It All Started With You, page 17
I nod. ‘One last chance – but only one.’
That evening, Julia calls. Giles died – peacefully and, as far as she could tell, without pain. If it was anyone else, I’d have dropped everything and gone rushing up there, but the sad fact is, there’s nothing I can do for her. There never has been. Perhaps now, she’ll start to work things out on her own. She surprises me though by ringing back the next day, to ask if I’ll do his funeral flowers.
‘Be careful,’ says Alice, when I tell her about Giles. ‘You can’t just prop her up because Giles has gone. You know what she’s like. She’ll hang around while it suits her. Just long enough so you think you have your mother back, then she’ll bugger off and forget about you.’
I know she’s right and I’m being careful not to invest too much emotionally. But we all make mistakes. Maybe we all deserve a second chance, too.
23
Sunday starts damp, but fortunately for the Briarwood open day, the clouds soon thin out and by mid-morning, the sky is blue and it’s hot again. Honey and I go over there early to help set up and in the van, I’ve taken some flowers that we can spare – just in case they can be used.
She’s been subdued since her date with Johnny. But as I keep reminding her, if she wants him back, she can’t give up. And it can’t get any worse – can it?
Meanwhile at Briarwood, there are awnings to put up, stalls to organise and I leave Honey in the tea tent with Lulubelle, while Cosmo and I sneak away for a quick row on the lake, where he tells me how one day he’ll sail across the ocean.
‘Wow. You’ll be famous,’ I tell him. ‘Maybe I should get your autograph now.’
‘Then in between sailing, I’ll come back here and help people,’ he says, looking pleased. ‘So they’ll see how it’s possible to get better.’
Swallowing the lump in my throat, there’s nothing I can say to that. As we walk back across the garden, I think how lovely it all looks. The flowerbeds, lovingly tended by volunteers, look sensational; the grass is newly mown and the early rainfall means the colours are vivid and refreshed. There’s bunting strung up between the trees and a little track marked out for novelty races. And, in no time, it’s filling up with people.
‘These look good,’ I say to Lulubelle. There are plates of home-made cakes set out and even Honey looks as though she’s enjoying herself.
‘You should get those flowers from the van,’ she says suddenly. ‘Don’t you think, Lulubelle? We could arrange them in that jug and put them on the side of the table. They’d look wonderful.’
‘That would be great, if you’re sure you can spare them?’
‘Of course!’ I take the jug from her and, back at my van, make a big display of lilies, grasses and daisies, with mint stuffed in here and there and carry it back to the tea tent, leaving it on one end of the table.
‘Perfect,’ says Honey firmly. ‘What did I tell you?’
I spend the next hour helping with the face-painting stall, creating tigers, zebras, clowns, fairies, whatever the children ask for. Once or twice across the grass, I catch sight of Alex and my heart somersaults – until I remember I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s here, because Jessie would no doubt have invited him. I haven’t seen her yet, but then she’s probably engaged in something worthy somewhere in the hospice.
After I’ve done my shift, I go to find Honey and treat myself to tea and a slice of a delicious chocolate cake. As I’m standing there scoffing, I’m approached by a very smart-looking woman.
‘Are you the florist?’ she barks in a loud voice. She’s wearing a polka-dot dress tightly cinched around her ample waist and a straw hat.
‘Who – er – me?’ I splutter just as Honey chips in.
‘Ah. Mrs Summersley. This is Frankie Valentine. Mrs Summersley’s daughter is getting married next summer and she’s looking for just this sort of thing.’ She nods towards the jug of flowers.
‘Quite,’ barks Mrs Summersley. ‘August the first, Roselin Castle. Do you know it? Perhaps you could give me a card.’
I fish around in all my pockets, but of course, I don’t have one.
‘Er, actually…’
‘Here.’ To my surprise Honey hands one over.
‘Thank you. I’ll be in touch.’
As she marches off leaving me standing there with my mouth open, I turn round and find myself face to face with Alex, whose face is completely unreadable.
‘There’s nowhere quite like a hospice fundraiser for doing business is there, Frankie? Excuse me…’ His voice is chilly, leaving me in no doubt yet again as to what he’s thinking – and with that he walks away.
It’s beyond unfair. This time, it doesn’t just sting, it really hurts. Shocked, I just stand staring at his back as he walks away, then I feel a small hand reach for mine. I look down at Cosmo, whose big blue eyes gaze beseechingly into mine.
‘Please will you take me on the boats again?’
I catch Lulubelle’s eye and she nods.
As we leave the tents and stalls behind us, I’m glad to escape. Right now, the simple world of a six-year-old boy is infinitely preferable to my own.
‘So, which boat this time?’ I ask him, already knowing the answer. ‘The blue one?’ I tease. ‘Oh, I know, it’s the green one! Your favourite!’
He pulls a face at me. ‘The yellow one, silly…’ He rolls his eyes, then, grabbing my hand, pulls me towards the lake.
But halfway across the garden, Lulubelle catches us up, an anxious look on her face.
‘Go on, I’ll catch you up,’ I tell Cosmo, watching his skinny little legs as he runs down the hill.
Lulubelle looks preoccupied. ‘Keep an eye on him, will you, Frankie? Only he seems just a touch under the weather. It’s probably nothing, but – well, just in case.’
‘He was fine earlier,’ I reassure her. ‘And very noisy.’
‘I know.’
‘Of course I will,’ I tell her, but as I peer into her eyes I see she’s really worried. ‘Don’t worry, Lulubelle – I’ll look after him.’
Screw Alex and his misconceptions. He’s a self-righteous, sanctimonious big-head and I don’t care a jot what he thinks about me. Anyway, I’m here for Lulubelle, not him. Forgetting about Alex, I catch up with Cosmo and we run down towards the lake. But suddenly he slows down and turns pale.
‘You all right, sweetie?’ Suddenly I’m filled with concern. A minute ago he was fine, and now he looks dreadful. Maybe this is what Lulubelle meant. But just as quickly he picks up again and the colour comes back to his cheeks.
‘I’m okay,’ he says brightly. ‘Look – that’s our boat!’
He points to the yellow one, which, right on cue, is just coming in and we sit on the bank and wait, until the guy on the jetty waves us over and carefully helps us in. He winks at me.
‘Been seeing quite a bit of you round here, young lady! Addictive, isn’t it?’ He pushes us away from the side.
‘It really is,’ I call as we drift off, realising it’s true.
Between us, Cosmo and I row to the other side of the lake, where the only sound is birdsong and the splashing of our oars in the water. After half an hour we head back to the jetty. Having taken a break from the tea tent, Lulubelle’s sitting on the bank watching us. As we clamber out, I take his hand, but as soon as we leave the jetty, he pulls free and runs over to the shore.
‘You know, he had a funny moment on the way down here.’ I sit down beside Lulubelle, while Cosmo hurls stones into the lake.
Her eyes widen. ‘What do you mean?’
‘He turned white as a sheet and went very quiet, but it passed. He seemed fine again. Otherwise I’d have come to find you.’
Her jaw tightens, then she swallows and it’s as though a cloud blocks out the sun. This can’t happen. It’s too cruel. Not on such a beautiful day. Not when he’s been given the all-clear, and he and Lulubelle have been so happy. ‘You don’t think…’ It comes out as a whisper. I can’t bring myself to ask the question. But I don’t need to.
‘I’ve seen this before, Frankie,’ she mutters. ‘I don’t think he’s right. I think it’s back.’ Her hands are clasped round her knees, her knuckles white and tensed. She’s seen enough illness to know what she’s talking about.
‘What will you do?’
She shrugs. ‘Keep watching him. Try not to let him see I’m worried. And if it happens again, it’s back to the hospital.’
The happiness of earlier has become a distant memory, and I reach for her hand because there’s nothing to say. We just sit watching him playing at the edge of the lake, but it’s like a cold hand grips my insides and twists them. In spite of the sun, I shiver.
‘You were right,’ Honey says that evening, bubbling over with enthusiasm. ‘I did love it there. I wasn’t at all sure about going. You know – I’m not good with kids – but I really enjoyed it. I’ve signed up too – to run the half-marathon for them.’
‘Wow! That’s fantastic of you!’ I high-five her. ‘This calls for a proper celebration.’
‘We could go for a run?’ Honey suggests, but even the new, healthy motivated me finds that a step too far.
‘I was thinking more along the lines of the pub.’
We end up compromising – a three-mile run and then the pub, only my first thought is to turn round and go straight back out again, because the first person I see in there is Jessie. It’s not that I don’t like her – I really do – just that everywhere she goes, Alex seems to go too, only as I glance around, tonight there’s no sign of him.
She waves at us to go and join her.
‘Wasn’t it great today?’ she says, her gorgeous eyes glowing, then she holds her hand out to Honey. ‘Hello – I saw you helping today, didn’t I? I’m Jessie.’
‘Jessie works at Briarwood,’ I explain. ‘And she’s not really of this world… She runs ultra-marathons, which are a mere seventy miles long across the Sahara and the Rockies and other exotic places – in a hundred degrees of heat. Honey’s running for Briarwood too!’ I tell her, as Honey stares back, shell-shocked.
‘It’s really not how you make it sound. I started just like you are – with a half-marathon for Briarwood,’ says Jessie. ‘And my friends tell me I have an unhealthy obsession. Ask any of them.’
‘Gosh. But at least it’s nobly unhealthy,’ I say. ‘They’re probably all jealous.’
Jessie laughs. ‘Honestly, Frankie? When I cancel dates because I’ve decided to pop an extra twenty miles on the end of my run, or I can’t fit into any of my nice shoes because my feet are so sore? It’s not unknown for me to go out to dinner in my trainers! I can’t wear sandals. I’ve got no toenails.’
‘Enough!’ I hold my hand up. ‘Okay, I agree, you’re mad.’
‘Now, you have to tell me – I’m dying to know. How do you know Alex?’ she asks.
‘He came into my shop to pick up wedding flowers. Two weeks running. And ended up coming back because I was the victim of a spurned boyfriend – well, not me, my flowers were.’
‘Oh…’ Enlightenment dawns on Jessie’s face. ‘That was you.’
‘You heard about it, did you? Then I suppose you heard also that he thinks I’m the most shallow, pointless person on the face of the earth.’
But she’s shaking her head and frowning. ‘I really don’t think he does.’
‘So how long have you known him?’ Expecting to get a blow-by-blow of their romance, which undoubtedly is made in heaven.
‘Forever,’ she says simply. See? I knew there was something between them. But I’m not expecting what she says next.
‘Alex is my brother.’
‘And there I was thinking,’ I tell Lulubelle, a few days later, ‘that Jessie was his girlfriend.’
‘I could have told you that,’ she says. ‘I’ve known Jessie for years. Well, the last four, at least – it just feels like much longer.’
Cosmo’s in bed and we’re drinking wine in her garden watching the sun go down.
‘How has he been?’ I’ve been worrying about him, ever since the fundraiser.
‘Okay, I think.’ She frowns slightly. ‘It hasn’t happened again, but you know me. I don’t take my eyes off him.’
Which is no different to any other day.
‘What was your life like before this started?’ I’m curious. Every time we talk she never mentions it.
She leans back in her chair. ‘Honestly? Very different to now. Very different.’ A faraway look comes into her eyes.
‘Did you work?’
‘Not really.’ She shakes her head. ‘Well, kind of. I messed about with friends on our guitars, that sort of thing. Wasted quite a few years, looking back. I was just thinking about going back to college when I got pregnant with Cosmo.’
‘Oh…’ I try to imagine what that was like. ‘Do you ever see his dad?’
‘Very rarely. He can’t handle Cosmo’s illness.’ She laughs, a brittle sound. ‘What kind of parent could even say that!’
‘You know, I wonder all the time how you do,’ I say softly. ‘Truly, I think you’re one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.’
Her cheeks take on a tinge of pink. ‘I’m really not, Frankie. But thank you. I’m just doing what any mother would. That’s all.’
‘I don’t know,’ I say slowly. ‘I don’t think all mothers, especially on their own, could stay so calm and strong and selfless. It can’t be easy.’
She’s silent, gazing ahead, into some distant place I can only guess at. ‘I’m blessed, Frankie. To have him at all. And he has this way of touching people. I’m sure you’ve noticed. They respond to him. Look at your friends and they’ve only just met him. Anyway.’ She tries to smile at me. ‘For now, he’s in remission and we have to make the most of every day.’
She’s right. It’s so easy to forget how precious each day is. But I realise too – not only is she living with his illness. She has this very real fear, that one day he’ll be taken from her.
24
Monday dawns, the start of Hindu wedding week, which is rather exciting. Plus Honey’s gone out to more meetings and Maria wants me to go and see her again, which honestly, in that incredible house of hers, is such a chore I can’t tell you.
‘Blimey,’ says Skye, staring at the glorious red, white and gold roses and carnations that have just come in. ‘I mean, they’re nice, but like imagine having the same flowers all the time… What if you like purple or something?’
‘It’s traditional,’ I remind her. ‘The colours are incredible.’
But even Mrs Orange seems less than impressed when she pops in early, on her way to Demelza’s
‘Got dark hair I hope,’ is all she says.
To which I reply truthfully, ‘As a matter of fact she has.’
‘Ttch, ttch,’ she says as she leaves, clearly not happy.
In the end, I leave Skye to deal with the flowers and drive over to see Maria, who opens her beautiful front door in rather a state.
‘Is everything all right?’ I ask, slightly alarmed and hoping she’s not about to cancel.
‘Oh, Frankie, I’m just a bit upset. Come on through. I’ll put the kettle on.’
I always imagined that the rich and famous like Maria and Pete would have servants to do all that sort of stuff, but she actually fills the kettle herself and switches it on before fetching two coffee mugs.
‘How do you like yours?’ she asks, while I hover around, feeling it should be me making coffee for her.
‘Black with one. Thank you.’
She brings them over and we sit at the enormous table, which is strewn with all this wedding paraphernalia.
‘I’m sorry about all this, Frankie. It’s Pete’s family again.’
‘Excuse me if this sounds rude,’ I say, frowning. ‘They’re accusing you of being a gold-digger – right? Only, it’s a bit bonkers isn’t it, because I can’t imagine you’re exactly poor yourself.’
She looks slightly shocked and I wonder if I’ve said too much. ‘And you must have loads of guys after you. Look at you – you’re beautiful and successful – and he’s a little bit older than you,’ I add, diplomatically. ‘If you didn’t really love him, you’d hardly be left on the shelf.’
To my relief, she giggles. ‘You’re right, aren’t you? I can’t tell you what a relief it is to hear someone say it like it is.’ She sighs. ‘Everyone pussyfoots around me, instead of saying, well, you’d hardly be marrying such an old guy if you didn’t love him.’
‘Sometimes straight talking’s quite helpful.’ I nod knowingly. ‘Maybe you should tell them, just like that.’
‘The trouble is it’s more complicated. You see, Pete has a daughter. She lives round here but refuses to even speak to him. It breaks his heart.’
‘So, why is she like that?’ I screw my face up. Pete would be a cool father from the little I’ve seen of him. And Maria’s really nice – so what’s the problem?
‘Apparently he was unfaithful to his first wife – quite a few times – he’s told me about it. He says it’s no more than he deserves, but it makes me so sad – because if she were to turn up on the day, it would make it perfect. For both of us.’
Seeing her lip wobbling, I reach out a hand to touch her arm. ‘There’s still time, Maria. She might yet come round.’
‘Sweet of you.’ Her dark eyes look huge. ‘I honestly don’t think she will.’
‘Look, from the outside, I’d say it’s her loss. You and Pete seem so happy together – you want her to share it and if she decides she can’t, well… You’re still going to have a great day and a wonderful life together… Talking of the great day, what did you want to talk about?’
She sighs. ‘You’re going to hate me too. Only I’ve gone full circle with ideas – that whole ivy and white roses thing is a bit try-hard, don’t you think?’
Alarm bells start going off. ‘Um, classic’s the word I’d probably use, but…’
‘Well, don’t tell Pete…’ Suddenly her eyes light up. ‘Look, he’s a rock star and this is a country wedding, not blinking Hollywood. So I had this idea about making it like a huge sort of festival – I’m thinking loads of colour, a massive disco ball in the marquee – I’ve changed that too, by the way! I didn’t tell you that bit! It’s one of those oversized teepees, with a fire pit and multicoloured fairy lights… What do you think?’
