Dancing
moment but, equally, I’m kind of crying out for a martini.’

Mary glanced at Matt and Matt winked at her and said, ‘It’s happening.’

And as Mary did a flying run and jump and Matt hoisted her effortlessly up in the air, and the muscles in her stomach wobbled as she laughed, and Hermione whooped and Lucy held her arms out as if she told them so, and Lucinda turned to Anna and winked, it seemed that they had their finale. And Anna realised she’d never been so proud in all her life.

Chapter Eighteen

‘Ladies, I give you the best table in the house.’ As they sashayed into his bistro, Philippe greeted them with a lazy smile and a confident click of his fingers to the waitress to make sure she got the table re-laid and ready for them. ‘Champagne?’ he asked as they settled themselves down in the wooden chairs, shaking the napkins out and laying them in their laps.

Kim guffawed, ‘Oh my god, I can think of nothing I’d like better than a good glass of champers.’

‘Yes, thank you, Philippe.’ Anna nodded, pulling her old cardigan round her and feeling decidedly under-dressed compared to all the designer outfits of her companions.

He winked at her and sauntered off to select the best champagne.

‘So, Anna, this place is darling.’ Lucinda looked around, ‘I love it.’

‘Well, it’s no New York.’ Anna tried to sound casual. They had mentioned the job briefly on the walk over to the restaurant and she found the reality of it suddenly terrifyingly daunting. A pipe dream of escape was completely different to the real thing.

‘And those little kids. They’re so cute. I was watching them thinking, god do you remember when we were their age? I’d broken three toes and had key-hole surgery on my knee already.’

Philippe came over with four flutes of champagne and the rest of the bottle in an ice bucket. ‘Enjoy, ladies.’

Lucinda raised her glass, ‘We should have a toast. I feel maybe it should be to something really inclusive, like to enjoying yourself. I liked seeing them enjoying themselves today. I was jealous of their buzz.’

Anna looked across at Lucinda as Kim boomed loudly, ‘To enjoying ourselves. Fab idea.’

‘You didn’t enjoy yourself?’ Anna asked. ‘When you were dancing.’

‘Oh, don’t get me wrong, I loved it, but I don’t think I’d ever say it was fun. I was just working so F-ing hard all the time.’

Anna sipped the champagne and all the bubbles went up her nose, making her almost sneeze. ‘Sorry,’ she said, wiping her face with her napkin.

Hermione looked up as if she couldn’t take Anna anywhere, and then started to talk to Kim about where she’d bought her top.

Lucinda went on, ‘I just think we were so damn young. If I did it now I think I’d be in more control, I’d know better what I wanted to fight for, which choices I’d make.’ She flicked her hair and pouted her lips, ‘All I wanted then was to win. Like you.’

‘Like me?’ Anna questioned.

‘Yeah!’ Lucinda laughed, half-studying the menu, ‘Ooh, confit of duck, my favourite. Yeah.’ She rested the card on her plate. ‘I needed someone like you to fight against. It was exhilarating. I was F-ing terrified of you, but my god it pushed me.’

‘But I was terrified of you.’ Anna said, wondering whether Lucinda was remembering correctly. ‘You were incredible. You just came in and wowed everyone.’

‘Bullshit, I just tried to be as good as you. And goddamn Madame LaRoche would be like,
Look at how Anna does it, isn’t Anna perfect
?’ She laughed as she did a terrible French accent.

‘No.’ Anna shook her head. ‘No it wasn’t like that.’ She saw Hermione glance up. ‘I was, look at Lucinda. It was you. Not me.’

‘Are you kidding me? Jesus, Anna. I had to sleep with that guy to get
The Nutcracker
part.’

This time Anna’s champagne went everywhere. All over her side-plate, her face, her T-shirt. Kim leant over and patted the table with her napkin as Anna wiped the bubbles off her face a second time and then leant a little closer to Lucinda and said. ‘You did what?’

Lucinda rolled her eyes, ‘Mr Hadley. I seduced him in his office. Can you believe it? I can hardly believe it when I look back, but I would have done anything to get that part. To be young and ambitious, hey!’ She smiled, clinked Anna’s glass and went back to her menu.

Anna was dumbfounded. Her mouth wouldn’t move. When Philippe came over to take their orders she just said, ‘Me too.’ to whatever Hermione had ordered.

‘You slept with Mr Hadley?’ Anna whispered, an image of him popping into her head ‒ old and white-haired with a moustache and one front tooth longer than the other. Thin and wiry but with a strange belly that hung just over his belt like a bum-bag.

Lucinda made a face and then said in her best British accent, ‘I shagged him on his desk. I would have done anything, Anna. There was just no way I was going to lose. I play much cleaner now, I promise.’

Anna swallowed.

It hadn’t mattered. It hadn’t mattered that she had looked through that window and watched Lucinda dance and lost her nerve. She could have flown into the room like Darcey bloody Bussell and she wouldn’t have got it. What would her mum have made of that?

‘But enough of that. It still makes me feel a bit sick when I think about it. You know, that vomit in your mouth feeling.’ Lucinda shuddered.

Philippe brought over their starters. It appeared that Hermione had ordered tripe sausage. Which meant Anna had ordered tripe sausage.

‘Hermione, why did you order this?’

‘It’s Patrick’s favourite.’ She grinned. ‘Why did you order it?’

Anna didn’t reply. Her dad’s favourite food was tripe?

‘Try it. It’s really very good.’ Hermione cut a piece and savoured the taste. Kim leant over, intrigued and sawed a bit off for herself, put it in her mouth and then, lifting her napkin, spat it out with as much dignity as she could.

‘That, honey, is fucking dreadful. Hello!’ She waved a hand in Philippe’s direction. ‘I need something to take the taste of that out of my mouth.’

‘Mademoiselle‒’ Philippe smiled. ‘I have just the thing, if you think you can handle it.’

‘Oh, I can handle anything.’ Kim smirked.

Philippe came back with a bottle of clearish liquid that looked distinctly home-brewed, with a hand-written label on which was written Eau de Vie.

‘And what does that mean?’ Lucinda asked.

‘It is the water of life. It puts the fire in your belly.’

‘Well, I like the sound of that.’ Kim took the little glass he proffered.

Philippe sloshed some more out and passed the thimble-full glasses round, ‘I will drink with you. What are you toasting?’

‘Well, it was to enjoying ourselves, but I can’t think about that with that horrendous taste in my mouth. So think of something else. Anna ‒ how about New York? Should we toast to you in New York?’ Kim asked.

‘Yes, Anna, should we toast that?’ Lucinda cocked her head and looked at Anna, as if waiting to see if she was going to accept.

Anna paused, stared at the little glass in her hand. She could feel Philippe’s eyes on her.

‘If I may, ladies,’ he cut in, ‘I would prefer to toast to you all being here in Nettleton. Forgive me, but I do not want to toast a departure.’

‘Hear, hear,’ said Hermione.

‘Well then.’ Lucinda held up her glass. ‘To Nettleton.’

‘To Nettleton,’ said Anna softly, knocking back the drink, the liquid hitting the back of her throat like fire and burning its way through her whole body in an instant.

Chapter Nineteen

Two days later, a parcel arrived on Anna’s doorstep. It was a massive cardboard box that the deliveryman struggled to get up the path.

The card read, ‘
Anna Whitehall, about
The Nutcracker
…I’ve never been so relieved to tell someone something. You wouldn’t believe! The job is yours if you want it. I’d like to work with you, Anna. Think about it seriously. In the meantime, I thought your group could do with these… Lucinda x’

She sliced open the top of the box and peered inside to find a stack of carefully packed costumes, all with the tags still on from the NYC Academy. She was holding up a cropped luminous-yellow T-shirt and red spangly leggings when Seb came out of the shed wearing his pale-grey suit.

‘Very nice,’ he said. ‘They’ll suit you.’

She smiled. ‘Yeah, it’s my new look.’

‘It’ll certainly get you noticed on the streets of New York.’ He laughed like it was a joke he was comfortable with, grazing a hand over his cheek.

She looked down at the bright-red sequins, ‘It’ll more likely get a bunch of teenagers noticed on
Britain’s Got Talent
.’

‘Oh god, is that today?’ he said, startled, seemingly annoyed with himself for forgetting. ‘How are you getting there? Do you need me to drive anyone?’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Matt’s dad, he’s hired a minibus.’

They stood awkwardly for a moment, watching each other. Beside him she could see the space where the roses had now been taken over by a rhododendron bush, its flowers big trumpet-like bursts of vivid-pink, and, next to that, the recently pruned honeysuckle, filling the air unashamedly with its sugary sweetness while bees buzzed, drunk, from flower to flower. She tried to think of something to say.

She wanted to walk up and say, I’m sorry that you felt I drove you away. To say, I wish you hadn’t slept in a bed with Melissa Hope. I want to be able to hold your hand and say thank-you for cutting the roses that were clearly beautiful but made me sick. I want to straighten your collar. Ask when you cut yourself shaving. See if you need anything for the shed. Hear you laugh about all the spiders living in there and how you wake up at two a.m. to the sound of the foxes and get a bit scared but lie there trying to be macho and not care. Ask if you’d come back to sleep in my bed.

But instead she watched as Seb gave a quick nod and then turned, his sleeve brushing past the honeysuckle, the scent drifting softly her way as he opened the gate. He paused on the threshold, she saw his shoulders rise and fall as he took a breath and then he turned back and said, ‘Good luck today, I don’t think I’ve said it, but I’m er…’ He paused, plucked a leaf off one of the spindly white flowers, ‘I’m really proud of you.’

As he closed the gate behind him, Anna felt her fingers tighten around the red sequinned material as her heart seemed to batter itself against her ribs like a puppy left at home by its owner.

The minibus trip to London was like they’d raided an American Apparel. When she’d presented the group with the box of goodies, she’d never seen faces light up with such delight. The boys were yanking out pairs of tracksuit bottoms in electric-blue, turquoise, red and there was even a white pair that Billy took a particular liking to, all with the NYC Academy logo stamped on the thigh. There were baggy T-shirts, baseball tops with coloured sleeves, hoodies and truckers caps with big embroidered NYCA emblazoned across the front. The girls fought over sequinned leggings in every colour of the rainbow and gold lamé leather-effect skin-tight trousers that Anna rather fancied for herself. There were crop-tops in hot-pink and blue leopard-print, luminous vests, fluffy headbands, wristbands, big chunky white socks and, at the bottom, was a shocking purple and yellow tutu, its layers of net jutting out like the ones Anna had worn at the EBC. As Anna let her fingers run across the fabric, Lucy snatched it and held up high like a bridesmaid catching the bouquet. ‘This is mine!’ she whooped and pulled it on over the top of her gold lamé leggings.

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