A Vintage Wedding (38 page)

‘I changed my plans,’ he breathed into her ear.

Rachel got a grip on herself. ‘Belinda! Let me introduce Vivien Scott, the bride’s mother. Vivien, Belinda McKenzie.’

‘How nice,’ said Belinda, ‘Do come in.’ Rachel made to follow Vivien and Belinda into the house but Raff caught her arm. ‘Come here. There’s something I wanted to show you.’

Brushing away the flicker of guilt she felt for not going with Vivien, Rachel allowed her arm to be taken and went with Raff round the corner.

Behind the house were what had once been the stables and now had been converted into workshops. There was obviously a flat over the top.

‘Oh! What’s this?’

‘This is where I lived before I could afford somewhere of my own. It’s nice but a bit small. Mum should rent it out.’

‘Can I see?’

‘Yes, but that’s not what I want to show you.’

‘But can’t I see the flat first?’

He grinned. ‘No. If we go in there, we’ll get distracted.’

‘I don’t think so!’ said Rachel. ‘I’m working, really.’

He gave her a look. ‘Even so. Now, come in here.’ He opened the door to one of the many outbuildings.

Once inside he took her into his arms and kissed her thoroughly. Rachel found herself responding instantly and realised he’d been right about not showing her the flat. If there’d been a sofa to tumble on to, let alone a bed, they’d have been delayed for some time.

Sometimes she asked herself if she was in love with Raff or just in lust. And she wondered how it was for Raff, too. So far, neither of them had talked about love and it didn’t seem to matter when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. But when she was alone, Rachel did wonder what she was doing with a gypsy playboy with dark curls and twinkling eyes who could seduce a woman with the flick of an eyelash.

‘I want you to see these,’ he said when they had straightened their clothing. He took her hand and led her to where there were boxes and boxes of tiles. ‘I think these might look great round your fire surround. What do you think?’

‘They look like Delft?’

He nodded. ‘I think they’re English. None of them are perfect but I thought you might like them.’

Rachel allowed herself a moment to remember the woman who’d would have preferred to have new, perfect tiles to the soft, blue-painted squares with nibbled edges and mismatched patterns. She picked one up. ‘It’s a hare.’

‘They’re charming, aren’t they? I saw them and instantly thought of your wood-burner. If you like them, I’ll put them in for you.’

‘But they must have been expensive!’ said Rachel, examining a tile with a small flower in its centre. ‘They’re in really quite good condition.’ She put a hand on his sleeve in a silent thank you.

‘Don’t you worry about that,’ he said, squeezing her to him again. ‘Do you like them?’

‘I love them!’ she said, turning round in his arms.

He kissed her again. ‘Good,’ he said at last. ‘Let’s go and see what my mother is up to.’

After Lindy’s night of hell, when her tiny house had been full of people, tulle and a fair amount of hysteria, she took advantage of her sons’ absence to finish the dresses. She sewed almost continually for two days, spending the night at her grandmother’s house so she could at least see her boys. She let them sleep with her in the big double bed. She didn’t want them at home because of the amount of work she had to do, but she did want to feel their soft little limbs and hear their gentle breathing.

She had got them off to her grandmother’s and was calling into the shop on her way home to buy emergency biscuits to restore her blood-sugar levels when she met Rachel, coming out.

‘Oh, Lindy! So glad I’ve met you,’ she said. ‘Vivien wants another meeting. Beth’s off on some IT emergency at a farm – Sarah asked her to help so she shot off. So we have to deal with Vivien.’

‘Do we have to?’

Rachel nodded. ‘I took her to see Belinda yesterday.’

‘Oh, how did that go?’

‘Well, actually, if Vivien got a bit bossy, Belinda knew how to put her in her place and convince her that everything was going to be absolutely fine. Vivien happened to notice a thank-you card signed by Lady someone or other and although she didn’t comment, it all went a lot better after that.’

‘So why does she want a meeting? The dresses are done—’

‘I can’t wait to see them.’

‘—and the catering is sorted. So why a meeting?’

Rachel shrugged. ‘She’s a bit addicted to meetings, I think. But this time it’s the flowers.’

Lindy, who was still tired from her sewing marathon, sighed. ‘Oh! I thought the Flower Guild were doing them. They always do weddings. Mum said they were booked to do it. And I think we’ve done enough!’

‘So do I,’ said Rachel, ‘but I think you need to be the one to tell her. The meeting’s at ten, my house.’ Rachel paused, possibly guessing that Lindy was about to refuse. ‘You’ve been so great with the dresses, and you’re the local one. You can tell her that the Flower Guild will be just fine. I don’t have that knowledge and Vivien knows it. I’ve made some shortbread,’ she added.

Lindy smiled weakly.

‘Really? Well, I’d better come then.’

Lindy went home and checked her emails. There was another one from Edward.
I really want to see the boys this week – possibly tomorrow. I’ll be staying with Angus. It’ll be fine
.

Bloody Edward! Why did he have to see the boys at such short notice? And why was he staying with Angus? He was her friend – her lover, even, sort of. How embarrassing; how awkward. The fact that the two men were brothers was just coincidence. And knowing Edward, if the boys told them how much they liked him, or anything like that – and being boys they were bound to – Edward would get jealous. He was so competitive, especially with his brother; she remembered that from before. And supposing Edward somehow picked up that she and Angus had slept together? It might be the most horrible disaster.

Still, she couldn’t think about it any more now, she had to deal with the meeting-obsessed Vivien. She looked at her watch. She barely had time to make herself tidy before she had to go.

Typically, Lindy felt, Helena wasn’t present. Apparently she was packing and heading off later for some ‘quality time’ with her fiancé, Rachel reported. But there was Vivien, ensconced at the head of the table. There was a plate of shortbread on it that, so far, no one had touched.

‘So,’ said Vivien. ‘Who’s going to do the flowers?’ She had a clipboard and a businesslike gleam in her eye. The expected knock to her confidence caused by booking the church for the wrong date apparently hadn’t materialised. Lindy realised that as soon as she’d got over the effects of the sloe gin, Vivien had got back on the organisational horse, in full command.

Rachel, who also had her trusty notebook with her, said, ‘Lindy’s our local, who knows everything. She’ll tell you about the Flower Guild.’

Lindy was aware of Vivien’s fears that a small group of women couldn’t possibly provide anything good enough, but she was not in the mood to be bossed about. ‘Our Flower Guild are excellent. They are very highly thought of in the county,’ she said. ‘Some of them have even done the flowers in the cathedral, for special events.’

Vivien frowned. ‘Where do they source their flowers from?’

Lindy shook her head. ‘I have no idea.’

‘Because however good you are, you can’t do much without decent plant material.’

As Lindy was used to doing quite a lot with stuff she’d gathered from gardens and hedgerows, she said, ‘Really? I would have thought it was more to do with the talent of the arranger myself.’

Rachel shot Lindy a look. She was usually so amenable. She hurried to sound placatory. ‘I’m sure we could find out for you, Vivien. Would your grandmother know, do you think, Lindy?’

Lindy shrugged. ‘Or my mother, she’d know. But can’t you just trust them?’ She addressed Vivien.

‘I trusted your grandmother, Lindy, and look what she did to my veil!’

Lindy wasn’t having this. ‘It matches the dress perfectly. Even you had to admit that.’ Honestly! She’d worked so hard on the dresses and they’d turned out so well.

Vivien possibly realised she’d gone too far. She gave a regal nod. ‘It did turn out a lot better than I expected. And the dresses are excellent. Really lovely. It’s because you have such a good eye that I’d like your help with the flowers.’

Lindy realised she found this very gratifying, and decided she’d been unnecessarily chippy. ‘I’ll find out who you should speak to, of course, Vivien.’ It was the first time she’d managed to use her given name without calling her “Mrs” first. She felt proud.

Vivien leant in. ‘Actually, Lindy, what would be really useful would be if you’d come to the flower market with me on Wednesday. I don’t suppose Mrs Head of the Flower Guild would quite get the zeitgeist of the wedding in the way you have.’

‘Oh, I’m sure she would though, if you explained.’

‘Not at four in the morning, she wouldn’t,’ said Vivien.

‘Why four o’clock in the morning?’ asked Lindy. ‘When most people are asleep?’

Vivien looked a bit embarrassed. It was obvious her features weren’t accustomed to that particular expression. ‘The market opens then.’

‘What market?’

‘Birmingham flower market. We’d aim to get there about five. I reckon it’s about an hour from here. We’ll go in my car a couple of days before the wedding. OK, that’s sorted. Now, has anyone done anything about confetti?’

‘What?’ said Rachel. ‘Did I get that right? You’re expecting Lindy to get up at four a.m. to go with you to buy flowers?’

‘She’d have to get up a bit before four,’ said Vivien as if this wasn’t an unreasonable expectation. ‘I’ll pick her up at four.’

‘But why me?’ Lindy protested. ‘I’ve done the dresses.’

‘Because you have the artistic eye, my dear. I couldn’t trust myself to buy flowers without your input.’ Vivien put a diamond-encrusted hand on Lindy’s.

Lindy sighed. ‘Oh, OK.’

As she walked home, Lindy wondered how she’d allowed herself to get bumped into that one. Getting up at four a.m. to go to a market with Vivien? The idea was horrendous. Vivien had flattered her into agreeing. She should never have fallen for it. But she did accept that it might be fun. She quite wanted to see Vivien with her high-handed ways of coping with market traders. Obviously they wouldn’t be East Enders, it being Birmingham, but it could be fun. The email from her ex-husband had taken the shine off her day somewhat but as far as the wedding was concerned it was all good.

Beth was working at the pub and Helena was leaning on the bar with the air of someone trying to look sad about something they were really very happy about. She had just announced she was abandoning the hell that was preparing for the wedding for her fiancé.

‘I realised we do need to practise our first dance, Beth, honestly we do,’ she said. ‘It would be so embarrassing if we messed up.’

‘I do think you could have told us before, rather than just run off like this! Rachel and Lindy are having to face Mum alone about the flowers.’ She frowned at her sister, who did have the grace to look a little sheepish. ‘Anyway, don’t you just hang on to each other and circle and end it all with a snog?’

The bride-to-be was outraged. ‘No! I don’t think so. It has to be really good. We’ve been practising for ages, actually, but he’s bloody hopeless.’

‘What does Mum think about you running off to practise your dance?’ Beth was curious as well as irritated. It would be interesting to hear what her mother felt about it.

‘She didn’t mind. She’s seen the dance.’

‘So what did she think of it?’

Helena took a breath. ‘She suggested we hire a professional to do Jeff’s bit.’

‘No!’ Beth couldn’t decide if this was appalling or hilarious.

‘I don’t know if she was entirely serious but I think if I’d been up for it she’d have got Anton du Beke down here smartish.’

Beth came down on the side of hilarious. ‘I’m not sure Jeff looks much like Anton du Beke.’

Helena shrugged. ‘Well, you know Mum. Maybe she’d find another professional dancer who would be a better fit.’

‘Seriously, Helena. Did Mum really not say anything about you just abandoning everything?’

‘She said I was jolly lucky I had Vintage Weddings to sort things – and her, of course. And by the way, thank you so much for sorting out my wedding list. I just couldn’t do that online thing.’

‘All part of the service,’ said Beth, who had realised that many bridal couples struggled with technical stuff even these days and so it was another thing they could offer. ‘Anyway, you don’t really need us now you’ve got Mum on board.’

‘Oh God I do! I want someone to protect me from Mumzilla.’

‘You want someone to do the work while you’re off practising your fancy footwork.’

‘Secretly rehearsing with Anton du Beke you mean …’

‘Hm, if I were going to cheat on my fiancé with a ballroom dancer I’d go for someone like Brendan Cole,’ said Beth. She giggled. It was nice to be just her and Helena, being sisters together. ‘He’s younger and sexier.’ Then suddenly she was sighing as she thought of Finn. She’d been working on not thinking about him but sometimes the thoughts just rushed in.