Page 31 of The Wedding Dress Repair Shop
12
In the Basket
I emailed Honey to explain about the cat and she raised no objections at all, though I strongly suspected she’d paid the taxi firm extra to transport the cat basket along with me and my various downmarket bags and boxes.
Honey’s email had said she would unfortunately be away on the day I moved in, doing an author event and taking Viv with her, but she’d put a note with the info about anything I’d need to know urgently in the cottage kitchen and she’d leave the keys at a workshop two doors along.
On the final morning, the removal men packed all the contents of my flat into their van in about an hour … and very forlorn it looked when empty, too. The removal men were going to drop off a couple of large items for someone else a bit further north first, then would be with me just after lunch, which suited me very well.
I wouldn’t say the taxi driver was enchanted to have a yowling cat in the back of his smart car – and it has to be admitted that there were some horrendous rending noises as Golightly attacked the wickerwork basket – but luckily he soon gave up and went to sleep.
London had put on its sunniest September face, as if to show me what I would be missing, but as we drove further and further north, the sky clouded and by the time we reached the outskirts of Great Mumming you could hardly see out for great sheets of rain, and the fast beat of the windscreen wipers had sent me into a hypnotic trance.
I peered out when the driver told me we were nearly there and had a brief impression of a market square surrounded by buildings, before we turned through a narrow archway and bumped over the cobbled yard of the mews.
I told him the cottage was at the top left side, and he skirted some kind of little central garden and came to a stop in the corner. When he turned the engine off, the rain drummed on the roof like giant fingers and Golightly woke up and said something grumpy in Cat.
‘I’ve just got to fetch the keys – I won’t be a minute,’ I said, pulling on an inadequate cotton jacket.
‘Don’t rush. With a bit of luck, this rain might go off … or an ark float by,’ he said sardonically.
‘I think the sky might be a bit lighter now,’ I said optimistically as I stepped out on to wet, shiny cobbles, and indeed, the deluge seemed to slacken at that moment and turn into a fine rain that swept across the courtyard in wet, grey curtains, revealing glimmers of some of the stone buildings surrounding it.
I didn’t hang about looking, though, but hurriedly followed Honey’s directions, passing the end of my cottage and the narrow passageway, then knocking at the second door along, where there were lights on behind the wide windows. The knocker was shaped like a jester’s head, complete with traditional belled tricorn cap, and I let it drop with a heavy thump.
The door swung open immediately, as if the person behindit had been listening out for me – or perhaps had heard the slam of the car door.
I pushed wet hair out of my eyes. ‘Hi, I’m Garland Fairford and I’ve come to collect the—’
I broke off, looking up into the face of the man who had opened the door: a very familiar, straight-nosed, handsome face, the dark amber eyes suddenly seeming to flash with a spark of golden light.
‘You– here?’ we both said simultaneously, and then, for a long moment we just stared at one another as the smile of welcome died on his lips.
Thom … My heart had given a great leap of joy at the sight of him, but now I was filled with a conflicting desire to both hug him and pummel him hard.
I recovered from the shock first; the fight-or-flight instinct must have kicked in. I snatched the keys from his hand, turned on the spot and ran back to the car, slipping and sliding on the cobbles.
Behind me, I thought I heard him call my name.
*
Ten minutes later, I was standing in the hall of the cottage, my belongings scattered around me and the car was gone. The driver had cheered up; I think I must have overtipped him because I hadn’t really known what I was doing.
I locked the front door, then closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the smooth wood, taking a few deep breaths and wondering if I’d just conjured Thom up out of thin air.
But no, he’d seemed real enough, casual and relaxed in jeans and a loose blue chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Hisdark honey-coloured hair was longer than I’d ever seen it, tucked behind his ears …
And how quickly the old, familiar name had sprung to my lips, my first line of defence already crumbled away to nothing.
He reallywashere, in Great Mumming; had probably been here all the time, for he’d looked at home and relaxed before he recognized me.
A thought struck me: Honey knew about my connection with Thom, so she had concealed the fact that he was here from me. And, remembering the stunned look on Thom’s face, I concluded he’d had no idea it was me who’d be collecting those keys, either.
It was some slight consolation to realize that at least he couldn’t think I’d found out where he was living and followed him up here because, as far as he knew – assuming he was still hearing things on the theatrical grapevine from Mallory and Demelza, who I’d always suspected of keeping in touch with him – I was about to marry Marco and was in line for promotion at work.
Now I feltreallyconfused, my mind in chaos. Was the workshop where Honey had left the keys his? Did he actually live nearby?
I urgently needed to speak to Honey, and I was already groping in my shoulder bag for my phone when I remembered she was off doing her book event and I’d have to leave it till later.
