Wedding Tiers (26 page)

‘Only to me, and I haven’t told anyone, of course. But, Daisy, shouldn’t you have—I mean, don’t you think you should have told Libby and Tim
before
they married?’

‘No, that sort of thing doesn’t really matter in this day and age, does it? But I thought it was better to leave it a secret. No harm done.’

No
harm?.

‘But…what if they have children, Daisy?’

‘I think that’s unlikely, don’t you? Pia was an accident and Libby’s getting a bit long in the tooth. But if so, we’ll all be related, won’t we—one big happy family!’

Clearly Daisy’s moral code was as weirdly offbeat as her mother’s was, or she couldn’t possibly think any of this was OK!

But now she seemed to feel that we had exhausted the subject, for she started to tell me about the holiday she was going to take in the new year to Morocco with some girlfriends, when Libby had promised that Gloria would be stowed safely away to dry out yet again.

I presume I made all the right noises, because she said it had been nice having a little chat.

I desperately wanted to talk all this over with someone, but the only person I could do that with was the person most involved!

And unfortunately, when Libby came round later with a lot of very chic little Christmas parcels to put under my tree, her mind seemed to be running on the idea of babies, though luckily not in the very near future.

‘Tim and I are really enjoying being just the two of us at the moment,’ she said.

‘If you can call it being alone, when Gina’s around all the time, Pia is to and fro, and Dorrie pops up at the most unexpected moments,’ I pointed out, getting a grip on myself and
trying to sound normal. ‘But no, I really think you should give yourselves a couple of years first.’

That should safely take her into the realms of diminishing fertility!

‘A year, perhaps,’ she agreed. ‘I ought to get Old Barn Receptions off the ground first. But I can’t afford to wait too long, because your chances lessen with every year past thirty.’

‘Well, just give it a
bit
longer,’ I suggested, and I suppose my manner must have been jumpy and odd, because she gave me a very suspicious look, as if she knew I was hiding something, and asked me if I was feeling OK.

‘Fine—just a bit tired. Have you heard about my love triangle? Ben, Russell and Noah, with me as piggy-in-the-middle?’

Mary phoned me again, but this time to shame-facedly apologise for her earlier accusations, now that Russell had arrived home and explained everything.

He was obviously sharper-witted than I’d ever given him credit for!

‘He called me from his friend’s house in Liverpool, right after I’d spoken to you, so he
was
where he said he would be! And before I could ask him, he told me that he’d called in to see you on his way up, but only stopped briefly because it was getting so late.’

‘That’s
true,’ I agreed.

‘Then I asked him about all those late night phone calls to you and of course they were just because he was feeling sorry for you.’

‘Of course,’ I echoed.

‘He wanted to be sure you were all right, but he thought I would be upset if I knew he was calling you.’

‘Yes, I expect he
did
think that.’

‘And then,’ she added, her voice seeming to wobble suddenly on the verge of hysteria, ‘he said when he called in he found
Noah Sephton
with you, being
very
friendly and—you won’t believe this bit, Josie—’

‘Try me,’ I said morosely.

‘Well, it’s just that he seems to have the insane idea you two are having an affair!’ She giggled. ‘I mean—
you
and Noah Sephton!’

‘Yes, it’s unbelievable, isn’t it? I barely even know him. He’s just a friend of Libby’s, that’s all.’ I summoned up a hollow laugh. ‘Unfortunately, Russell seems to have shared this mad idea with Ben.’

‘Oh, I’ll put him straight, next time I see him, don’t worry. They’re both as daft as each other, if they believe something that stupid. Anyway, according to the current copy of
Simply Secrets
magazine, he’s been having a sizzling affair with this absolutely gorgeous model for ages and—’

‘Anji. Yes, I know about her,’ I broke in.

‘—and it quoted some of her friends as saying a wedding was on the cards.’

‘Oh? But that might have been a bit of wishful thinking,’ I said doubtfully. ‘He’s a widower, but I don’t think he’s ever found anyone to measure up to his late wife and he didn’t sound serious about this Anji.’

‘Maybe not, but he’s hardly likely to look at
you
when his taste runs to the blonde, leggy and beautiful, is he?’

‘You never know. I had a date with a soap star the other day—Rob Rafferty.’

She giggled again. ‘In your dreams!’

After she’d gone, I went and looked in the mirror: no makeup, sulky mouth, tangled hair, sallow skin, blue-grey eyes. Yes, same old Josie, the one a man like Noah Sephton couldn’t possibly fancy. It must have been entirely the power of the peapod. Though that doesn’t account for Rob, of course…But come to think of it, Libby did say he wasn’t at all discriminating, so being female and youngish is probably all the criteria he looks for.

The conversation with Mary hadn’t done a lot for my self-confidence, but the good thing was that Mary and I were now tenuously on speaking terms again and it had provided a distraction, however temporary, from my other worries.

Now that I had Libby’s ghastly secret to worry about as well as my own problems, even exhaustion couldn’t make me fall asleep that night. I spent most of it making and icing about a million gingerbread biscuits in the shape of stars and threading them on very thin green string.

My tree and Harry’s were now groaning under the weight of them and I gave what was left as festive gifts to the Graces and Dorrie, and to Gina for her very own little tree in the flat. I didn’t think Libby would want me ruining the colour scheme on
her
tree, which was a silver one with purple-shaded baubles.

I’d taken Mac with me while I was out delivering the biscuits, but he wasn’t terribly impressed by the notion of this as a walk, so then I had to go right up the lane and back by the footpath, which made it a scramble getting ready in time for Noah to pick me up for Freddie and her colonel’s wedding.

Luckily I’d already decided what to wear—another of Stella’s almost circular, velvet, wraparound skirts, this time in a plum colour, with my favourite burgundy and gold patterned Indian cotton top. I haven’t got a smart winter coat, so borrowed Libby’s velvet jacket again.

Harry, who saw us off, said approvingly, ‘You look pretty as a picture, our Josie!’

‘Yes she does,’ Noah agreed, ‘in her own unique way!’

I gave him a look and he returned it with a bland smile, having got out to open the passenger door of his old Jaguar for me. Inside, the scent of old leather mingled with that subtle aftershave of Noah’s into an almost aphrodisiac blend. I tried to pin it down, but again, limes and a hot summer’s day by the cricket pitch on the village green, was as close as I could get. Don’t ask me where the cricket comes in.

‘I think I owe you an apology,’ Noah said, as he drove me with exaggerated slowness out of the village towards Sticklepond. ‘Libby told me about the scene with Ben. She said the whole village knew, because he got drunk and badmouthed you in the pub, so
I
might as well know too.’

‘I don’t see why you should apologise. It wasn’t your fault that Ben got the wrong end of the stick.’

‘Maybe if I hadn’t kissed you good night…’

‘That was nothing. Anyway, by then, Russell had already half-convinced Ben I’d plunged straight into an affair with you after he left. He was quite unreasonable.’ I shivered. ‘A bit nasty too, though he’s not really like that usually…’ I trailed off.

‘Jealousy does strange things to a man,’ he commented. ‘But he couldn’t know for certain about—well, about the night we had together, could he?’

I might have remarked tartly that it had only been half a night, if that. But we
had
packed rather a lot into it…

When I remained silent he said, ‘Well, could he? You didn’t tell him?’

‘No, but he asked me point-blank and I just couldn’t say anything at all—I froze. So then he decided he was right and that’s when he really flew off the handle.’

‘That doesn’t make me feel any less guilty, Josie, because if he had come to Neatslake in the first place to make it up with you, and you wanted him back, then I’ve spoiled it all. If I’d kept clear of you last night, this would never have happened.’

‘But I don’t want him back! And what I did or didn’t do, with you or anyone else, is no longer his concern.’

He turned and glanced at me.
‘Was
there anyone else? I wondered, when you said you’d been out with Rob Rafferty too.’

‘No, of course not,’ I said shortly. ‘It was always only Ben, until you came along. And afterwards.’

‘That’s what I thought.’

‘After Ben stormed off, he went straight back to London and proposed to Olivia and they’re marrying in early January.’

‘How do you know?’

‘She phoned me up and told me, highly pleased with herself. She knows about you and me too and I expect she’s spreading the news around. Consider your reputation shattered.’

‘I didn’t know I had one, though it
may
, of course, mean demotion from the Fifty Most Eligible Bachelors list next year,’ he said lightly.

He glanced at me in time to catch my Gorgon glare. ‘I meant your reputation for only being seen with beautiful young models!’ I said. ‘And speaking of which, what about your girlfriend, Anji? The one you’ve been pictured with in London recently? There are lots of rumours that it’s serious.’

He shrugged. ‘Not put about by me! But I don’t cut my old girlfriends dead in the street, you know. Most of them stay good friends.’

Or maybe more than friends?

I looked at him doubtfully, feeling suddenly sorry for poor Anji if she’d fallen hard for Noah and was trying desperately to
hang on to him. I expect he’d been entirely open with her about just looking for no-strings-attached fun, as he had been with me, but perhaps she had assumed she could change his mind? Reforming a rake has always been an attractive proposition.

Noah gave me a sideways smile. ‘You realise if we keep being seen together like this, it will give the gossips lots more ammunition?’

‘Well, since my life was so boringly blameless up until now, it’s probably time I gave them something to talk about, isn’t it?’

‘You won’t have to when you’re a TV personality; they’ll make things up about you, instead.’

‘I don’t
really
think that’s going to happen,’ I said doubtfully. ‘Though Claire Flowers is still bombarding me with emails and she seems pretty convinced. She’s talking about starting filming in March.’

‘That sounds very positive to me. She must have someone seriously interested in the idea,’ he said. ‘Here’s the village—where do I park?’

‘Anywhere along the lane here.’

The church in Sticklepond, while not quite as large or as old as St Cuthbert’s in Neatslake, is very pretty, and we arrived just as the kennel maids were lining up outside with the spaniel guard of honour, all wearing large satin ribbon bows.

Of course I lost Noah instantly, because he was off taking photographs, but I joined forces with Hebe Winter and Dorrie, who were also guests, having got to know Freddie through the Women’s Institute meetings. They said they’d come straight on from the annual Christmas Eve morning bash at Winter’s End, which is apparently quite an event. Hebe was her usual tall, hawk-nosed, dignified self, but Dorrie’s best beret was tipped over one eye and her cheeks were flushed, so I suspected she’d been at the festive punch.

However cynical about love I might have become, I have to admit that Freddie, her healthy outdoors complexion innocent
of any makeup apart from a dusting of powder and a dab of soft pink lipstick, looked absolutely glowing in a cream silk shantung suit. Her colonel, silver-haired, handsome and upright in neat tailoring and a regimental tie, beamed on her with fond and proud eyes.

Afterwards we all repaired back to the Ponderosa Kennels, where there was much sherry and a buffet of tiny pork pies, triangular sandwiches and vol-au-vents filled either with scrambled egg or what looked suspiciously like undiluted condensed mushroom soup.

The Cavalier cake stood on a table of its own and Noah photographed the happy couple cutting it. It was much admired and all the kennel maids wanted a slice with a spaniel sitting on it, which I noticed they wrapped up in paper napkins to keep, before eating the rest of the cake.

You never knew where Noah and his Leica would turn up next—or from what angle you would suddenly find yourself being snapped, a sagging vol-au-vent halfway to your mouth—but his antics seemed to amuse the guests rather than annoy them. In fact, I barely spoke to him until late in the proceedings, by which time I had managed, without any effort at all, to click with a good-looking young farmer. It’s amazing what a few new clothes and a bit of slap can do…and maybe just a smidgen of confidence in your powers of attraction.

Maybe Libby was right about using some of the money I was making on augmenting my wardrobe and updating my makeup.

Anyway, I was just getting the hang of flirting when Noah broke abruptly into the conversation and dragged me off to Neatslake, saying we would be late for dinner! He meant
he
would be late for dinner, for despite Libby showering me with invitations over the Christmas period, I’d accepted only the one to go to tea on Boxing Day. Dorrie accepted a lift back with us, since it would save Hebe driving her home, and sat in the back, flushed
with sherry and goodwill, quietly singing something jolly and repetitive in French.

‘It’s still quite early; I don’t know what the rush is,’ I complained to Noah.

‘Sorry if I dragged you away from your latest conquest,’ he said shortly, ‘but if you didn’t manage to exchange phone numbers, I expect Freddie can help put you in touch.’

I turned my head and looked at him in astonishment. ‘Don’t be silly. He must be at least ten years younger than me, even if I was seriously interested—which I’m not. And neither was he. It was just a bit of a flirt!’

‘Like Rob Rafferty?’

‘Well…yes, I suppose so, though since I explained to Rob about having just broken up with Ben, he said he’s happy just to be friends.’

‘I bet he is,’ Noah said darkly. ‘Good tactics.’

I laughed. ‘After he dropped into the cottage and tasted my scones and cakes, he’s now much more interested in my baking skills than me personally! And that’s fine by me, because I don’t want any more than that. I keep telling you—I’m done with love. Love
sucks’

That last bit came out very forcefully—I must have drunk more dry sherry than I’d realised.

Noah’s face, which had been fixed into a frown as he stared ahead over the steering wheel, relaxed into a grin. ‘Down with love?’

‘Long live love!’ suddenly chimed in Dorrie from the back seat, stopping singing for a moment.
‘Vive l’amour!’

‘Quite right,’ Noah said, pulling up outside my cottage. ‘I’m all for it.’ He told me to wait while he got something out of the boot, then handed me a large, flat, gift-wrapped parcel, kissed me chastely on the cheek and departed. It was just as well I’d left a last-minute present for him at Blessings, when I dropped off Libby’s gifts!

In my absence Harry had been in the cottage and left a large gift under the tree too, so what with Libby’s presents and those from the Graces, Dorrie, Pia and even Gina, there was quite an exciting-looking array of them. There must be still a lot of the child in me because I adore getting presents and, despite Ben’s absence, could hardly wait for morning!

After all that rather odd party food I wasn’t terribly hungry, but I prepared the sprouts ready for next day and put the whipped cream on the sherry trifle, which Harry is very partial to, and decorated it with little edible silver balls and hundreds and thousands.

Then I watched some mindless telly before going to bed on a great, comforting wave of elderberry 2005. On top of all that sherry, it certainly did the trick, and even if Santa had got stuck in the chimney, I would have slept right through it.

I was up early on Christmas morning, but not as early as Harry, who I could hear outside whistling ‘I Saw Three Ships’ as he fed the hens.

I made porridge with nutmeg and honey, the way I like it, then put on my Christmas music CD before allowing myself to open my presents, sitting on the floor by the stove in the living room, a cup of coffee on top to keep hot. Thanks to Noah there was a whole basket of firewood ready nearby; I didn’t have to stint.

With a feeling of gratitude I opened his gift first. As I’d guessed it might be from the shape, it was a nicely framed photograph of me at Libby’s wedding. I remembered him taking it, on the steps when I had just come out into the sunshine. Unlike the ones of me with Aggie, this was in colour. My eyes were wide open and startled and the wintry sun had made my dark auburn hair glow like a dark flame. I looked startled and half poised for flight, the heavy dress swirling out at the hem.

I hadn’t realised I could look like that. It was odd, like seeing a stranger.

Setting it down carefully on top of the sideboard, I started opening the rest. I loved everything: Pansy’s crocheted shrug with the bobbly buttons, Violet’s jam jar string container, Lily’s patchwork holdall and the tiny hanging cupboard with a fretwork top and little drawer underneath that Harry had made.

Dorrie had given me a bar of rose soap with petals pressed into it, which I think she got from Hebe—she makes a lot of that kind of thing to sell in the Winter’s End gift shop when the house is open to the public. Libby and Tim’s gift (though I would be surprised if Tim had any idea what he had given me) was a gardener’s radio shaped like a watering can, and Gina’s a big box of those crunchy amaretti biscuits, which might be a bit like coals to Newcastle when I bake so much myself, but I expect she noticed how many of them I ate when I was at Blessings!

Harry and I had a very cheerful chicken dinner with all the trimmings, neither of us mentioning Ben’s empty chair at the end of the table, or past Christmases. One of his jobs had always been to carve the chicken, but this year I did it myself, not trusting Harry’s eyesight with a sharp carving knife.

Under the table, Mac noisily chewed on the rawhide bone that had been in his doggy stocking. Harry was wearing his minesweeping medal pinned onto the warm jumper I’d got Pansy to knit for him, and she’d made him matching socks from an excess of the same wool.

After we’d eaten ourselves practically into a stupor, he went off back home for a snooze and to follow his usual Christmas afternoon habit of telly and snacking before the fire, while Mac and I set out for a walk.

It was a grey, cold day, with the lights already on in several of the houses and not many people about. I walked quite a long way with Mac, feeling solitary but not lonely, as if I’d suddenly reached a poignant but tranquil place.