Summer of Love (17 page)

‘And who’s that man?’ he said, as Gus pulled up the Land-Rover and got out.

‘He’s Fiona’s son,’ she said, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Luella’s arrival wasn’t the only thing that was making her feel wobbly.

‘And he shouldn’t be parking here,’ said Veronica Lewis-Jones. ‘I’ll have to ask him to move that rattle-trap.’

‘Don’t let him hear you calling it that,’ said Fiona. ‘That Land-Rover is his pride and joy.’

‘I’m sure, but all vehicles must be parked in the field,’ said Veronica firmly. ‘Luella! How wonderful to see you! I thought you couldn’t be dragged out of France without a coach and horses!’

Luella was dressed from head to toe in white linen, apart from her hat, which was straw and decorated with large fabric roses. She was the picture of an eccentric Englishwoman and played the part to perfection.

‘Here, have this,’ said Harold Lewis-Jones, having kissed Luella on both cheeks and handed her a beaker full of champagne. ‘Get that down you, help you get over the journey.’

Veronica bustled forward, also kissing her. ‘Yes, it must have been like a fairground ride being driven over the fields in that thing. Angus, I do hope you’re going to move it. If you leave your Landy here everyone will think they can fetch their four-by-fours and park them.’

The moment had finally arrived. Gus was here and he was about to meet Rory. Sian’s stomach was in knots and she just hoped the others couldn’t tell how nervous she was. Even her palms were sweating. She took another deep breath.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll move it in a minute,’ Gus was saying, and then he turned to Sian. ‘Hey!’ He kissed her on the cheek, and looked down at Rory who was gazing up at him, big-eyed. ‘You must be Rory.’ Gus took his hand and shook it. ‘I’m Gus. I’m a friend of your mum’s.’

‘Hello,’ said Rory, retreating behind Sian, suddenly shy. She hugged him to her, needing the reassurance of his presence just as much as he needed hers.

‘He’s my son,’ said Fiona. ‘Hard to believe he was once your height.’

‘Angus, darling, I hate to nag, but could you move it?’ Veronica went on. ‘There are some people over there looking daggers at me because I said they had to park properly. We can pretend Luella is infirm, so had to have a lift, but now you must put your car in the proper place. We won’t eat all the lunch before you come back.’

‘OK,’ said Gus. ‘Hey, Rory, would you like a ride in the Land-Rover? We can bring your mum!’

Rory looked up at Sian, his eyes full of longing, all shyness gone.

As a mother she felt it was best to say yes to everything it was possible to say yes to, and there didn’t really seem a good reason to say no to this, especially as she was included in the invitation, even if her stomach still felt like a washing machine on full spin. It would look odd if she refused, much as she was tempted. ‘Seatbelts?’ She looked up at Gus, hoping against hope that the answer would be no.

‘Full harness in the back.’

‘Oh, OK,’ she said, resigning herself to the inevitable. She could use the time to think of what to say to Luella when they were introduced. Luella’s arrival was at least a good distraction from her turmoil about Gus and Rory.

Gus took a few minutes to settle Rory comfortably in the back seat, buckling the harness carefully. ‘There you go, mate. Not even a charging rhino will get you out of that seat now.’

Sian heaved herself up into the passenger seat. ‘Have you ever seen a charging rhino?’ she asked Gus as he got in next to her.

‘Yup. Prefer not to see one again though.’

‘I’d love to see one,’ said Rory with a sigh from the back.

‘I’ll show you a photo and you may change your mind. Now, all safely strapped in? Then off we go.’

As they drove they saw a row of stalls selling all sorts of things from riding clothes and paintings to mysterious items for arcane country pursuits Sian didn’t want to think about. In the distance, on the hill, they could see where the cross-country course went.

‘Look, Rory,’ said Sian. ‘Can you see over there? Horses! Jumping over what look like hedges.’

Just then, the Land-Rover was overtaken by a couple of girls on ponies. They had on cream-coloured jodhpurs, tweed hacking jackets, short boots and black velvet riding hats.

‘That’s the Pony Club,’ said Gus. ‘They’re acting like policemen, making sure everything’s all right.’

‘I want to be a policeman on a horse,’ said Rory dreamily. But as he was in the habit of wanting to be anything that he happened to see at the time, Sian didn’t take too much notice.

‘You could join the Pony Club if you wanted,’ said Gus. You don’t have to be a girl, although it helps.’

‘I don’t want to be a girl,’ said Rory, worried.

‘Really, it’s not obligatory,’ Gus went on.

‘Boys ride ponies too,’ said Sian, to clarify.

‘Maybe later,’ said Rory, sounding, thought Sian, worryingly like she did.

Just then a huge chestnut horse came cantering along. On it was a man in a black coat, white breeches and a top hat. He stopped when he got to the Land-Rover.

The horse, snorting gently, seemed enormous. The man leaned in. ‘You know you shouldn’t have a vehicle up here?’

‘I do, and I’m sorry but I had a disabled relative to deliver to a picnic,’ explained Gus. ‘I’m taking the vehicle back now.’

‘Very well.’ The man touched his riding crop to his hat and cantered off again.

‘Maybe I don’t want to ride a horse,’ said Rory, from the back.

‘Darling! You’d start on a little pony! We’ll try and find some later.’

‘Or we’ll track down a friend who’s got something more child-friendly,’ said Gus. ‘You need something you can stroke.’

Sian looked out of the window suddenly. Gus seemed to have all the right instincts for fatherhood.

The field was now full of cars, but Rory enjoyed every bucketing moment of it. It was an incredibly surreal trip for Sian. Having thought for nearly six years that Rory and his father would never meet, and then having spent the last fortnight dreading their meeting, it seemed almost anticlimactic for them all to be bouncing happily along in the Land-Rover, but she realised that anticlimactic was probably a good thing at this point. And Rory’s obvious enthusiasm for off-roading was so infectious that Sian almost found herself enjoying the ride too.

‘Thank you!’ said Rory ecstatically as Gus helped him down. He was clearly smitten. ‘That was the best fun ever!’

Sian looked at Rory with pride. She did try to instil manners in him but sometimes he had to be prompted. This sincere gratitude meant she had not been wasting her time. And at least Gus and Rory’s first meeting had gone smoothly, though she didn’t want to even think about the next stage just yet. If ever.

‘Yes, thank you, that was fun,’ said Sian, ‘although I sort of wish I didn’t have to walk back up the hill in these wellies. They’re fun but rather hot.’

‘Take them off. Walk barefoot. I’ll carry them for you.’

‘OK.’ Barefoot seemed as good as anything and the grass was wonderfully cool beneath her hot feet.

Somehow, when they got back to the picnic site, Rory was holding hands with both of them while Gus carried Sian’s boots.

‘What a delightful picture you make!’ said Luella, enthroned on a picnic chair. ‘Like a little family!’

The shock was like a bucket of water thrown over her. Sian turned away in case anyone noticed her reaction. For a moment she’d been in a happy little dream, but Luella’s comment brought her back down to earth. Rory, oblivious to her confusion, had let go of Gus’s hand by now and was pointing at the picnic and pulling Sian over to the rug.

‘Luella, let me introduce you to Sian,’ said Fiona. ‘Of course you know each other by post and email but not in the flesh, so to speak.’

Sian came forward, wondering if Fiona had used the word ‘flesh’ because Luella had rather a lot of it on show. ‘Hello. It is lovely to meet you for real. Rory and I do love living in your little house.’ Might as well get her cards on the table as soon as possible, she thought.

‘Oh yes! Love the thought of you living there! Hope you won’t be heartbroken if I decide to sell?’

‘Er …’

‘I’ve got a confession to make,’ said Melissa, materialising behind Sian with a couple of glasses of champagne. ‘I arranged for Luella to come back so I could make her an offer – hopefully one she can’t refuse! Obviously, me being a cash buyer means I can offer a smidgen under what you’d put it on the market for!’

Sian blanched.

‘Oh, don’t let’s spoil this lovely day by talking business,’ said Veronica, clearly realising her daughter’s timing was less than perfect. ‘Let’s get on with the picnic.’

Sian was relieved. Luella would be distracted away from said business proposition for at least an hour.

The picnic was still magnificent, even if the others had been at it already. Apart from the sausage rolls and quails’ eggs, which turned out to be just a sort of an
amuse-bouche
for Rory and others, there was a feast: little smoked-salmon sandwiches, triangles of toast with potted shrimps, tiny quiches and miniature brioches hollowed out and filled with scrambled egg and caviar. Gus helped himself from the proffered trays. Sian heard him muttering, but she couldn’t quite tell what he said. It was something about ‘a bit overdone’ but she didn’t think he meant the food. It was perfect.

After the starter there was a choice of a poached salmon with cucumber scales which must have been enormous or beef Wellington, also still huge, served cold.

‘You see what I mean by competitive catering,’ said Fiona to Sian behind her hand.

‘I say, Harold, the beef was so absolutely delicious, I must have some more, but I’d appreciate a smear of mustard, Tewkesbury if you’ve got it.’

Luella’s request caused a flutter of panic between the Lewis-Joneses.

‘I’ve got wholegrain mustard, pickle, horseradish, ketchup and piccalilli,’ said Harold Lewis-Jones grumpily. ‘Only you would ask for something so obscure, Lu.’

‘Pass me the mustard and the horseradish. I’ll mix them. It’s all it is,’ Luella said. She seemed to be enjoying having caught her hosts out. ‘And then maybe more salad. Ta.’

Rory looked first at Luella and then his mother. ‘Mum,’ he whispered. ‘She said “ta”.’

‘She’s grown up, she’s allowed,’ Sian whispered back.

‘Oh. Is it like a swear?’

Gus laughed. ‘No, mate, it’s worse. It’s slang.’

‘Mummy, what’s slang?’

‘Slang is words people like to use instead of the proper ones, sometimes,’ said Gus carefully. ‘Some of it’s Okay – like Okay. That’s slang really. But if you said “bog” when you meant “toilet” your mum would probably tell you off.’

‘I’d tell you off if you said “toilet”,’ said Luella. ‘It’s “lavatory”.’

‘That’s not fair!’ said Gus. ‘You just said “ta”.’

‘I’m posh, I can say what I like,’ said Luella, wiping her hands on her dress.

‘Pudding, anyone?’

The way Veronica said this, it sounded as if she was offering a dollop of suet pudding and custard. Sian was not fooled. She suspected that something exquisite was going to emerge from the cool boxes, and she was right. Little pastry cases contained glazed summer fruits with dollops of clotted cream, small tumblers of gooseberry fool and chocolate brownies were held in Sian’s direction.

‘Just take one of each if you’re wavering,’ said Veronica. ‘There’s enough for everyone to have everything.’

After that she cut up hunks of home-made fruit cake. ‘Now, Harold and I have got to go and do our duty in the committee tent. Mel darling, don’t try and talk business over lunch, will you? It’s frightfully rude.’

‘As if I would, Ma!’ Melissa giggled at the thought of such disobedience.

‘Just checking. Oh, give me a hand up, Angus. I’m too old for this.’

Once her parents were out of the way Melissa took on the duties of hostess. ‘Luella, are you sure you don’t want anything else to drink? There’s loads more fizz and it’s such a bore to have to take it all home again.’

‘Oh, all right then, if you’re twisting my arm.’ Luella waited until her beaker was full and everyone else had been offered. ‘So this business we’re not supposed to talk about. If it’s about buying my cottage, I think I can say I’m definitely interested.’

Sian choked over the elderflower pressé she’d had instead of more champagne.

‘Actually, Melissa, you wouldn’t have some coffee there, would you?’ said Fiona, having shot Sian an anxious glance.

‘Oh yes,’ said Luella, putting down her empty beaker. ‘Only I’d prefer tea.’

‘We’re all set up for tea or coffee. Angus, darling, could you give me a hand? I’ll do coffee first, if you don’t mind, Luella.’ A huge thermos with a pump appeared followed by another one marked ‘hot water’.

Luella regarded it with distaste. ‘In what parallel universe was tea made with hot water? We need boiling water!’

‘Oh come on, Lu,’ said Fiona. ‘Don’t make a fuss. We’ll manage quite well with water in the thermos.’

‘Actually,’ said Gus, ‘if Luella wants boiling water for her tea, she shall have it. In fact, I’ll bring the tea myself.’

‘How will you do that?’ asked Melissa.

‘Light a fire and boil it,’ said Gus, winking at Rory as if aware he was about to be told off by everyone.

‘Darling, there’s no point in lighting a fire,’ said Fiona, sounding as if she’d had this argument before and lost. ‘We haven’t got a kettle!’

‘I’ve got a billy in the Landy. Come on, Sian, you and Rory can help me.’

As Sian had no desire to listen to Luella and Melissa discuss the sale of her home, she got up.

‘Better put your boots back on,’ Gus said.

He held her elbow as she poked her feet back into the boots and she felt supported, as if there was more to it than him just helping her keep her balance. Yet once she was safely in her wellies she edged away slightly, dis-concerted by how welcome Gus’s hand had felt. When they were a little way from the party and nearly at the woods, Gus said, ‘I could tell from your reaction that was a bit of a bombshell. If I’d known what she was really planning I would—’

‘Yes, well it was rather a shock. We’re so settled here. It was all working out so well.’ She heard her voice crack a little and suddenly realised she was tearful. ‘Sorry, don’t take any notice. It’s the champagne. It’s made me weepy. I’m fine really. It’s not as if I wasn’t aware that it was a possibility.’