Page 22 of Fe
“What lot?” his mum asked. “What are you talking about?”
“I bought a box of bits and pieces at auction and it turned out it should have been withdrawn. Mr Belmont came to the shop to ask me for it and I arranged to meet up and give it back to him.”
“You gave him something when he came in,” Scott said.
Thank you, resident spy.
“I found a George Cross in a wooden box.”
“Oh my word.” Alistair gasped.
“And you gave it back?” Charles gaped at him.
“Yes.”
“Of course he did,” said Fen’s mum.
“It was the right thing to do,” Alistair added. “Well done, Fen. No wonder he bought you a ticket to the ceramics event. Talking of right things…” He took Fen’s mum’s hand. “We asked you all for lunch today to tell you our news. I asked Daisy if she’d do me the very great honour of becoming my wife and she, perhaps unwisely because I haven’t yet revealed all my horrible habits, said yes.”
Fen’s mum was looking at Fen and he smiled at her as he walked over.
“Congratulations,” Fen said. “To you too, Alistair. That’s fantastic news.”
“Thank you.” She squeezed Fen’s fingers.
“Thank you, Fen.”
Alistair was a kind man and he’d look after her. Fen was happy she’d have someone other than him looking out for her, especially if he wasn’t around to do it. He took a deep breath. The downside to them getting married was the other part of Alistair’s family. Fen didn’t like Charles, Diana or Scott, and they didn’t like him and he didn’t think they much liked his mum. He thought it might have something to do with the way she’d encouraged Alistair to stand up to Charles who liked to ride roughshod over everyone. Even his own son. In that respect, Fen felt sorry for Scott.
“I have champagne ready to open! Scott, come and give me a hand with the glasses.”
Fen felt a frisson of disappointment Alistair had asked Scott and not him, but Fen would have only been able to carry one glass at a time, and definitely not a tray of glasses.
Everyone was still chattering about the wedding when they sat down to eat. It looked like they wanted to get married next year in Italy, which meant Fen would need a passport. And travel insurance.
They were all crammed around the makeshift dining table set up in his mum’s sewing space. Not one chair matched another. Nor did the plates. But it didn’t matter. The food was fantastic. Lots of crispy roast potatoes and parsnips, a perfectly cooked joint of beef and dishes of peas, carrots and fluffy Yorkshire puddings. Plus, a little bowl of mint sauce for Fen because he was a fiend about it, almost no matter what he ate.
“I’m going to move in with Alistair,” his mum said to him quietly. “It seems pointless paying rent for this place.”
“The landlord has announced he’s going to have it renovated after Christmas,” Alistair said.
“Bastard,” Fen said. “All those years you asked him…”
His mum shrugged. “Oh well. At least I’m not going to have to cope with his horrible taste in kitchen units.”
“Just my horrible taste.” Alistair smiled.
She elbowed him. “They’re lovely.” She turned to Fen. “There’ll be a bedroom there for you if you ever need it. I wouldn’t move otherwise.”
Fen nodded. Alistair had a house rather than a small two bedroom flat so Fen understood.
“Maybe Scott will be next,” said Scott’s mother.
Fen doubted it. As far as he knew, Scott never went out with anyone for more than a few weeks.
“The poor girl will not know what hit her,” said Charles. “Don’t think I haven’t seen all those wedding magazines, Diana.”
“Maybe Diana is planning her second one,” Alistair said with a laugh.
