Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
L aura had only just returned to the living room when she heard the toot of a car horn, and then the chime of the doorbell. Opening the door to Spencer, it took a second for her mind to rearrange itself; her thoughts had still been with Clayton.
‘Hello you,’ said Spencer, stepping into the hall and gathering her up for a long kiss. ‘Mm.’ He broke away, gazing intensely into her eyes. ‘That was nice.’
His hands roved her body as his mouth searched again for hers. This time she gently turned her head away, putting some space between them.
‘I wasn’t expecting you.’
‘I didn’t know I needed to announce myself,’ Spencer said, following her through to the living room.
He was clearly trying to sound jokey but it didn’t work. Laura turned and glanced curiously at him. Perhaps he’d had a difficult day; she shouldn’t be too hard on him.
‘I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s a lovely surprise.’
Laura resumed her place on the floor, with the boxes. ‘I was sorting out some of this Christmas stuff but it can wait.’
Spencer sat down in the seat recently vacated by Clayton. He nodded towards the small table between the two sofas.
‘Tea for two, was it? I saw the gardener’s van.’
Laura felt her shoulders tighten as a sense of déjà vu crept over her. For goodness’ sake, was she not allowed to give her gardener a cup of tea without facing the Spanish Inquisition, first from Emily and now Spencer? If her daily life was that fascinating, perhaps she should install a webcam so that nobody missed any detail of it.
‘Yes, that’s right. Clayton was here. We had arrangements to make.’
She may as well have added, ‘What of it?’ – it was there, in her tone, as plain as could be.
‘Hey.’ Spencer held up his hands, the palms facing her. ‘I was only passing comment, that’s all.’
‘I know.’ Laura got up from the floor, took the box off the sofa and sat down. ‘I’m sorry I snapped. I’m tired, that’s all. It’s lovely to see you.’
Linking her arms around Spencer’s neck, she pulled him to her and planted two light, playful kisses on his mouth. His arms went around her as he kissed her back, not so lightly. After a moment, Laura broke away before the kissing turned into more. Spencer leaned back and crossed his arms, resting his head against the back of the sofa. He looked vaguely disappointed.
Laura suppressed a sigh. She’d been doing this a lot lately, holding back on Spencer, putting up an invisible barrier between them. She didn’t mean to do it, but lately she’d begun to wonder exactly how important she was to him. He said he loved her, and she believed him, so why, in that case, had she never met his parents? It wasn’t as if he talked about them much either. In fact, they rarely got a mention unless she asked a direct question.
Spencer came from a small town in Gloucestershire, which was where his parents still lived. He’d told her they were ‘getting on a bit’ and not in the best of health. His father in particular was quite frail, apparently. She could see how hard it would be for them to come up to Sussex, but surely Spencer could take her to see them, even for a flying visit? They could put up in a hotel or something. He had an elder brother, too, also living in Gloucestershire with a family of his own. From the little information Laura had gleaned through judicious questioning, they sounded nice. She was sure she’d like them all, given the chance. Spencer had met her mother several times, as well as Laura’s sister, Rachael – they’d lost Dad three years ago – and they’d all got on well, so why was Spencer dragging his heels over the return match?
Occasionally, Laura carefully raised the subject but all she received each time was a promise that he’d sort something out ‘one day’. But that day had never come and she’d begun to think it never would.
She sighed again, this time without hiding it, and Spencer placed his hand over hers and squeezed it gently. Outside, the sky darkened to dusky grey. The fire crackled in the grate.
‘You never said why you came, Spence. Not that you need a reason,’ Laura said.
‘I was passing on my way home from the Uckfield site so I thought I’d pop in. But actually, do you fancy coming over to mine this evening? I’ll cook.’
‘Oh, that would have been lovely but I’ve got the book group coming at seven.’
With Clayton’s unscheduled visit, and now Spencer’s, the book group had gone right out of Laura’s mind, until now.
‘Ah yes, the book group.’ Spencer playfully, and a little annoyingly, flicked the tip of Laura’s nose with his finger. ‘Not a late one, is it? You could come over to me afterwards, if you like?’
Laura wasn’t sure. It was turning out to be a long enough day as it was – an unsettling day, if she was honest.
‘I shan’t say for definite now but I’ll ring you later. Would that be okay?’
‘Of course, my lovely, if that’s what you want.’ He smiled.
Shortly afterwards, Spencer left. He waved cheerily as he spun the BMW round and set off down the drive, flinging up gravel from the back wheels.
On Saturday morning, Laura walked down to the village. She often walked rather than drove; it was such a pretty walk, past a tangle of woods and a stream which bubbled out of the chalk hills, and it was only fifteen minutes to the high street. It was a bright, still day, mild enough not to need a coat over her thick sweater. Spencer was coming over tonight. She’d pick up a couple of fillet steaks at the butchers, which was one of the purposes of the trip. Her other reasons were connected with Christmas.
The preparations were as much fun as Christmas itself; Laura had always thought so, even as a child. When other children, her sister Rachael included, couldn’t wait for the big day, Laura had lived in the moment, immersing herself in gluing strips of coloured paper to make paper chains, gathering bundles of ivy and other greenery from the woods near their Oxfordshire house – which would dry out and turn brown well before they were needed – and spending hours in the kitchen with her mother, covering herself in flour while she ‘helped’ to make the pastry, pressing out endless circles for the mince pies with a glass tumbler.
It pleased Laura to find that Holly was the same. She’d inspect the decorations Laura had put up with a critical eye, and change them about if they weren’t completely to her liking. And she loved to cook, especially the baking. As soon as school, then college, had broken up, she would take over the kitchen and turn out mince pies, sausage rolls and cheese straws – until she got bored, of course, and disappeared to the village to reconnect with her friends, leaving Laura to clear up the mess and find enough tins and boxes in which to store all the food. No doubt it would be the same this year, when she came home from uni. Not that Laura was complaining. It was great that Holly showed an interest and, besides, you could never have too many mince pies.
This morning, then, Laura planned to pick up an extra couple of jars of homemade mincemeat from the WI market in preparation for Holly’s marathon cook-in. She needed more Christmas cards, too – the bookshop always had a good selection.
And then there was Cynthia, the Christmas tree fairy, to be dealt with. Laura had bought the little plastic doll from Woolworths on hers and James’s first Christmas together. She’d been dressed all in white with a silver wand and wings. James had taken one look and named her Cynthia. How he’d come up with the name she had no idea, but Cynthia she was, and that was that. As soon as Holly had been old enough to take notice, another tradition had been born – Cynthia must be freshly decked out every year. Grown up her daughter might be, but Laura would never get away with presenting Cynthia in last year’s outfit.
Cynthia first, then, Laura decided, crossing the road as she turned into the high street. The wool shop, which had a good range of haberdashery, was one of her favourites. The narrow, black-and-white timbered building with the crooked roof was one of the oldest in Charnley Acre. It had a bowed window with glass so thick you had to peer closely to see what was on offer, and if you didn’t duck as you went in, you were likely to receive a crack on the head from the low lintel. It all added to the charm, of course.
Pushing open the door, Laura ducked, and ran headlong into Clayton.
‘Sorry,’ he said, almost knocking a basket of wool off its stand as he stepped back. ‘Oh, hello Laura. It’s you.’ He smiled.
‘Yes, it’s me.’ Laura stood stupidly in the doorway, feeling wrong-footed at seeing him out of context. The wool shop seemed a strange place for Clayton to be.
Edging his way forward in the narrow space by the door, Clayton deftly reached behind Laura and released the door so that it swung shut. She had no option but to step forward herself, but Clayton didn’t move, seemingly undecided whether he was staying or leaving. He seemed to find the whole dance-in-the-doorway thing amusing.
Laura laughed; she couldn’t help herself. It came out as a girlish giggle but she decided to ignore that.
‘Taken up knitting, have you?’ she said, squeezing past the shelves of wool to enter the shop properly.
‘Oh yes. I’m a regular little Kaffe Fassett. Didn’t you know?’ Clayton widened his eyes at her, the sensation of a smile beginning to show.
‘You’re winding me up.’ Laura glanced at the balls of wool on the shelves. ‘No pun intended.’
‘None taken,’ said Clayton. ‘I’ll hang on outside till you’re done. I’ve got something to show you.’
‘He’s quite a character, isn’t he?’ remarked Veronica, the shop owner, giving Laura a wry look as she finally made it to the counter.
‘Yes, I suppose he is.’ Laura smiled distractedly, wondering what on earth Clayton could possibly have to show her.
She didn’t have to wait to find out.
‘He asked me to put this poster in the window.’ Veronica held up a piece of A4 paper, printed in green and red, with the details of the Christmas tree sales. There was even a picture of a tree with a star on top. Clayton hadn’t wasted any time there, had he?
‘I must say it’s ever so good of you to have the trees up at yours,’ continued Veronica, leaning forwards across the counter, ‘but if anybody was going to make amends, it’d be you.’
Make amends? Laura was confused for a moment, until she realised Veronica was referring to Spencer and his plans for the site. She sighed inwardly. She loved living in Charnley Acre, couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, but nothing stayed private for long. Practically the whole village knew she was going out with Spencer, and now they knew about the change of venue for the Christmas trees, too. Which was right that they did, of course, if Clayton was to turn a decent profit. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted one of his posters already taking pride of place in the window of the bakery across the road.
‘Well, if it helps, then…’ Laura tailed off. She wasn’t going to start explaining herself. People could make of it what they liked.
She smiled. ‘I’ve come about Cynthia. Her new outfit.’ The Englebys’ fairy was almost as well-known in the village as Laura herself. ‘I thought pink this year. I found a bit of netting for the skirt, so I just need some pink ribbon to make the top, and a bit of pizazz of some sort.’
Veronica was already stooping below the counter. A long cardboard box was placed on top, the lid cast aside. ‘Voila! My bits and pieces box. There’ll be something in here. Cynthia was in blue last year, as I remember?’
‘She was. Lavender the year before that, after the gold.’
Taking her time while she chatted to Veronica, Laura selected some wide, silky ribbon in deep rose pink to make the top half of the outfit, and a spool of silvery trimming to go around the skirt and the fairy’s wings.
‘You’ll see how Cynthia looks when you come to the party,’ Laura said, as Veronica rung up her purchases and put the items into a small paper bag. ‘You are coming, you… and Jack?’
Veronica hesitated for a moment. She tucked a stray strand of silver-grey hair behind her ear, then smiled. ‘Of course I’m coming. It’s the highlight of Christmas! Not sure about Jack yet, but we’ll see.’
Laura nodded. Every year, she’d invited Veronica and Jack to the party, and every year so far, Veronica had arrived alone. She seemed to enjoy herself, knowing most of the village as she did, and there was always someone on hand to see her home. Laura just let her be. Jack was a lovely man, from the little Laura knew of him, but he wasn’t a mixer. She supposed that was the way he was and she didn’t question it.
‘Well, you’re both very welcome,’ she said, picking up the bag from the counter.
She’d been in the shop a while. With any luck, Clayton would have given up and gone by now. She could do without any further distraction today; her head seemed to be all over the place as it was.
But no, there he stood, studying the window display of the bookshop next door. Or perhaps pretending to. He smiled as she approached.
‘I’m not lurking with intent. Or maybe I am. It’s just that when I saw you I realised I should really have shown you these before I stuck them up all round the village, since they’ve got your address splashed all over them.’ He lifted a fat yellow manila folder.
‘The posters you mean? Veronica showed me hers, and it’s fine. Just get on with whatever you need to do. You don’t have to check in with me.’
Clayton tucked the folder beneath his arm. ‘That’s very good of you. Listen, I do appreciate this, especially, well…’ He shrugged.
Laura smothered a smile. Clearly, Clayton still had Spencer on his mind as an integral part of their arrangement and it bothered him. She shouldn’t have been surprised at his sensitivity though. Nothing he had ever said or done had yet revealed him to be the kind of man who didn’t consider other people’s feelings. Quite the reverse, in fact.
‘Look, you really don’t need to worry. I’m just happy that the trees will still be sold in Charnley Acre, or as near as,’ she said.
One look at Clayton’s face told her he understood what she was saying, despite neither of them having mentioned Spencer directly.
‘Right, in that case, may I treat you to a coffee?’ Clayton waved towards the Ginger Cat, a few shops along. ‘I want to give them a poster anyway.’
So much for avoiding distraction, Laura thought. And Clayton was distracting, in quite an unnerving way; she’d only just admitted that to herself. But there, it was done now; she’d accepted his invitation, and they were seated at a table in the window of the Ginger Cat.
Half an hour later, coffee drunk and cartwheel-sized peanut butter cookies eaten, Clayton seemed in no hurry to leave. Talking to him was easy, the same as it was in her garden and at her kitchen table. There were some people, she was thinking, while Clayton relayed a funny tale about one of his gardening clients, that you felt you could say absolutely anything to and just be yourself. Clayton was one of them. Spencer, on the other hand… well, sometimes she felt she had to make a concerted effort, to look right, and to say the right thing.
Laura fiddled with an earring, her gaze fixed on the cats leaping around the rim of her plate. She was too eager to please, that was the trouble. Only last month she’d squeezed into a waist-clinching sapphire-blue silk dress and narrow sling-backs with pin-thin heels to attend a function with Spencer, and although he’d complimented her, and she knew it was just the kind of outfit he’d expected her to wear, she’d been mightily uncomfortable all evening. A little thing, okay, but little things added up, didn’t they?
‘Laura? Is everything all right?’
She looked up at Clayton. ‘Yes, sorry. I just thought of something, that’s all.’
He gave a firm little nod. ‘You’ve got things to do. I mustn’t hold you up any longer.’
At once, Clayton was up at the counter, paying at the till, and they were out in the street again.
The Saturday morning traffic streamed past, and amongst it, a dark-blue BMW.