With the racing or their relationship? 'Maybe.' She wasn't counting on either.
'How come Charlie has seen your legs?'
God – how did she know? It might have been when they were tree-climbing. She couldn't tell Matt that, could she? 'I'm sure he hasn't.'
'But you told him about being a lap-dancer.'
'I was never a bloody lap-dancer! I wore a scanty costume and jumped – or rather, didn't – out of a birthday cake. That's all.'
'That's not all though, is it?' Matt's eyes were desolate. 'You still told him. You didn't tell me.'
'Gillian told him.' God, this was irritating. 'Matt, it's not important right now. Right now, this is the biggest thing that's ever happened to me. At last I know where I stand in this village.'
Matt shrugged. 'Lucky you. I wish to hell I did. You haven't told anyone, have you?'
About what? Petra's Parties? Why should she? Oh, God! He meant about the non-seduction. 'No, of course I haven't. What do you take me for?'
'I'm not sure. I'm beginning to think I've never really known you. Still, that's nothing new. I don't even think I know myself any more. I'm going to get a drink. I'll be in the pub later – if you're interested.'
'Problems?' Maddy, snuggling under Charlie's jacket, asked as Matt walked away.
'Nothing that can't be put right. Anyway, thanks for doing all this for me – especially –' she cast a glance at Maddy's bump, 'when you've got so many other things on your mind.'
Maddy hugged her. 'Don't be daft. We're your friends – it's what friends do, isn't it? I told you when we first met, you sort of get sucked into this village.'
They watched the high jinks for a moment in silence. Vincent, she noticed, was gazing soppily at Maureen. Matt, en route to the Cat and Fiddle, gave him a very wide berth. They must have had words. Poor Matt. She felt a rush of pity. She'd got all the friends in the world – and he seemed to have so few at the moment. She'd go into the pub just as soon as this was over and talk to him. He'd been kind to her, and they'd been close once – maybe they
could
salvage something.
'Are you getting nervous about the wedding?' She looked at Maddy. 'I mean – after what you said at the party – I'm so pleased that everything has worked out.'
'It's worked out wonderfully.' Maddy's eyes sparkled behind the grotesque grease paint. 'I was just being stupid. I've never been happier, and I can't wait for next week. I love Drew so much. I should have been honest with him right from the start. It's always best to be honest, isn't it?'
Jemima nodded. It was.
‘Ladies – and gentlemen!' Glen had decided that enough was enough and had grabbed a Meridian microphone. 'I think we ought to call this a day before half my parishioners,' he cast a wary glance at the Rocky Horrors, 'die of hypothermia! I feel that we in Milton St John have ably demonstrated that freedom of expression is alive and well. We are a small community – but a democratic one. God has given us the power to make decisions, right or wrong. I suggest that we now call a truce, and pray for unity – and deliverance from evil.'
Nicely put, Jemima thought, as the League of Light and the Rocky Horrors stopped glowering at each other and bowed their heads. Glen was a bit of a diplomat on the quiet. The ambivalence of his words obviously hadn't been lost on Gillian, either. Just as the prayers came to an end, she lifted her head and winked at Jemima.
'We will not be vanquished!' Bathsheba roared, albeit halfheartedly. 'We will fight on!'
Bronwyn Pugh and Petunia Hobday looked as though they probably wouldn't. Jemima was pretty sure that Fishnets would remain on the shelves for quite a while longer. Some people would buy them, others wouldn't. It was how it should be. Bathsheba might never set foot in the shop again, but that was her choice. One problem solved – three million to go.
The media were packing up, happily assured of several invaluable snippets to fill the next week's schedules. The Rocky Horrors, followed by Charlie and Vincent, skittered noisily back into the Munchy Bar. Jemima hugged them all as they passed.
Having retrieved his jacket from Maddy, Charlie paused in Maureen's doorway, fished in the pocket and held out the poster. 'Here. There's no point in me tearing it up, is there? You're a woman. You'll do exactly what you want, won't you?'
'Of course. Um – did Matt talk about me this afternoon?' Perhaps he'd sought out Charlie's advice on how to seduce the unseduceable.
'Not really.' Charlie grinned. 'Funny, that. If I were in his shoes I'd talk about you all the time. All he talked about was horses, and more horses. Especially Dragon Slayer not being on form, and how he hoped he'd come good for the Hennessey. Oh, and he seemed quite interested in Tina Maloret, too. Being Dragon Slayer's owner, I expect. I know they don't get on too well. What?
He looked into the neon-brightness of the Munchy Bar. Suzy was gesticulating wildly. He shrugged. 'I think she's after my body. See you later.'
Jemima pushed the poster into her pocket. She'd have to iron it before putting it up on the notice-board. The curve outside the shops was empty now. It had taken a very short space of time to clear the decks. Everyone had melted away to resume their normal lives. Another small chapter in village history had been written. The High Street was quiet again; it could all have been a dream.
Locking the door of the bookshop, she wandered towards the Cat and Fiddle.
Paying for a white wine, she looked around for Matt. She hoped he wouldn't be in laddish conversation with his racing cronies. Not tonight. She wanted to talk to him while she was still on a triumphant high. She felt able to tackle anything tonight.
She couldn't see him.
'Matt in?' She leaned across the bar towards the landlord. 'Or has he been and gone?'
'In the Snug, love. Quieter in there.'
She took a deep breath and manoeuvred her way through the tables. Not, of course, that she intended to invite him back to the flat for an action replay of the disaster or anything. She held her wine away from a tumble of stable lads jostling by the fruit machine. It was about time they put the whole thing into perspective. But then, if he really found her so totally unattractive, why didn't they call it a day? At least then she'd know where she stood.
Matt, it appeared, didn't stand anywhere. He was sitting in the furthest corner of the Snug, looking happier than she'd seen him for weeks. He wasn't alone. Tina Maloret, wearing unfashionably baggy jeans, a man's shirt, and looking so sexy that the pheromones were practically visible, was leaning across the table towards him.
Whoops! Jemima started to walk backwards. Tina always made her feel stones overweight and so dreary. Anyway, if they were having a business meeting, she was going to make herself scarce. She had just reached the doorway when they saw her.
'Hi, Jemima.' Matt's greeting was over-loud, and didn't quite match the expression in his eyes. 'Come and join us.'
She could hardly say she wasn't stopping – not while she was carrying a full wineglass. Hoping that they'd think she was just coming in rather than leaving backwards, she smiled her way back across the Snug.
'Tina has just arrived in the village for Maddy and Drew's wedding.' Matt sounded as though he was reading a script. 'It was a complete surprise to find her in here.'
'That's nice. Er – Charlie's in the Munchy Bar. I'm sure he'll be along later ...'
The news didn't seem to delight Matt. Tina was more philosophical. 'I doubt it. He has no idea I'm here. This'll be the second time I've caught him on the hop. He, didn't seem overjoyed to see me last time either. I suppose I should give him prior notice.'
Jemima sat between them feeling suddenly as welcome as a wasp at a picnic. 'So he wasn't expecting you this evening, then?'
'He wasn't even expecting me for the wedding.' Tina sipped at something very black in a tiny glass. 'He didn't ask me. If I didn't have such a trusting nature, I'd be pretty convinced that he was going to be taking someone else.'
Jemima gulped at the wine. Now she'd have to ring Lucinda before she arrived to be a bridesmaid. She ought to tip Charlie off too. He was just as likely to come swanning into the pub at any moment with Suzy Beckett. God! There were still so many undercurrents.
'But you've had an invitation?' What did she care? The woman was a nightmare. She was itching to get Matt on his own and sort out where they stood while she still felt buoyant.
'To the wedding?' Tina stretched out a languid hand across the table towards Matt, then widened her eyes at Jemima. 'Oh, yes. Matt was such a sweetie. He invited me to come along with you two so that I wouldn't feel such a spare part. You don't mind, do you?'
'Damn. Shit. Damn.' Drew wrenched at the cravat. 'Bloody thing! I look like a teddy bear with a bloody bow round its neck!'
'You'd do a lot better if your hands weren't shaking.' Charlie grinned up from his perch on the edge of the bed. 'Do you want me to fix it?'
'No I sodding don't. I'll do it if it kills me. Anyway, you've got your own to do.'
'Not for ages yet.' Charlie glanced at his watch. 'There're still two hours before we're due at the church. You'll be ready far too early.'
'And you won't be ready at all if you don't get a move on.' Drew glared through the mirror at Charlie's reflection. 'Aren't you going to get dressed?'
'Can't see the point, really. Lucinda and Tina will probably rip my clothes off as soon as I walk into St Saviour's. Might as well save them a bit of trouble.'
Drew glared some more and gave up with the cravat. He had never felt so nervous. This was worse than race-riding. This was far worse than jumping over hurdles at sixty miles an hour. It was worse than breaking a bad-tempered yearling. It was even worse than using the bloody computer.
He'd fondly imagined that by getting married at four o'clock in the afternoon, the whole day would be calm. Leisurely even. He’d pictured a relaxed family breakfast – probably with Buck's Fizz, then a walk with the dogs, and maybe even a snooze after lunch. Then he and Maddy would get ready in the friendly chaos of their bedroom, and Poppy Scarlet would be impeccably behaved and look a picture in her frock. It would be completely serene and unhurried.
He hadn't expected Armageddon.
Of course, there were still the stables to do – the horses didn't know it was his wedding day, even though he'd told them often enough, especially Solomon – and then Maddy's mum and dad and her Auntie Barbara and Uncle Gordon and both sets of grandparents had arrived; and Kit and Rosa Pedersen had come over a day early from Jersey, and now Peapods was filled with Fran and her daughter Chloe, and Rosa Pedersen, and Suzy, and Georgia and Lucinda all belting around in sticky-out petticoats and heated rollers.
And to cap it all, Caroline, his ex-wife, had swanned up, cool as anything, in a hired limo two hours ago with Peter bloody Knightley – who was Maddy's ex-boyfriend and Caroline's current business partner!
Charlie, thank God, had offered the sanctuary of his cottage.
'More people.' Charlie peered through the window across the cobbled yard. 'Looks like a family of eight in a Ford Capri.'
Christ! Uncle Philip and Aunt Aisling and the County Mayo brigade. He'd asked them to go straight to the church.
Charlie, still only wearing purple silk boxer shorts, headed for the sitting room. 'I think we could do with a bit of Dutch courage. Not too early for a whisky, is it?'
'About three hours too late. Make it a treble.'
'And have you slur your vows? Not a chance. I take my best man duties seriously. A single with loads of water – and be grateful.'
Drew sank down on the edge of Charlie's Wallbank-Fox. He hadn't expected to be nervous. He hadn't been nervous when he'd married Caroline – or had he? He couldn't really remember. He had vague recollections of sitting in his parents' Jersey farmhouse at Bonne Nuit, looking out over Cheval Roc with the sea hurling itself into the sky, and Kit Pedersen, who was his best man, telling him he was far, far too young. And his mother in tears of happiness because he was marrying Caroline whom she adored, and his father complaining about having to wear a suit. He could remember nothing of the ceremony. There'd been a ride away from the church in a horse-drawn carriage and a sunshine reception on
Caroline's parents' lawn where everyone wore extremely expensive clothes and drank champagne and was very polite to each other. He remembered the unreality of it. The feeling that something vital was missing and not knowing what it was...
'Thanks.' He took the whisky from Charlie and downed it in one. His hand still shook. 'Any chance of a refill?'
'None whatsoever.' Charlie wandered back to the window. 'Who do you know with a Land-Rover?'
'Half of Berkshire.'
'That sounds about right. There are twenty-seven people on the back seat, and two dogs. And a small horse – no, my mistake.
Three
dogs. Oh – and she's pretty! Who's she?'
Drew staggered from the bed and peered over Charlie's shoulder. A stream of women in hats was disappearing beneath the clock arch. 'Good God! Stephanie Le Mesurier! We were at school together. And the rest of the Jersey contingent. Maddy must have gone through my address book. And keep your hands off Stephanie – she's married to a St Ouen's lifeguard. They sharpen their teeth on granite.'
'Christ,' Charlie grinned. 'I've already got enough problems with the women in my life. Who the hell invited Tina anyway?'
'Didn't you?'
'Course not. Not with Lucinda being a bridesmaid. I was looking forward to the reunion. She thinks it's damned funny – I don't.' He gestured towards the Wallbank-Fox. 'You're lucky that's still standing. It's about the only thing that is. Tina's bloody wild.'
Drew perched more gingerly on the bed this time. Not because he didn't want to crease the trousers of his morning suit, but in case it collapsed. 'In between the shagathon sessions, did she mention anything to you about Dragon Slayer?'
'Just a bit.' Charlie pulled a face. 'That's why she's down here again. She and Kath are dead certain that he'll win the Hennessey
n
ow. I gather after the Worcester disaster they cross-questioned Matt and have aimed to put things right. They've been doing a lot of schooling over ditches, and apparently he's over his spooking. Matt reckons he's come right, too. Mind you, they don't know how forward Bonnie is, do they?'