Pink Wellies and Flat Caps (26 page)

‘The flowers look beautiful Alice, just like they did last week,’ explodes Reverend Marsh pushing himself between us so we part like the Red Sea.

‘Thank you
… your,’ I quickly stop myself from stupidly calling him
your honour
.

‘How can I thank you during my sermon young lady, if you’re never here?’

‘There is so much to do. Chloe’s not been feeding so well and there are the chickens and …’

‘Chloe will be fine,’ laughs Martha.

‘I hope so,’ I say worriedly. ‘She hasn’t been eating properly for days.’

‘It’s time we enjoyed a little of what Chloe gets every day.’

He can’t surely be meaning the penis bucket.

‘Ah Dominic Montfort, there you are,’ cries the Reverend, rushing towards Dominic with such vigour that he enfolds poor Rocky into the folds of his cassock. There is muffled whimpering as he is swept along.

‘Poor little bugger,’ mumbles Mona.

‘Dominic, how wonderful you could make our little service today,’ he crows, almost f
alling over Rocky as he does so. ‘You must talk Alice into staying.’

‘Rev, nice to see you,’ says Dominic while looking at me.

Oh dear, this is going to be distinctly uncomfortable. I realise there is no escape and squeeze myself into a pew.

‘Come and see what has been done to the roof with your kind donation,’ chirps Reverend Marsh leading Dom
inic to the back of the church.

Martha sits beside me and I sigh with relief. I have managed to avoid Dominic all week. As handsome as he may be, he really isn’t my type and since the barn dance my dreams and waking moments have been filled with thoughts of Charlie and Edward. Martha breaks into my reverie and hands me a prayer book. The service is about to start and I’m relieved to see that Dominic has been seated next to Lady Fisher, and I fight back a giggle when I see him trying to shake randy Rocky from his leg.

‘He certainly likes you,’ gushes Lady Fisher placing
her hand gently onto his knee.

I stifle a gasp and open the prayer book, and make an attempt to ge
t Edward Fairfax out of my mind by focusing on the flowers and wondering why no man has ever bought me any. Now that’s pathetic isn’t it? To get to thirty-two and realise that
he doesn’t bring me flowers ever
, is just a touch depressing. The only flowers I ever had were from Georgie and Cas when my appendix burst. Even then I think they only bought them to console me. Collapsing in a heap beside the black-peppered mackerel in Waitrose wasn’t my best gig of the year. But even then it was only a bunch of white chrysanthemums. Don’t get me wrong, I was dead grateful and everything, but it would have been nice to have got something from Charlie. I pull my eyes from the flowers and back to Reverend Marsh who seems to be getting very excited as he delivers his sermon that I’m beginning to fear for the flowers. He is waving his arms around so much that I swear he is whipping up enough energy to take off.

‘There will
be a second coming,’ he cries, ‘In the words of Matthew,’ he bellows and my Nokia trills along with him.

Shit, I meant to turn it off.

It’s a text from Georgie.

Sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings but your mum gave Charlie your address and …’

‘Oh shit.’

Lady Fisher and her pew turn to me in unison and I realise what I thought was a whisper most certainly hadn’t been. Reverend Marsh looks at me quizzically and continues.

‘And He will send forth His angels with a great trumpet and they will gather together his elect from the four winds, from one end of the sky to the other …’ he yells, causing my knees to quake and the flower petals to flutter.

Rocky cocks his leg to pee on Dominic’s trousers. I look back to my text my heart racing.

He’s coming to see you
.
Honestly you could have knocked me down with a feather when he turned up on my doorstep.

Holy crap.

‘He’s coming here,’ I say loudly, ‘Oh Jesus!’

Lady Fisher jumps from her seat with an adjoining yelp from Rocky.

‘Hallelujah,’ she shouts, ‘he’s coming here.’

She isn’t talking about Charlie, that’s for sure. Good Lord, they’re all going to go into a religious frenzy. Oh hell, this could only happen to me. Everyone is applauding the second coming of Charlie, except me of course. I begin to explain that I haven’t had an epiphany as such
, and that Charlie is as far from Christ as anyone can be when I realise all eyes have re-focused on Reverend Marsh who is turning as purple as the veins on his neck which are protruding in a rather sickly way as he bangs on hysterically about the second coming of Christ, of course, not Charlie. I can’t believe Charlie is coming to Cornwall. Why does he want to see me? More importantly, do I want to see him? Charlie, the Charlie who represents thousands of pounds lost on caterers, a live band and a half-finished wedding cake. I can’t bear to see him. I thought he was having a whale of a time with Bit Tits and shagging for England. He’s probably gone and shagged it right off. He always was one to do things to the extreme. He isn’t going to bring her too is he? Perhaps he wants to give her my ring. That wouldn’t surprise me. After all he took her on my honeymoon. She’ll be stealing my identity next. It just gets worse. Actually she can have it. It hasn’t done me much good. Maybe I can swap my identity for her abundant tits, and then every man in sight will no doubt want to shag me.

‘
When?’
I text back, feeling feverish and light headed.

Does this mean Charlie has changed his mind? Why couldn’t he have done this earlier? As in before I packed my whole life into a suitcase and became a cross between Mrs Bouquet and Mrs Herriot. I could have been Mrs
Charles Marrow if he hadn’t got cold feet. I can’t help wondering what Edward will think of Charlie. Charlie will of course take an instant dislike to Edward just because he’s a farmer. Farming is breeding animals for murdering he will insist. A feeling of dread clutches at my stomach. I hope Charlie doesn’t make a scene. It will be pointless telling him that Edward is a dairy farmer.

No idea, he seemed keen though.

Georgie texts back. Keen! He was far from keen on me the last time I spoke to him. I suppose I should prepare myself for the second coming of Charlie and do all those things that a woman of thirty-two would do when the possibility of re-establishing her engagement stares her in the face. Shave my legs, Immac that little moustache that Charlie always likes to tell me sprouts before a period, and which everyone else says doesn’t exist, and pop a few water tablets to squeeze out the excess water so my tummy is flatter. He is worth it, of course he is. I must not burst into tears when I see him. That’s the trouble with periods. I’ve been known to sob hysterically when I can’t find a parking space in Waitrose car park. As it is I feel bloated and horrid and know that in a few days a transformation will take place and Alice will turn into a female Damien from the
Omen
, cursing and spitting everywhere.

‘Alice shall we get tea?’ asks Martha.

I look up and see that everyone is ambling towards the vestry where Martha has prepared tea and cake. Dominic strains to see me but is being pulled along by Lady Fisher. I’m somewhat relieved that the whole second coming debacle is over.

‘Mrs Marsh has insisted you join us for dinner this evening Dominic. Come at six for sherry,’ Reverend Marsh says as he relieves himself of cassock and do
g collar.

Heavens, he looks quite human without them. I check the time on my Nokia and excuse myself.

‘I must feed Chloe,’ I lie, pulling on my pink wellies.

‘Already?’ says Dominic, giving Rocky a little kick.

‘Yes,’ I say with a short embarrassed laugh.

The truth is, I would much rather spend my time at the farm with Edward.

‘You’re not avoiding me are you?’

‘Now why would she want to do that?’ Martha snaps. ‘She doesn’t know you like we do.’

That was below the belt. I think he gave her a mean look, but I can’t be sure as his expression softens so quickly that I’m not sure if I imagined it.

‘Now
don’t you go putting her off me Martha.’

Mar
tha gives him a stony look. Oh dear this is so uncomfortable. I thought the yoga class was painful but this is infinitely worse. I am almost wishing I was back inside the church hall doing five cobras, ten spinal twists and a couple of Hail Mary’s. In fact, even a spinal tap would be more comfortable than standing here. Before Martha has time to reply Lady Fisher has converged upon us.

‘Dominic darling,’ she drawls huskily, hooking her arm into his
. ‘Be a dear and drive us home. I walked here and it’s raining cats and dogs now.’

‘Well, I
…’

‘That’s divine of you. Come along Rocky.’

In a flash he is dragged through the vestry and out of the main doors, and I follow only to come to a halt when I see Edward pacing up and down outside the church gates. Oh God, what is it? Surely Charlie isn’t here already is he? I tuck the umbrella I was about to open under my arm.

‘Edward,’ I say as he rushes towards me.

‘I thought the service would never end,’ he says with a tremble in his voice. ‘I need to speak to you and …’

He frowns for a moment.

‘Is everything all right Ted?’ asks Martha anxiously.

Edward
smiles, ironing out the creases in his forehead.

‘I just had to tell you. We’ve been granted our milk licence. I can’t believe it.’

‘Oh Edward,’ I shrill.

He scoops me up in his arms and laughingly swings me around. I inhale the essence that is so uniquely him and feel that familiar surge of desire. I don’t know how I can tell him that Charlie is coming and that I will probably be leaving Trenowyth. His hair is slightly damp from the rain and his shirt feels wet when I place my hands on his shoulders. He places me gently back onto my feet and smiles shyly at me.

‘I thought a celebration was in order. I bought champagne and I thought I’d order pizza. You’re invited Martha, and of course Jed. Let’s have a party,’ he laughs.

‘You’re getting the farm back on its feet Edward. Well done. What time is good Alice?’

Edward looks at me and raises his eyebrows.

‘Shall we say seven, it gives us time,’ he smiles.

It depends what we need the time for, I think shamefully.

‘Seven is fine,’ I hear myself say and begin visualising myself as the d
omestic goddess of the country.

I picture trays of vol
-au-vents, dishes of peanuts, plates of olives and hot buttered French bread, tall glasses full of champagne and a celebratory cake. All this by seven would certainly make me a goddess of sorts.

‘I’ll pop a note in to Cockspit for Sara and her parents,’ says Edward.

In that moment I feel my spirits dampen and it has nothing to do with the rain. How stupid of me. I don’t imagine for one minute Edward would be outside the church waiting for me if Sara had been at home. Perhaps I should be more responsive to Charlie when he gets here especially if he does want to try again, and after all, someone like Charlie and a life in London is more ‘me’ than pink wellies and flat caps. Then I remember that Edward had said
we’ve been granted our milk licence
, and feel a little tingle of happiness.

‘This place looks marvellous Alice,’ Lydia gushes, folding and refolding the same tea towel as though attempting origami.

I try not to preen like a cat, but it is nice to be complimented on one’s domestic prowess. But I do wish she would do something more useful with that tea towel, like, dry up a few glasses. I pull a tub of Philadelphia cream cheese from the fridge and begin spreading it on some crackers. The farmhouse is full of people. I didn’t know Edward had so many friends. He is the centre of attention and arguing the rights and wrongs of fox hunting. There are raised voices and much raucous laughter. The champagne is flowing and the atmosphere is jolly.

‘Shall I pop these pizzas into the Aga?’ asks Sara, strolling in and narrowly avoiding the cat.             

‘Whoops nearly went a clanger. Fab party isn’t it?
’

I smile and nod.

‘The house is a transformation,’ says Lydia.

Okay she’s overdoing it now.

‘Alice is the best thing to ever happen to Edward,’ smiles Sara while hugging me.

I blush and hand her some plates for the pizza.

‘You haven’t met Luce have you?’ asks Lydia, who I’m going off by the minute.

I shake my head and look around for a glass. More champagne I think.

‘No. It’s a bit difficult as she’s in New Zealand.’

‘She’s so supple, she’s like an athlete, isn’t that right Sara?’