Wedding Tiers. Trisha Ashley

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Название Wedding Tiers
Автор произведения Trisha Ashley
Жанр Современная зарубежная литература
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Издательство Современная зарубежная литература
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780007329052



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you got enough to do, Josie? I hardly see you as it is. You’re always off looking after Harry, walking the dog, making cakes or doing errands for the Three Graces.’

      ‘But these days you’re shut away in the studio working most of the time you’re home, Ben, so I don’t see much of you either, unless you come to talk to me while I’m gardening,’ I pointed out.

      ‘I want to finish that second series of paintings,’ he said, ‘but if you’re out half the time, you aren’t going to know whether I’ve been looking for you or not, are you?’

      Actually, I did have a pretty good idea, because once he was down in the studio he was lost to the world until called in for meals or to help with something. He’d even constructed a little lean-to kitchen area at the side, with a cold-water sink and a kettle, and took a Thermos of cold milk down with him for his tea. I kept the biscuit barrel stocked up, and popped down with hot scones and other treats from time to time. Sometimes he used the kitchen area as a darkroom and I lived in fear that one day he’d absent-mindedly make his tea with developing fluid, or something.

      If he’d been around more often, he would have realised that I was only usually out in mid-afternoon when I needed a break, unless I crept out to the church gates for ten minutes for a sneaky wedding fix when I heard the bells peal out…

      ‘Helping to sort out Blessings is just a temporary thing and we’re having fun!’ I said. ‘I rang Sophy Winter up and asked her advice on cleaning and renovating old properties, because she’s done wonders with Winter’s End since she inherited. She was very helpful. And her great-aunt Hebe is a friend of Dorrie’s, so when she heard what was happening she sent Libby a big jar of her home-made beeswax polish. Wasn’t that kind?’

      ‘I can’t see the elegant Mrs Elizabeth Cazzini getting her hands dirty. You’ll end up doing it all yourself.’

      ‘There you do her an injustice,’ I said indignantly, ‘Libby’s never minded hard work. She went straight out and bought overalls and ordered the cleaning materials Sophy advised from a specialist firm called Stately Solutions.’ I didn’t mention the several pairs of thin cotton and latex gloves, with which Libby intended to protect her immaculate nails. ‘Dolly Mops, that cleaning agency from Ormskirk, sent a team round to give the modern wing a good going-over, but Sophy advised us to do the rest ourselves. And she knew someone who could come and repaint the plaster walls with whatever authentic gunge they need—you can’t just slap vinyl emulsion on them.’

      ‘Oh, well, I suppose it’s only a week or two, and I expect you’ll both have fun doing it up and planning the wedding and everything,’ he said, his usual good nature returning. ‘Now I’ve got this studio space in Camden I’m bound to be away more, so it will be good that you’ve got company.’

      While I was pleased to see Ben slowly warming to the idea of Libby’s permanent presence on the Neatslake scene, this last statement dismayed me.

      ‘Away more? I thought the stuido was just for storage, because it would be easier than moving your work up and down between here and London in the van. Are you going to paint there too?’

      ‘Probably just finishing things off. I’ll still do most of it here. But the artists at the studios are forming themselves into a group to exhibit together, the Camdenites, and they want me to join them.’

      ‘Ben,’ I said, dismayed, ‘at this rate we might as well both move down there and use the cottage as a weekend retreat!’

      ‘Don’t be silly, you know we both love it here and it’s where my inspiration comes from. It’s only networking, exhibiting and selling my stuff that takes me to London. Now my name’s really getting known, I have to strike while the iron’s hot. But this will always be my home, and actually, when I’m in London, I love the idea of you up here waiting for me and everything going on just as usual.’

      ‘I suppose you’re right,’ I said, slightly mollified, ‘and I do see what you mean about striking while the iron’s hot. But I don’t actually hate London and it’s always nice to catch up with Russell and Mary, so I think, although I got out of the habit of coming with you after Harry had that fall, I should get back into it again!’

      ‘But that’s easier said than done, isn’t it? I do understand that you can’t leave Neatslake at present. It’s not like Harry can be left alone to look after things any more, and the garden would run to seed now he’s too frail to do much. Besides, what about the Three Graces, not to mention Josie’s Weird and Wonderful Cakes?’

      I sighed. ‘I know—it’s all so difficult! I love my life here and I don’t want to go away. It’s just I don’t want us to be apart so much, either.’

      ‘It’ll get better soon, you’ll see,’ he said easily. ‘When I’m a big name, I can paint anywhere and people will come to me to buy my work, not the other way round.’

      ‘I suppose so, and it’s some consolation to know we have friends you can stay with. How are Russell and Mary?’

      In the days when the three of them were at the Royal College of Art and I was looking after us all and working in a nearby florist’s, learning how to torture innocent flowers into bouquets and wreaths, we’d all been good friends and shared seedy digs together. Now they’re married and have a ground-floor flat in Camden, and they put Ben up in the spare room.

      ‘They’re fine,’ he said, suddenly looking a bit shifty and evasive. After all these years I recognise the signs.

      I narrowed my eyes. ‘And?

      ‘And what?’

      ‘And the rest—whatever it is that you don’t want to tell me.’

      For a moment he stared blankly at me.

      ‘Come on, Ben, tell me the awful truth. You haven’t fallen out with Russell and Mary, have you? We’ve known them so long and it’s been really useful being able to stay with them.’

      ‘No, I haven’t fallen out with them, but they may not be able to put me up much longer because they’ll want their spare room themselves.’ He got up and put his arms around me. ‘Mary’s expecting. She says it’s all due to some herbal stuff she’s been taking, but I suspect it’s more because they ran out of money for further IVF treatment, and the pressure was off a bit.’

      ‘Expecting?’ I held him off, gazing up into his face, which looked anxious and concerned. ‘You mean, it worked?. What kind of herbal stuff?’

      ‘Something she got from a Chinese practitioner, though I really don’t see how a few dried plants brewed up into a tea could make any difference, Josie.’

      ‘Well, something obviously did! How pregnant is she?’

      ‘About three months. I only just found out, but I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you would be upset.’

      ‘I’m not upset,’ I lied, since I certainly was. And also, I was ashamed to find, jealous—plus deeply hurt that Mary hadn’t told me about the Chinese herbalist, when she knew how desperately I wanted a baby, too. ‘I’m really pleased for them, but surprised Mary didn’t phone and tell me herself.’

      ‘I expect she wanted to wait a bit before she told anyone this time.’

      Mary had been pregnant twice after IVF treatment and lost the babies at the twelve-week stage, so that would be quite understandable.

      ‘This Chinese medicine…I wonder where she—’ I began.

      Ben’s arms tightened around me. ‘Forget it, Josie. What’s meant to be, will be.’

      I held him off and snapped, ‘That’s all very well, but maybe it was meant to be that I consult a Chinese herbalist too! Had you thought of that?’

      ‘Now, darling, don’t start getting upset about it. I knew this would rake it all up again,’ he said, stroking my back in a would-be