The Reunion, page 19
“I believe you,” Tara said gently. She offered Posy a small smile and carried on with her work. But Posy still felt rotten. Although the cracks in Tara’s marriage had been long-forming, Ben’s affair with a much younger colleague had still been a nasty shock that had devastated Tara. The very idea Posy could have caused a similar kind of pain to a woman she didn’t even know was eating away at her and Posy desperately needed her best friend to understand how terrible that made her feel. Tara made some notes then turned back to Posy. “Has Henry offered any explanation as to why?”
“Just that he saw me that night and couldn’t resist. That he had no choice but to be with me.” Posy mimicked being sick. “As if flattery would get him out of it.”
“Pretty sure there’s no clause in the wedding vows that makes allowances for meeting irresistible hotties in bars,” Tara snarled.
“And it seems to me that the thing that really bothers Henry is not the fact I caught him in his lie, rather that I walked away from him, you know? Like, his pride is more important than the people he’s hurt.” Posy watched as Tara ran the tape down her legs.
“Oh, I get that,” Tara replied with a bitter laugh. “Ben was so shocked that I filed for divorce first and not him. I think he expected me to cling on until the bitter end, until he got the chance to bring the axe down. As if I was going to let him have that ego boost.”
“What a prick,” Posy said vehemently.
“Which one?” Tara quipped. “Seriously, if Henry were here now, God, I’d give him a piece of my mind. I’ve half a mind to call him and let rip.”
“Oh, Lucas has already done that,” Posy said with a chuckle.
“You can get dressed now,” Tara said. Then she started. “Wait, Lucas spoke to him? As in, the fake fiancé who bores you to tears?”
“Yes.” Posy pulled on her jeans. “It was really funny actually. He took my phone and pretended to be my new boyfriend, only, like a real tough guy. Told Henry I deserved better and to leave me alone.” Something softened within Posy as she recalled the way Lucas had thrown himself into the ruse, screwing up his face and swaggering like an actual hardman. It had been a true act of kindness on his part.
“Hmm.” Tara walked over to the mannequin where Posy’s charity shop dress was displayed and began pinning the hem. “Lucas intrigues me more and more.”
“Why do you say that?” Posy asked.
“Well, you claim to loathe the man and, believe me, I remember how you used to talk about him when you were head girl,” Tara said. “But since this marriage thing, I don’t know, you seem to be going a bit easier on him.”
“Easier?” Posy fiddled with the buttons on her silk blouse. “I mean, sure he’s grown up a bit since school. But he’s still an absolute square. So boring his fiancée left him.”
“I don’t know, pretending to be your new boyfriend to chase off Henry doesn’t sound boring to me,” Tara remarked. “Seems like Lucas maybe has a fun streak in him that you bring out.”
“Lucas? A fun streak?” Posy waved the suggestion off. “As if.”
“All I’m saying is, that was a nice thing for Lucas to do.” Tara finished pinning the dress and stood up straight. “For someone who’s supposed to be your mortal enemy, he showed himself to be a true friend. Is it possible you got him all wrong?”
Chapter Twenty-One
The roses really were struggling, Ms Hardstark fretted. She was in the top meadow of Arundel College’s acreage, the rolling hills of the Peaks surrounding her. A hundred yards away, the Year Ten group were engaged in a lively match of lacrosse, their shrieking voices filling the air and startling a meandering group of starlings that had chosen that moment to drift across the sky. As much as the display of teenage exuberance lifted Ms Hardstark’s heart, she was weighed down somewhat by the obvious signs of decay in front of her. Increasingly, the stems were darkening, the normally velvety petals struggling to retain their usual glory. Her mind flashed to that charming gentleman she’d met at Sumpter Hall. He’d know what steps to take here; there was no doubt the fellow was an expert. And, if she wasn’t mistaken, he’d welcome another rousing conversation with her about rose maintenance. Indeed, she couldn’t deny the thrill she got from the thought of engaging in such repartee again.
As her mind raced with ways she could get back in contact with Miles Purslow, Mrs Paddington appeared at her side.
“Morning,” the headmistress greeted her. “Glorious day, isn’t it?”
“Truly,” Ms Hardstark agreed. It was a quintessentially delightful English spring day.
The headmistress’s eyes narrowed. “These roses are a state; you should get the gardeners on this.”
Ms Hardstark gritted her teeth. “Believe me, I’m on the case.”
“And how are our lovebirds?” Mrs Paddington went on.
Ms Hardstark blinked. For some reason, Miles Purslow’s face drifted into her mind again. Then she realised Mrs Paddington was referring to Posy and Lucas and she batted the image of Miles away. “Apparently they have to go back to the venue tomorrow,” she said. “The proprietor wants to review decorations or something. I don’t even understand the point of it, to be honest. I think that Patricia woman just wants attention.”
Mrs Paddington sighed. “I had hoped the newsletter announcement would have stirred up some reaction amongst the Arundel community, that someone might have come forward with… oh, I don’t know, some little clue that could tell us what the hell is going on.”
“Give it time,” Ms Hardstark advised gently. “It’s not been long since we had this dropped on us.”
“Actually, it’s been two weeks,” Mrs Paddington barked, tapping her Prada boot against the ground. Ms Hardstark noted with irritation that the motion was disturbing the nearby rose bush, sending delicate petals to the soil. “I don’t care how irrelevant tomorrow’s appointment may be,” Mrs Paddington said. “Watch them like a hawk. I want to hear everything.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lucas pulled up to the Little Thicket Village Hall in the stinky Nissan. Nothing much had changed in the week since they’d visited. The village green was as tranquil as ever, a light breeze stirring the venerable willow trees that lined the edge. When Patricia had asked him and Posy to stop by for a quick meeting regarding details for the big day, Lucas had figured it wouldn’t hurt to put in a bit of effort to make sure things seemed legit. However, Hardstark had caught wind of the meeting and, naturally, she’d insisted upon attending. If he was honest, Lucas was glad of the distraction. Overnight, Lim Management had made a formal offer to buy up Align Management. The money being offered was substantial and if Lucas wished, he could also take a position as a very well-salaried employee at his pick of any of Lim’s international outposts. Singapore was being touted as a regional hub that could really benefit from his expertise. Lucas had to admit it was attractive. Fred was definitely tempted to take the money and run; after all, what was being offered would give him the ability to recuperate with no financial pressure. But at what cost? The loss of their vision, the ability to be their own boss, which had been the dream all along. The team at Lim was gracious enough to recognise the significance of the decision and had given them some time to consider, but not long. In fact, Lucas and Fred needed to submit their final response by the end of June – the day of the wedding. Lucas didn’t know which way to turn, but his mother felt very sure he should take the deal. All Lucas knew at this point was that he’d kill for a cold beer and the chance to forget the pressures of life for a few hours. But there was much to be done, so here he was.
As he got out of the car, he immediately recognised Hardstark’s Porsche and a shiny cherry-red Mini that had to be Posy’s. He wondered if he should run the Lim deal by her, see what she thought about it. He suspected she’d tell him go for it; after all, it involved travel and adventure as well as a great deal of money – things Posy was very familiar with.
With one last admiring glance at the Porsche, he headed into the hall. There in the hallway he saw Hardstark cornered by a talkative Patricia, who was bemoaning a cancellation of some event the day before or something. Hardstark looked at him hopefully, clearly anticipating he would save her from the onslaught of small talk, but Lucas merely gave her a cheerful wave and walked on to find Posy. She was in the hall, standing by the large windows and gazing out to the green. For a moment, he observed her. She was dressed in yet another Arundel-wife-approved ensemble: loose linen trousers and a neat twinset. That golden hair was piled in a chic knot, which expertly highlighted her sharp cheekbones and jaw. He thought back to their encounter at the pound shop and how it had felt to make her laugh in the depths of her sadness. It wasn’t the first time since that moment the memory had crossed his mind and he wasn’t sure why he kept dwelling on it.
“Hi,” he called.
“There you are.” Posy smiled.
Lucas walked over. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” she said. “Just the two calls today.”
“Glad to see he’s showing some restraint.” Lucas nodded his head towards the outside. “Saw your car. No bus today?”
“Ha!” Posy shuddered theatrically. “Flo used my car yesterday and kindly topped the tank up. Besides, no buses come out to the arse end of nowhere and let’s just say I wanted to make sure I could make a speedy exit if need be.”
“But what an arse end.” Lucas gestured to the view. “As arses go, it’s got some appeal.”
“You might say it’s growing on me,” Posy murmured, and her eyes met his as if challenging him to acknowledge her words.
“Excuse me?” Patricia interrupted them. “Sorry to intrude but I have an appointment in an hour, so I’d like to get started.”
“Sorry, of course.” Lucas greeted the woman. “Hi, Ms Hardstark.”
The teacher merely greeted him with a glare.
If Patricia noticed Hardstark’s animosity she didn’t show it. “Ms Hardstark here was just telling me about your minimal budget for decorations.”
“That’s right,” Lucas said. “We picked up some budget décor yesterday actually. Are there any restrictions on what we can use?” He hadn’t thought to ask, so busy was he revelling in his genius idea of how to decorate the place cheaply.
“Well, we can’t have anything nailed to the walls,” Patricia said. “No Blu Tack or Sellotape. No animals, live or otherwise.” Posy and Lucas exchanged a glance. “I must insist on no loud music after 10pm, should you be partying into the night.”
Lucas held up a hand, still reeling from the suggestion they’d bring live animals to their wedding. And who knew what the woman meant by otherwise? “Please don’t worry – we’re keeping it simple. We’ll have the ceremony, then we thought we’d order pizzas, have some beers and dancing. Make it a party.”
“Beers and…” Patricia’s eyes flickered. “Pizza?”
“I know it sounds super basic”—Posy was clearly unable to resist poking fun—”but this is Lucas’s vision. It’s what he wants.”
Lucas fixed her with a stare. “That and lots of babies, darling.” Then he turned back to Patricia. “And in terms of décor, it’ll be just as simple.”
“No chair covers?” Patricia said curiously.
“None,” Lucas said.
“What about a floor runner for the aisle?”
“Nope.”
“Not even… flowers?” Patricia visibly reeled when Lucas replied in the negative.
“What’s a wedding without flowers?” Hardstark demanded, and Lucas looked at the woman with surprise.
“I know,” Posy agreed, much to Lucas’s shock. “My mother loved flowers. Especially roses. You think that Mr Purslow up at Sumpter Hall is potty about roses? Mum would have given him a run for his money. She was obsessed! When I was born, she planted Golden Celebration along the wall of the house.”
“Your mother clearly had considerable skill.” An uncharacteristically soft smile transformed Hardstark’s face. “As well as taste.”
“Thanks,” Posy said uneasily. Lucas couldn’t blame her. Witnessing Hardstark talk with such compassion was unsettling – like watching someone sleeping with their eyes open or a dog walking backwards.
“The Golden Celebration is one of the most fragrant and beautiful roses you’ll ever see,” Hardstark went on, lacing her fingers across her middle. “But it needs a lot of space to grow and find its strength.”
Posy gulped. “My mother didn’t mind that,” she said in barely a whisper.
“Be that as it may”—Lucas wondered when hell had frozen over to permit Posy and Hardstark to bond over flowers—”we can’t fill the hall with roses. We have to keep it simple.”
“But you’ll at least have music?” Patricia said, looking like she might burst into tears if they didn’t.
“Oh yes. I’m building a cracking playlist.” Lucas lifted his phone.
Patricia regarded it as if it were a bomb about to go off. “No band?” she asked coolly.
“Nope, just good old Spotify,” Lucas said.
“Right.” Patricia nodded. “Fine. Okay. Well, you’d best check the sound system then. Come here.” She led them over to a corner where there was a rudimentary PA system with a few jacks. After faffing around with the cables, she found one compatible with Lucas’s phone and plugged it in. “My daughter’s really good with this,” she went on. “You can get her to coordinate the songs and press play when you need to. Simple, see?” She tapped at Lucas’s phone.
“Good to know,” Lucas said just as Bob Dylan’s lamentations on the loneliness of being a rolling stone blared out. “We just need to choose the song for Posy to walk down the aisle to and job done.”
“Nothing by Dylan, please,” Posy said.
“You aren’t a fan?” Lucas asked.
“Nah.” Posy grabbed the phone to scroll through his music. “I mean, he’s okay.”
“Bob Dylan is… okay?” Lucas could barely get the words out. “He’s the voice—”
“Of a generation, yeah.” Posy tutted. “Don’t get me started. But, oh—” She tapped at the screen. ‘Like a Rolling Stone’ ended abruptly and ‘Honey’ by The Jesus and Mary Chain started. “Now this, this is awesome.” She handed the phone back then reeled away, hands in the air as she swayed to the music. “How about this for the wedding?”
“A little… inappropriate, isn’t it?” Patricia was scandalised.
“It’s a classic!” Lucas and Posy chorused back at her, then looked at each other.
“Didn’t know you were into alt-rock,” Lucas said. For some reason he’d had visions of Posy enjoying trippy dance or pop.
“What, did you think I was about to break out a Britney Spears routine?” She giggled. “Do yourself a favour and get some Smashing Pumpkins or Pixies, then we can talk. But this?” She pointed to the speakers. “Total bop.”
Lucas watched Posy dreamily sway about to the kick-snare beat of the classic track. She closed her eyes, the troubles of the idiot ex seemingly far behind her. For a second it was as if all his cares fell away; there was only the music and Posy. Lucas envied her ability to throw herself into the moment, the ability to behave however she wanted as the mood struck. What would Lucas do, should he have such freedom?
“She moves beautifully,” Patricia remarked. “Is she a dancer?”
“I don’t think so,” Lucas said absently, lost in his observation. But then he became aware of a heavy presence at his elbow. It was Hardstark, her face ominous.
“Tell me,” she breathed. “How can a man not know his fiancée’s music taste? Or, if she’s ever been a dancer?”
“Um.” Lucas thought quickly. “It’s all kind of a whirlwind when you’re this in love.”
“Is that what you are?” Hardstark immediately asked. “Because I think you’re up to something with Arundel’s money.”
Lucas tried not to let his panic show. “Oh, yes, that massive sum of seven grand, watch how it changes our lives.” He affected an unconcerned eyeroll. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He walked over to Posy. “Shall we practise our first dance?” he asked loudly, so that Hardstark could hear. Posy took his hand with more than a little bewilderment.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Dancing with my wife-to-be,” he said, very aware that Hardstark was watching their every move. He led her several more feet away then put a hand around her waist, drawing her close. “Ready?” Beyond the open windows, the greenery of Yorkshire’s countryside billowed, the sweet scent of mown grass filling the air.
With a swallow, Posy nodded. Cymbals crashed, the Reid brothers’ husky voices chorused and Lucas began to move. His steps were tentative at first, the muscle memory rusty to say the least. To the side, to the right then a twirl.
“Since when did you learn to dance like this?” Posy was clearly impressed.
Lucas grimaced. “Sally made me take lessons for our wedding. It was about the only thing we managed to get done before… well, before it ended.”
“Sorry,” Posy cringed. “Didn’t want to stir up old memories.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “If I hadn’t taken them, I wouldn’t be able to do… this!” And without missing a beat, he dipped her into a low lean, and her hair toppled back to brush the floor. “Whoa.” Suddenly her face was inches from his, her vanilla perfume filling his head. Uncertain as to what he should do next, the mellow drumbeat of The Jesus and Mary Chain petered out and Chris Isaak’s plaintive guitar began.
“This is some dad vibes now,” Posy said, seemingly unaffected by their proximity. “Are you sure you made this playlist and not my pops?”
“What? This is a tune! World was on fire…” Grateful for her aloofness, Lucas righted her and sang along tunelessly.
“This is going to be a car crash of a first dance.” Posy winced. “Thank fuck it’s not the first song.”
“I have the voice of an angel, I’ll have you know,” Lucas said with a grin. He took her through a few more steps and Posy’s natural rhythm seemed to kick in. Their dance became fluid, relaxed. But Lucas couldn’t enjoy it. Hardstark’s expression of victory hadn’t diminished, despite his and Posy’s display. “Can’t believe we almost gave the game away over music, of all things.”
