Chapter 4
‘He may live in my memory as the most amiable man of my acquaintance…’
We arrived at Toby’s in record time. Dom and Jamie made a beeline for the hay barn behind the house, across the freshly hosed-down farmyard. The sun was out, the air was warm, and a faint whiff of manure hung in the breeze.
I was trailing behind them, lurking in spy mode, when a familiar voice cut through the air. ‘Woohoo, Florence, come on in and have a cup of tea!’
I froze mid-step.
Audrey’s round face beamed out at me through the open kitchen window. She was waving a tea towel like a flag. So much for stealth.
Dom and Jamie disappeared into the barn. My Darcy had vanished, and I was being summoned for tea.
‘Don’t just stand there like a lost lamb! Come on in!’
Seconds later I was scooped into her arms, my head firmly pressed into her floral-scented bosom. Audrey mothered me with full enthusiasm. I was the daughter she never had.
‘I’m so pleased you’re here, Florence! Your mum called earlier. I’ve told her not to worry about a thing. You’ll be in the spare room next to ours.’
Of course Mum had called. I’d been briefed into the care of another capable, apron-wearing adult. I smiled, accepting my fate.
The kitchen was like a furnace. The Aga was on full blast, radiating heat like it was trying to cook us all. Their ancient collie, was sprawled on her back, paws resting against a cupboard door, her tongue lolling, looking about one twitch from taxidermy.
‘Now then, let me have a look at you,’ Audrey said, releasing me and holding me at arm’s length like some prized calf on market day.
She gave me a slow, approving nod. ‘Whippet thin but turning into a real looker. Very nice, Florence,’ she declared, pleased with herself.
‘I wish I had a girl like you, not just those galumphing boys.’
I tried to smile as though I wasn’t dying inside. Compliments from Audrey came in farm stock phrasing, but the heart was there.
Toby was one of four brothers. He was the runt, relatively speaking. The others were already in their twenties, big and burly like their dad.
The kitchen table was groaning with food – fat pink sausages, burgers, a wheel of cheddar cheese, bread rolls stacked like bricks. Nearby, towers of golden sponge cakes cooled on racks, their buttery scent filling the air.
Audrey moved around the kitchen with the determined grace of a woman whose love language was feeding people until they rolled away.
‘Kettle on before the rabble arrive,’ she said, hefting a dented kettle onto the Aga.
Within minutes I was conscripted to make icing for the cakes.
That suited me. I didn’t have to say much.
I just nodded and listened while Audrey updated me on the latest Bostock family sagas: sheep that went missing, cows that wouldn’t calf, school results, septic tanks.
Life here followed a rhythm I admired and feared in equal measure. It never stopped.
Then I heard his voice. ‘Hello, Mrs Bostock.’
I froze mid-stir. The spoon wobbled in my hand. Jamie.
Audrey let out a giggle usually reserved for teenage girls. Jamie leaned in and kissed her on both cheeks, European style.
‘Oh, Jamie, do call me Audrey for goodness’ sake,’ she beamed, red-faced.
‘Audrey,’ he said, the word melting out of his mouth like honey. ‘Thanks for having me to Toby’s party.’
She flicked her tea towel in the air, utterly charmed. ‘Oh we’re delighted to have you here, Jamie.’
He smiled. Audrey visibly swooned.
‘Here, let me help dry up,’ he said, taking the towel from her and lifting a bowl off the rack. He settled next to her like he’d been born in that kitchen.
It was… mesmerising. He wasn’t just handsome, he was kind. He listened. Not fake listening, either. Proper lean-in, eye-contact, ask-a-thoughtful-question listening.
I stayed quiet, spreading icing onto the sponge cake with the slowest, most deliberate movements of my life to date. The mixer stayed off. I didn’t want to break the spell.
I listened. I absorbed. With every passing minute I felt like I was cracking the tiniest code of who he was. Word by word.
And then suddenly he was beside me.
I hadn’t heard him cross the kitchen. One second he was with Audrey, the next he was dipping his finger into the bowl of icing.
I jumped.
He turned, smiling. ‘That’s delicious, Florrie.’
Florrie. No one had ever called me Florrie before. My insides did a somersault.
‘Thank you,’ I managed. Barely.
‘I’m glad Dom brought you along. It’s going to be fun tonight.’
I nodded mutely, suddenly aware of the icing in the corner of my lip and the fact I was wearing a second-choice T-shirt.
A car horn blared outside. All eyes were drawn to the window.
An ancient army Jeep had pulled up, rattling like a war relic. At the wheel sat another boy I recognised from Dom’s year. In the back, casually draped over a pile of sheepskin rugs, were two girls. Afghan coats, long, flowing hair. One of them blew Jamie a kiss with crimson lips.
‘Hey, Jamie!’ she called, smoky and low.
They were otherworldly. Glossy, wild, undone in that expensive way. A Vogue spread come to life.
Jamie turned to me.
‘It’s my sister, Lily,’ he said politely, then excused himself from the kitchen leaving behind a silence that swallowed the whole room.
I watched through the window as he reached the Jeep.
Lily stood up and threw her arms around his neck.
They were laughing, clearly delighted to see each other.
The other girl, with chestnut waves, was lighting a cigarette.
Dom was saying something that made them all crack up.
Their dramatic gestures and particular brand of beauty didn’t just exist – it performed.
Audrey exhaled, still slightly flushed. ‘Well,’ she said, adjusting her apron. ‘Toby does have some very glamorous friends, doesn’t he?’