A Little in Love, page 6
‘Really, you two.’ Rose shook her head in disbelief and poured herself a cup of tea from the pot. No matter what time of day it was, there always seemed to be tea in the pot, kept warm by one of her nan’s hand-knitted tea cosies. The current one in use was designed like a strawberry, red with black stitches for seeds, complete with green leaves and a stalk on the top. Her nan had even knitted matching egg cosies and little covers for the sugar bowl and milk jug.
‘What sort of parents would we be if we didn’t introduce ourselves?’ Rose could tell her dad was enjoying himself.
‘The sort of parents that realize this is only the fourth time I’ve met him, and it is not the time for you to be meeting him.’ Rose started checking she had everything in her bag: diary, pen, business cards, hairbrush – all there. She’d thoroughly examined the bike and baskets the night before. ‘In fact, it’s not even a date. He’s just taking me to the fayre because we happen to be going there at the same time.’
Her mum and dad looked at each other knowingly and Rose shook her head again.
‘I think I hear an engine.’ Her dad was out of the back door and through the gate before Rose had even put her cup down. ‘He’s here!’ he shouted at the top of his voice, and Rose wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole.
CHAPTER 8
‘I’m so sorry about my dad.’ Rose was sitting in the passenger seat of the van, James in the driving seat. It was an exact replica of the green and gold van he had driven to the fayre at Weddington Hall, just on a slightly larger scale.
‘He was cool,’ James said with a little laugh. ‘And your mum’s biscuits are to die for.’
John had explained to James all about her bike and how they’d made the trailer into the wicker basket and all the finer details of the design as they’d both wheeled and lifted the bike into the back of the van. James had secured it with a couple of tow ropes, so it wouldn’t slip and slide around too much during the journey.
Upon seeing all the flowers in the van, John had proceeded to quiz James about the latest trends and prices, and made him promise to come to tea one day to discuss a possible contract for supplying the church.
Then Janet had insisted on them having a cup of tea before they left, but James had graciously declined, claiming they didn’t have the time, and had instead been plied with home-made shortbread biscuits and given a box to take home.
‘As soon as Dad heard the engine, he was out before I could stop him.’ She smiled, slightly embarrassed by her parents’ behaviour and by what this city boy would think.
‘They’re only looking out for you.’ And she knew this was true. ‘My mum would be the same.’ He paused for a second. ‘Not my dad though.’ Rose sensed he wanted to say more but didn’t push him. ‘Here we are then.’
After signalling right and checking his blind spot, James pulled into a layby on the opposite side of the road. A hand-painted sandwich board announced the presence of The Copper Kettle, but so far Rose couldn’t actually see the café.
James opened the door and helped her step down out of the van, holding on to her hand for slightly longer than was necessary. She followed him in the direction that the sign was pointing, even though it seemed to lead through a hedge.
‘Are you sure it’s even here?’ Rose asked, detangling herself from a stray branch.
‘Don’t worry, it’s here.’
And there it was.
Nestled between hedges sat a dark blue and red static caravan. The front opened onto decking that spread around one side, and neatly laid tables and chairs sat evenly placed under parasols. ‘The Copper Kettle’ was written in elegant red script and a chalk board menu displayed the day’s dishes.
‘Well, I wasn’t expecting that.’ The dirty, hand-painted sign on the road bore no resemblance to the exceptionally clean, upmarket café that stood in front of her.
‘Betty likes to keep her regulars – new customers rarely stop when they see the sign outside, especially as there’s no sign of an actual café.’ He laughed. ‘There she is now.’ He waved as a middle-aged woman stepped out of the caravan, precariously balancing plates in her hands and on her arms. Once these were deposited on their respective tables, she turned to James and ushered him over with a smile.
‘Where have you been, my lad?’ She pulled him in for a hug. ‘It’s been ages since you’ve been to see old Betty.’ She pushed an escaping wisp of grey hair back under her cap. ‘Now then’ – she turned to Rose – ‘who’s this little beauty with you?’
‘Betty, this is Rose,’ James said. ‘Rose, this is Betty.’
‘Well, it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you.’ Betty grabbed one of James’s hands and one of Rose’s, clasped them together in hers and pulled them along the decking towards the very back. ‘This is my best table, away from all the hustle and bustle.’
Rose looked around and had to agree. The table was situated right in the back corner, against the wooden spindle railings that ran around the entire length of the decking. But because it was in a corner, it felt much more secluded than the other tables, and it had a lovely view over the farmland.
‘I’ll give you both a minute to have a look at the menu, but can I get you a drink? Tea? Coffee?’ Betty pulled a pencil from behind her ear and a notepad from out of her apron pocket.
‘Tea for me, please,’ Rose said, and James asked for a latte.
‘I’ll send my Sam out with them in a minute and then come and get your orders.’ She bustled away, making sure her other guests were happy as she did. James explained that Sam was her grandson.
‘She doesn’t look old enough to have a grandson,’ Rose remarked.
‘He’s only fifteen but helps his nan out at weekends and holidays.’ James handed her a menu. ‘I know exactly what I’m having.’ He pointed to the first thing.
‘Betty’s Belly Buster!’ Rose read.
‘Oh, yes.’ He leaned back in his chair and patted his non-existent stomach. ‘You don’t get a physique like mine eating salad, you know.’
‘One tea, one latte.’ A gangly lad interrupted Rose’s thoughts about James’s physique and placed a tall glass mug in front of James and a tea tray in front of Rose, complete with a second tea pot.
‘I do love it when you get a second pot.’ Rose tapped the taller of the two pots as Sam walked away. ‘You always need a little more water to make that third cup, you know?’
‘Is that other pot just filled with water then?’ He lifted the lid. ‘Never knew that.’
‘How can you not know that?’ She was busy pouring a small amount of milk from the tiny white jug into her cup.
‘I don’t really drink tea.’ He added three heaped teaspoons of sugar to his mug and stirred it vigorously, the coffee and hot milk mixing instantly.
‘Surely you’ve been out with someone who does, though?’ Didn’t everyone know about the hot water pot?
‘My mum drinks tea.’ He took a sip of his latte. ‘But she doesn’t really go out a lot.’
Again, Rose had the impression that there was more to this than James was saying, but she didn’t press him and was glad when Betty came back to take their order.
‘You know what I’ll be ordering, Betty,’ James said with a cheesy grin. ‘I could eat a horse, and we’ve got a busy day ahead of us.’
‘One Betty’s Belly Buster.’ Rose saw her write BBB on her pad. ‘You off to the fayre at Haggerston then? Looks like it’s going to be a good weekend for it too. Lots of sunshine, so it will be busy. I’ll make you up some sandwiches to take with you. You’ll probably be rushed off your feet.’ She turned to Rose, her pencil poised. ‘And what can I get you, my sweet?’
‘I’ll have the same, please.’ She ignored the look of approving surprise on James’s face.
‘A girl after my own heart.’ Betty smiled at her. ‘I’ll go pop that little lot on the griddle for you.’
‘You’ll never eat it all,’ James said when Betty had gone.
‘You have an incredibly low opinion of me, don’t you?’ She poured tea into her cup, slowly and deliberately.
‘Actually’ – he picked up his mug again and looked over the rim at her – ‘I have a rather high opinion of you.’
Rose tried hard not to blush. ‘What do you bet me?’
‘A kiss.’ He spoke matter-of-factly. ‘If you don’t finish it all, then I can kiss you.’ This statement was accompanied by raised eyebrows. ‘But if you do finish it all, then you can kiss me.’
She laughed. ‘That’s the same thing.’
‘Oh, but they aren’t.’ He put down his mug and leaned over towards her. ‘If you kiss me, I suspect it will be a peck on the cheek, perhaps the lips if I’m lucky.’ He stroked the back of one of her hands gently. ‘But if I kiss you…’ He paused. ‘Then I would most definitely kiss you on the lips. Softly at first, like butterfly’s wings, then ever so slightly increasing the pressure until…’
Rose wasn’t aware when he stopped talking. She also wasn’t aware that her mouth was wide open in anticipation, her whole body tingling.
‘Yes… well.’ She tried to compose herself. ‘We’ll leave the kissing for another time, shall we?’
‘Oh, we will.’ He sat back in his seat. ‘We definitely will.’
* * *
‘I don’t think I’ll get my apron around my stomach.’ They were back in the van and almost at Haggerston Hall. ‘I’ve never eaten so much in my entire life.’
‘I swear it was bigger than I remember.’ James had had to undo his belt when he got in the van, claiming the buckle had always been too tight, but Rose knew it was because he was as stuffed as she was. ‘Betty definitely put more on it. Five of everything! Who can eat five of everything?’
‘I’m sure the picture was of three.’ Rose pulled a bottle of water out of her bag and took a sip. ‘And fried bread and toast definitely weren’t in the description.’
Rose’s eyes had widened when Sam delivered platters of food, accompanied by five rounds of toast, with each and every flavour of jam and marmalade imaginable.
‘Did you see the looks we were getting from those three workmen?’ James laughed. ‘They kept glancing at ours then looking at theirs and counting.’
‘I don’t think we’ll be needing these sandwiches either.’ Rose patted the neatly packed brown paper bags. ‘In fact, I don’t think I’ll be eating for a week.’ She rubbed her tummy and groaned. ‘Oh, it hurts so much.’
‘You’ll be okay when you’re up and about.’ He started to slow down. ‘Nearly there, look.’ He pointed in front. ‘Always a queue to get in.’
They stopped behind a longish line of assorted vehicles, moving slowly but steadily towards the entrance. Rose could see Haggerston Hall in the distance and was once again thankful to live in an area with such wonderful history and historical houses. It was obviously what had drawn the Hollywood filmmakers here. Although the film wasn’t strictly historical, it had time-slip elements to it with the main character travelling between various points in history where she met the male lead each time until, eventually, they fell in love in the present day.
Rose sent a quick text to her parents to tell them that they had arrived and were just waiting to get in. Even now, they worried about her. In fact, her mum had told her one day that it wouldn’t matter how old she was, she would always worry about her.
Have a lovely day with James xx, was her mum’s reply, which Rose ignored completely. She put her phone away and vowed not to tell her mum and dad anything about her life ever again.
‘You have got to be kidding me.’ They were driving towards the hall now, and Rose felt James stiffen. ‘I told him I didn’t need any help. When will he ever listen to me?’
She couldn’t work out what, or whom, James was talking about. Clearly, he had spotted something she hadn’t. All she could see was the Georgian hall on the left and the rumps of two white horses inside a horse trailer in front of them.
James parked the van on the left-hand side of the horse trailer and got out without a word, slamming the van door. Rose grabbed her bag, stepped gingerly out onto the gravel and felt her stomach shift downwards slightly, just like James had said it would.
She headed to the back of the van and was starting to unload her bike when she heard raised voices.
‘When are you going to accept that Grandpa has given the business to me, not you?’ It was James.
‘Don’t raise your voice with me,’ came the reply.
Rose judged that the voices were just on the other side of the van.
‘I’ll bloody well raise my voice whenever I bloody well want to. It’s been six months since Grandpa retired, and he made it perfectly clear you weren’t to have anything to do with the business.’
‘Well, Dad has said otherwise.’ The other voice sounded cocky. ‘And as he owns thirty percent now, he overrules you.’
‘He may overrule me,’ James said, ‘but I overrule you.’
The sound of angry footsteps made Rose jump and she quickly climbed into the van so James wouldn’t know she’d been eavesdropping. In her hurry, she tripped over some rather long boxes, which toppled and spilled lilies onto the floor of the van.
‘You’ll need to undo those first, you know?’ Rose was trying to move the bike and its trailer, completely forgetting the ropes that were tying it down.
‘Well, you put them there,’ she retorted, annoyed that she always seemed to make herself look stupid in front of James. ‘I’m afraid some of the flowers have got a little damaged.’
‘Oh, I’m sure James and his magic fingers will sort those.’ Rose’s head snapped around.
‘What do you mean?’ And there in the doorway was James – except it wasn’t James. ‘Who on earth are you?’
CHAPTER 9
‘Peter Blume.’ He held out a hand. ‘An absolute pleasure to meet you.’
‘Rose.’ She shook his hand, somewhat in shock.
‘Oh, I know who you are.’ He winked.
‘Well, you have me at a disadvantage then, because apart from the obvious fact that you’re related to James, I have absolutely no idea who you are.’ Peter was the spitting image of James, except his hair was quiffed to the other side and he had a slightly cruel twist to his mouth.
‘Let’s just say James has told me all about you and your quaint little business.’ Rose hadn’t particularly liked James when she’d first met him, but with Peter, she felt an instant hatred.
‘I see you’ve met my brother.’ James had appeared at the back of the van. Rose noticed he looked rather flustered.
‘Come now, James.’ Peter threw an arm around his brother’s shoulders. ‘We are much more than just brothers.’ He placed his face right next to James’s. ‘We’re identical twins!’
‘I think Rose has probably worked that out for herself.’ He gently dislodged himself from his brother’s grasp. ‘No!’ He let out a cry. ‘What happened to the lilies?’ He started picking them up one by one and examining each one to see what could be saved.
‘My fault, I’m afraid,’ Rose confessed. ‘I’ll pay for any damage.’
‘I’m not worried about that.’ James had so far salvaged about five and thrown ten. ‘I’m just not sure I’ll have enough to make the bouquets.’
‘Stop fretting, James.’ Peter started looking through the other boxes. ‘Just use the carnations.’
‘This is why Grandpa doesn’t want you anywhere near the business.’ He closed the lid on the box Peter had opened. ‘You have absolutely no bloody idea about flowers and arrangements.’
‘Just because you have fancy floristry qualifications and go on courses doesn’t mean you know everything.’ Peter made a face at James as though he was five years old.
‘I don’t claim to know everything.’ James had started to undo the ropes on Rose’s bike, but he’d not taken his eyes off Peter for even a second. ‘But I know a hell of a lot more than you with your degree in dropping out.’
Rose swallowed, hoping that James didn’t share the same animosity for all university drop-outs.
‘Well, I’ll just go and register,’ Rose said, making a quick exit as soon as her bike was free and out on the ground. She left it parked next to the van, but out of the way of anyone else, and headed off to the entrance.
‘Oh wow.’ Rose had forgotten how magnificent the hall was. It had been years since she’d visited. She walked along the marble floor, today covered with a deep red carpet. She passed the marble staircase, roped off for the day, and symmetrical, pillar-framed doors until she came to the double doors she knew led to the ballroom.
It was a hive of activity. The original floor was protected by modern day floorboards lain over the top, and tables sat in between alabaster pillars that ran from floor to ceiling. My goodness the ceiling. Rose had no idea if it was typical of the Georgian period, or whether the original Lord Haggerston had just liked it, but the ceiling was painted with clouds and cherubs and beautiful angels.
Rose was so busy looking up that she walked straight into the back of a gentleman dressed in a dark grey suit. ‘I am so sorry!’ When he turned around, she noticed he was carrying a rather large folder and a pen and had Haggerston Hall embroidered on his blazer.
‘No worries,’ he said, waving her apology away. ‘I quite often do that myself, you know. Been here fifteen years and I’m still in awe of the place.’
‘I used to come here with my parents all the time, but I’d forgotten how beautiful it is.’
‘Thank you.’ The man seemed to take the compliment personally, and Rose could tell he took great pride in his place of work. ‘I presume you’re a stallholder?’ He opened up his folder. ‘What’s the name of your business?’
‘Pedals and Prosecco.’
‘Pedals and Prosecco,’ he repeated slowly, dragging a finger down the list. ‘Here you are. Right at the bottom.’ Rose resisted the urge to raise her eyebrows. ‘We’ve put you outside under the pavilion. There are a few others out there with you, so you won’t be lonely.’ He took her to the large sash windows that ran along one side of the room and pointed to the large metal gazebo festooned with ivy and honeysuckle. ‘Just head back outside and round to the left.’
