[Churchminster #3] Wild Things (38 page)

Camilla threw her arms round him, holding him so tightly her arms ached. ‘You’ve
still
got so much to give! I don’t care if you can’t have children! I love you, Jed, and that’s all that matters.’

‘Cam, you want a family and I can’t give you that.’ His voice cracked. ‘Don’t compromise your life because of me.’

She pulled back, looking into his stricken face. She was crying now, too. ‘Didn’t you hear me?
I love you
, Jed Bantry! I love you whether we have children together or not. Do you understand me?’

A slight flicker of hope came alive in his eyes. ‘You don’t have to say that,’ he muttered.

Camilla took his chin in her hands and made him look at her. ‘I mean it! Just because we can’t have kids together doesn’t mean we can’t have our own family! There’s always adoption.’

He looked stunned. ‘I thought you’d want your own kids, carry on the family line.’

‘What’s more important is that
we
carry on together,’ she told him.

He stared at her, shaking his head in wonderment. ‘I don’t deserve you, after all I’ve put you through.’

‘You’re lucky I’m a forgiving person,’ she smiled, wiping away his tears.

Jed pulled her into his arms, lifting her feet off the ground. As she melted in his strong embrace, it felt like she’d come home.

Chapter 51

IN THE DAYS
that followed they talked and talked, something they hadn’t done properly for months. In a funny way, the news that Jed was infertile had hit him harder than it had Camilla. It was such an affront to his masculinity; strong, handsome, invincible Jed. In the hours that followed, no matter how much she told him it didn’t make him less of a man, she knew he didn’t believe her. All she could do was let time pass and hope it would heal him.

Of course, the stark fact that she could never bear his children was starting to sink in for her now as well, and it left her with a feeling of regret and despair. But she knew that even in her darkest moments, her love for Jed would override everything. Together they’d get through it and even though it was much too raw to discuss at the moment, Camilla knew they could still have a family of their own one day.

‘How’s Calypso doing?’ Jed asked, finally changing the subject. ‘I feel bad that I haven’t really been there
for
her.’ Mrs Bantry hadn’t returned from work yet and they were snuggled up together on her small sofa.

‘Coping,’ sighed Camilla. ‘Rafe turned up again yesterday, can you believe it? Calypso said he had a black eye, too, so at least his fiancée must have cracked him one.’

Jed looked at her. ‘It wasn’t his fiancée who hit him, Camilla.’

She sat up. ‘What do you mean?’

‘He came round to the cottage looking for Calypso. He made some arrogant comment about talking her round and I told him to back off. It all got a bit heavy, well for him anyway.’ He looked solemn. ‘I’m not proud of it.’

‘Well, I’m proud of you, sticking up for Calypso’s honour like that.’ As she snuggled into his chest again, Camilla reflected how they’d had the good and bad guys mixed up all along.

Chapter 52

FRIDAY 1ST AUGUST
came and with it, the prize-giving ceremony for Britain’s Best Village. The special coach which had been laid on for the Garden Party was leaving Churchminster at midday sharp.

But before they left, there was something Camilla needed to do. She drove over to Top Drawer Travels and handed her notice in.

‘What the hell are you talking about girlie?’ said an astonished Mr Fitzgerald. He’d become a little too reliant on Camilla’s organization skills and contacts to take the news in a positive way.

‘I’m leaving, Mr Fitzgerald,’ Camilla said with more confidence than she’d felt in months. ‘I feel that perhaps I’ve reached the end of the line here, so I’m leaving to start up by myself.’

Behind his desk, Mr Fitzgerald’s eyes boggled. ‘
What?
’

‘I’m starting up my own travel company.’ Camilla couldn’t help a little smile. ‘I do hope we can remain
on
good terms as we’ll be competitors from now on.’

‘You’re mad, girlie!’ he spluttered. ‘As if you’re ever going to be able to compete with Top Drawer Travels.’

‘I look forward to the challenge,’ smiled Camilla.

He looked up at her, furious that someone was actually taking issue with his sense of authority, and leaving him to do all the work. ‘Just go. Don’t bother working your notice, I don’t want you in here stealing all my ideas.’

‘Goodbye Mr Fitzgerald,’ Camilla said pleasantly. ‘I’d like to say it was a pleasure, but unfortunately it wasn’t.’

Within an hour, Camilla Standington-Fulthrope had her first client, and she was smiling as she boarded the coach.

At Jack’s insistence, Beryl and Stacey were also on board, along with the Bellows, the Fox-Titts, Brenda Briggs, Lucinda Reinard, and of course, the three Standington-Fulthrope women. As they trundled London-bound in the slow lane of the M4, the atmosphere was still subdued, even though the prospect of a five-star hotel and glamorous ceremony awaited them later. People stared out of the window deep in thought, or whispered amongst themselves. Even the most optimistic in the group thought there was no way they could win the competition now. Too much had gone against them, no matter how hard they’d tried. Storm clouds gathered black in the skies above, a seemingly ominous foreshadowing of what was to come.

But by the time they’d got to the outskirts of London,
the
mood had picked up a bit. Freddie had produced a bottle of champagne from somewhere, which was being passed around in plastic cups. ‘Cheers everyone!’ he said jovially.

Muted ‘cheers’ echoed back.

Freddie frowned. ‘Come on, chaps! Whatever happens today, we’re all in it together! And I for one am immensely proud of what we’ve achieved.’

In the aisle seat next to Calypso, Clementine felt the first stirrings of more vigour than she’d felt in a week. ‘Well said, Freddie!’ she called back.

Calypso nudged her. ‘Say something, Granny Clem,’ she whispered. ‘You’re like our leader, taking the troops into action.’

Clementine stood up, holding on to the back of the seat so she didn’t fall over. The bus driver’s overtaking was rather erratic. ‘Freddie’s right,’ she said. ‘We should all be very proud of all our efforts over the last few months. I set the bar high and every one of you surpassed what I expected.’ She took a deep breath. ‘We may not win Britain’s Best Village …’

At this Brenda Briggs looked pained, but Clementine pressed on.

‘But we will walk into that ceremony with our heads held high! Tomorrow is another day and we will live to fight it.’ Clementine held her plastic cup aloft. ‘To Churchminster!’

‘To Churchminster!’ everyone responded bravely. They all settled back in their seats, spirits temporarily renewed. Even if tonight was a lost cause, they might as well try to enjoy it.

At ten past six that evening, most of the Garden Party were down in the foyer of the hotel, dressed to the nines. Freddie looked very dapper in a dinner jacket and bow tie, while all the women were done up in pretty evening dresses, clutching purses and pashminas.

At a quarter past six Clementine, in a vintage Jaeger two-piece and gloves, looked at her wristwatch again. The Bellows and Calypso still hadn’t appeared.

‘Trust your sister to be late. Where are they?’ she murmured crossly to Camilla. ‘Our taxis are outside, we’re meant to be there in fifteen minutes!’

‘Do you want me to go and find out?’ Camilla asked, but just then the Bellows appeared at the top of the staircase, followed by Calypso. As everyone looked up gasps echoed round the foyer.

Joyce Bellows looked stunning. Her hair had been cut into a shiny bob and coloured a deep chocolate brown. The thick-rimmed glasses had gone and her eyebrows had been plucked, showing off a beautiful face that looked twenty years younger. Smokey make-up accentuated her eyes, while a strapless black dress showed off youthful shoulders and an impressive décolleté. To finish the look, sparkly gems glittered at her wrists and ears, adding an air of sophisticated glamour.

Brian led his wife down the stairs, looking immensely proud.

‘Sorry we’re late,’ Joyce said as they got to the bottom, ‘I’ve been at the hotel’s hairdressers.’

‘Joyce, you look fabulous!’ Angie exclaimed.

The vicar’s wife shot a grateful look at Calypso. ‘I’ve got Calypso to thank for that, she picked out my dress and high heels, and even did my make-up.’

Calypso winked. ‘My pleasure, Joyce, I do love a good makeover!’

‘You look very nice, dear,’ Clementine told Joyce, mollified by the obvious joy on the other woman’s face. It was like she was suddenly a different person.

As they all filed out, the doorman tipped his hat at Clementine. ‘Good luck!’

Somehow she found a smile. ‘Thank you.’

We don’t need luck
, she thought as she climbed in the waiting car.
We need a miracle
.

The ceremony was being held at the plush Grosvenor House Hotel, which was just off Park Lane. The line of Churchminster taxis pulled up at the start of a cordoned-off red carpet, from behind which a gaggle of photographers jostled and pushed to get the best picture.

Inside, the main foyer was packed with people in black tie being plied with champagne by passing waiters. Camilla had already spotted one well-known TV presenter and a glamorous socialite holding court amongst a circle of ruddy-faced men. It was so exciting!

With her endless legs and backless dress, Calypso was attracting enough attention herself. Through the sea of broad-shouldered outdoorsy types, she could see an extremely attractive man, standing by a stout grey-haired woman. Compared to the stuffed shirts
around
him the man was a breath of fresh air, with his funky fitted black jacket and skinny trousers, a narrow black tie tied casually at his neck. As she looked again Calypso took in the sexy dark eyes and hair, the three-day stubble.

‘Who’s that fittie over there?’ she whispered to her grandmother.

Clementine looked perplexed. ‘Are you talking about a sportsperson?’

She followed Calypso’s gaze and found herself looking directly at the head judge, Marjorie Majors. Their eyes met for a moment, then Marjorie looked away indifferently. Clementine felt her stomach drop. She turned and saw one of her old friends, Beatrice Field-Webber. A catch up with Bea would be a good distraction.

But before she could take a step, a familiar sickly perfume enveloped her. Clementine turned to see Veronica in full-on crimson chiffon, her mouth a ghastly slash of red. Another woman was with her, in a muted navy-blue dress, her face make-up free. She looked very familiar … As recognition dawned, Clementine’s mouth dropped open.

‘Hello, Mrs Standington-Fulthrope,’ said Pam Viner.

Veronica burst out laughing at the expression on Clementine’s face. ‘Dear girl, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!’

Clementine eventually found the power of speech. ‘What are you doing here, Pam?’

Veronica spoke for her instead. ‘Why, she’s here for the same reason I am.’

Clementine’s eyes swivelled back to Pam. ‘You’re from Maplethorpe?’ she gasped. ‘Why on earth didn’t you say anything?’

Pam smiled pleasantly, as if they were just having a conversation about the weather. ‘Oh, that would never have done, I can’t imagine you would have been quite so obliging. Still, rather good luck we ended up filming in Churchminster, don’t you think?’

Clementine’s mind was whirring furiously. All the information about Churchminster Veronica had on her website, the unflattering articles in the press … ‘You’ve been feeding things back about us!’ she said hotly. ‘
You’re
the mole!’

‘Mole, spy, call it what you will,’ said Pam. ‘I must say, you made it very easy for me.’

No wonder she had been so friendly, always offering to help out. Clementine cursed herself for her lapse in judgement. But Pam Viner had just seemed so
nice
. Another thought occurred, making her feel sick. ‘That day on the village green, when the lorry reversed on to the grass. You told the driver to do that, didn’t you?’

Pam’s eyes twinkled. It chilled Clementine’s blood.
The smiling assassin
, she thought.

Calypso spoke for the first time. ‘Granny Clem, who
are
these people?’

Her dismissive look didn’t go unnoticed by Veronica. ‘I see the undesirable gene has been passed down in the family,’ Veronica said pointedly.

‘Excuse
me
,’ Calypso started to say, but Clementine stopped her.

‘Don’t you dare bring my granddaughter into this!’

‘Why not? It’s clear all you Standington-Fulthropes are from bad stock. No wonder I had to give Edmund the heave-ho.’ She paused, savouring the moment. ‘I did try with him, you know, but he was a lost cause. Poor creature, no wonder he came to such an
unfortunate
end.’

Calypso was confused. ‘Great-uncle Edmund? The one who died of tuberculosis or something when he was young?’

For a moment, Veronica actually looked shamefaced. Calypso looked at her grandmother. She had turned sheet-white, her liver-spotted hands shaking.