Chapter 22
22
Carole snipped at the overgrown shrub beside the front gate, wondering when the thing had sprouted out of control. Another busy week at work wrangling her new clinic sessions into shape meant that she’d scarcely had time to pay attention to what was going on around her new house. In the spare moments she’d had over the past few days, she’d managed to finish painting the living room, but that was all she’d got done.
The new pink colour on the living room walls looked fantastic and she was thrilled with how the space looked now that the dreadful old fireplace was gone. With that work done, she realised it was time to tackle some other jobs, especially in the front garden, or else her neighbours would think she was some sort of lazy person who’d happily sit back and let it all go to wrack and ruin.
Thoughts of her neighbours had her glancing towards Tom’s house.
Since the mind-searing kiss they’d shared a week ago, she blushed whenever she thought of him. Part of her wished she could turn back time and stop that kiss from ever happening in the first place—while another part of her longed to kiss him again.
Which was why choosing not to be in contact was a good move. As Carole had insisted they forget the kiss ever happened, they had no real reason to be exchanging texts or anything like that anyway. Their wedding plus-one arrangement was over, which was why they’d spent time together in the first place.
Cutting off contact was the right thing to do, she was sure of it. This new start in her sweet little house on Foxglove Street, so close to her family and with a great new job nearby, meant everything to her. She couldn’t risk it all on account of her ludicrous crush on her neighbour.
She wouldn’t risk it, either.
So, although it had felt awkward to dash off last Saturday night and then exchange no more than a couple of awkward messages with Tom in the days that followed, Carole knew it was the right move.
The only move.
And it was why she shouldn’t be thinking about him at all, because that would only tempt her to break her no-contact vow. Determined to push the man out of her head, she attacked the overgrown shrub with renewed vigour.
She was snipping some shape into the wayward shrub when she heard her name being called from out on the street. When she looked up from her work, she recognised Olive Nimmo hurrying along the pavement towards her.
“Oh, Carole, what a stroke of luck to bump into you!” the older lady said when she reached the front gate. She looked flustered and sounded a little breathless.
“Is everything okay, Olive?” Carole asked.
“No, I’m afraid I’ve got a bit of a disaster on my hands,” Olive said, her brow creased with worry. “Four of our models for the vintage fashion show have pulled out at the last minute and I’m rushing around trying to find replacements. The show starts in less than half an hour and we’re on the cusp of absolute chaos!”
Carole had no idea what the woman was talking about. The confusion must have shown on her face, because Olive shook her head and sighed.
“I’m sorry, dear, I’m probably not making much sense. Do you remember the leaflet I gave you for the Hamblehurst History Museum summer fair?”
Now it all came back to her. Despite pinning the leaflet to her kitchen corkboard, she’d forgotten all about the event… which, she now realised, was happening today.
“Sorry, Olive, yes, I remember now,” Carole said. “But what’s the problem?”
“We had a plan agreed for the volunteers who’d signed up to be models in our vintage fashion show. But four of them pulled out this morning at the last minute because of family emergencies and illness. We don’t want to cut the fashion show short, because it will scarcely be worth the name if we do that, and so I’m racing around trying to find some folks to jump in and lend a hand. All the other volunteers we have are already stretched to their limits across the various things we need to staff throughout the day, and we can’t risk shuffling anyone around and causing even more chaos. So, I’m on the hunt for some warm bodies to step into the breach.”
“Gosh, that sounds like a handful, Olive. I hope you can sort it out.”
But Carole already detected the hopeful look on Olive’s face and knew what was coming next.
“I don’t suppose you’d be able to help, would you dear?” Olive said. “You’d be perfect for our fashion show. I mean, look at you—you’re gorgeous!”
“Uh, well…”
“And we’d only need you for about twenty minutes, enough time to get into your allocated costume and walk the runway. There’s really nothing to it!”
“Ah, Olive, I don’t think?—”
“Oh, please say you’ll help, Carole!” Olive’s expression was almost pained. “We’ve put such a tremendous amount of work into this little fashion show, and we’ll be so upset if it all falls apart at the last minute because of unforeseen circumstances. I’ve already convinced two other neighbours here on the street to lend a hand, and if you could pitch in too, that would help save us from disaster. Please, Carole. I’d be so very grateful.”
It was impossible to refuse the older lady’s request. Olive was clearly desperate, and everyone knew how much work went into these volunteer-led community events. Carole had already said she’d drop by the museum summer fair at some point, and it wasn’t exactly an enormous imposition to agree to put on some old historical costume for a few minutes. The idea of walking a runway made her more than a little nervous, but it was all for a good cause.
And anyway, she couldn’t turn Olive away without feeling terrible and selfish. Carole smiled and sighed, knowing she was beaten.
“Okay, I’ll come and help out,” she said, laughing as Olive clapped her hands together in joy. “But I’ve never done anything like this before, so don’t be surprised if I look like a big elephant clomping down the runway.”
“You’ll look marvellous, dear, I’m sure of it. And it’s not so much a runway as a piece of spare lino we convinced the manager of the flooring shop over in the retail park to donate for free. We don’t have the budget for anything fancier than that. So don’t worry about what you’ll look like, because I know you’ll look wonderful.”
“What exactly will I be wearing?” Carole asked, already gathering up the gardening tools so she could return them to the shed.
Before Olive could answer, Tom’s front door opened and Tom himself appeared, jogging up his front path. When he saw Carole talking to Olive over the front fence, he came to a halt.
“Oh, hello,” he said. “I was, er, just fetching something from my car?—”
“Tom, you couldn’t have appeared at a better moment!” Olive said. “Are you busy right now?”
“Uh, well…” His gaze flicked between the two women. “Why do you ask?”
Carole almost felt sorry for him, knowing what was coming next.
“Well, I was just explaining to Carole that we’ve got quite a pickle to deal with at today’s Hamblehurst History Museum summer fair. Some of the volunteers who were supposed to be taking part in our vintage fashion show have pulled out at the last minute, and I’m in charge of finding replacements. Carole here has very generously agreed to step into the breach. Tom, would you be willing to do the same and be one of our fashion show models?”
Carole watched his eyes widen in stunned surprise at the request, and she couldn’t hide her grin at his astonished reaction.
“You want me to… be in a fashion show ?”
“There’s nothing to it, and you’ll be done in twenty minutes, I promise,” Olive insisted. “We’ll get you into one of our vintage costumes, get you to walk the runway, and then it will all be over. You will be doing me such a huge favour if you agree to help, Tom.”
Tom’s gaze flicked from Olive to Carole and back to Olive again. “Uh, well… are you sure there’s no one else who could help? I don’t know anything about fashion.”
“If you agree to help, you’ll fill the last vacant spot in our modelling line up and will save me having to rush around trying to scare up one last volunteer,” Olive said. “And I assure you, you don’t need to know anything about fashion. You’ll just put on the costume we’ve prepared, walk up and down the runway, enjoy the applause from the spectators, and then it will all be over.”
Tom’s gaze shifted to Carole, seeking guidance or encouragement, she wasn’t sure which.
“I’ve already agreed to help out,” Carole said. “If you agree too, we can give each other a bit of mutual support and encouragement.”
He seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding. “Okay, sure. Olive, I don’t want to leave you in the lurch, but I should warn you that I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“No one who’s taking part has ever done anything like this before,” Olive said. “We’ve all bitten off more than we can chew at the historical society, as usual, but I’m sure it’s going to be terrific fun, assuming we can pull it off. Now, let’s get over there. We don’t have a moment to spare!”
Carole tossed her gardening tools into the hallway, realising there wasn’t time to return them to the shed, and grabbed her phone and house keys. When she met Olive out on the pavement, Tom was locking his door and hurrying to join them.
As Olive set off at a brisk pace in the direction of the market square where the history museum was located, Carole and Tom fell into step alongside her. The older lady was already describing the format of the vintage fashion show, the emcee in charge of running the event, the costumes that were waiting for the models inside the history museum, and the changing areas they’d sectioned off to ensure privacy.
As Olive chattered away, Carole caught Tom’s eye and gave him an amused smile. He returned it with a resigned shoulder shrug, but she could see the twinkle in his eye and was glad he was able to appreciate the humour in this ludicrous situation they’d been roped into.
Olive’s phone rang and she pulled it from her shoulder bag and squinted over the top of her glasses at the screen.
“It’s one of the other committee members from the museum, no doubt calling to find out what progress I’ve made,” Olive said to Carole and Tom. “I’d better answer it, but let’s keep our pace up while we walk over to there. We’re already cutting it very fine indeed!”
Olive stabbed at the screen to answer the call, still marching ahead of Carole and Tom as she began chattering into the phone.
“Bet you wish you’d never stepped out of your house,” Carole said quietly to Tom, and laughed.
“Well, I’ve been conscripted now so I’d better just make the most of it,” he replied, his smile looking more baffled than ever. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I hope I don’t trip up over my own feet and end up looking like a prat.”
“You’ll be fine. So will I, well I hope so anyway. And I just hope these vintage costumes they want us to wear aren’t too daft. I mean, what if I end up having to walk the runway in a pair of hideous bellbottoms and platform shoes?”
“You’d look just fine if you did. On the other hand, if they put me in a pair of bellbottoms, then I’ll feel truly sorry for the spectators who’d have to see it.”
Carole laughed. She’d missed talking with Tom like this over the past week during her self-enforced no-contact. His easy conversation and relaxed humour were comforting and comfortable. Part of her wondered at how easy it was to fall back into their daft banter, despite last weekend’s stupid kiss.
“So, how was your week?” Tom asked. “Busy at work?”
“Yeah, super busy. Non-stop. Run off my feet.” Now she was waffling. “I had a lot of clinics and therapy sessions happening last week and it was hectic, but it’s good to see the new ideas I have for mental health support services starting to bear some fruit and deliver positive outcomes for our patients.”
She was still waffling. Worse, she was starting to sound like an NHS policy document.
“Er, how was your week at work?” she asked, keen to move the conversation away from herself before she bored him to death.
“All good,” Tom replied. “Same as you, busy with lots of things to do, but making progress.”
“That’s good.”
The easy camaraderie of a moment ago had suddenly vanished and now it felt awkward. Carole’s mind filled with a memory of their scorching kiss, only making her discomfort worse.
“Carole, listen, about last weekend…” Tom said.
But before he could say anything more, Olive ended her phone call and turned around to face them both.
“Everything is all set over at the museum for the fashion show,” she said, keeping up a ferocious pace. “They’re all thrilled that you’re both able to help and have promised to delay the start of the fashion show for a few minutes if necessary to give you time to change, because it turns out that the two costumes still waiting to be assigned are, er, well let’s just say it might take an extra minute or two for you get into them.”
“What does that mean?” Carole asked. “What costumes are we wearing?”
“Well, you see…” Olive’s phone rang again. Once more, she peered over the top of her glasses at the screen. “Oh, that’s another of my museum colleagues. I’ll have to answer this. Come on you two, let’s get moving!”
Olive answered her phone and kept marching onwards. They were turning onto the high street now, and as they navigated the busy pavements while trailing along in Olive’s wake, Carole couldn’t help but wonder at the older woman’s cryptic words about the costumes she and Tom would soon be wearing.
What exactly lay in store for them at this vintage fashion show?