Megan and Simon had searched all the easy places. Hannah, Sadie and Tucker weren’t at Megan’s house and they weren’t at the Rec or in any of the bus shelters or hanging about outside the pub, so that just left Sadie’s house.
‘The trouble is,’ said Simon, stuffing his hands into jacket pockets as they walked back from the pub, ‘they might not be at Sadie’s house either. I mean, they could be anywhere by now, you know, like moving around?’
Megan sighed. Boys. ‘I’m not stupid, Simon, I do know that. But we said we’d go up there and have a look, and I’m all out of other ideas.’
Simon said nothing, which made Megan think he hadn’t got any other ideas either, and then he said, ‘We’ve got this den down by the river but we don’t usually go there after dark because the gamekeeper goes down there looking for poachers, and we don’t want to get shot.’
‘Sounds sensible,’ said Megan.
‘Maybe we could go round again. To double check.’
Megan sniffed.
‘Sadie’s house then?’ said Simon grimly.
Megan nodded; it seemed as if Simon was as reluctant as she was. She didn’t think he was afraid of the dark, but then again, maybe if you were friends with Sadie, there were other things to be frightened of.
They fell into step and a companionable silence. Megan didn’t really know what to say to Simon. It wasn’t that she felt uncomfortable with him – it was just that she had no idea what it was that boys talked about.
They walked through the village, past the shop and the green, by the church and up and out towards the old aerodrome, the houses getting further apart and the night getting altogether darker. The turning into Moongate Lane was lit by a single streetlight. The lane wasn’t tarmacked and was pitted with great ruts and puddles, and the high overgrown hedges curling from either side seemed to emphasise the dense darkness beyond. It looked and felt as if they were walking into a cave. Megan’s skin felt prickly and chilled even though she was wearing her fleece.
Breaking her stride, she peered into the gloom. Simon, as if he had sensed she was no longer alongside him, turned back towards her and laughed.
‘Come on, it’s not far now,’ he said. ‘We’re nearly there. Don’t look so worried. We’ll be fine.’
The very fact he felt the need to say it suggested to Megan that he wasn’t quite as confident as he appeared.
*
‘There you go,’ said Sadie, handing Hannah another drink. Despite her best efforts to avoid it, Hannah had drunk quite a lot of the concoction that Sadie had mixed for them.
Once they had settled in her bedroom, Sadie had slipped back downstairs to the party and returned a few minutes later with a jug half full of what she said was a proper cocktail. Hannah had no idea what cocktails should taste like but this one was sweet and heavy, and tasted and looked a lot like cough mixture, even after Sadie had poured a great deal of value lemonade into it and swished it around. The mixture split and clung to the sides like oil as she stirred it.
Hannah knew there was some of the blue alcopop in there too because she had just seen Sadie pour half a bottle into the jug and stir it around with a ruler, but she had no idea what else there might be in it. There was no way she could avoid drinking it altogether because Sadie was watching her like a hawk.
‘You just need to neck it down you,’ said Sadie, waving another full glass at her. Hannah hesitated long enough for Sadie to shake her head, and down hers in one with a shudder. ‘Oh come on. It’s supposed to be a bloody party – and if you’re worried about what Mummy and Daddy might say if you roll home pissed, then you can sleep here. Text them and let them know you’ll be back tomorrow. Come on, get it down.’
Hannah glanced at the brimming glass and then at Sadie. There was something nasty and threatening in the set of her face.
‘We’re mates, aren’t we?’ Sadie cajoled, nodding towards the glass in her hand. ‘Come on, it won’t do you any harm and then I was thinking that we could maybe go downstairs, put some decent music on and have a bit of a dance.’ She waved her hands above her head, aping dance moves.
‘What’s the matter?’ she snorted, as Hannah took a tiny sip from the glass. ‘Too grown-up for you? You maybe want a little bit more lemonade with that?’ she continued in a mocking baby voice.
Hannah shuddered as she swallowed a mouthful of the glass’s contents. The taste and the smell of it made her stomach heave.
‘Lightweight,’ Tucker commented as he knocked his back, chasing it down with one of the cans of beer that Sadie had brought with her from her foray downstairs.
Sadie’s bedroom was tiny, barely more than a box room, tucked up under the eaves of the cottage. It was hot and smelt biscuity and stale like a hamster cage. Here and there the wallpaper had lifted and peeled away from the damp, uneven walls. There were piles of clothes heaped on the dressing table and on top of the chest of drawers, and other piles that had tipped over and tumbled onto the floor. You couldn’t see the carpet for clothes, shoes, books, magazines, DVD cases, papers, and empty plates and cans.
Behind the door was a bare single mattress, with a pile of coats, an army blanket and a brown sleeping bag piled up on top of it. The sleeping bag was curled around the coats and there was a rip in the fabric where the stuffing was spilling out. It looked for all the world as if whoever had slept there had just left, leaving behind an empty chrysalis.
Hannah sighed. She didn’t want to be there, she wanted to be home. Her head ached from the booze and the music from downstairs with its heavy heartbeat of bass, forcing its way in through the walls, up through the floor and into her bones.
Trying to drown out the noise of the party, Sadie had her music on full blast, creating a counter beat that was almost as loud. The cacophony was making Hannah’s head pound and her teeth ache. A flatscreen television stood balanced on a piano stool by the dressing table. Tucker was busy killing things on the Playstation 3, sitting on the only chair, his fingers working into a blur over the buttons on the controller. Every few seconds the room lit up with great flashes and flares from the TV screen and the sounds of mortar and machine-gun fire from the game cut through the music.
Across the sea of debris on the bedroom floor Hannah and Sadie were sitting at either end of a single bed, which had been tucked up under the slanting roof and was covered in a faded Indian throw. Hannah could see how this room might once have been lovely, with its floral wallpaper and pretty leaded dormer window – a tiny textbook country cottage bedroom. But it was far from lovely at the moment.
Among a mish-mash of posters, stolen road signs and pictures torn from magazines, Sadie had taken a spray can of paint to the walls and the door and added her tag and various obscenities along with symbols of peace and war and all things in between. A collection of severed dolls’ heads hung by their hair from the central light shade, and for a moment Hannah caught a glimpse of what it was that her mum saw when she walked into Hannah’s room, and felt the same sense of despair. How could Sadie sleep in this horrible damp dank pit? Everything smelt as if it needed washing or throwing away. Hannah swallowed hard, choking down a taste of bile and booze. She didn’t want to think about being sick again.
Sadie meanwhile was propped against the wall by the window, with half an eye on the comings and goings outside in the garden, and amusing herself in between by watching Hannah.
‘Another drink?’ she said, leaning forward to retrieve the jug, which was standing on her bedside cabinet.
Tucker nodded and held out his glass. Hannah really had had enough in all senses.
‘I’ve got to go the loo,’ she said, getting up unsteadily and heading for the door.
‘Not going to be sick again, are you?’ Sadie said, her attention wandering off to something out in the garden.
‘No.’
‘Good,’ said Sadie. ‘Just don’t be too long. I’ll pour you another one for when you get back – and hurry, you wouldn’t want to miss anything now, would you?’
Hannah, with her hand on the doorknob, hesitated. ‘Why, what’s going to happen?’
Sadie laughed. ‘Well, first of all me and Tucker will obviously miss your scintillating company, won’t we, Tucker? And also because I’ve got a little surprise for everyone,’ she said with a grin. Even Tucker turned around to look at her, his thumbs poised above the game controller.
‘I found these when I was downstairs,’ Sadie said. Between her finger and thumb she was holding a little plastic bag in which there were maybe half a dozen tiny tablets. She wafted the packet to and fro and grinned. ‘So what do you say? You game? You want one?’
‘What are they?’ asked Hannah.
Sadie rolled her eyes. ‘You know, you are such a bloody wimp, Hannah. I dunno, do I? I mean, I could probably take a guess but they’ll be fine – the guy I lifted them off is a dealer. He’s round here all the time. Really sound guy. So how about we think of them as a little present? Except of course he doesn’t know that he’s given them to us yet.’ She giggled.
Hannah, avoiding Sadie’s eye, nodded. ‘Okay sure, I’ll be back in a few minutes.’
‘Don’t be long,’ said Sadie, peeling open the packet.
Out on the landing Hannah took a deep breath, trying to quell a sense of panic, while at the same time realising exactly how drunk she was. When she had been sitting down in Sadie’s bedroom she had felt fine, but now up on her feet and outside in the real world she was finding it hard to stand. She also knew that whatever happened, however bad she felt, she had to get away and get away now. The wall lurched as she put out her hand to steady herself.
There was a queue all the way along the landing for the bathroom upstairs. Four or five women waited in a straggling line, chatting, smoking, laughing, oblivious to Hannah joining them.
‘Is there another loo?’ she asked the woman immediately in front of her.
The woman nodded. ‘Yeah, outside apparently, but I can’t find my sandals and I’m not walking around out there without them.’ Giggling, she lifted up her long purple velvet skirt to reveal big bare brown feet with rings on the toes. She looked at Hannah’s ballet shoes. ‘You’ll be okay – it’s only over by the log store. It’s not like it’s muddy or anything.’
Hannah thanked her and made her way unsteadily past the people sitting on the stairs and crammed into the hallway. She eased her way between the partygoers packed into the kitchen, and finally out of the back door and into the cool night air.
Even though she was glad to be outside, away from the press of bodies, the music and the noise, the fresh air made her feel drunker still. It took her a few seconds to get her bearings. The outside loo had a sign above it and was across a little enclosed yard beyond the back door. There was another woman queuing outside, sucking on a roll-up as if her life depended on it.
‘Hannah,’ called a voice from somewhere above her. She glanced up; she had forgotten that Sadie had a view out over the garden. ‘What’re you doing?’
‘I won’t be a minute,’ Hannah said, pointing towards the toilet in a pantomime gesture. ‘There’s a long queue upstairs.’
‘Okay, well don’t be long, we’re waiting for you,’ Sadie said in a spooky jokey voice, before pulling the bedroom window closed.
Hannah nodded and turned away. By the time she had crossed the yard the woman had gone and the toilet door was ajar. Once inside Hannah bolted the door tight, sat down and considered her options. One thing Hannah was clear about was that there was no way she was going back upstairs and take any of those tablets, but she also didn’t want to have to stand up to Sadie if she could possibly avoid it.
It was so odd how things had turned around. When they had first started being friends it felt as if by having Sadie around Hannah was finally having fun, had finally arrived, and living the kind of life she had always imagined herself living.
She had loved going into town on the bus and hanging around together, or going to the pictures, or just chilling at the park or at Sadie’s place, listening to music, watching DVDs or sitting around down in the woods. Looking back, it felt like they laughed a lot at people and the stupid things they said and did. But things had started to slowly change and these days there were more and more things happening that Hannah didn’t like.
Hannah knew Sadie stole things from shops because she’d seen her. It hadn’t been long before Sadie had wanted her to do the same, and so in the end Hannah had, just the once, just to shut her up. Even now, sitting in the toilet all on her own, thinking about it made her feel sick.
They had gone into Beloes the chemist in town. It had been at lunchtime when it was really busy and there were only two people behind the counter. While the Saturday girl was serving customers, Sadie had started asking the lady in the pharmacy about athlete’s foot cream, which was so gross. But anyway, while she had been asking the woman all these questions Hannah had gone round to the make-up counter and slipped some make-up into her rucksack.
She could still feel the fear now, could still remember the way her heart had practically buzzed in her chest because it was beating so fast. She had lain awake all night waiting for the police to come round and arrest her, while worrying about what her mum and dad would say. A tube of lipstick and a navy-blue eyeliner pencil were just not worth that kind of stress and she’d never done it since. And now she hated going into town with Sadie, because Sadie was likely to steal something and Hannah knew it was only a matter of time before they got caught.
She had always known that Sadie took drugs too, not like seriously or anything, but at parties and when they were hanging out Sadie would roll a joint and hand it around. So far Hannah had managed to avoid it, despite Sadie’s teasing. But pills were something else; Hannah wanted to be cool, not off her face or dead.
The idea that she had been formulating on the way downstairs was shaping up into something real. She had to get away. She would creep outside, making sure that Sadie wasn’t looking, staying tucked in close to the wall. As soon as Hannah was certain Sadie hadn’t seen her, she’d slip away. Although maybe not back to her grandparents’ party – Hannah wasn’t sure she could face her mum and dad yet. Maybe she would just go straight home. The idea of her own room and her own bed felt like heaven.
‘Are you going to be long?’ shouted someone from outside, banging on the toilet door. The noise made her jump.
‘Won’t be a minute,’ Hannah called back. She washed her hands and splashed her face with cold water, hoping it might help to sober her up. There was a towel on a hook in the toilet but it was stiff and dirty, so she dried her hands and face on her cardigan instead and then very slowly opened the door. Outside a large woman and her boyfriend were deep in a loud conversation, blocking her from view as the door opened. She stole a glance up towards the bedroom window; Sadie wasn’t looking.
Hurrying across the few feet of open space, Hannah slipped into the little crush of people gathered in the yard. Head down, she eased between them until she reached the far wall where she hoped Sadie wouldn’t be able to see her. A moment or two later she was edging her way around the partygoers, and then out across the front garden, all the time keeping to the shadows. As she got beyond the apple trees she could see the lane and felt her tension easing. Not wanting to strike out across the lawn, Hannah stayed close to a tangle of old sheds that ran along the boundary fence. Just another few seconds and she would be clear. But as Hannah reached the last of the derelict buildings, she felt a hand drop onto her shoulder and shrieked in a mixture of surprise and fear.
Swinging round, she came face to face with Dexter, the man from the hallway. Looking into his eyes, she knew with terrifying clarity that he had followed her from the house.
‘Well, hello there, baby,’ Dexter purred, stepping in closer so that she had to back up into the doorway of one of the sheds to avoid touching him. It took her a split second to realise that he had her trapped.
Dexter grinned. ‘Well, well, well, I wondered where you’d got to. Not thinking of going home yet, are you, eh?’ he said. His eyes were as dark as coal in the moonlight. ‘I was thinking maybe you and me could have a little fun – maybe a little dancing.’ He moved his shoulders and hips in an obscene parody of a slow dance. She could smell the booze on his breath. Her pulse was racing as he took a step closer, backing her deeper into the filthy shed. From the corner of her eye she could see a tumble of oil drums and broken pallets, a stack of rotting sacks, piles of wood – and on the windowsill propped up against the broken empty window was a small plump naked doll. Hannah swallowed hard. She didn’t want to be here. The place looked like something out of a horror movie: anything could happen here, anything at all. Fear drove the adrenaline through her veins like molten lava.
Dexter grinned. He was taller than her by a foot, and much, much bigger in every other sense. Everything about him made her nervous and his wolfish expression suggested that that was exactly the effect he was hoping for.
‘Thanks but I don’t want to dance,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to go home. My mum and dad are expecting me.’ Her tiny little voice sounded pathetic in the gloom.
‘Really,’ Dexter said, closing in on her. ‘So do they know where you are? Out here with our Sadie? I’m surprised that your mum and dad let a nice little thing like you mix with someone like her – or are appearances deceptive?’ He was so close now that she could feel the heat of his body and smell his sweat.
‘Yes . . . I mean, no,’ she stammered.
Dexter was closer now, leering at her. The way he looked her up and down made her flesh creep.
‘So which is it then, yes or no?’ he murmured. ‘Why don’t you tell me, sweetpea?’
She couldn’t even remember what the question was. ‘Look, I really need to be going, my dad is going to be here any minute,’ she stammered.
He must have sensed it was a bluff or maybe he didn’t care because as Hannah tried to step past him Dexter grabbed her arm and pulled her close. trying to grab her around the waist and kiss her. It was such a shock that she yelled out in terror.
‘Sssssh, shut up, doesn’t do to fight it, sweetie,’ he said, holding her tighter. His breath was foul and he smelt of stale sweat and cheap aftershave and something dark and feral. ‘It’ll be fine, just you see. You’ll like it, I promise – come to Dexter.’ And then he pressed his body close up against hers and with drunken heavy hands made a grab for the front of her shirt.
‘Get off me,’ she whimpered. ‘Please, you’re hurting me. Stop it – stop it—’ she begged, all the while struggling to push him away. But instead of letting her go Dexter looked down and laughed, and she saw in a moment of comprehension that he was enjoying her fear and fight. The realisation lit a great flare of fury within her and a screaming banshee wail came from somewhere down deep in her chest. He looked startled by the noise.
The next few seconds seemed to take forever, seared into her retina in the brightest sharpest colours. Before the scream had time to stop Hannah had brought up her knee as hard as she could into Dexter’s groin. He let out a strange strangled howl and as he crumbled forward, Hannah punched him hard in the face. She was stunned as much by her own actions as by Dexter’s obvious pain and surprise.
‘I said, get off me,’ she snarled, in between great sobs of fear and fury.
Before he could recover, Hannah pushed him away, and as he stumbled she ran out of the shed, charging through the gate and exploding out into the lane, trembling, crying, her heart beating like a steam hammer in her chest, wondering how long it would take Dexter to recover. She looked left and right, mind racing. Should she try and out-run him, or head back in the house and get help – and was there anyone inside the house who would help her?
The adrenaline coursing through her was burning off the effects of the booze and leaving a great raw slew of emotions behind – how dare he think he could touch her like that, how dare he? She was filled with so much rage and disgust and anger that for a split second Hannah didn’t notice that there were people standing out in the lane.
‘Hannah?’ said a voice.
She looked up, fearing it might be Sadie but at the same time knowing that it wasn’t.
‘Megan?’ she said in amazement. Breathing hard, she stared at her little sister. ‘What on earth are you doing up here?’
‘I thought I ought to come and find you, I was worried about you,’ Megan said. ‘Simon showed me where it was. Are you all right?’
Hannah looked at the two of them. She opened her mouth to say something sharp and sarcastic, something that Sadie might say, but instead she said, ‘I’m so pleased to see you, but we really need to get out of here. There is this man, he tried to grab me—’
And with that Dexter staggered out a few yards behind her, still clutching his groin. ‘Come back here, you little bitch,’ he shouted.
Before Hannah could say anything Megan pointed at him and bellowed, ‘Fuck off, you dirty old man, before we ring the police.’ Her voice cut through the night like a knife.
Dexter blinked and peered at her. A couple of men who were smoking on the lawn over by the trees turned to see what all the fuss was about, while another little group moved closer to join them.
‘He tried to grab my sister,’ Megan continued, still shouting but now for the benefit of the audience. ‘Him.’ She carried on pointing.
Simon stepped up alongside Megan. ‘That’s him,’ he echoed, his gaze catching Hannah’s. She could see the concern in his face and felt tears prickling up behind her eyes.
Dexter snorted. ‘What’s this, the fucking Waltons?’ he growled. ‘She wanted it. Little bitch was all over me like a rash.’
Simon took another step forward. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said, squaring up to the older, bigger man. Alongside him, Megan, hands on her hips, stepped forward too.
One of the men who had been standing by the trees came over. ‘Come on in, Dex,’ he said, catching hold of Dexter’s arm. ‘Leave it, mate. Let’s go back inside and grab a beer – come on. How’s it going to look, you beating up a kid?’
Drunkenly Dexter squared his shoulders. ‘She was all over me,’ he mumbled.
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ said the guy with obvious distaste, and then he turned to the three of them. ‘I’d get out of here if I were you, we’ll get him back in the house.’
Megan tugged at Hannah’s sleeve. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s go home.’
‘Are you okay?’ Simon said anxiously.
Hannah felt the great welter of tears bubbling up and struggled to hold them back. ‘No, not really. But I will be. Come on,’ she said. ‘I just want to go home.’
The three of them started off down the lane towards the village. As they did, Simon caught hold of her hand and smiled, and Hannah returned the compliment by catching hold of Megan’s hand and squeezing it gently. Megan looked up and grinned as they wordlessly made their way back to the village. At no point did Hannah hesitate or look back. There was nothing in Moongate Lane that she ever wanted to see again.
*
Back in the marquee Fleur was standing by the bar watching Peter Hudson dancing with Mary. There was no doubt that they made a handsome couple. As he twirled Mary around Peter glanced in Fleur’s direction, with a smile that most definitely said, ‘This could be you.’
Fleur shook her head in disbelief – the arrogance of the man was astonishing – but even so she still couldn’t quite bring herself to look away.
When Peter had started talking to her about the good old days earlier on in the evening, there had been a part of her that had been flattered, and for the briefest of moments she had thought about what it was she might have missed, and smiled at those memories of her younger self. After all, it was true that all those years ago she had wanted Peter in a feral, lustful kind of way.
Looking back, it was easy to see how different her life would have been if she had carried on lusting after him and they had made different choices after Rose and Jack’s wedding reception. And how badly wrong it could have all gone, she thought wryly, as Peter twirled Mary one more time and did a fancy little dip at the end of the sequence. The man was a manipulative bully, and she had had a lucky escape, said the sensible voice in her head.
It didn’t matter what Peter told her, Fleur knew very well that this particular leopard would never have changed his spots, and all these years later, chances are she would have been the one being cheated on. Sometimes hindsight was a powerful thing, but even though Fleur was relieved that she hadn’t ended up with Peter, there was a part of her that couldn’t help but hanker after the good old days, the craziness of youth, all that desire and excitement, and the feeling that you would live forever and that anything and everything was possible.
Feeling tired and old and lonely, Fleur waved the barmaid over to refill her glass. She looked up at the banner above the top table and sighed. Forty years on, what had she got to show for life?
When her phone started to ring again Fleur was very tempted to ignore it. She didn’t want to speak to anyone, didn’t want to tell Frank her address or admit just how much she missed him, or how very sad she felt being here all on her own, but it kept on ringing and so eventually Fleur took it out. It said Frank again on the caller display, which came as no surprise.
‘Hello?’ she said. ‘You still there?’
He laughed. ‘Oh yes. Flowers for Fleur Halliday?’
Fleur laughed in spite of herself. ‘You already told me that, Frank – and I’m touched and I promise that just as soon as the flowers get here I’ll text you and let you know. You sound drunk.’
‘And you look beautiful,’ he said, which took her by complete surprise.
‘Really?’ she said. ‘And how would you . . .’ The word know lingered on her lips unspoken. Something about the way Frank said beautiful, something about the warmth and conviction in his voice made her look up, and as she did she caught sight of a familiar figure standing by the entrance to the marquee, carrying a huge bouquet of roses.
‘Frank, is that you?’ she said into the phone.
He laughed and waved. ‘It most certainly is. I thought you might be lonely over here all on your own.’
Still talking into the phone, Fleur climbed down from her bar stool and hurried over towards him. ‘You know that I hate flowers, don’t you?’ she said, smiling, as she eased her way between the people.
‘Yup, although the good news is these ones aren’t real – they’re silk or something, and the woman in the shop said all you’ve got to do to keep them looking good is give them a real good shake once in a while.’
She was nearly there now.
‘I’d like to give you a damn good shake, having me on like that,’ she said, purring now.
‘You’d rather I hadn’t come?’ he said.
Fleur beamed. ‘You took the words right out of my mouth.’
‘Well, hello there, gorgeous,’ Frank said, still with the phone to his ear. ‘You know, about ten minutes after your flight left I realised just how much I was going to miss you being around, bossing me about, telling me what to do. I didn’t think I’d be able to manage without you telling me what to wear and why I shouldn’t eat – well, you know, whatever it is that I shouldn’t be eating.’
‘Really?’ Fleur said. ‘But I didn’t think . . .’ she began, her eyes bright with tears, as she finally switched off her phone.
‘What was it you didn’t think, eh? That I cared? Or that I loved you?’
Fleur felt her jaw drop. ‘You love me? ’ she gasped. ‘Are you serious?’
He grinned. ‘Never more so. In fact I love you so much I’ve just paid a bloody fortune to have that mangy stray you’ve been feeding for months taken off to the vet and neutered while I’m away.’
She laughed. ‘You’re all heart, Frank Callaby.’
‘I couldn’t wait three weeks to see you again, Fleur, and I couldn’t let you come over here thinking – well, I don’t really know exactly what you were thinking, but my guess is that I didn’t come out of it well.’
She looked at him, for once totally at a loss for words. ‘Oh Frank,’ she murmured, realising just how much she had missed him.
‘Anyway, before you pull yourself together and tear me off a strip, there’s something I wanted to ask you.’ He paused.
‘What?’ said Fleur. ‘Don’t tell me, you want to borrow the cab fare? What is it? Come on.’
He grinned. ‘You’re always so bloody impatient. I want to ask if you’ll marry me.’
She stared at him, all the bravado and bluster entirely blown away. She had heard the words clearly enough but couldn’t find any to answer him with. It seemed like an age before he said, ‘So what do you reckon then? Is it a goer? Or do you want to phone a friend?’
‘Oh Frank . . .’ Fleur said, finally finding her voice. ‘Yes, yes.’
He grinned. ‘Yes, yes?’
‘Yes, yes, I’ll marry you – of course I will.’
And with that Frank took her in his arms and kissed her long and hard. As he pulled away he said, ‘Oh bloody hell, I almost forgot I bought you something else as well.’ And from his pocket he produced a tiny padded box. ‘I know you don’t like flowers very much but I’m hoping you don’t feel the same way about diamonds.’
Inside the box was a white gold engagement ring set with a solitaire diamond that caught and reflected the light in the marquee.
‘Oh Frank, I love it,’ she whispered. ‘It’s absolutely beautiful.’
He smiled. ‘I was hoping you’d say that. Here, let’s see if it fits—’
She held out her hand and very gently he slipped the ring onto her finger. It fitted perfectly. Fleur wriggled her fingers. ‘It fits like it was made for me. How on earth did you manage that?’ she asked in amazement.
‘You remember when Lola the head waitress at your place got engaged last year and you told me you tried on her ring?’
‘That’s right. It was a tiny bit too big, but that girl was determined that I try on the damn thing. I was worried it would slip off down the cracks in the deck.’
‘Uh-huh, and you said that you’d read somewhere that statistically women over forty had more chance of being murdered than married?’
She laughed. ‘That’d be me.’
‘Well, I took Lola down to Lake Street before I left Cairns and we got her finger measured up and I bought a half size smaller.’
Fleur stared at him. ‘Seriously?’
He nodded.
‘So all the staff know about this as well?’
‘Oh Christ, yes,’ said Frank. ‘The staff and all your regulars and your neighbours, and that weird little guy with the dodgy moustache who runs the crystal healing place next door – it’s them that sent you the flowers.’
And with that Frank leant forward and kissed her and she never wanted that feeling, welling up like champagne bubbles in a glass, to ever end.
Finally, breathless and weak-kneed, Fleur pulled away and grinned. ‘Oh Frank,’ she said, through tears of joy. ‘Come and meet my family.’
*
If Fleur had looked up at that particular moment she would have seen the look of shock and amazement on Peter Hudson’s face as Mary, fresh from the dance floor and breathing hard, leant in close to tell him that she was sick to death of him, had met someone else and wanted a divorce. ASAP.
*
Out in the back garden, Suzie was beside herself with worry. As she moved between the groups of partygoers it was getting harder and harder to keep up the appearance that there was nothing wrong. Despite searching high and low, ringing home, and ringing their mobiles, there was still no sign of the girls or Sam. This was crazy. They had to be somewhere. Suzie was beginning to panic.
She had looked everywhere she could think of, and was just taking another look around the back of the summerhouse before walking home to check on the house, when she heard the back gate creak open and swing shut. As she turned she saw Sam heading across the grass. He looked like a man on a mission.
‘Sam!’ His name came out in a rush of relief and tears.
‘Suzie?’ He looked up at the sound of her voice. ‘What are you doing round here?
‘God, I’m so glad I’ve found you. I’ve been looking for you everywhere – you and the girls. I can’t find them anywhere.’ She stopped. ‘Oh Sam, I was really worried about you, are you okay?’
‘Me? I’m fine,’ he said, sheepishly. She couldn’t remember him looking so ill at ease. ‘We really need to talk, Suzie.’
‘I know. I heard about you and Matt,’ she said. ‘He said you tried to punch him and I wanted to tell you—’
But Sam held up his finger to her lips. ‘No, I want to talk. I’ve been a complete idiot, Suzie, I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry—’
‘No, most of this feels like it’s my fault,’ Suzie said. ‘I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you about me and Matt for weeks but I just didn’t know where to start.’
Even before she had finished speaking Suzie saw Sam’s face fall as surely as if she had slapped him and an instant later realised what she had just said and how it must sound.
‘Oh God,’ Sam said. ‘So it’s true then. You’re leaving me, aren’t you?’
Something tightened like a fist in her chest. ‘No, of course not, God, no Sam. No, I’m not leaving you. No, it’s that Matt and I have been offered this fabulous opportunity; a production company want to make a TV programme about his restaurant and the walled garden. We’re going to talk to them next week to sort out the details and go through the contract.’
‘We?’
‘Matt and I, He’s worked with them before.’
‘So it’s a done deal?’
‘Well, more or less.’ Sam stared at her. ‘Bloody hell, a TV show? Really? That’s amazing.’
Suzie nodded. ‘It is, isn’t it? And it’s such a brilliant opportunity, and the money’s good and it’ll mean we can do loads of the things we’d planned down there. The greenhouse, the big cold frames, sort out the sheds and maybe do something to the old gardener’s cottage – there’s so much we could do if we had the money. And it’ll be good for us too – you and me and the girls. I wanted to talk to you about it and discuss it and I wanted you to be pleased about it, but . . .’ Suzie stopped and stared at Sam anxiously, not quite sure how to go on.
‘But you weren’t sure that I would be pleased?’
Suzie nodded. ‘No, or how you’d feel about it. We don’t seem to have had much time for each other recently. And I know a lot of it’s been my fault, I’ve been so busy. I should have found the time. But . . .’ She stopped and looked up at him. ‘Sam, I hate this. What on earth happened to us? We’ve always been so good together and now we just seem so far apart. Is it my fault?’
Sam looked into her eyes, his own bright with tears. ‘God, no, Suzie. It’s not you at all, I think it’s me. I’ve been a complete waste of space the last couple of years. Life just seems to have been changing so fast, what with the girls growing up and you out at work.’ He stopped, voice crackling with emotion. ‘It’s crazy but even saying this aloud I feel like some kind of nineteen-thirties throwback. I don’t know how else to explain it really – I suppose I’ve been feeling left out and neglected.’ He laughed grimly. ‘I mean how grown up does that sound? Great big grown-up man that I am, I’ve been sulking.’ He smiled at her. ‘And I know I’ve been grumpy. I’m so sorry, so very sorry. Can you forgive me? I’ve been an idiot.’
‘Oh Sam,’ she murmured. The man smiling down at her was the man she knew, the man she had loved since she was barely out of her teens. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she whispered.
He leant close. ‘Suzie,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve missed you too. I’ve been so worried. We just stopped noticing and talking and we’ve both been letting things slide. I think we’ve been in this relationship so long that we’ve taken us for granted.’
She was about to take his hand when Sam said, ‘So where exactly does Matt fit into all this?’
‘I’m not sure what you mean, what about Matt?’
‘You and him.’
Suzie shook her head and laughed. ‘There is no me and him in the way you mean it. He’s helping to set up the TV deal, or at least the initial contacts – and we’ll be working together to plan the planting so that next year we’ll be growing things that he can cook. And there’s a book planned for the series that they’ve asked me to write. It’s one of the reasons why we need to introduce some animals and look at other farmers and growers in the area. Matt’s partner, Rory, is going to help us source ingredients. He’s got this fantastic organic farm over at Fallham Bulbeck – besides meat, they’re making butter, cheese and yoghurt over there.’
‘His partner? You mean business partner?’
Suzie shook her head. ‘No, Rory and Matt are a couple, they’ve been together for years.’ Suzie glanced up at him, watching the penny drop.
‘So you’re not . . .’ The words faltered and stalled. ‘You and him,’ Sam continued lamely. ‘I thought that you were—’
‘You thought we were having an affair.’
He ran his hand back through his hair. ‘I hadn’t really given it that much thought until tonight.’ He stared at her. ‘I don’t know why but all of a sudden it seemed so obvious when I thought about it and then the thought just wouldn’t go away. You and Matt have been spending so much time together and you seem so comfortable in his company.’ He paused. ‘And I’ve been such a pig.’
‘We’ve been really busy. There has been so much to talk about.’
‘I know – I didn’t want to believe that you and him were having an affair, but then I started to think about how things have been between us, how I’ve been treating you, and there was a part of me that would have almost understood if you had been seeing someone else.’ He looked at her. ‘Part of me thought I deserved it.’ He stopped and took hold of her hands. ‘I thought I’d lost you, Suzie – I really did, and I realised that
I couldn’t bear to live without you. You’re my life.’ His voice cracked and broke.
Suzie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh Sam. I’ve only been spending so much time with Matt because there has just been so much to do, and to be honest, I’ve needed someone to talk it all through with – all this is new territory to me.’
‘And you couldn’t talk to me?’ Sam sounded deflated.
‘You didn’t seem interested; you’ve been so distant recently. I thought there was something wrong at work. Or that maybe . . .’ She paused, reluctant to say the words aloud. ‘I was worried that maybe you didn’t want to talk to me any more. That you’d gone off me.’ It sounded childish when she said it out loud but it was the thing that Suzie had feared the most. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘We can put it right though, can’t we?’ he said in low even voice. ‘Or are you telling me that it’s over; is this it?’
‘Oh Sam, of course it isn’t it. It never occurred to me in a million years that this was the end – more like a new beginning. But you are right. We can’t go on like this, not all moody and silent and distant or there’s no point. I just wish we talked about it earlier; it’s kind of crept up, this not talking to each other thing. We used to talk all the time.’ She paused. ‘And at least half the fault is mine.’
‘Okay, how about we talk about how we’re going to put it right tomorrow?’
‘You mean it?’
He nodded. ‘Uh-huh – practical ways to sort it out. How about we go out to lunch, just you and me and talk about us?’
Suzie was about to protest that there was just too much to do and so many things that needed sorting out, but the words died in her mouth; wasn’t that exactly how they had got to this point in the first place?
‘I’d love to,’ she said.
Gently he bent down and kissed her, slipping his arms around her, and for a second the music from the marquee seemed to bubble up and catch them like a tide and Sam slowly began to dance with her. She giggled, forgetting everything except how good it felt to be with him and to be in his arms, and how good it had always felt. He pulled her close up against his chest and they began to dance around the lawn.
‘You’re drunk,’ she teased.
He kissed her neck. ‘I know, but I’d do this whether I was drunk or not. We should do more of it. A lot more of it. You know I love you with all my heart, Suzie, don’t you? I thought for one awful moment that I’d lost you. It’s so good to be back.’
‘What about the girls?’
He pulled her closer. ‘They’re bound to be here somewhere. We’ll look for them together.’
And all the tension and the fear she had been feeling over the last few days and weeks and months ebbed away as his arms closed tight around her, and she let the music lead them through the shadows, into the soft warm darkness behind the marquee.