The Colonel and His Daughter (4 page)

“Engagement party?” Diana’s voice sounded behind them. “Oh, how exciting. Can I help arrange it?”

Trudy shot Potts a despairing look.

“Oh, corks,” he muttered. “That’s torn it.”

Colonel Potts entered Lily Cottage, stooping as he came through the small doorway and then he stood in the sitting room, filling it up with his presence.

He’d never been inside the cottage before and it was much as he expected. Clean, but cluttered, small and homely. It was a pleasant sort of clutter though, not the kind of pointless accumulation he normally despised.

He held his hat, an aged discoloured Panama in both hands in front of him and twirled it nervously in circles.

“Please, sit down, Colonel,” Trudy said.

“Potts,” he said. “We agreed. Potts.”

He glanced at her and saw a flush colour her cheeks. She hadn’t been to do for him since the doings on Sunday. Not because she didn’t want to, but because Diana said it would be inappropriate for his fiancée to keep house for him.

“Frightful mess,” he said.

“Sorry,” Trudy plumped up the cushions. “I haven’t had much time for housework . . .”

“Not here, dammit,” he said, looking round. “Very nice. Cosy. Get a bit lost in my house I don’t mind telling you. Often hanker after something smaller. I mean our situation is a frightful mess. Diana’s driving me into town this afternoon to be measured for a new suit for the party.”

“Please do sit down,” she pleaded and he glanced nervously round and decided on the black leather fireside chair with the squishy black velvet cushion.

He sat. There was a yelp. Trudy squealed. Potts leapt to his feet.

“What the . . ?”

“Roger, get off the chair and let the Colonel sit down,” Trudy scolded as Roger glared at the visitor.

“Don’t trouble the old boy,” Potts said. “I’ll sit here, by the window.”

He was about to lower himself into the chair when he spotted a small cluster of women standing outside Trudy’s gate. They were craning their necks unashamedly trying to look in.

“What do they think?” Trudy muttered. “That you’re going to tear all my clothes off and make love to me on the rug?”

She hadn’t meant to speak aloud and the Colonel pretended he hadn’t heard as he tried the small sofa, out of sight of the window and thoroughly checked for pets.

However, her words stuck in his mind and now he was the one to blush.

“Cup of tea, Colonel?”

“Potts,” he said.

“Yes, I’ll make a pot.”

“No, you misunderstand. We agreed, you’d call me Potts.”

“You were telling me about your new suit.”

“Ah, yes. She fancies me in cream. Says I’ll look dignified, like a colonial Colonel. What colour will you be wearing, Mrs . . . Trudy?”

“For what?”

“Our engagement party of course.”

“I won’t be wearing anything,” she said.

“I say!”

“I mean, we aren’t getting engaged. This is all a terrible misunderstanding and we have to tell Diana.”

Potts drew his lips back and sucked air noisily through his teeth.

“As we will,” he said. “But not until that bounder Chumley has left the village. I won’t leave you prey to his attentions. I’ve made some enquiries and I’ve heard he gets through women at the rate some chaps get through socks.”

Trudy stared at him for a long time.

“You’d really do all this for me? Even to the point of deceiving your own daughter?”

“You saw how delighted she was,” he said. “I’ve tried telling her, but she keeps bursting into tears every five minutes for no apparent reason and I don’t want to upset her. Let’s let the dust settle a bit, get Julia’s wedding out of the way and see what happens.”

“But what about this . . . this engagement party?”

“We can still have a party,” he said. “But by then, everyone will know we’re not really engaged and it can just be a summer garden party. What do you think?”

Trudy beamed. “All right,” she said. “Let’s just say, for argument’s sake, that I will wear emerald green for our party.”

Potts beamed. Emerald green would go splendidly with her eyes.

“But we mustn’t forget, Potts,” she said, finding it easier than she’d imagined to use his name. “Our mission is to find a husband for Diana.”

“Well, Bill sent flowers. Must have a crush on her, but she doesn’t seem inclined to reciprocate.”

Trudy plucked at some black fur on her skirt and sprinkled it on the floor. It landed in her pink fluffy slippers.

“Would you have any objection to your daughter marrying a publican?”

“None at all,” he said, sitting back and placing his hands on his knees. “Matter of fact, I like the fellow. Has the look of a proper man, not one of these namby pamby new men one hears so much about.”

It was true. Bill White was a good-looking man. He looked the sort who in days of old would have had one hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to defend the honour of his lady.

“Are you all right, Trudy?” Potts said. “You’ve gone rather pink and your eyes are glimmering.”

“Just thinking,” she said. “So when is our party to be?”

“Last Saturday in August,” Potts said.

They’d decided before Diana’s untimely arrival, to throw a number of garden parties and barbecues throughout the summer and invite every eligible male in the district – and Diana too of course.

They’d be like the King and Queen of fairy tales, sizing up prospective husbands for the beautiful princess. Funnily enough, Bill White hadn’t even been on their list of possibles, but as Diana seemed to know him and he seemed to have taken to her, he’d gone to the top of the list.

The Colonel never did answer her question about tea, so Trudy took it upon herself to go out to the kitchen and put the kettle on. She knew he was partial to a cup of Earl Grey at eleven o’clock, but he’d have to make do with Typhoo at ten to.

“What do you think, Roger?” he asked, leaning forward to address the dozing dog in the armchair.

Roger half opened his eyes. Potts had always supposed that dogs thought rather a lot. They always seemed to him to be thinking and Labs tended to be more thoughtful than most.

Wellington seemed to have less than a dozen thoughts in his head. Most of them revolved around food. And he was awfully fond of Trudy.

The doorbell rang, Roger sat up and barked ferociously, then settled back down again, put his head on a cushion and went back to sleep.

“I’ll get it,” Potts called out.

He opened the door expecting to find every member of the ladies club huddled in the storm porch, but there was only Blinking, beaming all over his face and clutching a hymn book.

“Better get an extra cup, Trudy,” Potts called out. “Vicar’s here.”

“Diana said I’d find you here,” Blinking explained. “As you may know, I make it a rule to have a little pre-nuptial chat with my intendeds.”

He sat on Roger and was growled at before moving to the small sofa to sit beside Potts. It was a bit of a squash, but with a little manoeuvring, a few digs with elbows and numerous apologies the two men were wedged in.

“That black armchair,” Potts whispered. “A mistake with a black Labrador.”

“Mistake?” Trudy said as she came in with the tray. “It was no mistake. It doesn’t show the fur.”

“Doesn’t show Roger either,” Potts chuckled.

“Maybe if you wore your glasses . . .” Trudy began, then realised that they were already beginning to sound like an old married couple. Bickering good naturedly over trifles.

“Have you given any thought to hymns? Love Divine is always a popular choice for weddings,” Blinking said.

“We’re not planning to set a date yet,” Trudy gasped.

“We may decide on a long engagement,” Potts said.

“Very long,” Trudy muttered.

“I can’t tell you how excited the whole village is about your news,” Blinking said with a wholesome smile. “The Colonel and his cleaning lady. It’s like a fairy tale, don’t you think?”

Potts caught Trudy’s eye as he raised his cup to his lips. There was such a twinkle in them that it made her catch her breath. She’d always known he had a charming streak and she’d have had to go round with her eyes shut to miss the summer sky blue of his eyes, but now she was seeing him in a completely new light.

“Poor old Bernard isn’t so delighted though,” Blinking added thoughtfully. “I think he was hoping you’d be the sixth Mrs Chumley. You’ve broken his heart, Trudy.”

“Humph!” Potts snorted and added under his breath. “What heart?”

“Well I did nothing to encourage him, Vicar,” Trudy said. “Quite the opposite.”

“I’m afraid I must be making tracks. I promised Diana I’d go shopping with her this afternoon,” Potts said, struggling to unwedge himself from the tiny sofa. Reverend Blinking gave him a helpful push and he popped out of the seat like a cork from a bottle and didn’t stop until he hit the mantelpiece.

“I should go too,” Reverend Blinking announced, rising to his feet. “You haven’t forgotten the flowers for Julia’s wedding?”

Another lie. “Of course not.”

Five minutes after Reverend Blinking had gone a lorry pulled up outside.

Van Der Plonk flowers. Delivered fresh to your door from the nurseries in Holland. Fresh. That was the trouble. She’d completely forgotten about Julia’s aunt and her imagined allergies.

She raced outside as the delivery driver stepped from his cab. He was about seven feet tall, blonde and rather beautiful.

“Flowersh for Mishush Benshon,” he said with a sexy smile and an even sexier Dutch accent.

“Oh, yes,” she said, flustered. “Can you bring them through the house? As quick as you can – I don’t want anyone to see them.”

“Don’t you want to inshpect them before I unload?”

“No, no, that’s fine, they’ll be fine, they always are. Please hurry.”

Roger looked up when the tall stranger passed through the living room carrying box after box of flowers.

“Down boy,” Trudy said, but he’d already gone back to sleep.

Reggie Blinking couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw the Dutch flower lorry pulling away from Trudy’s house – especially as Julia’s Aunt Sandra was just staggering out of the Frog and Dumpling.

Her eyes like saucers, she watched the huge lorry rumble past.

“Atishooo!” she sneezed loudly.

Reggie had never heard such an artificial sounding sneeze, but it had been so violent, it sent Sandra into a perilous spin and she bounced between the wooden picnic tables on the pub forecourt like a ball in a pinball machine.

“Ka-ching,” Reggie thought as she bounced. “Ka-ching, ka-ching.”

He came to his senses in an instant and rushed over just as Bill White came out of the pub and grabbed Sandra, locking her in his arms to steady her.

“Come along, Sandra,” Reggie said, helping Bill to hold her upright. “Settle down.”

“Ooo,” Sandra giggled. “All these chaps after me. A girl might get the wrong idea.”

Reggie exchanged a look with Bill. Between them, they managed to sit her down on one of the benches.

“I’ve been celebrating,” Sandra cried happily.

“It’s a bit early in the day isn’t it?” Reggie said.

“Early?” Bill muttered. “This is left over from Julia’s hen party last night. I found her asleep under the pool table.”

“I’m not drunk,” Sandra said, raising her untidy head. “I’ve got the flu.”

“What shall we do with her, Bill?” Reggie asked. “We can’t just leave her here.”

“It’s all right, Reggie,” Bill sighed. “I’ll see she gets back to her sister’s safely.”

He helped her to her feet and set off down the road with Sandra clinging round his waist.

“You will behave yourself at Julia’s wedding won’t you?” he said as he propped her up in the Pollards’ front porch and rang the bell.