Now that Eleanor had made up with her friends, she was desperate to see them as often as possible. So the following morning, she quickly finished her animal chores and cycled to Willow Tree Hall.
On the journey, she mulled over how quiet her mum had been that morning. But she still hadn’t mentioned the conversation with Arthur over relinquishing ownership of some of the animals. Eleanor made a mental note to pop in and see Ben to ask his advice. After all, he was her mum’s oldest friend.
She arrived at Willow Tree Hall just in time to see Tom loading up Sam’s car with his weekend bag and guitar. She wandered over, still feeling slightly sweaty from her bicycle ride. But the last time he’d seen her, she had been in her pyjamas and a complete mess. Did it really matter anymore? He would never be interested in her anyway, so what was the point in bothering?
That morning she had just pulled on her cut-off jeans and a T-shirt. No fancy silk jumpsuit. No pristine white clothes. No heavy make-up. Just some mascara and tinted moisturiser.
‘Hey. You’re heading up to Glastonbury now?’ she asked, as Tom lifted in the final bag into the boot.
‘Yeah,’ he told her. ‘I need to meet up with my band to rehearse and do some interviews for the TV companies.’
She smiled. ‘Sounds very glamorous.’
‘It really isn’t.’
She found it easier to relax with him. She supposed that now that he had seen her in her pyjamas, soaking wet and generally in a mess for various days running, she could stop putting on her air of refined style.
‘What, no tent?’ she quipped, glancing in the boot.
He smiled. ‘Five-star Winnebago all the way, thank god.’ He glanced around, as if to ensure they weren’t overheard. ‘You’ve made it up with your friends, I hear.’
She nodded. ‘It’s all okay now, thanks,’ she told him.
They were interrupted by a furry grey blur as Dylan hurtled out of the front door and rushed straight towards them.
‘He doesn’t seem to understand that I’ve got to go away for a few days,’ said Tom, looking worried.
‘He’s going to miss you,’ said Eleanor as the dog sat down and gazed up adoringly at Tom.
He reached down to stroke the soft fur on Dylan’s head. ‘Do you think I should sing him a song on stage just to cheer him up?’
‘As your number one fan, he would expect nothing less,’ Eleanor told him.
‘I was thinking about doing a Coldplay number as it was their slot that I’m taking over,’ said Tom. ‘Which is his favourite do you think?’
Eleanor felt a thrill at his question. ‘I reckon Dylan has always liked “The Scientist” the best out of all of Coldplay’s songs.’
He broke into a grin and her heart caught in her throat for a second.
‘Will I see you when I come back?’ he asked, his voice low.
‘You’re not heading back to London afterwards?’ she asked, her throat still constricted. She was suddenly upset that he was leaving. Suddenly aware how much she was going to miss him for even that short a time. But they had known each other for such a brief time. How was it possible that she had begun to care about him?
‘I thought I might stay on here for a while longer,’ he said, in a casual tone. ‘What about you?’
She nodded. ‘I was thinking the same.’
He was staring at her, his blue eyes boring into hers as if he could read what was in her very soul. But then he stood up as the rest of the family joined them and the moment was lost.
Eleanor watched as Annie and Sam also said their goodbyes.
‘Maybe you’ll fall in love with some glamorous hippie there,’ Annie was teasing Sam.
Sam shook his head. ‘Nope,’ he murmured. ‘I’ve got everything I’ll ever need right here.’
As they kissed, Eleanor looked away, trying to remember when she had ever been kissed with such passion.
After they had left, Eleanor stayed at the hall.
‘So what shall we do today?’ she asked. ‘How are the plans for the fete coming along?’
‘I don’t even know where to begin,’ said Annie, staring down at a blank piece of paper.
‘Okay,’ said Eleanor. ‘Well, we’ll have to put our thinking caps on.’ She turned to look at Megan. ‘Oh and I was thinking about offering to babysit for you one evening if you and Neal fancied going out.’
But Megan didn’t look excited at the offer. ‘Thanks, but we never go out anyway,’ said Megan, looking miserable. ‘Neal keeps saying that we’re saving up, although I don’t know what for.’
There was a short silence whilst they all reached for a biscuit, lost in their thoughts.
‘Well, at least we know Alex will cheer us all up when he arrives later on,’ said Annie.
‘Who?’ asked Eleanor.
‘He’s Sam’s friend from school. Alessandro… Our interior designer.’ Annie looked very excited.
‘You’ve got to meet him. He’s amazing,’ said Megan. ‘I can’t believe I’ll miss him because I’ve got to pick the kids up from school.’
‘And I can’t believe I’m finally going to get my brand new kitchen,’ said Annie, beaming.
Eleanor had envisaged someone tall, discreet and very Italian in the way the designer had been described. Only one of those things was right.
‘Ciao!’ yelled the dark-haired man in jeans rushing across the entrance hall to give Annie a bear hug. He was even shorter than Annie. ‘Let me look at you,’ he said, stepping backwards. ‘Jeez, am I ever going to get you out of those bloody skinny jeans?’
Annie gave him a kiss on the cheek before exchanging a knowing smile with Eleanor. ‘Nope.’
‘Well, we’re going to need a friggin’ meringue to put over them if you insist on wearing them at your wedding. You look tired. Has Sam been keeping you awake all night?’ he winked.
‘Shut up,’ muttered Annie, blushing furiously. ‘Anyway, he’s in Glastonbury.’
But Alex just laughed and hugged her. ‘Darling, I’ve missed you and your shy ways. And you must have missed me terribly!’
Eleanor was agog. He was a real character.
‘Of course we have,’ Annie told him. ‘But it’s not our fault you’ve been in your love nest with Mario every hour of every day. By the way, where is he? I thought he was coming with you?’
‘Dumped, sweetie.’
‘No! Why?’
‘That china doll collection of his I told you about? I couldn’t deal with it any more,’ said Alex with a shudder. ‘The damn things stared at me all night with those glass eyes. Felt like they were giving my performance marks out of ten. Then I accidentally knocked “Josephine” off the dressing table when I was dusting and he went completely psycho. I was outta there.’
‘Poor you,’ said Annie, laying a hand on his arm. ‘I’ve got some lemon drizzle cake just for you. Shop-bought at the minute because of the lack of kitchen, I’m afraid.’
‘I can’t eat my way through heartache, darling.’
‘There’s coffee cake as well.’
‘Excellent. Lead the way.’ They headed across the hall and Alex locked eyes with Eleanor. ‘You’re new,’ he said, giving her a once-over. ‘But at least you’ve got some style, much like myself. I’d recognise those Primarni loafers anywhere. Thought they’d sold out. Who are you?’
‘Alex!’ muttered Annie, shaking her head. ‘You’re so rude.’
‘Italian,’ he snapped back. ‘There’s a difference.’
‘This is Eleanor,’ said Annie, sounding proud.
‘Blimey, I thought she was your imaginary friend after all this time,’ said Alex. ‘Where have you been hiding, lovely?’
‘London,’ Eleanor told him, feeling nervous under his scrutiny.
‘Civilisation indeed,’ said Alex, nodding. ‘This must all be a bit rural for you.’ Without waiting for an answer, he swept past and headed towards the kitchen.
Annie and Eleanor exchanged a smile and then followed him.
In the kitchen, the electrics, lighting and plumbing had now been completed. Brand new appliances were starting to arrive in enormous packaging and the whole room was slowly taking shape.
‘A dishwasher! A tumble dryer!’ said Annie, with a smile. ‘And no mice. Well, maybe not so many.’
Alex shuddered. ‘I should think not. So have the plasterers finished upstairs as well?’ he asked.
‘Last week,’ said Annie. ‘All the guest bedrooms are just waiting for your magic touch.’
‘You wait until I tell you my ideas for these,’ said Alex, his eyes gleaming. ‘It’ll be like the best hotel in the area. Very upmarket but beautiful too. And free, natch. But, heaven help us, only housing crusty musicians. Oh, not gorgeous Tom, of course. I can’t believe my first weekend visit and he’s at bloody Glastonbury.’
‘Try and focus,’ said Annie, in a firm tone. ‘Now what about my kitchen? You haven’t told me what it’s going to look like.’
‘It’s going to be fabulous and that’s all you need to know,’ said Alex, his eyes gleaming. ‘Your fiancé has made you wait long enough, so we can go over budget by a teensy tiny bit.’
Annie shook her head. ‘I daren’t. We’re so broke.’
Alex made a face. ‘How dull. Leave it to me. I know how to get a bargain or two.’
Annie led them outside onto the sunny patio where she planned to serve them tea.
Alex glanced down to a pile of cuttings that had been hidden underneath her notepad on the table. ‘What’s all this?’
‘I was sorting out a few newspaper reports from the last couple of years,’ said Annie, with a grimace. ‘We’ve got to host the annual summer fete. It’s our duty as future earl and countess of Cranley.’
Alex clapped his hands together in fake enthusiasm. ‘A summer fete! How very twee!’
Eleanor looked at the photographs and was dismayed by what she saw. The Queen’s garden party, it certainly wasn’t. A few stalls, mostly bric-a-brac and other rubbish. Some flowers in pots for sale. A few balloons. ‘Where’s the bunting?’ she asked. ‘If it’s going to be a proper fete, it should at least be pretty.’
‘Everything should be pretty to look at otherwise it’s too depressing to contemplate,’ said Alex.
Annie shrugged her shoulders. ‘I think people came because their parents did and it’s sort of carried onto the next generation.’ She brought out a large notebook and stared down at the blank pages once more, as if seeking inspiration.
‘You’d better put Portaloos at the top of that list,’ Alex told her, tapping the blank page. ‘I’m not having all and sundry traipsing through this beautiful home that I’ve made for you.’
Annie grimaced. ‘God, I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘What had you thought of?’ asked Eleanor.
Annie sighed as she handed over the photographs of the previous fetes. ‘Just that it had to look better than that.’
Alex grimaced as he looked over Eleanor’s shoulder at the pictures. ‘It couldn’t look much worse. Where the hell’s that cake? We need sugar for the shock.’
Annie served the tea and cakes on the rickety patio furniture. To make it a bit more pretty, she had arranged some pink sweet peas which had been plonked into a jam jar.
‘Bert grows them. Don’t they smell wonderful?’ said Annie, sniffing the air. ‘They’re my favourite.’
‘It’s like we’re in a frigging time machine,’ said Alex, shaking his head. ‘Albeit a cute, countryside one.’
‘We’re not that bad,’ Annie told him, cutting a slice of cake. ‘We’re just in the country, that’s all.’
‘That’s it!’ exclaimed Alex with a start.
‘What are you talking about?’ said Annie.
‘The fete, dumbass!’ said Alex. ‘I’m thinking old-fashioned but pretty. Classic. Very English.’
Eleanor stared at him as he grabbed the notebook and started writing down his ideas as he said them out loud. ‘Stalls, yes. Lots more than in previous years. But mainly cakes, vegetables, flowers and that type of thing. Home-made cakes. Definitely bunting. Did I mention cakes? People can’t get enough of the things. Mary Berry eat your heart out. It’s got to be old-fashioned. Pin the tail on the donkey type of thing.’ He broke into a wicked grin. ‘I’m very good at that.’
‘What about a merry-go-round?’ said Annie, grabbing the pen from him. ‘For the children?’
Alex shook his head. ‘Absolutely no way. You don’t want the smell and mess of fairground rides. And definitely not a cheap burger van either. It’s got to be classy. Croquet. Cocktails. Nice old-fashioned games. Gentrified. A proper country village fete.’
Annie’s eyes widened. ‘Crikey,’ she said, looking at Eleanor for guidance.
But Eleanor was nodding her approval. ‘He’s right,’ she said. ‘Bunting everywhere. Pretty rugs and cushions. Tea light holders in jars. Old bottles. Lots of floral cloth.’
‘It’s got to look like a Cath Kidston advert,’ said Alex. ‘It’s gonna be flippin’ gorgeous.’
Eleanor nodded enthusiastically. She knew exactly what he was talking about. It was going to look beautiful on the front lawn, especially with Willow Tree Hall as a backdrop. But he was right about that too. The house would definitely stay closed.
Portaloos, she wrote, grabbing the pen from Annie and underlining the word three times.
‘What’s the entertainment?’ said Alex.
Annie frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘You need stars, sweetie,’ said Alex, rolling his eyes. ‘That draws the punters in. Presumably you want to make money for your charity, don’t you?’
Annie broke into a smile. ‘Well, stars we can probably get hold of, thanks to my fiancé.’