Chapter 11
Tabitha
Tim had seemed quite annoyed as he disappeared through the kitchen door. About the lunging at him last night or the spilled coffee this morning, it was hard to say. “Racking up the infractions, Balfour,” I mumbled quietly. It was going to be a long two months.
Feeling abandoned, I wandered back to the warmth of Trystan in the dining room, which had now cleared because people were eating outside in the garden. I asked him questions about his business and what people mostly ate.
He rotated the plate of chocolate croissants. “Well, let’s just say despite the numerous diets I cater to, the donut plate is just crumbs by eight thirty most mornings, and the fruit bowl sits there until it rots.”
I laughed at that, and he chattered on while I prompted him with questions, until he paused for a second. “Darling, what’s the deal with you and Mr. Brawny the Builder?”
I grimaced. “We used to be best friends, but… I’m not sure I know him anymore.”
I certainly didn’t know Tim well enough not to throw myself at him. I thought I knew him as a bit of a Lothario, but since he’d rejected me and wasn’t teasing me about it this morning, it was clear I didn’t have a clue about who he was.
Trystan raised a skeptical eyebrow.
Tim and I had played together every minute as kids, and there were those two amazing weeks in our twenties when we became so much more than friends, but for the last three months during the renovation, we’d only been battling it out. There had certainly been no catch-up chats or confiding.
“Didn’t look like it from where I was standing behind the craft table.” He stirred the fruit salad theatrically. “You two know each other well enough to be very awkward.”
“We don’t get on.” I didn’t know whether it was the hangover or what happened last night, but our antagonism was starting to feel miserable rather than invigorating.
“Ah. Enemies to lovers, my favorite trope.” Releasing the salad spoon, Trystan rubbed his hands together.
“Start thinking about the details now, Tabitha. I’ll come back to you for each beat.
In the meantime, you should head to my friend and flatmate, Poppy, in her wardrobe, hair, and makeup trailer, which is already set up in the garden.
Also, a rom-com aficionada. And she is almost as much fun as me. ”
My hands flew under my eyes, where I’d seen dark circles this morning in the bathroom mirror.
“That bad?”
“You do look a bit pale, but everyone needs makeup for the shoot,” he said.
He put a sprinkled donut on a plate, glanced at me again, then added another one. “You are lovely, however many cocktails you had last night. But let’s just say, it’s a donut kind of a day.”
“Ah. Here she is. I’ve been waiting for you. Come on up. I’m Poppy.”
Poppy was standing at the top of the stairs to her trailer, her hand held out to shake, black nails, her arms colorful with sleeves of tattoos.
“Hi, Poppy. Lovely to meet you.”
Inside her trailer, I put down my donuts on the bench in front of the mirror. “Would you like one?”
“No, you need them both, apparently.”
“News travels fast with this crew.”
“Sweetie, you have no idea.”
Poppy patted her hair, teased high into a black pompadour, smoothed her black dress with a white Peter Pan collar, and motioned for me to sit in her swivel chair.
“I love your whole look,” I said.
She rocked from side to side. “Thank you. You know, I can see you wearing this dress too.”
“Yes, I think you’re right.” I wouldn’t be brave enough for the tattoos or the coif, but I could do the dress.
I relaxed into my seat, immediately more comfortable.
“I’m sorry. I look pretty tired and puffy,” I said, wincing.
She looked at my reflection and rested her hands on my shoulders. “Trystan just texted and said you were out on the turps last night and to ready the blusher.”
I laughed. “Yes, truckloads of brightening needed. Go big on the fairy wand.”
She giggled. “I’m just glad you were out having a good time.” She swooped a black cape around me with a flourish and Velcroed me in. “That’s what life’s about.”
I said nothing.
“You did have a good time?” she pressed, staring into my eyes.
I took a breath and winced. “In the end, not really. I won’t bore you with the details.”
“You’ll realize Trystan and I will always, forever until the end of time, need the details.
” She fluffed out my hair. “I’ll do a minimal makeup look, which I warn you, will take me far longer than the more obvious red lip and cat eye.
And what about a loose braid? It will look like you’re properly working but keep it soft. ”
“Sounds great to me.”
“Perfect.” She started by cleaning my face, put new moisturizer on, primed my skin, and then applied foundation.
I bit my lip. “What are you thinking about wardrobe? I’m going to help Tim, wheelbarrowing out the debris and carrying in materials and fixtures, so I need to move around.
Could I just wear my own clothes? I’m not that comfortable in trousers.
” Loose skirts and dresses were my thing.
Even though I loved home design, and fashion too, I didn’t experiment much with clothing.
Hardly at all. And after last night’s debacle wearing the new red dress, I was wary of striking out again.
“I got you.” She turned to pull her makeup trolley closer and dipped a brush into the array of powders displayed on the top tray.
“I lean into what people already wear and just double down on that vibe. I looked at the very few photos of you on your Insta. Girl, you’re like a granny, how little you post. Actually, my gran posts all the time.
She’s a bit of a menace. But back to you.
Let’s ease into it. I thought I’d go with a floral Liberty look except maybe, er, younger and fun. ”
She was right about the granny social media presence. One of my interns did the social media for our section, and I rarely made an appearance. So much so, Isla told me some readers had a Reddit threat that was a sort of Where’s Waldo, piecing together what I actually looked like.
I was a behind-the-scenes person, and I wanted it to stay that way. Unlike Tim, who was born to be in front of the camera. Seemingly without effort, he innately understood what to post, and it was always off-the-cuff, taking the piss, on the move, and rough.
She tied my hair in a loose braid over my shoulder, but with that artfully messy look I could not have achieved on my own.
After a half hour of primping, she looked at me in the mirror and patted my shoulders. “There. Beautiful.”
I gazed into the mirror at someone who looked dewier than she had a right to. “Thank you, Poppy. You’ve worked miracles.”
She turned to grab an outfit. It was a matching floral blouse and skirt in my usual Liberty fabric. “I want to make sure you can move around and work and feel and look good too.”
I changed behind the screen. The skirt had a shirred, defined waist, much more flattering than what I normally wore, only considerably shorter. But it felt familiar, and I was comfortable in it. Instinctively, though, I tied the bow tight around my neck.
“Bend over,” Poppy said after I emerged from behind the screen.
I could feel my eyes widen.
“Sorry. I’m not being pervy, honest. We need to make sure it’s a workable length.”
I liked this woman.
“Picking up a bucket, very, very glamorously,” I said, bending over. “How’s it looking?”
“No knicker sightings,” Poppy said triumphantly, and we chuckled together. “You need some sturdy footwear. I have some very cute Merry boots.”
“Yes, good idea.”
I told her my size, she brought out some coral boots, and charmed, I pulled them on.
“May I?” She twiddled her fingers at my neckline as though she wanted to make adjustments, and I nodded. She opened a few buttons, plucked the bow tie loose, and tied it lower. Not as buttoned-up as I usually liked to be, but still, I felt free and put together.
“I like it,” I said. “It’s more fun than what I normally wear, but practical.”
“I’ve got you,” she said, winking. “You can count on me. Oops, a little bit needed on the hair. Hey, sweetie,” she said through the hairpins in her mouth. “Trystan informed me that you and Tim definitely have history. C’mon, spill. It goes no further than Trystan and me.”
I wiggled, flustered. Holding my gaze in the mirror, Poppy squeezed my shoulders. She seemed so understanding, and maybe I wanted to talk about my past with Tim with someone.
“We were best friends as kids, spent every second we could together. Then we lost touch during high school when I was sent to boarding school in Switzerland.” I grimaced at the memory of that dreadful place.
“After I finished my architecture degree, I came home to stay with Mum and Dad and apply for jobs in London. On the first day back, I met Tim in the supermarket.”
I swiveled gently, dreamily, on my chair, and went on.
“I was dumb struck by how gorgeous he was, but then we ended up walking through the aisles for absolutely ages, joking about groceries. He asked me to meet at the pub that night. I’m shy, and I was nervous about meeting his friends—whenever I’d seen him through the years, he was always surrounded by people—so I almost didn’t turn up.
But he was sitting by the fire, waiting by himself.
We laughed all night about all our good times as kids.
Next day, he turned up at the house at lunchtime with my favorite bread and cheeses.
Then we met after his work and walked for hours through the places we’d played as kids—the river, the meadows, the forest, and talked and talked.
For two weeks, we spent every minute together that he wasn’t working.
It was a wonderful, hot, dry summer, a magical time. ”
“Oh.” She smiled. “That man was smitten. So, when was your first kiss?”
I smiled at the thought. “Not for two whole weeks. Our shoulders and hands kept brushing together. We shared lots of intense, lingering glances. Then one day, we were sitting by the riverbank and I got a ping on my phone—a job offer from the most prestigious architecture firm in London. He gave me a huge congratulatory hug…and it turned into our first kiss. It was—” I sighed at the memory “—God, it was nothing I’d ever felt before.
He said, I’ve fallen in love with you. I can’t do without you now.
I told him I felt the same. We walked back to Mum and Dad’s hand in hand.
We were both living with our parents, and after we talked, he called the local inn for dinner and to stay over.
He said we were starting our new life together that night, and he couldn’t wait.
Then he left to change and grab his toiletries. He never came back.”
She gasped. “Oh my God. What happened?”
“Tabitha, you are needed on set, toot sweet,” Freya called through the door, amid an impatient rhythm like she was tapping her pen on her clipboard.
Relief washed over me that I was interrupted. Rehashing history isn’t healthy because I have to work with Tim.
Poppy squeezed my shoulder, turned Sabrina Carpenter’s “Espresso” up loud and started dancing as I left for the shoot, more positive than I’d felt in years.
“You’ve become stale, Tabitha. You only ever talk about work and people I don’t really like.” Perry’s words were not going to affect my mood. Yes, it had been a rough twenty-four hours, but this morning had been fun.
I was newly single—not dumped. That was going to be my motto. Surely the rest of my day would continue getting better.