Chapter Eight #2
They stayed far longer than Hattie had intended but it had been such an enjoyable afternoon, sitting in the sun, eating, chatting and watching her nephew come out of his shell.
He had such an attractive smile: he would be a heartbreaker, one way or another, fairly soon.
Eventually though, she heaved herself out of her deck chair.
‘Luke, we must go. We’ve outstayed our welcome by several hours, I’m sure, but it’s been so lovely,’ she said.
She saw a glimmer in her old friend’s eyes she couldn’t interpret. ‘It’s been a pleasure, Hattie.’
And as they hugged goodbye she wondered if Luke had held on to her just a fraction of a second longer than usual. On her part she had found it harder than usual to let him go.
The following evening, Hattie was sorting out washing when her phone went. It was Sheila. What could she want at this hour?
‘Hattie? I’m so sorry to disturb you but Fiona’s distraught.
I don’t know who else to turn to. She talks about you all the time so I hope you don’t mind me ringing.
’ There followed a series of muffled sounds where Hattie could just make out a general sense of chaos amid some choice phrases: ‘the wedding’, ‘Lance’, ‘called off’.
‘I don’t know what to do or who to turn to. ’
Hattie sighed. ‘Do you need me to come over?’
Sheila sighed deeply in her turn. ‘Could you? I would be so grateful. I don’t know how to deal with this. And Malcolm is worse than useless.’
‘I’ll be right there.’ Poor Fiona, Hattie thought, though whatever had happened to call the wedding off had probably done everyone a favour, not least Hattie who now wouldn’t have to find a way to separate the pair. The least she could do was go over to offer some comfort to her friend.
But what about Xander? Would it be OK to leave him alone in the house at night? He’d say yes if she asked him, of course he would. Maybe she’d picked up some of her sister’s anxiety, she thought as she found Luke’s number.
‘Hey,’ he said.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you at this time of night—’
‘It’s only nine o’clock,’ he said.
His voice was so comforting. She took a breath.
‘I’ve got to go out. There’s a drama with Sheila – you know? The mother of the bride, who organised the quiz?’
‘I don’t need a full CV – how can I help?’
‘While I’m sure Xander would be absolutely fine here on his own—’
‘Drop him off as you swing by. Pack some things and I’ll take him to college in the morning.’
All her tension melted away. ‘Oh, Luke! You are so kind! I lo— I’m loath to think how I’d manage without you. We don’t have any near neighbours he could call on if there was a problem.’
‘More than happy to have him,’ said Luke.
As she knocked on the door of Xander’s bedroom she realised how close she’d been to telling Luke she loved him. She did love him, of course, but as a friend. And words like ‘love’ shouldn’t be used casually, she decided.
Xander was delighted when Hattie told him what was happening and didn’t object to packing some things.
Hattie allowed herself a couple of seconds to wonder how her sister would respond if she heard her son had gone to spend the night with a man she didn’t know at a moment’s notice.
Not well, was her conclusion as she started the car.
Sheila almost dragged her into the house the moment she rang the bell.
‘Come in, do! I don’t know what’s going to happen. Fiona is beside herself.’
As Hattie followed Sheila into the kitchen, she wondered where Sheila’s friends the Craigs were. Perhaps they’d gone touring before the wedding.
Fiona was standing at the kitchen table in her dressing gown, tear-stained and looking desolate. Her father was sitting at the end of the table, a large glass of something by his hand. Sheila took hold of her daughter and gently led her to a chair.
‘You’ll feel better if you have something to eat,’ she said.
‘Food isn’t always the answer, Sheila!’ said her husband.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Hattie, sitting next to Fiona, hoping the name of her father would come back to her shortly.
‘Lance wants to call off the wedding,’ said Fiona.
‘Do we know why?’ asked Hattie, secretly thinking again that this was very good news.
Fiona nodded. ‘He doesn’t think I’m committed enough to him. I’ve let him down.’
Hattie took a breath. ‘How have you done that?’
‘I didn’t lose weight before the wedding. He thinks I don’t care if I’m a fat bride although of course I know perfectly well he doesn’t want one of those. I did try hard, I really did, but it wasn’t enough!’ Fiona’s voice broke.
‘She hasn’t eaten a thing today. I’ve only just found out about it,’ said Sheila quickly.
‘Oh God,’ said Hattie. ‘Why did he think you hadn’t lost weight?’ she asked Fiona.
‘He came to the latest dress fitting,’ said Sheila. ‘The dress fitted perfectly; Fifi looked a dream, didn’t she, Malcolm?’
‘I can imagine,’ said Hattie. Her mind was whirling, wondering why they didn’t have a wedding planner to sort out this mess – she was a property hunter, for goodness’ sake!
What on earth were they expecting from her?
Had she been a wedding planner, she realised, she would not have let the bridegroom near any dress fittings.
‘I don’t see what all the fuss is about,’ said Malcolm. ‘Eat less between now and the wedding: you’re bound to lose a bit of weight.’
Hattie and Sheila looked at the man sitting at the end of the table, glass in hand. ‘She doesn’t need to lose weight,’ said Hattie.
‘How do you know?’ Malcolm said belligerently. The whisky in his glass was probably not the first.
‘By looking at her,’ said Hattie, fully aware that it wasn’t her place to say these things. ‘She’s got a lovely figure.’
‘Lance doesn’t think so,’ said Malcolm. ‘She’s more Shetland pony than racehorse, that’s for sure.’
Fiona visibly slumped in her seat.
Hattie took a breath and bit back the retort she wanted to make. She turned to Sheila. ‘I couldn’t trouble you for a cup of tea?’ She could see the kettle on the Aga, spluttering slightly. While whisky obviously wasn’t a good idea, a cup of tea would help.
‘Of course!’ Sheila got to her feet, her chair making a dragging sound on the quarry-tiled floor.
‘I’m sorry, Hattie,’ said Fiona. ‘I don’t really know why Mum rang you, but you are good at organising things.’
‘What do you want me to organise?’ Hattie asked quietly.
‘I want you to get Lance back for me.’ Fiona’s eyes filled with tears again. ‘Tell him I’ll do anything – go on a juice diet, have those injections – but please, get him back for me!’ Fiona sniffed and then took a soggy tissue from her pocket and wiped her nose.
Sheila placed a mug of tea by Hattie and she took a heartening sip.
‘Are we a hundred per cent sure Lance doesn’t want the wedding to go ahead?’ she asked. As she was fairly sure he stood to gain a lot by marrying Fiona, she was surprised he was calling it off.
‘He does want to marry me!’ Fiona wailed. ‘But only if I’m thinner. I can be thinner! I have a whole week.’
‘Plenty of time to lose any extra poundage,’ said Malcolm.
‘Except there isn’t any extra!’ snapped Sheila.
‘So, you want me to go and talk to him?’ said Hattie, wishing that Sheila would say ‘Yes, and give him hell’ but aware that she wouldn’t.
‘Yes, please,’ said Sheila. ‘I wouldn’t trust myself and Malcolm has had far too much to drink.’
‘I’m absolutely fine!’ said Malcolm.
‘I’m perfectly happy to go,’ said Hattie. It wasn’t true, but she didn’t want Malcolm on the narrow lanes of the Cotswolds. ‘Is he nearby?’
‘He’s at a holiday cottage,’ said Fiona. ‘I’ll send a link to your phone.’