A Vintage Wedding (25 page)

Helena joined in. ‘Beth! I could find a B and B that’s not in the village on the internet. But she wants to be really local.’

Briefly Beth thought about the pub but the two rooms were both occupied at the moment and they were very basic – not up to her mother’s standards, that’s for sure.

Rachel found her mouth opening and strange words coming out. ‘She can stay with me. I’ll be a B and B.’

‘Cool!’ said Helena, unaware of just how big a deal this was for Rachel. ‘When can she come?’

‘Um, Hels, we need to think about this,’ said Beth. ‘We’ve got a lot to sort out. Can we get back to you?’

‘Oh, OK,’ said Helena, much to Rachel’s relief, who was in shock. ‘Oh, by the way, Beth, she’s found out about you cutting your hair.’

‘How? You didn’t tell her?’ Beth was appalled.

‘No! I promised I wouldn’t but Mrs Patterson, who saw you, met Mum in Waitrose. Apparently you look great. I mean, I know that, but Mrs Patterson said to Mum you looked great.’

‘Great,’ said Beth faintly.

‘Mum said Mrs Patterson was an arty type and obviously didn’t believe her.’

‘OK,’ said Rachel, breaking in. ‘Me and Lind will leave you girls to chat—’

In the kitchen Rachel bit her knuckle. ‘What have I done? Why did I say Beth’s mother can come and stay?’

‘I don’t know but I think it’s a brilliant idea!’

‘Lindy. I don’t have people to stay in my house. Especially not difficult people like Beth’s mum.’

Lindy laughed. She was obviously relaxed about it because she didn’t have to have Beth’s mother to stay. ‘You do now!’

Rachel frowned. ‘Actually, you know what? I just love the little details in a B and B. Fresh milk, not those cartons. Proper sheets, nice soap, you know? I think some part of me does want to open one. As a sort of test.’

Lindy nodded. ‘I sort of know what you mean. Although you’d want to be careful you didn’t get too neurotic about it. Not take it personally if the people don’t like everything.’

‘I think I’d be OK if they just didn’t like the marmalade – although of course I would provide thin-cut and chunky. But if they discovered something awful, like a hair on the mattress, then I’d quietly die.’

‘You wouldn’t ever have a hair on the mattress, Rachel. You’d hoover the mattresses between visits.’

‘Of course I would. Right, I’ve left my clipboard in the other room but you know we will have to sort out caterers, urgently. I thought we had a few months but obviously we haven’t now.’

Lindy nodded. ‘We can’t expect the Good Women of the Village for Helena’s wedding. I’ll ask Mum if she knows anyone.’

‘Oh, here’s Beth,’ said Rachel. ‘We’re just talking about catering. I don’t suppose you have any clue what sort of food Helena wants have you?’

‘Yes, I have,’ said Beth. ‘Canapés, then a sit-down do, three courses and cheese.’

‘So is that Helena’s choice or your mother’s?’ asked Lindy.

‘Oh, Mum’s! Helena says she won’t do what Mum wants, but I know she’ll cave if the pressure goes on.’

‘Just as well Helena has Vintage Weddings to make sure she gets what she wants,’ said Rachel.

‘Yay, lucky Helena,’ said Lindy. ‘She’s got us.’

‘I was going to ask if anyone would like more tea,’ said Rachel, ‘but actually, I want wine. Anyone else?’

‘What a brilliant idea,’ said Beth. ‘I’ll get the glasses.’

‘So, Rachel,’ said Beth. ‘Do you think you could have my mother – better known as Mrs Fussy Knickers – to stay? As a B-and-B owner?’

Rachel nodded. ‘Actually I think I could. I really like a challenge and I think a touch of OCD is what you need to be really good at B and B. I’d move into the spare room and let my room so it would have the en-suite. Could be a nice little income source for us.’ She paused. ‘I’d only do it for people connected with the wedding. I couldn’t have just anyone. And possibly only women.’

‘You couldn’t do that, Rachel.’ Lindy was horrified. ‘Not give up your bedroom. And if you did, it would be your money. The business couldn’t take a share in it.’

Rachel thought how she could explain. ‘I wouldn’t do it if it weren’t for the business. I don’t need the money. I have a fairly regular income.’ She considered what it might be like to have a stranger in her perfect bedroom and sighed. ‘But everyone has to make sacrifices when they start up a business.’

‘I know I’ve worked hard,’ said Lindy. ‘But I haven’t actually sacrificed anything.’

‘Nor have I!’ said Beth. ‘And I haven’t done as much as you and Rachel, I don’t think.’

‘There’s still time, girls. Beth might be forced to learn synchronised swimming so we can offer it as entertainment and Lindy, well, you’ve got two charming little boys. I’m sure we can find some way of making money out of them!’

As Rachel didn’t often say things like that it took the others a few seconds to work out she was joking.

‘But, seriously,’ said Rachel, ‘I so want this business to work. I’m prepared to do anything. It’s the first time – ever, I think – that I’ve really enjoyed my work. Creating your own business and working for it is the way forward, I’m convinced.’

‘Um, when we’ve finished our wine,’ said Lindy, ‘could we go and look at your room? Just make sure it’s good enough?’ she teased.

Rachel considered. It was white wine. ‘You can bring your wine with you, I’m sure you won’t spill it.’

‘We won’t!’ they said in unison.

‘This is so exciting!’ said Beth.

Rachel tried to keep up as her colleagues headed for her bedroom. She was aware that they’d never been in there before; it had been her shrine. Now she was prepared to rent it out. How times had changed – or rather how she had changed.

No one spoke as they surveyed the room. An antique brass bedstead stood at right angles to the windows. Opposite was an antique pine wardrobe. An old washstand, in the same pale old pine, stood in between the windows. On it was a jug and bowl. There was a framed antique sampler hanging over the bed and a blanket box under the window added to the impression that the room belonged in a different century.

‘I’m sorry about the mess,’ said Rachel, because when she’d got up that morning she hadn’t thought that anyone but her would see her room.

Lindy looked bemused and then said, ‘Rachel, I don’t think having your slippers slightly out of alignment under your bed counts as mess. You’ve seen my house – now that
is
messy!’

Rachel, who knew that yesterday’s jeans were slung on the pretty Lloyd Loom chair, not visible unless you went right into the room, didn’t agree with her. ‘Your house is … homely, and if that’s how you like it—’

‘I like it to be homely but I don’t like the mess. It’s just something that happens to me,’ said Lindy, sounding a bit crisp.

‘My mother nagged me so much about being untidy, I’ve sworn I won’t do it to my kids,’ said Beth. ‘I think it’s a temperament thing – you either care enough to do something about it or have other priorities.’ She paused. ‘Can we see the bathroom, Rachel?’

‘OK. We’ll start with the en-suite, which is what your mother would use.’

This was much more modern but still minimalist and elegant. There was a row of glass jars with silver lids containing everything one might need to either put on or take off make-up.

‘I love those!’ said Lindy.

‘They’re jam jars really – not the kind they sell the jam in obviously – but I had collected a few and didn’t know what to do with them until I needed something to put cotton buds in.’

‘My mother would love this,’ said Beth ecstatically. ‘It’s stylish yet comfortable.’ She frowned. ‘She does have quite a demanding list of must haves, I warn you.’

Rachel nodded. ‘So have I. I’m a nightmare hotel guest. For instance, a radio by the bed and not coming out of the TV. I must get another one, so I can have one when your mother is staying.’

‘Proper hangers,’ said Beth.

‘Fresh milk – either in a little fridge or in a thermos,’ said Rachel.

‘I’m just happy if the sheets are clean and there’s a kettle and the pillows aren’t too bad,’ said Lindy. ‘And no wriggling little bodies to share the bed with.’

‘All my pillows are goose down,’ said Rachel. ‘And my personal pillow has a silk pillow case.’ She frowned. ‘Do you think I should provide this room with one?’

‘No,’ Beth and Lindy said in unison. ‘Absolutely not.

After the others had gone, Rachel had just settled down in front of the television (usually hidden behind a screen) when the telephone rang. She instantly recognised the voice of Belinda, Raff’s mother.

After some brief preliminaries Belinda said, ‘Darling, when are you coming to sort out my china? It’s getting a bit urgent. I can easily get in some house-clearance people if you don’t want to do it.’

Rachel nearly shrieked, but then took a breath. ‘No! I do want to do it – if you still want me to. I’ve been very taken up with this wedding. We had to use the village-hall china and what people who made food provided. I only wish I’d time to sort it before.’ Belinda’s voice had been quite brisk and Rachel hoped she hadn’t offended her by not going round sooner.

‘I do know how busy you girls have been. The whole village is talking about how wonderful the wedding was. I don’t mean to make you feel guilty for not sorting me out but I would prefer someone I know and like to do it.’

Rachel was incredibly flattered and mentally consulted her diary. ‘I could come tomorrow if you like,’ she said.

‘Excellent! About nine? Too early? Too late?’

‘Perfect,’ said Rachel. She could postpone her client for the next day – he would be grateful for the extra time to find his receipts. A few clients had felt the benefit of the time she’d spent on the wedding.

‘That’s perfect for me too,’ said Belinda. ‘Now, do you need directions? I know you’ve been before but having no sense of direction myself, I always need to be reminded.’ She drew breath. ‘Or will you come with Raff?’

‘Raff? Is he going to be there?’

‘Oh God yes, darling! There’s far too much for one person!’

Rachel swallowed, thinking of the rearrangement she had yet to make. Maybe she could ring back later and say she had to change the time? But she suspected that Raff would change the time too and still be there.

‘Actually, directions would be good. You know – just in case.’

As she took down Belinda’s instructions she couldn’t help wondering why she was in such a hurry to clear her house. Maybe she wanted to put the house on the market? She determined that this time she’d find out why Belinda was clearing things now.

Up until that moment Rachel had managed not to think about Raff too much. There had been so much to think about with the wedding. Now she had to confront him – not literally, thank goodness – but mentally. Her feelings were so confused. Her sensible head told her she wanted nothing to do with him. He was bad news. Yet the rest of her – heart and body and possibly soul – was drawn to him. Why? She was almost frightened of him – not because he was dangerous but possibly because of the response he awoke in her. He pushed her out of her comfort zone and she both feared and liked it.

While she was conducting her own self-awareness course she realised that on a very basic level she fancied him. But that was OK. You were allowed to fancy unsuitable people, you just had to have more sense than to do anything about it. Let her head rule the rest of her and keep him at a distance. That’s what she would do.

The following morning she was ready for the challenge. Raff had sent her a text suggesting he pick her up on his way to his mother’s. She’d declined it politely. This way she could go home when she wanted. She wore old clothes and packed her boiler suit into a bag in case she needed it. She had really wanted to wear it but thought it might look rude, turning up in protective clothing to sort out some china.

She had flattened the back seats of her car and put in useful things. There were her banana boxes, gleaned from supermarkets and carefully saved for house moving, so strong and convenient to carry around. A leftover roll of bubble wrap, plus a bin liner filled with every piece of bubble wrap she’d ever used; some cardboard boxes, flattened, with lids, that were referred to as document cases; a tape dispenser and several rolls of tape. There was also a box of sticky labels and several Sharpie pens. Rachel knew herself to be an expert packer and house-mover. She’d not only moved herself a few times but she’d helped friends too. While Raff’s mother – she must think of her as Belinda – wasn’t, as far as she knew, moving, the skills required would be similar. She thought about a couple whose belongings she’d helped pack into a Transit van and felt that maybe now she could invite them to stay. Previously she had felt too anxious.

As she tapped the address into her satnav she realised she was excited. This was going to be a real challenge, sorting all that china. And the best part was, she could leave at any time if it got too much. And it was nice to be doing the journey in daylight: she could appreciate the scenery. It was so different, she felt, admiring it as a resident and not just a weekend visitor. She felt part of it now, not just a looker-on.

She was also excited at the thought of what she might find. She wasn’t taking Belinda’s offer of the china as a gift seriously. There might be some valuable things there, which she wouldn’t be able to accept. Besides, people could be very generous about giving away things they thought were worthless but their mood could swiftly alter if the valuation changed.