Lizzie Marshall's Wedding (6 page)

She washed the mud from her hair and face and was mortified to see three more scraps of what looked like newspaper, on the shower floor. They must have been in her hair, she realised, wondering what she must have looked like. It was bad enough that her coat had seen better days, without her being covered in mud and slivers of newspaper – doing a passable impersonation of a scarecrow.

It was almost twenty minutes before Becky made her way tentatively downstairs. She was hoping he’d left but he was standing in the kitchen, his torso bare, nursing a mug of coffee. She felt herself blush as her eyes took in the sight of his toned, tanned body.

‘I hope you don’t mind, but my clothes were soaked. I was dripping on your floor.’

He nodded towards the sink where he’d wrung out his shirt and jumper and she only now realised that he’d got out of the car without putting a coat on.

‘N...no,’ she said, still stuttering, and not because she was cold. ‘I can put your clothes in the tumble dryer and ... you can have a shower too... if you want.’

He grinned at her. ‘As tempting as that is, I’ll pass ... this time round. I’ll get soaked again going back out, so I’ll wait till I get home thanks.’ He handed her a mug of coffee. ‘It’s hot. I made it when I heard you coming down the stairs. I’m guessing milk, no sugar.’

‘Thanks,’ she said, taking the mug from him, their fingers briefly touching and their eyes meeting for a split second.

Becky looked away. Guessing or did you ask Doreen? she found herself wondering.

‘I’d better run,’ he said, putting his mug on the counter and grabbing his clothes from the sink. He tugged his jumper on over his head but screwed his shirt up in his hand. ‘No point in wearing layers of wet. I’m really sorry for soaking you Becky.’

The use of her name made her head shoot up. She hadn’t told him it.

As if reading her mind, he said. ‘I heard your friend, Jess call you Becky, yesterday.’ He headed towards the door. ‘I thought you’d prefer me to call you that, although ...’ he beamed at her and winked as he opened the front door, ‘you’ll always be Fifi in my eyes.’

He was gone before she could reply.

The phone rang as Max was driving away and Becky’s tummy did a little flip. For some absurd reason, she wondered if it might be him – but how would he have her number and why would he call her anyway?

She was behaving like a schoolgirl with a crush – and she didn’t even like him. In fact, she was furious with him. He’d just added a soaking to the list of abuses and she had been so cold and shocked that she’d forgotten to shout at him.

‘Okay lady, you’ve got some explaining to do,’ Jess said on the other end of the phone. ‘Why was Max carrying you over the threshold and what the hell were you two doing in there for the last half an hour? And, why did he leave carrying what looked decidedly like an item of clothing? Give me details and don’t leave anything out.’

Becky laughed despite herself. ‘Good God! Is there no privacy in this village?’

‘Of course there isn’t. So...?’  

‘Well ... he came round last night after you and Susie left and one thing led to another. We got married in secret this morning and we’ve just consummated it. Needless to say, like most celebrity marriages, it didn’t last. I’ll be calling the Pope for an annulment as soon as my nosy friend gets off the line.’

‘The Pope won’t annul a consummated marriage.’

Becky roared with laughter. ‘I tell you all that and that’s the bit you pick up on! And you know I’m not a catholic.’

‘I know. Seriously, what’s been going on? I didn’t think you liked him.’

‘I didn’t. Don’t. Nothing’s going on. The twerp drove into a puddle and saturated me. Then, he did his macho man impression, manhandled me into his car and drove me home. He carried me because I was too cold to walk. I had a shower; he stayed in the kitchen and had coffee. He took his shirt off, simply because it was wet through. That’s it. End of story.’

‘Okay fine. I’ll just make up my own story then.’

‘Don’t you dare Jess! And don’t say anything to anyone else either. You know what this place is like. Mrs. Mary Nosy-Parkes has already started putting two and two together and making a thousand and one nights.’

‘Too late, I’m afraid. I saw her peering out of the window just as Max was leaving. Not sure how good her eyesight is or how much she could see from that distance but it is a straight line of sight from the Stores to your door. I could see quite clearly, and I’m only a few doors closer.’

‘Oh God.’ Becky dropped onto the sofa. ‘That’s all I need.’

‘Fancy lunch in the pub? My treat.’

‘I’d love to Jess, but I’ve already got soaked once today; I don’t fancy a second time. Besides, my coat is still saturated. For something that threadbare, it seems to be holding a lot of water. Have you been out? It’s like a monsoon out there.’

‘No. That’s the beauty of living above my salon. I can get to work without getting soaked.’

‘Why are you at work? It’s Sunday.’ Becky rose, strolled over to the window and glanced up the road to Jess’s salon.

“Prime Cuts Too” was next door to the butchers, and although an alleyway separated them; Jess had thought the name was amusing.

‘I was thinking about redecorating and I’ve been trying some of those tester pots we got last week. You’re right by the way; Lime Fizz does look like vomit.’

‘I hate to say, “I told you so” but, “I told you so”. Any decisions?’

‘Yeah. It looks fine the way it is. So, if a few hundred quid is any use to you, it’s yours.’

‘Aw Jess. That’s really generous but you’re not made of money. You paid for all the wine yesterday, too. At this rate, I’ll owe you and Susie more than I do the banks.’

‘You don’t owe us anything. You’d do exactly the same if the shoe were on the other foot. I mean it Becky, it’s yours – and don’t use it to repay the banks, use it to get yourself something nice or something practical even. Like a coat that actually keeps out the cold and wet.’

Becky choked back a sob. ‘That’s a lovely idea Jess, and I really do appreciate the offer but –’

‘But you won’t accept handouts and you’ve got to sort it out yourself. I know. I’ve heard it a hundred times. For once in your life Becky Cooper, why don’t you just let someone help you?’

‘Don’t get cross Jess. And I do let you help me – all the time. You and Susie are always paying for stuff for me and you’re always buying Lily things.’

‘Yeah, yeah. And look at everything you’ve done for us. You helped me get this place and you designed all my flyers and publicity stuff, not to mention my website. You saved me an absolute fortune and that’s not including all the hours you helped out in here when I first started.’

‘That’s what friends do.’

‘Exactly. So, let’s not hear any more of this, “I owe you and Susie” nonsense. Susie’s business wouldn’t have survived without you either; your contacts and networking have kept “Beckleston Bridal Belles” in monetary wedded bliss. What time are you expecting the Coopers to bring Lily home?’

Becky glanced at the antique French ormolu clock on the mantelpiece; it was one of the few family heirlooms she had – so far – managed to keep. It had been an anniversary present from her father to her mother and it reminded Becky of happier times. ‘About four, they said. They’ll have a cup of tea and then head off home.’

‘God, if they’re staying for tea, you’ll need a drink. I’ll bring the big umbrella and pick you up in an hour. Don’t argue. A Sunday roast and a bottle of wine is what we all need. I’ll call Susie and get her to meet us there too. See you soon.’ And with that, Jess rang off.

CHAPTER SIX

‘I need to talk to you Max,’ Margaret called out as he dashed in from the rain.

He poked his saturated head around the door. ‘Can it wait until I’ve had a shower and put on some dry clothes? It’s like the sky’s turned into an ocean out there. I’m sure it doesn’t rain like this in London.’

‘Good heavens! You’re soaked through! Of course it can wait. Go and have a shower before you catch your death. I’ll pour you a whisky.’

‘Thanks. See you in fifteen minutes.’ He raced towards the stairs, leaving little pools of water in his wake.

Exactly fifteen minutes later, Max trotted back down. He entered the sitting room, a smaller room towards the back of the house and collapsed onto a sumptuous sofa in front of a large stone fireplace, containing a roaring fire.

‘What a day,’ he said, letting out a sigh and taking the glass of whisky Margaret handed him. ‘Thanks. Now, what do you want to talk to me about?’ He took a large swig and smiled as the liquid warmed him.

Margaret ambled over to a wing-back chair diagonally opposite him and sat down, nursing a glass of sherry. She cleared her throat.

Max eyed her thoughtfully. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘What? Oh no. No ... nothing’s wrong. In fact, something rather good has happened.’ Margaret gulped down the contents of her glass.

‘Really? So, are you knocking back the sherry in celebration then? I’ll get you another.’ He got to his feet and marched to the drinks cabinet. He poured them both refills, passed the glass of sherry to his mother then resumed his seat. After a few minutes of silence he said, ‘Are you planning to tell me, or do you want me to guess?’

Margaret gave him a nervous-looking smile. ‘I don’t want you to get cross and if you really don’t like the idea, then, of course, I’ll call back and say no, but personally, I think it would be rather jolly and it would be lovely for our first one to be someone we know, especially someone so nice and ... and easy-going and ...’ She gulped back the second glass.

‘Mother! What’s going on? Our first what?’

‘Wedding darling. Our first wedding. I’ve just had a booking for August.’

Max blinked several times in surprise. ‘Well. That’s great – isn’t it? Although, are you sure the place will be ready by then? There’s still a lot to do. Is seven months enough time to get it all done – well six really. Beginning or end of August?’

‘The end. The Bank Holiday weekend to be precise. She wants to arrive on Friday and have the wedding on the Sunday.’

‘Okay, almost seven months then, so ... wait a minute. You said, “someone we know”. Whose wedding is this – exactly? And why do I have a dreadful feeling that I’m not going to like the answer?’

‘Lizzie’s,’ Margaret said, bowing her head slightly but fixing her eyes firmly on her son’s face. ‘But if you –’

‘Oh shit! Sorry mum, but you must be joking.’

Margaret shook her head slowly from side to side but didn’t speak.

‘But why? I mean, why on earth, out of all the wedding venues in the world, would she choose to have her wedding here?’

Again, Margaret shook her head.

‘You ... you didn’t suggest it did you? God mum!’

‘No! It was Lizzie’s idea. She called me this morning, to confirm it but I told her that I’d have to check with you and that if you said no then –’

‘Oh great. Thanks mum. Now, if I say no, I’ll look like a jealous ex. Brilliant.’

‘No you won’t. Lizzie herself said that if you felt in any way awkward – or if I did, then she would understand perfectly and they’d look for somewhere else. She just thought it would be good, for all concerned. Jack is perfectly happy with the idea but, if you’d rather not, that’s absolutely fine. You were going to be invited anyway, so, either way, you’d be at the wedding. At least if it’s here, you can escape to your own room if it all gets too much.’

Max sneered. ‘What am I, twelve? And, I could escape wherever it was held, so that doesn’t work as an argument in its favour. I’m amazed Jack agreed to it – actually, no I’m not, I said he was far too easy-going for my liking. Oh God. I really don’t have much choice do I?’

‘Of course you do! Look Max, you said a few months ago that you were over her but if that’s not the case then I’ll call her and say that it’s my decision. That I’ve thought about it and decided it’s not appropriate and that I hadn’t mentioned it to you. Or, I could say that I’ve checked with the builders and it won’t be ready in time. I really don’t mind. Truly I don’t.’

Max sighed loudly and got up to pour himself another very large whisky. He held up the sherry decanter. ‘You?’ he asked.

Margaret nodded. ‘Good God yes!’

She held out her half-full glass and Max filled it to the brim. He did likewise with his empty whisky glass then he flopped onto the sofa and stretched his long legs out in front of the fire.

‘I am over her. That’s not the problem. I think it might feel a little weird though, watching her marry someone else but you’re right, I would be going to the wedding so I’ll see that anyway.’ He took a large swig from his glass and stared into the flames. ‘No. I’m fine with it. Tell her it’s okay with me. In fact, tell her it’s my wedding present. I’ll foot the bill for whatever it would cost to hire this place for the weekend. And that doesn’t mean you can double the price mother.’ He grinned at her over the rim of his glass.

‘Double it! I’ll treble it if you’re paying,’ she said grinning. ‘Why don’t we say it’s from both of us? I’d like that.’

‘Fine.’

‘And what shall I say we’re paying for? The venue hire, decorations, accommodation, food –’

‘Whatever you were planning to provide as a “Wedding Package” is fine with me.’

Margaret giggled, a little tipsy from three glasses of sherry. ‘Do you know, I haven’t the faintest idea! I haven’t thought that far ahead. I’d better find someone who knows about this sort of thing, I suppose and hire them to organise it.’

Max shook his head. ‘You’ve taken a booking for a wedding despite the fact the place is still a wreck, you have hardly any staff and not the first idea of what needs to be done. Bravo mother! I think your new business is off to a flying start.’

‘Don’t worry about it dear, it’ll all sort itself out. Actually, a more pressing problem is, I’ve totally forgotten to arrange anything for lunch! We may have to have bread and cheese.’

Max threw her a mock look of horror then smiled. ‘Best adjourn to the pub then. They do Sunday roasts there and it’s stopped raining so the walk will do us both good.’