This Is Your Life (19 page)

Susie thumped him. ‘God, her daughter’s ghastly too. Looks more like a horse than her mother if you can imagine it,’ she muttered.
‘Tom, we can’t stay here, not like this! She’s such a bully, she’ll be over as soon as she spots us, just you wait.’

‘Good God, you’re right’. Tom’s eyes grew rounder. ‘She is, too.’
He winked at Lizzie.

‘Stop it,’ giggled Susie, ‘
Oh she’s not, is she?’

But
Mrs Hepplewhite had indeed marched over and she bent to hiss in Susie’s ear.

‘Young lady, what’s this I hear about a string quartet? Most untraditional I must say. I don’t know what Father Sim will have to say about this. You have asked him I take it?’

Tom let his sister squirm a little longer than strictly necessary, before stepping in to the rescue.

‘
Hello Mrs Hepplewhite! It was a terribly difficult decision, but you see, our cousins play in that quartet, so we had to ask them. Susie really wanted you to play the organ for her, but for the sake of keeping the peace in a rather, er, tricky situation, she didn’t have much choice. I
do
hope you er, understand.’

Almost falling for Tom’s charm, which he used to far greater effect than his sister, with a loud ’hmph’ she turned and stalked back to her family, who were all watching
with looks of disapproval on their sour faces.

‘
You shouldn’t have said that’, said Susie, looking at him. ‘I forgot to tell you- they’re called BlackJack…’  She giggled uncontrollably. ‘They’re Nigerians!’

The Hepplewhite contingent looked over as the table erupted into laughter, all, that was, except for a neglected
Leo, to whom feeling marginalised and overshadowed was not his idea of a good time.  Susie was ignoring him and he’d picked up on the vibe between Lizzie and that Tom bloke, so it wasn’t a surprise at all when he stood up and made his excuses, terribly apologetically of course.  

‘I’m on call first thing,’ he explained.  Always a good excuse,
he found, reminding everyone of his impressive professional standing, which he followed with ‘you ready Babe?’ twenty-first century cave-man claiming his woman.

After much manly hand shaking,
they left - Lizzie more reluctantly, tossed and turned by the most unfamiliar sensations feeling Tom’s eyes gazing after her.

Once home, Lizzie hadn’t planned to ask Leo in, instead wanting to sit in the quiet dark, alone with the maelstrom of thoughts that was raging in her head.  All those times they’d run in to each other by chance and now this… Tom. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. But she hadn’t bargained on Leo being so devious. Completely without scruples and knowing exactly how to play it, he wasn’t going to let the opportunity go.

Uninvited, he followed
Lizzie in through the back door.  Lizzie could sense him standing close behind her as she put the kettle on, and as she reached for the mugs, he turned her to face him.  Slowly and deliberately he kissed her lips, very softly at first, biding his time until she started to respond, when the kissing became more urgent until Lizzie pulled back and tried to push him away.

‘No, Leo.’
Lizzie’s words surprised both of them. She looked into those imploring eyes, which must have got him what he wanted so many times in the past.   And very nearly relented. ‘It would be very easy…’

‘Then why stop now…’ Leo nuzzled
her neck and kissed her teasingly behind her ear, before finding her mouth again, kissing it softly, light, butterfly kisses, while pinning her against the wall.

But
the moment had passed and anyway, Lizzie had made up her mind.  She tried to break away from his grip. He certainly wasn’t making it easy for her.

‘Go home…’
she protested, before he could change her mind, then when he ignored her, more firmly, ‘I meant what I said…’

It killed the mood. Leo blinked
as he realised that she really
did
mean it. He knew when he was beaten and kissing her chastely on the forehead, left.

Good thing he didn’t look back
. Lizzie slumped weakly to the floor, too muddled to separate the traitorous feelings of lust that Leo had ignited from anything she might feel for Tom.  Leaning back against the wall listening to his car go speeding up the lane, she waited for her heart to steady.

But that night, as
she lay in bed with her mind wandering this way and that, she knew her decision was the right one, falling deeply asleep to immensely disturbing dreams of being endlessly, passionately kissed in her own rose garden, by a tall, familiar man.  When the kissing eventually paused long enough for Lizzie to see who he was, she awoke instantly with a shock, her heart thumping for real.  It wasn’t Leo she’d been kissing - it was Tom.

            
 
‘You’re seeing an awful lot of Leo, darling…’  Antonia was digging for gossip.

             
‘Not as much as he’d like – and not so much now at all, really…’

             
Antonia was puzzled.  ‘Lord, Lizzie, why the devil not?  I certainly wouldn’t say no to
him
…’

             
Lizzie rolled her eyes.  ‘You have Toby, and that would be extremely unfair.  He adores you.’

             
Antonia looked worried.  ‘Oh God.  Don’t say that.  He’s awfully sweet, but it’s nothing serious.  Surely he must know that…’  She frowned.

             
‘You do take advantage of him,’ said Lizzie.  ‘And you can hardly blame him when you spend so much time together…’

             
‘Golly.  And I thought it was just for sex,’ said Antonia, aghast.  ‘Shall we go to the pub?’

             
Antonia thought like a man.  She’d be the perfect match for Leo, if he didn’t need his ego stroked continuously.  Antonia only ever stroked her horses.

             
Tim was already in the Star deep in conversation with William, who winked at Antonia as they came in.  She blushed – just slightly.

             
‘Hello darling!  William – lane’s so much better, don’t you think, sweetie?  You farmers did a marvellous job… ’

             
No-one had ever called William ‘sweetie’ before and a reddish colour tinged his ears.

             
‘We’ll leave you to it, darlings!  Come and join us when you’re talking about something more interesting…’ she added tactlessly.

             
‘You’re terrible!’ giggled Lizzie as they found a table.  ‘Did you see the look on William’s face?’

             
‘Hilarious wasn’t it?  Golly, but he is bloody sexy…’ 

Lizzie had
had a brainwave about Ginny’s ghastly garden.  Actually it was a rather inspired idea of how to make it pink without making it horribly, luridly garish, and in the event, Ginny had been thrilled at the idea of coloured uplighters among her plants, which would give everything a pink glow by night, while allowing it to revert to a much more tasteful mix of shades by daylight.

‘
So
clever,’ Ginny had enthused, clapping her hands together and smiling as widely as the botox would allow. ‘And so original! I can’t think of anyone else who’s done that!  I’ll buy pink fairy lights for the party, oh, and pink garden umbrellas…Oh Lizzie, I knew you were just perfect for this!’

And Lizzie had escaped
with both her professional integrity and the dignity of the garden intact, safe in the knowledge that Ginny’s unerring instinct for the kitsch couldn’t in any way be blamed on her when it came to organising the party.

Hethecote was on her mind.  Now that she was spending less time up there, Lizzie was conscious of Miriam’s workload, and drove over to see how she was.  With summer round the corner, the farm was looking green and inviting and Miriam herself was looking better than Lizzie had ever seen her.

‘You haven’t seen the garden for a while – come and have a look,’ she said
mysteriously to Lizzie.

As they stepped through the door in the wall,
a huge smile stretched across Lizzie’s face as she looked around.  She’d never imagined anything quite like this.  Every allotment was different, each with its own identity.  One of the schools had made a vegetable garden, complete with the most imaginative scarecrow ever topped off with an old mortar board, and lots of handmade labels marking each row of seedlings.  There was an old blackboard with a list of tasks that they were ticking off as they completed them, and on the bottom in a childish hand was written, piss off crows.

Another was elaborately floral, with the initials of the school picked out in tulips that were just beginning to go over
.

‘Awfully
clever idea,’ said Miriam.  ‘They’re planting flowers and vegetables only in the schools colours – maroon and white for everything.  And they’ve found all these old-fashioned varieties.’

And so it went on.  The detail that the schools, and the pupils of course had gone into, was
astonishing.  But one stood out in particular.  The centrepiece was an arch, intricately constructed from wood.  Climbing plants were creeping their way up it – but not flowers.  These were vegetables.

‘Cucumbers and red runner beans,’ said Miriam proudly.  ‘Just think how it’ll look in a couple of months.’

‘But who made the arch?’ asked Lizzie.  ‘Truly – I could sell those to my clients.’

‘Ah.  Well, it’s the young offenders who’ve done this
one.  I thought about your idea – about staggering times.  They come in after two in the afternoon.  It works perfectly!  It was a bit of a slow start, but then they really got into it – as you can see!’

‘These
are truly amazing,’ said Lizzie.  ‘Really, I think that they should be photographed.’  Then she had a real flash of inspiration.  ‘It would be wonderful publicity.  I don’t know why I haven’t thought of this before, but I used to work for a gardening magazine.  I could call them if you like – they might just be interested…’

‘Well,’ said Miriam.  ‘If you think so… Goodness!’

It was many months since Lizzie had even thought about Julian
’s greasy hair and tight trousers.  She steeled herself to make the call.

‘Ah…Lizzie.’ 

In an instant she was back in that office, suffocated and stifled and dreading the journey home.  But this wasn’t about her and her future – it was for Miriam and Hethecote, and quickly she filled him in.

‘Hello Julian.  I’m involved in something rather interesting.  I thought I’d run it by you before I go anywhere else…’

She put the phone down and sat there for a moment.  Buds and Blooms were coming to see Miriam’s gardens!  If this went well, it would put Hethecote Farm well and truly on the map. 
Who’d have thought she’d be calling Julian after all this time...  But Lizzie knew without doubt he’d love this and it would make a brilliant feature for the magazine.

‘I’ve found a venue!’ announced Antonia as she opened a bottle of wine.  ‘Friend of Harry’s, darling!  Got a crumbling old pile a few miles away.  He’s a lecherous old sod but we can cope with that  - the house is sensational from the outside with a very impressive drive… He says he’ll stick a marquee out the back in return for a couple of tickets!  He’ll probably only end up using one of them – no-one will want to go with him…’

‘Should we go and take a look?  Before you
decide?  Only – well, just in case there’s a landfill down the road or something… This weekend – I think Katie’s coming down…’

‘I suppose…’ Antonia was thoughtful.  ‘I’ll call him.  Actually, I’ll do it now.  Won’t be a mo.’

Picturing a balding, bent old man with a monocle, Lizzie listened in as Antonia buttered him up and arranged for them to go round later that week.

‘Oh that’s so fabulous, thanks awfully sweetie,’ she was saying.  ‘
And I’m sure we can come to some agreement.’

‘Oh God,’ she said as she put the phone down.  ‘He only wants me to go away with him.  To Marbella… jolly nice actually, and I know it’s all in a good cause, but darling…he is eighty three...’

There was another
party on Lizzie’s mind – Edwards’s, and next day, she checked through the list of plants Ginny had ordered and emailed it to the supplier. She’d dug the borders and started adding the mountain of compost that had been delivered, and Lizzie was looking forward to planting, with all the arduous preparation now behind her.

As always, her client was immaculately
coiffed with brand-new highlights and dressed in pastels - palest pink and lilac. Lizzie’s ancient patched jeans were covered in earth as usual, but Ginny, to be fair, didn’t bat an eyelid as she invited her into the conservatory for a much needed coffee break.

Chatting over a large cafetiere of coffee, Lizzie told Ginny about how she
’d got involved with Susie’s wedding.

Ginny clapped her hands with glee and squeaked, ‘golly, how frightfully
marvellous! Of course you must do it! I have no doubt you’ll do it beautifully, no doubt at all. Now,’ leaning towards Lizzie, she lowered her voice conspiratorially. ’Have you met that brother of hers?  Bit of a heartbreaker I’m told,’ she said, the flush in Lizzie’s cheeks answering her question.

              A gleam came in to Ginny‘s heavily painted eyes.  ‘My older daughters, when they’re home, are always at that pub with the terrible name,’ she rolled them dramatically, ‘desperately hoping he’ll be there. It’s ‘Tom this, Tom that…’ Honestly Lizzie, they drive me insane! He rarely is of course, I‘m sure he‘s far too busy for village life these days. In any case, they’re
much
too young for him!’ She gave a slightly manic, high pitched giggle as her face stretched into a grimace of a smile.

‘
Botox
’ Lizzie thought instantly. Ginny had overdone it this time and it wasn’t a good look.

‘These girls, dear me, they’re
that
age, and just will
not
be told. They go off to
that
pub, all dolled up, ready to throw themselves at him. No subtlety whatsoever’

Subtlety
wasn’t exactly one of Ginny’s strengths either.  Lizzie had seen her daughters from a distance, drifting around the house, pretty girls, delicate as fawns, with their blonde flowing  hair, long limbs and dewy skin, though much too young for Tom, thankfully.

‘Anyway’, continued Ginny more brusquely, ‘enough of all that.  Back to business. When will these divine plants be arriving? In the meantime, you must
come here any time you like Lizzie!  Don’t worry if I’m not here!  You just carry on what you need to do, but I would so love to be here when the plants are delivered. I‘m so excited, I just can’t wait!’

Ginny’s eye’s glittered slightly madly.
Lizzie could just imagine her daughters doing the same over Tom.

But t
hen the eyes turned just slightly steely. ’And you are quite, quite sure that it will all be finished for Edward’s birthday party? It’s only a few weeks now, but I so want everything to be perfect…’

That afternoon Lizzie got to Hethecote just minutes before Julian swung up the drive in a very swanky jaguar.  Nothing had changed – the trousers were tight as ever, and he was wearing what looked like a Gieves and Hawkes jacket with a particularly snazzy handkerchief poking out of his pocket. 

‘Ah, Lizzie!’
She narrowly avoided being air-kissed as Miriam came over.

‘Julian, meet Miriam
Kirby, the force behind Hethecote Farm!’

‘Delighted.’  He
smoothed a strand of lank hair off his face then offered his hand.  ‘I must say, this is frightfully…um…
agricultural
…’

As they made their way over to the garden, Lizzie gave him a potted history of the farm, and how they needed to become more profitable simply to survive. 

‘There are all these animals, you see,’ she added as they passed Sid and Johnny’s stable.  As he always did, Sid farted noisily and Julian jumped backwards.

‘Quite, quite… ahem
… This is all very well, but it’s not the animals I’m here to see, is it now Lizzie.’

‘No…’
  They’d come to the door in the hedge.  ‘This, Julian.  This is why you’re here.’

Give him his due, he responded exactly as Lizzie hoped.  And looking around
she tried to see it through his eyes.  Ok, it was hardly Chelsea Flower Show, but the whole garden was alive and the characters of the individual gardens clearly apparent.  Lizzie felt almost choked with pride as she stood with Miriam and watched him.

‘And all these… have been made by schools?’ he asked incredulously.  ‘My, my… I can see exactly why you called me.  It’s most innovative.  Absolutely right
on trend…’ he blustered.

‘
And some local young offenders.’  Two were out there now – thin and pale looking, glancing suspiciously at Julian.  ‘It’s all organic, Julian.  As much use as possible is made of recycled items, but.  But as you know, there are costs.  Schools have to rent the gardens in the first place, and that provides funds for the farm.  But it means that poorer schools are excluded… I suppose ultimately what we’d hope for is some sponsorship… And maybe, a feature or two in the press would help… Anyway, surely your readers would be interested to see what a class of children can achieve on a severely limited budget…’

‘Absolutely…’ Julian was nodding so enthusiastically his glasses nearly fell off.  ‘It’s a marvellous idea, Lizzie!  Marvellous! 
But…’