The Colonel and His Daughter (5 page)

“Come in, why don’t you?” she said with a seductive purr.

“Not today, thanks.”

“Don’t you fancy me?”

Bill looked at her. The glue on her false eyelashes had melted leaving one stuck to her cheek and the other dangling from her eyebrow.

“Doesn’t everyone?” he said diplomatically.

“Well, yes,” she smirked. “I suppose they do.”

There was only one woman Bill was interested in, and she didn’t want to know. But he wasn’t going to give up. Ever.

Diana looked at her father in the cream suit and dashed away a tear.

He looked so handsome, so proud and upright, yet at the same time slightly crumpled and a little fluffy round the edges.

“Don’t look that bad, do I?” Potts chuckled.

“You look lovely, Dad,” she said. Then she turned to the hovering shop assistant. “This is the one. We’ll take it, thank you.”

While her father went back into the fitting room, Diana delved in her bag for a tissue and blotted the puddles under her eyes.

It wasn’t just Dad. It was remembering the look on Bill’s face every time she knocked him back. She didn’t want to hurt him.

But perhaps it was just his pride that was wounded. They’d had a fling, that was all. A meaningless fling.

By the time her father emerged, Diana was struggling to control a fresh flood of tears.

“You’re an emotional old thing aren’t you,” Potts said, giving her a squeeze. “Just like your mother.”

She smiled through her tears.

“Come on,” she said. “I’ll treat you to a slap up lunch, then we’ll have ice creams in the park. What do you say?”

On the day of Julia’s wedding, Sandra arrived early at the church to inspect the flowers.

“I’ve got a terrible migraine,” she confided. “I’ve had it since Julia’s hen party.”

“Aw, poor thing,” Trudy said and held her breath as Sandra peered closely at one of the pew ends and buried her nose in a lily.

“They look and smell very real,” she said suspiciously. She twitched her nose, but no sneeze was forthcoming.

“Don’t they,” Trudy said proudly. “They can do such clever things these days with silk and cotton. And the fragrance seems so authentic, but there’s nothing natural in the scent. It’s all chemically reproduced.”

She crossed her fingers behind her back. Lies, lies and more lies and now she was doing it in church too.

Suddenly, Sandra began to bark loudly.

“Asthma,” she bellowed with lungs that sounded capable of powering a hot air balloon. “Asthma, asthma.”

“Yes, dear,” Trudy said. “Must be the dust.”

She had never heard such a fake cough in all her life. It sounded like the kind of cough a nine-year-old might produce to convince his parents he was too ill to go to school.

Trudy walked away and suddenly there was a groan. She turned round to see Sandra sinking into a pew with an agonised expression on her face

“Arthritis,” she said. “Arthritis.”

Now she’d started on her imagined diseases there’d be no stopping her. She’d ruin Julia’s wedding. She’d be bound to cough loudly during a quiet part of the service and when they all sat down after singing, she’d fall with a clatter into the pew.

She wouldn’t mind, but the woman was as fit as a proverbial fiddle. At the reception, she’d make a huge fuss about the food aggravating her ulcer or irritating her bowel, then she’d proceed to get drunk and hurl herself at every man in sight.

Trudy knew this because that’s exactly what Sandra did at the last funeral Trudy arranged two months ago.

“What can be done for me, Trudy?” she wailed. “I’m in constant agony and not one of my husbands or anyone else’s come to that, has ever understood me.”

“Come with me,” Trudy said. “I have an idea.”

Sandra, forgetting herself for a moment, leapt to her feet, then halfway down the aisle remembered her arthritis and began to limp.

Trudy’s blood boiled. Under normal circumstances, she would just feel irritated by Sandra, but with everything else she had to worry about . . .

She drew back a large tapestry to reveal a door.

“Through here, dear,” Trudy said kindly. “Into this little room here. You see it’s a secret room. People have hidden in here over the centuries safe in the knowledge that no one outside the room could hear them.”

She smiled sweetly as Sandra looked round, puzzled.

“Why are you showing me?” she snorted.

“Because this is where you will spend the day. There’s a comfortable chair and a tap for drinking water. You’ll be very snug in here and you won’t be able to spoil Julia’s wedding. You see?”

She stepped outside the room and closed the door, turning the key with a loud clunk. It was only as she dropped the key in her pocket that she remembered the crates of communion wine stored in the room.

CHAPTER THREE

“What have you done, Trudy?” Reverend Blinking gasped.

Trudy spun round guiltily. How could he know? Had he seen her lock Sandra in the secret room?

She collapsed into the nearest pew and took a deep breath, ready to make her confession and let the vicar deal with her how he thought best.

“The game’s up I’m afraid,” he said.

“What’s she been up to now?” Another voice chimed in. Trudy glanced up and saw Bill striding towards her.

“What do you think, Bill?” Blinking asked. “Is she guilty as charged?”

“I’d say so,” Bill grinned. “You are a little devil on the side, Trudy. What are we to do with you? And what will the Colonel say when he finds out?”

“The flowers look splendid. The best you’ve ever done. And so realistic . . .” Blinking said, spreading his hands and looking round the church.

He winked at her.

“I saw the lorry delivering to you, Trudy,” he added.

“But don’t worry,” Bill said. “Your secret is safe with us.”

“The flowers . . .” Trudy gasped. “You’re talking about the flowers?”

Reggie and Bill then left the church, laughing all over their faces.

Trudy tried to stand up, but her knees had turned to jelly and she sat back down again. Oh, if only they knew what she’d really done . . .

Sandra was the kind of person that no one would miss until afterwards, when they realised how pleasant the day had been, how smoothly it had gone and how there had been no nastiness to spoil the occasion.

Trudy stood up on wobbly legs, had one last look round the church and smiled. The flowers looked fantastic and the fragrance was beautiful.

She left the church and followed Bill over to the Frog and Dumpling. She’d decorated the function room in blue and gold, the theme colours for Julia’s wedding. Balloons floated above each table, tied down with lengths of blue and gold shimmering ribbon and in the corner, Maurice the Music was setting up his disco.

“You look lovely, as always, Trudy,” Bill said. “And you’ll make a beautiful bride.”

Bulls, horns and grasping, Trudy blurted, “Don’t you think Diana would be a beautiful bride too? Are you in love with her Bill?”

And to her amazement, his reply was as honest as her question.

“Yes. Very much.”

She had to blink back tears. Tears she must fight at all costs. She’d used her new lash lengthening mascara and it wasn’t waterproof.

“Don’t forget,” she said, back in control now. “To get the gateaux out of the fridge the minute the church bells start ringing. I want them cool, but not so cold they’ll put everyone’s teeth on edge.”

As was expected, at Julia’s wedding, Trudy sat with the Colonel and his daughter. Bernard sat in the row in front and kept casting evil looks over his shoulder at Potts then heaving huge heartbroken sighs every time he looked at Trudy.

But Trudy had more to worry about than Bernard.

She cast an anxious glance at the tapestry and wondered if it was true that the room was soundproof.

She hoped so, although it was too late to go back now. Kidnapping had been added to the list of her crimes.

The guilt she’d felt when she thought Blinking and Bill had found her out was just a taste of how she’d feel later on.

“You look wonderful,” Potts whispered as she tucked her arm through his and he patted her hand.

They were playing the part of two people in love and betrothed to perfection. It was a performance worthy of a BAFTA. Trudy even found herself gazing up into the Colonel’s vivid blue eyes with something close to adoration.

An act of course. A pretence. For Bernard’s benefit.

Wellington wearing a large blue bow and Roger sporting a gold one joined the three of them in the pew. Reverend Blinking was an animal loving vicar and often had services for the animals to which people were invited to bring their pets.

“Trudy,” Diana whispered. “Have you done anything about a new outfit for the party yet?”

Trudy flushed. “No, I . . .”

“Good. I found this fabulous little shop in town when I was there with Dad. We’ll go on Monday, okay?”

“No, really, I . . .”

“I won’t take no for an answer,” Diana grinned. “It’s not every day you get engaged.”

“Okay,” Trudy said with a weak smile.

Diana reached out and squeezed Trudy’s hand.

“I’m so excited for you,” she said and her eyes shone with genuine pleasure. It was going to be awfully difficult to tell her the truth when the time came.

But Bernard was watching and so Trudy smiled happily.

Would Diana be quite so pleased if she knew her father was planning to marry a criminal? She wondered if the Colonel would visit her in prison or whether he’d disown her. And if it was an open prison, would she be able to resist the urge to make a run for it?

More people arrived and the pews began to fill. Other guests came over to congratulate the Colonel and Trudy on their engagement and several to pat the dogs, both for once on their best behaviour.

The ‘groom and best man stood nervously at the front of the church and Trudy reflected that no matter how ungainly a man might normally look, put him in a wedding suit and he looked every bit as beautiful as the bride.

And Julia looked truly stunning when she walked down the aisle on her father’s arm. Trudy couldn’t help the tears then and when the Colonel took out a large clean white hanky and gently dabbed at her face, mindful not to smear the black streaks, she began to cry even harder.

At the reception, Trudy and the Colonel danced. He was quite a mover, she thought, little knowing that he was thinking exactly the same thing about her.

Bernard had too much to drink and tried to elbow his way in, but Potts told him quietly and firmly to sling his hook.

Wellington and Roger took up station beneath the buffet table and feasted on fallen bridge rolls, turkey vol au vents and pieces of quiche.

It had been a perfect day, Trudy reflected. The kind of day she didn’t want to end.

“Potts,” she said, cupping her hand around his ear so she could be heard above Lady Gaga. “I asked Bill outright and he admitted he’s in love with Diana.”

They both looked towards the bar where Bill was busy serving drinks. Then at Diana who sat quietly and oh so lonely all on her own at their table, her hand cupped idly round a glass of wine that she hadn’t even sipped.

“Do you think she loves him?” Trudy asked.

“I don’t know,” Potts said. “But if she does, then why is she so sad?”

Just after midnight the party broke up. Trudy waited until almost everyone had gone before fetching bin bags and starting to clear up. Bill came out to give her a hand, then Potts said he might as well muck in as well.

“It was a wonderful day, Trudy,” Julia’s mother said tearfully. “Thank you so much for organising everything so well. Strange though that Sandra didn’t put in an appearance,” she added with a twinkle in her eye.