The Vintage Ice Cream Van Road Trip (Cherry Pie Island - Book 2) (13 page)

‘Wilf…’ Holly turned to look at him, one brow arched and said, ‘I’m not moving to France.’

He scrunched up his nose. ‘Fair enough.’

They watched the terrible rowers until they crashed into the bank and Holly took a couple of steps down to help them push away. ‘
Parlez vous Anglais
?’ she asked and the two teenagers nodded.

‘You need to be more like this, with your hands…’ She did a demonstration from the bank and they both looked at her with big eyes and nodded. ‘If you do that you’ll be less…’ she made a movement to show that their wobbliness would reduce. ‘And you will get home faster,’ she smiled, nodding towards the boathouse over the other side of the reservoir.

‘
Ah oui!
Phew,’ One of them joked.

Holly smiled and gave their blades a push so they were cast off onto the water again from where they’d got stuck on the bank.

‘
Merci beaucoup
,’ they shouted in unison and started again, really focusing on what she’d said and setting off with almost perfect balance.

‘
Merci
!’ the boy at bow shouted and Holly did a little salute, then turned back to Wilf, climbing up the rocks to where he was sitting.

‘See, look, you could still coach…’ He shrugged.

‘Don’t even think about it!’ she said. ‘Wilf, we just don’t know each other well enough.’

Wilf rolled his eyes and did a really exaggerated sigh. ‘Of course we don’t! We’ve only just met. The whole thing is we get to know each other. That’s how friendships and relationships work. Holly, we’re stuck together now, whether you like it or not. I mean, what d’you want from me?’

She paused for a second, bit her lip and thought about what he’d said, then said, ‘For you not to think that you’re stuck with me.’

She smiled, did a little laugh and then, putting her hands in her pockets, started to wander away from him towards the car where her swimming costume was sitting in a hastily packed bag.

Wilf sighed again and Holly turned so she was walking backwards and said, ‘Let’s just forget about it all for now. Your mum’s getting married tomorrow, let’s just enjoy it. Look at the lake, it’s like a swimming pool it’s so blue. Let’s maybe just go swimming with Emily and Alfonso. Like we don’t have a care in the world.’

Wilf shook his head and was clearly about to say something more about their set-up but then he seemed to hear what she’d said and, instead of saying anything, just nodded, his face pulling into a resigned smile.

Holly turned so she was facing away from him, heading for the car, when she suddenly felt him scoop her up and start running with her to the water.

‘What are you doing? Wilf, what are you doing, put me down! I’ve got all my clothes on.’

‘So have I,’ he said.

‘And my phone in my pocket.’

He paused, ‘Chuck it out.’

‘Or put me down.’

‘You have five seconds.’

Holly scrabbled in her pocket and threw her phone onto the pebbles.

Next minute, they were both waist-deep in the water, fully clothed, the shock of the cool water making them gasp, Emily and Alfonso laughing, paddling over on their lilos.

‘You’re crazy!’ Holly shouted, slicking her hair back and flicking the water from her eyes.

‘There you go,’ said Wilf, lying on his back and floating away from her. ‘That’s one new thing you know about me.’

Chapter Twenty-Two

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

It’s literally like I’m reading a soap opera. I refresh my emails every spare second just to see if you’ve sent another one. I even contemplated allowing Push notifications.

Maybe you need a pro and con list? I’ll start you off:

Pro: he’s the baby’s father.

Con: he’s a well-known cad. (Cad. Do people say that? I’m struggling as the only other word I can come up with is playboy and that seems far too 80s)

Pro: he’s very, very handsome.

Con: he kissed you in the ice cream van. Oh no, silly me, that’s a pro.

Con: he keeps very fit on that lovely polo pony of his and wears cool polo outfits that are v. sexy… Oops, there I go again, mixing up the pros and cons. LOL.

Oh, actually, I’ve thought of a con. Jodhpurs. They’re not massively manly, are they?

I’ve just Googled them. More like tight white trousers which, in Wilf’s case, I’ll allow.

Send me some cons. I need convincing. CONvincing, get it?

So, Enid’s diary. I’ve searched the cafe. Even pulled up a loose floorboard and was certain it would be there but found zilch plus a big, dead, furry tarantula the size of a house. Horrible. Martha says that she remembers the diaries but doesn’t think she could bring herself to read them. Feels like snooping. I said that surely that was the reason people wrote diaries, no? So people read them once you were dead and thought what an interesting, deep, funny person you were. What’s the point otherwise?

She’s given me her key to the houseboat, but the plot thickens because Martha says that a woman called Jane Williams has already started sorting through the stuff for her. You prob know this, but I didn’t, so I don’t know if you do, but her and her mum lived on the boat next door and always kept an eye out for Enid. Jane’s mum though, really sadly, passed away last weekend. Martha said that it was probably a blessing because she’d been so ill for so long, but Jane’s started coming into the cafe and she didn’t look like it was a blessing. She looked exhausted and really skinny. I gave her a free slice of pie because I felt so sorry for her.

So I need to talk to her about what she’s already sorted through, but I don’t feel that I can do it so close to such a personal tragedy. Or maybe this is exactly the time to do it, maybe she wants something that will take her mind off it? Oh god, it’s so complicated. Maybe it’s a sign to leave the past buried.

I can imagine you rolling your eyes at the idea of a sign.

I think maybe that rowing boat crashing in front of you was a sign. ‘Coach us, Holly. Learn French and coach us.’

Hahahahahha. I’m imagining your eyes rolling again.

Mwah,

Annie

PS Make sure you look amazing for the wedding. Nick some make-up from Emily because I imagine that yours is prob from Boots (so is mine, so don’t take offence) and hers will be all her own brand which is about a hundred pounds a tube of mascara. If you’re lucky she’ll give you a load free.

PPS The whole River/ Clemmie debacle is a NIGHTMARE! How do you surround yourself with teenagers? They’re just one big ball of hormones. Clemmie was in here the other night as I was just closing, balling her eyes out. I told her that people just make mistakes sometimes. That it wasn’t a bad thing to forgive but, equally, if her instinct said otherwise, then to call it quits. She said that I sounded like the agony aunt on
This Morning
, which I don’t think is a compliment.

PPPS Goss on the Robinsons from the Manor House. I didn’t know you knew them. I’ve asked around a bit for you and apparently it was all really casually done on his part and came almost out the blue for her. He told her he liked the idea of being on his own. Apparently he said it over the morning papers ‒ just glanced up from the
Sunday Times
financial section. But that’s prob been embellished as word spread. He says she can either buy him out or the house has to go on the market, pronto. Of course she doesn’t have that kind of money so the For Sale sign is up. Fancy buying a manor house?

PPPPS About the allotment. It’s not as healthy as it was when you left. We had some quite warm weather and I accidentally might have forgotten to water it. Martha is very angry. Says that it was Enid’s pride and joy and I’ve let her down. Eek. Felt awful. You may have to come home just to perk up the sunflowers.

PPPPPS Apologies for all the PS’s on my emails. I add to them as I go through the day. x

Chapter Twenty-Three

The morning of the wedding was lovely. Diana and Jean-Paul had both been married enough times between them to have no interest in bad luck traditions, so they’d spent the night together and they’d all breakfasted together outside on the patio. The sky was a haze of cloud with feathery bands of sun across the horizon. Wilf had stood eating a croissant, wearing low-slung gingham pyjama bottoms and an old polo shirt, throwing a saliva-covered tennis ball for the dog. Emily, who had got sunburnt the day before when she was wearing a swimsuit with millions of thin spaghetti straps, was trying to work out how to make the pattern on her skin work with the backless, strapless cream silk bridesmaid dress she’d picked as the best of her three fairly hideous purchases.

Holly was eating crusty baguette with fig jam, drinking freshly squeezed orange juice and piping-hot coffee, listening as they discussed the plans for the day while surreptitiously trying to watch Wilf.

Emily, Holly and Diana went upstairs to get ready at about eleven o’clock. Wilf, Alfonso and Jean-Paul sat in the garden smoking cigars while the dog panted in the shade.

When Holly slipped her petrol-sheened dress on over her head and stood in front of the mirror in her white,
Country Living
-esque bedroom, she barely recognised herself. She was lightly golden from her day in the sun yesterday, her nose speckled with freckles, the red in her hair glinting, her eyes bright in the sharp sunlight. The dress was draped, languid and effortless, like it didn’t even need to try, it knew it was so stunning. Holly did a couple of turns this way and that, suddenly a bit nervous about wearing it, contemplating changing to the black. Was it too much?

‘Bloody hell!’ Emily was standing in the doorway. ‘Will you look at that? Finally we see what she’s made of,’ she said with a husky laugh.

‘You think it’s OK?’ said Holly.

‘I know it’s OK.’ Emily came in and lifted one of the gauzy layers, the beads rippling in the sunlight. ‘It’s gorgeous. I’m jealous!’ Then she narrowed her eyes slightly. ‘Did Wilf buy it for you?’

Holly didn’t answer, scowled instead at her reflection.

‘He did, didn’t he? Wow. That’s very interesting.’ She caught Holly’s eye in the mirror and Holly narrowed her eyes back at her. ‘Let me go and get my make-up bag. You make my hair look as nice as yours, I’ll make you look even more goddamn awesome.’

Holly sat on the bed and Emily sat on a stool opposite her, dabbing foundation on over a dewy primer.

‘How’s work going?’ Holly asked, fiddling with a tub of blusher that had Emily’s EHB logo scrolled across the black box in gold.

‘Yeah it’s alright. Busy,’ Emily said, her tone a bit flatter than normal.

‘You not enjoying it?’

‘No it’s not that, I think maybe it’s not enough any more. I think maybe I’m beginning to believe all my terrible press. I’ll always be that girl. The icon for single women everywhere,’ she laughed, then sat back and searched through her bag for a loose powder and brush. ‘Which don’t get me wrong, is not a bad thing. I suppose it’s just been really lovely to see you and Annie and see what you’ve done with your lives and how you’re moving on. I don’t know, I suppose it was a bit of a shock. Made me wonder if maybe I’m a little bit lonely. God, even Wilf’s about to be a father,’ she laughed.

‘But you have a really exciting life.’

‘Not really. It’s all show. And, Christ, they’re right - no one I know has a relationship longer than a fortnight. Wilf’s testament to that. Sorry, I know you and him—’

‘Nothing’s going to happen with Wilf, Em.’

Emily opened a pot of liquid eyeliner and dabbed it with a brush. ‘I’ll reserve judgement on that. Anyway, I’m moaning which is a very dull trait. I probably just need a bit of change. Now, don’t speak or your flicks will be wonky.’

‘I’ve never been able to do eyeliner,’ Holly said.

‘Aim for the end of the brow. Now I told you not to speak.’

Holly sat silently, watching Emily as she worked her magic. Intrigued that she’d said what she’d said, Emily ‒ the life and soul of the party ‒ who never tired and never complained and always saw the positive. When it was done and she moved on to the mascara and then rummaged for a lip-liner, Holly said, ‘You know your old house is for sale?’

Emily stopped what she was doing, ‘The manor?’ she asked.

‘Yeah. Why? Are you interested?’

She paused.

‘Emily?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ She sat back on her stool. ‘I loved that house.’

‘Do you think you can afford it?’

‘Depends how much it is. Maybe. Just about.’ She rolled her lips together and looked away distracted.

‘Em?’ Holly asked. ‘Are you serious?’

‘I don’t know. Open your mouth, I’ve got to do your lips,’ she leant forward and started applying the liner. ‘Maybe it’s time I thought about settling down.’

Holly guffawed and the lip-liner shot up her cheek. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’

‘I could settle down,’ Emily said, affronted. ‘I think I’d be very good at settling down.’

Holly tried to hold in her smile, ‘If you say so, Em.’

Chapter Twenty-Four

As they walked up the path to the church, there was a crowd already waiting. Diana had said that most of the village would be there and she hadn’t been kidding. The noise they generated was so loud Holly felt she could almost see it ‒ like a big yellow cloud of chatter above them. Some people were all dressed up, but there were men there in old trousers and darned waistcoats. There was one quite grand old lady who seemed to be wearing her own wedding dress and another next to her in a huge great hat covered almost completely with flowers. A number of the women had bought fans and they were flapping away with them while gesticulating about the heat.

Inside the church though, it was cool. Holly got goose bumps on her arms. Jean-Paul at the front was looking a touch grey while the organist didn’t seem to have a care for which note was which.

Holly had left Emily and Diana at the steps of the little church and gone to sit at the front on her own. She hadn’t seen Wilf yet, but when the organist changed tunes, Alfonso clipped down the aisle and slid into the pew next to her.

‘Is it starting?’ Holly asked.

‘Yep,’ he said, looking her up and down and tilting his head in appreciation.