Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
Rita sat stiffly on an upcycled kitchen stool, a towel draped around her shoulders, while Kelly prowled around her with the focus of a seasoned stylist prepping a celebrity for the red carpet. A bottle of wine on the go.
‘I don’t know why I let you talk me into this.’ Rita laughed, eyeing the array of products on table. ‘I’m more wheelbarrow chic than runway sleek now.’
‘You never used to be like that and honestly, Reet, your hair. Even Vidal Sassoon would have struggled, the state it’s in.’
‘I know. I know. And before you say it, who’d have thought crows even had feet this big.’
‘Rubbish.’ Kelly double checked the hair dye instructions and took a slurp of wine.
‘You’ve got cheekbones that hardly even need a contour.
And a wodge of moisturiser will sort out those fine lines.
Now sit still and trust the process. You’re going to look like the mermaid of Seahaven Bay by the time I’m done.
Actually, shit, I have a little gift for you.
’ Kelly rooted around in her tote then pulled out a bright yellow rubber chicken.
‘Meet Nigel the second. You can take out all your rage on something that isn’t me.’
Rita gave it an experimental squish, causing its eyes to pop out dramatically.
‘Dear God.’ Rita’s shoulders started to shake. ‘Actually, this is disturbingly satisfying.’
‘And a lot quieter,’ Kelly added, gauging Rita’s reaction. ‘I also got you a back-up in white, in case Nigel Mark II explodes under pressure.’
Rita half smiled. ‘You’re still not forgiven. Bless that poor bird.’
They both laughed, the sound echoing through the kitchen and out into the early evening. Rita let her shoulders drop and closed her eyes as Kelly began to work her magic.
After a prolonged period of silence, her knowing best friend asked, ‘Are you all right, Reet? I mean, really all right.’
‘Yeah, just tired. Lots to think about and do, you know.’ Rita refilled their glasses.
‘I guess grieving could become quite draining, but you know you can tell me anything, right? Is it the will?’
Rita’s throat tightened. She knew she could trust Kelly with even the messiest parts of her life.
‘No. I haven’t even thought about that for a while, to be honest. Haven’t got time to. I need money now and it’s quite obvious all he’s left me is debt anyway.’
‘Shit, I didn’t mean to make you think about it again, Reet.’
‘It’s fine.’ Rita took a deliberate slurp of wine.
It had nothing to do with the will. It had everything to do with Jago Jenken.
His kiss had knocked something loose in her, stirred up feelings she’d thought were long buried beneath grief and practicality.
Everything felt tangled up with guilt and confusion.
And she wasn’t quite ready for the questions.
Or the answers. Or the weight of what it might all mean if something were to happen between them.
‘Fine or fine? Whatever it is, I’ve got your back, mate.’ Kelly squeezed Rita’s shoulder.
‘I know.’ Rita sighed as Kelly repeated the mantra they had used throughout their many years of friendship.
‘I’m always here with an ear.’
A couple of hours later, Kelly’s magic had been worked. She held up a mirror with a flourish. ‘Now. Prepare to fall back in love… with yourself.’
Rita gasped. Her hair, now a shiny and soft chestnut brown all over, sat in waves around her face, her skin glowed and her eyes looked brighter. More awake somehow.
‘I look like… well, I look like me. The pre-Archie-going me.’
‘You look like you’re about to host the most fabulous retreat this county has ever seen.’ Kelly beamed.
With Kelly now relaxing in a hot bath, Rita rang the annexe doorbell with her nose, whilst balancing a plate with two slices of pizza. The scent of pepperoni and roasted vegetables wafted up as she waited.
Hilda opened it in her leopard print dressing gown, eyebrows already raised. ‘I don’t recall asking for meals on wheels. And definitely not at this unearthly hour.’
‘Don’t get excited, it’s just shop-bought pizza. Kelly is staying, we had some left over and I know how much you love it.’
Rita could hear the faint sound of grime music coming from Teo’s room above. Hilda took the plate, eyeing Rita over the rim of her glasses. ‘You’ve done something to your hair.’
Rita hesitated. ‘Yes. I’ve had the full Kelly effect.’
‘Oh.’ Hilda’s gaze didn’t soften. ‘It looks nice. Bit of rouge always did make a difference to you. One wonders who you might be doing this for?’
Rita tutted. ‘The retreat is open tomorrow, so Kel, well, and I, thought I should look the part.’
But Hilda had already turned toward the little kitchenette, setting the plate down with a clink. ‘Don’t think I don’t see what he’s doing. All that helping out, turning up conveniently with things you didn’t ask for. Wrapping you round his little finger, one favour at a time.’
Rita crossed her arms. ‘You’re being ridiculous; he’s… he’s just being kind.’ Praying that her hawk-eyed mother-in-law hadn’t seen the kiss, a stab of fear stung her.
‘You know who I’m talking about, then?’ Hilda turned slowly.
‘And am I being ridiculous? First it’s the yurts, then a marquee, then…
who knows? He’ll have you signing something before you know it.
You wait. Next thing, you’ll be handing over the farm and all that my Ralphy and your Archie worked for will be for nothing. ’
Rita’s jaw dropped. ‘No!’ She could feel her anger rising. ‘I would never…’
Hilda’s expression didn’t change; however, her voice softened. ‘Just keep your wits about you, that’s all I’m saying. You’ve been through a lot. And sometimes we mistake kindness for something else. I just don’t want this to be a lesson to you for the bad.’
Rita stared at her, the words still stinging. ‘You think I’m that stupid?’
Hilda gave a small shrug and picked up her plate. ‘I think you’re still grieving. And that he’s far from stupid.’
Rita felt deflated. ‘Maybe if you explained to me exactly what happened between both families then I would be able to understand your fury.’
Hilda pursed her lips. ‘Not now, Rita. There’s a bottle of something fizzy on the top shelf of the fridge. Take it to celebrate tomorrow; you deserve it. Though technically, I paid for it… so raise a glass to me while you’re at it.’
Realising that was all she was going to get, Rita replied tightly, ‘Thank you, Hilda.’
‘And I shall look forward to meeting your guests.’ The old woman’s lips twitched. ‘I promise not to embarrass you. Much.’
Rita couldn’t help but smile. Hilda put her free hand on her daughter-in-law’s shoulder. ‘Just be careful, Rita. That’s all. Some people wear the face of an angel but have the mind of a devil.’
With that, she reclined on her chair, turned up the news and shoved a piece of pizza in her mouth.
As Rita walked back to the farmhouse, Hilda’s ‘face of an angel… mind of a devil’ comment echoed loudly around her mind.
She didn’t want to believe it, and shook her head as if to physically dislodge the doubt.
Didn’t want to think Jago’s warmth, his help, the kiss, could be anything other than real.
Maybe grief had left her soft in places she used to be sharp.
That scared her. She was a bright woman; surely she wouldn’t be fooled, wouldn’t fall for charm or convenience.
And yet… she had never felt the need to ask why there had been such a rift between the families.
She glanced up at the silhouette of the barn, the marquee now casting long, soft shadows in the field behind it. She took a huge breath. Please let me not be a fool, she thought, as she reached the farmhouse door. Please let me be right about him.