‘What?’ I shriek.
‘You’re making it sound worse than it is,’ Billy’s muffled voice shouts in the background.
‘Wait until Mum wakes up and then tell me that,’ says Jenny with a sternness in her voice that I’ve never heard before. ‘We didn’t know what you’d taken, I think we were right to be cautious.’
Billy’s groan tells me he’s probably dreading her reaction more than mine.
‘Sorry, Sophie,’ Jenny says softly into the phone. ‘I just want you to know from someone who was actually there and with Billy all night that he definitely had his drink spiked. Don’t read any of the crap being written, and try not to worry.’
‘Right …’ I reply, not really knowing how to absorb the information.
‘James was beside himself last night. He couldn’t believe someone had got that close to Billy without him realizing something was up,’ she continues, offering more of an insight into the night. ‘The security guards at the club didn’t quite share the same level of distress, though. My guess is that the owner wanted to put his club on the map as the go-to place.’
‘By drugging Billy?’ I ask.
‘We’d never be able to prove it, but yes,’ confirms Jenny, in a matter-of-fact tone.
‘Jesus!’
‘Can I speak to her now?’ Billy asks, sounding agitated as I hear a kerfuffle as the phone is passed between them. ‘One night out the whole time I’m here and this happens. Safe to say I’m ready to live life as a hermit and never go anywhere new ever again.’
‘When Mum and Rhonda get hold of you I think that decision might be taken out of your hands, anyway,’ Jenny warns.
Once more Billy groans in despair.
We speak a little while longer, or, more accurately, he continues to grovel for another five minutes before we say our goodbyes and I wish him luck with having to face the other women in his life. When he’s gone I look at the blank screen in my hands.
My head isn’t flooded with thoughts. Instead it’s numb. I can’t be angry at Billy when it’s clear he hasn’t actually done anything wrong. He’s obviously been the target of someone else’s wrongdoings. Yet, once again, I’m faced with the realization of how different our worlds are. After all, I don’t see any of my elderly customers slipping me something dodgy in the hope of a bit of extra gossip to spread around the village …
The whole thing is just so far removed from who I am as a person and the life I crave living. I have simple desires, quiet needs and humble ambitions. No less important or significant than anyone else’s, but certainly I want a life that doesn’t involve dramatics or people putting others in danger for the sake of publicity.
I want a life of normality.
I want to be free.
PART FOUR
* * *
34
Somehow I manage to put the whole ordeal behind me and focus once again on the here and now. For the time being at least. Luckily, the following month speeds along, thanks to the shop being busy with orders and a constant stream of afternoon tea sittings, and also with all the wedding prep for Mum and Colin. We’d all agreed that we wouldn’t go overboard with the planning and that the key element of the day was for it to be understated and relaxed, but, just like with the dress, excitement has got the better of us. We’ve been making heaps of decorations together at home – which has reminded us of last December when Colin had us all doing the same thing but without us knowing it was for him to propose to Mum in the magical setting of the shop.
It’s nice being properly involved and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed helping them both plan and come up with ideas (whilst trying not to take over). And we’ve really done our research and thought about what might work with such a short amount of time to organize, because time is something we really haven’t had. It’s a good job we’re all hard workers.
After scouring our way through a dozen bridal magazines we decided to continue with the theme that Colin set up back in December, minus the Christmas paraphernalia. The idea is that we will bring the outdoors indoors with festoon lighting, flowers placed in jars or mismatched teacups (something we have plenty of) and a variety of homemade signs, banners and culinary delights for people to feast on. Still sticking to the premise of nothing being too fancy, perfect or professional looking. Nothing slick and exact, instead we’re all about things looking a little drunk and skew-whiff.
Even though neither of us is highly skilled in floristry, Mum and I decide to tackle the flower arranging ourselves as our vision of them coming out of jugs, cups, jars and watering cans is quite simple in theory (it’s just like plonking them in a vase at home, just done with a bit more flair … we hope!). We’ve practised a few times and have been happy with the results, so the last thing we’ll do before going home today is collect the bunches of more wild-looking flowers like spray roses, hydrangeas, freesias, wax buds, tulips and crabapple blossom and place them delicately in their scattered homes around the room.
When we were in the florist choosing flowers a couple of weeks ago I was surprised when an old thought and dream was reignited. Years ago, on our first official date, I’d mentioned to Billy how I’d love to incorporate flowers in the shop somehow, and maybe hold weekly flower arranging classes with the locals one evening a week. I love flowers – always have since being a bucket girl in that very same florists on a Saturday during my teens – I still remember all their pretty names – and I really enjoy creating things with my hands, so it’s definitely something I want to think about some more after the wedding. In fact, it’s probably even more of an attainable idea now, thanks to me taking over the flat upstairs. I know it’s my home and should be kept separate, but it’s great to know I have a little more space on the premises to play with if I want to.
Not that I’ve moved yet.
The tenants have moved out and I’ve been in and given the place a thorough scrub, painted the walls neutral colours and moved a few little items in, but I’m still living at home and will be doing so until Billy gets back. Having lived so much of our lives through letters, phone calls and other non-face-to-face forms of communication over the past few months, I decided that the topic of me staying put in Rosefont Hill and moving into the flat should be discussed in person. I know it’s a delicate subject and want to handle it carefully. Having suggested we buy my family home for us to live in I know he won’t be completely miffed at the idea, but I realize I’ve made a decision on my own about the sort of future I’m after – even though it’s a decision that actually affects both of us.
I hope he’ll be as excited as me about the fresh start in the place I love, although I know it means I’m laying down firmer roots here when he wants to go off and chase his own dreams … something else I’m sure we’ll be talking lots about when he eventually gets here. It’s not exactly been the easiest few months to deal with.
In true showbiz style, or rather that should be ‘Billy style’, he’s booked to fly in from LA tomorrow, on the morning of the wedding. Needless to say I was disgruntled as it would have been nice to have him here helping out the day before and knowing that he’s definitely going to be here and not caught up with a delayed flight or something ghastly like that, but I’m thankful that he’s making the effort to come back in time for it. I know he’s literally rushing from a meeting straight to the airport to catch his flight. Plus, now that filming has wrapped, touching down on English soil marks the start of Billy being here for a few months solid, so I definitely can’t complain.
Things have been calmer between us over these last few weeks apart. It’s the busiest we’ve ever been while separated and it seems that, rather than adding pressure to an already stressful situation, we have both silently resolved to make life as simple as possible and work our butts off without causing the other one any added worry. Obviously, in relation to Billy, that focus also comes from a stiff warning issued from Rhonda and general nagging from Julie following the media furore that occurred after his night out with Hayley and Jenny.
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The letters keep darting back and forth, something I’m amazed we’ve kept up when we can’t even manage a daily phone call. But those little handwritten notes are so special, they help keep a constant thread of communication and a feeling of direct contact from him to me and from me to him – something I’m thankful for even if we are going to be having a few serious face-to-face conversations when he gets back here.
Things aren’t perfect between us, but I’ve accepted that nothing ever truly is. I just want to see him here in Rosefont Hill and discover how I feel when he’s in my grasp and properly in my life again.
I’ve heard from Lauren a lot. She decided to bite the bullet and simply tell Julie about the job offer. I’m told Julie cried lots, but more from pride than from suffering the loss of another of her babies flying the nest. For once I think Lauren felt truly special in her mum’s eyes, but this definitely helped mend their fractious relationship. I think the distance will make them closer than they ever have been.
In a bid to get everything done in time and not be rushing around on the actual wedding day, I decided to shut up shop not only on the special day, but the day before too. That way, I shouldn’t need to go in at all before the service, meaning I can just be with Mum as we get ready. My old dears love a bit of routine and hate change, but on this occasion I’m forgiven. They all know Mum and Colin and are fond of them both, so I’ve not heard a single disgruntled whisper.
With the shop closed I start the day by putting finishing touches to the three-tiered wedding cake. We decided that two tiers didn’t look quite special enough as it didn’t have a lot of height. Mum and Colin left us kids in charge of flavours so each layer is different – I chose lemon and lavender, Aaron rather surprisingly went for the more traditional vanilla sponge with strawberry filling and Charlotte went for chocolate. There’s a nice variety. In a bid to have it in keeping with the rustic theme in the shop, I’ve opted to steer away from fondant icing and have gone for a cream-coloured buttercream instead. I’ve carefully textured the paste on it in horizontal stripes and added a light-blue lace ribbon to the base of each layer for definition. For the top, rather than adding a bride and groom, we’ve made miniature bunting on little sticks with the words ‘Mr and Mrs’ – it looks so twee and romantic. Later on we’ll add some flowers too, but even now I think it looks delicious.
‘That looks incredible!’ gasps Rachel as she walks through the front door. We might be closed for the day, but the plan is for Rachel, Mum, Colin and I to set everything up so that Rachel and Peter don’t have too much to do tomorrow.
Yes, Peter is still helping out.
Part of me had hoped he’d forgotten so that I wouldn’t be put in an awkward position, but he messaged me a few days ago saying he was still free and would love to lend a hand. Rachel had insisted she’d be fine without him (I have an inkling she managed to correctly put two and two together), but I knew it was a lot to ask of her. I texted back saying his help would be much appreciated, while trying to keep my wording as polite as possible without sounding off or distant. I just want things to be normal, although I also don’t want to be disrespectful of Billy’s feelings. Not that anything else has been said on the matter as I’ve purposefully stopped myself from mentioning his name at all. Which hasn’t been too difficult, as Peter did what he promised and stayed away.
‘Glad you think so,’ I say to Rachel, stepping back to look at it again.
‘So, where do we start?’
‘That’s the question,’ I say, with a worried smile.
‘Don’t act as if you haven’t thought about it. You’ve been writing lists for weeks,’ she laughs.
‘Very true,’ I say with a smug smirk, lifting up my rather official-looking clipboard and giving it a tap. ‘Let’s get all of the food we’re making today done first, then we can go about setting up the shop and making it all look pretty.’
‘Yes, boss!’ Rachel shouts back enthusiastically. ‘When are your mum and Colin getting here?’
‘In a few hours. They’re moving some boxes across first.’
‘Ooooh …’ Rachel says, remembering that tomorrow night will also mark the first official night of Mum living in her new home with her new husband, meaning tonight will be the last one she’ll be spending with me in ours. ‘What have you got planned for tonight?’
‘Takeaway and a film.’
‘Sounds perfect …’
It was Mum’s idea to have a night in, just the two of us, making it like our old Friday nights in together that have become fewer and fewer thanks to the welcome additions to our little family.
When I think about the significance of the night ahead I’m glad Billy isn’t back until the morning as tonight will be as it should be: with Mum and me looking back and reflecting on the time we’ve shared within those familiar walls. We’ve shared some of the greatest moments and some of the saddest there. Yet, whether light or dark, each of them has shaped us into the women we are now and brought us to this juncture of drastic change.
‘How are you feeling about it?’ Rachel asks, picking up all the utensils I’ve had out already this morning and taking them to the sink, turning on the hot water and squirting in some washing soap. One thing I’ve always loved about Rachel is that she understands the importance of cleaning up as you go along and in between jobs. Working from a clean surface at the start of each new task makes everything so much easier, plus it means you’re not left with hours’ worth of washing up at the end when you should be all done.
‘I think I’m OK,’ I nod, nibbling on my lip as I watch the sink fill with bubbles. ‘It’s been surreal watching things get boxed up and then dividing the contents of the house between us both.’
‘It’s the end of an era.’
‘Exactly,’ I say, grabbing a tea towel and standing next to her, waiting to be passed bowls and spoons once they’re washed.
‘Are you still excited about upstairs?’
‘Silly question,’ I laugh. ‘I’ve not stopped being giddy about it since the idea turned into a fully-fledged plan of action. When I’ve not been thinking about wedding decorations I’ve been mentally mapping out where I’m going to put the furniture or what kind of bedding I’m going to have.’
‘You’ve a busy mind.’
‘Always.’
‘And you’ve still not told Billy?’ she asks, screwing her face up at me and already knowing the answer.
‘Do you think that’s a mistake?’
‘You know better than me,’ she shrugs, reminding me that the two of them have never been properly introduced, even though he was here the day Rachel enquired about the job months ago. The thought highlights how long Billy’s been away and how lucky I am to have Rachel, as it already feels as though I’ve known her for years. She’s certainly made the transition into being someone’s boss far easier for me, which is mostly because she’s got a great intuition for how I like things and just gets on with it. ‘He knows it’s your mum’s last night there tonight, though, right?’ she asks.
‘Yeah.’
‘Well, at least that explains the boxes around the house.’
‘Oh, I’ve been careful about that,’ I tell her, feeling sneaky as I share the details of my tiny little deception. ‘I’ve left the surface of my room the same, but packed up most of the wardrobe and drawers. He won’t look in them anyway. Not tomorrow. I don’t want to have to talk about it before the wedding. Not when there’s so much going on and to think about already.’
‘Tricky enough as it is?’
‘I think it’ll mostly be emotional,’ I say. Funny thing is I’ve not paid too much thought in these last few weeks to the significance of tomorrow. There’s been so much to get ready and keep my brain occupied. Although the reality is that it will almost certainly have its moments of beauty and sadness … how could it not?
‘Well, you don’t have to worry about this place,’ she says, her eyes wide and sincere, letting me know she’s taking her role seriously. ‘I
’ll come in bright and early and just make sure everything is exactly as we’ve planned.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, putting an arm around her shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. ‘You’ve been wonderful.’
‘It’s nothing,’ she tuts, shrugging her shoulders. ‘So, what time is Peter supposed to be getting here?’
‘When do you want him?’ I ask.
‘Oh, you’ve not set a time yet?’
‘No, he just messaged saying to let him know …’
‘I see. Maybe just before you lot are set to arrive, then?’ she suggests, passing the glass bowl into my hands. ‘No point him being here longer than he has to be … he’s not even needed to be honest. Once everything’s plated up it’s just a case of carrying it all out and topping up the drinks. It’s not like there are hundreds of people to serve.’
‘No, but I don’t want you feeling under pressure,’ I frown.
‘Remember, my friend. If I weren’t here I’d be running around the park after two crazy little rascals. This is a breeze in comparison,’ she laughs.
‘I’m not sure about that,’ I say, thinking of her incredibly polite boys.
‘Honestly, if anyone, it’s Shane you should be worried about. I think he’s the one who’s most likely to crack under the pressure tomorrow … I can picture him now stood in the middle of the field as the boys run off in opposite directions, testing him to see how he reacts.’
‘What would he do?’ I ask, feeling panicked for him.
‘He wouldn’t run after either of them, obviously,’ she scoffs. ‘He wouldn’t even shout. Instead he’d be frozen to the spot and swivelling around at each of them in turn, his eyes pleading with them,’ she says, doing the funniest impression of her poor husband and making us both howl with laughter.