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‘But you can’t go now. Tonight’s the big night,’ says Rosie, looking at me as if I’ve announced I’m emigrating to Australia, rather than attempting to catch the 15.22 to London Euston.
‘I know, but Alexis will go with you, and I need to get back to see Erica.’
‘I’m sure she’s fine,’ says Rosie waving her hand. ‘She probably just accidentally hit the button.’
‘She accidentally hit the button? What, your hand hovers quite regularly over your relationship status in your settings, does it?’
‘It would do at the moment, if I was close to Facebook,’ she says looking a little bit sad.
There’s definitely no sparkle in Rosie’s eyes today. Over the past few weeks I’ve seen embers of that boundless energy and enthusiasm that I remember so vividly from when we were children, but now it’s as if they’ve all been extinguished.
‘OK,’ I say sighing, and feeling torn between my best friend and my sister. ‘I’ll stay, just for tonight, and then I’ll head back to London tomorrow.’
‘You will?’ she says, a smile erupting on her face.
‘Yeah, I’m sure Erica will understand.’
‘I’m sure it’ll be one big misunderstanding anyway.’
I wish I shared my sister’s optimism.
‘So, if we’re going to this barn dance tonight, I think it only right that we get properly dolled up. Which means no more painting or manual labour today.’
‘Amen to that. I thought you’d put me to work right up until you drive me to the station.’
‘I was tempted . . . but I thought that I might as well make the most of having some female company while I still can, as next week it’ll just be me and Alexis.’
‘Are you sure you don’t mind me leaving you two alone? I could stay.’
Rosie sighs. ‘No, I barely get more than a grunt out of Rupert on the phone. Even if he did know, I wonder if he’d care. If anything, I’m just thankful I’m not going to be rattling around here on my own.’
She goes over to the sink and starts filling up one of the paint-roller trays.
‘I thought you said we weren’t going to do any more painting today,’ I say, looking at her with confusion.
‘I did, but I have other ideas for this. We’re going to go all girlie. We can do our nails and each other’s hair; it’ll be like old times.’
‘Um, what old times? When did we ever do things like that?’
‘OK, so perhaps I’m getting my childhood confused with the twins in Sweet Valley High, but we totally could have done this stuff.’
‘Sure, we could. So what does that have to do with the paint tray?’
She comes over and places the tray down in front of me right at my feet. I wish I’d never asked.
‘Pedicure,’ she says. She hands me a piece of fine sandpaper and smiles.
‘You’ve got to be kidding,’ I say, taking it and staring in disbelief.
‘I’m improvising,’ she says, filling up another tray. ‘I’m sure it’s no different to the nail files or foot stuff you get. It’s either that or the cheese grater.’
I shudder at the thought. I’ve only just got over those late-night PedEgg adverts.
‘Just pretend we’re at a spa.’
She places her paint roller down on the floor and sits next to me. She’s got her shoes and socks off and shoves her feet straight in.
‘I’ve heard all the best spas use building materials,’ I say, as I start taking off my shoes. Well, if you can’t beat them, you might as well join them, and after three weeks of punishing building work, my feet could do with a little TLC.
‘So what are you going to wear?’ asks Rosie.
‘I dunno. Probably my leggings and a top.’
‘You could make a bit more of an effort. I’ve got a really nice Reiss top that would suit your hair.’
I shrug. ‘It’s not like I’ve got anyone to impress.’
‘Oh really? What about Jack?’
I’ve not told her about the notes we’ve been passing back and forth, but I guess she’s realised something’s been going on. She’s not stupid.
‘I expect he’ll be going with his girlfriend.’
‘His girlfriend?’ she says with almost a gasp.
‘That’s right, you know Jenny, the hairdresser.’
‘Really? Her and Jack. She seems so friendly, and he seems so . . .’
‘You know, opposites attract.’
‘Oh, but that’s a shame,’ says Rosie. ‘I’d thought something was going on with you two as you kept sneaking off.’
‘Ha, no,’ I say, pretending she was barking up the wrong tree, but, honestly, I’d thought the same.
I pull my foot out and start to file the crusty skin with sandpaper, which works surprisingly well.
‘I’m going back to London anyway, it’s not like anything was going to happen on my last night.’
‘Does that go for Alexis too? You two seem to have become quite close over the last few days.’
Nothing gets past my sister. Not when I was hiding bottles of Hooch in my underwear drawer or stealing her lipstick as a teen, and evidently not now.
‘I have to admit he’s been surprising recently. Did you know he’s into the Foo Fighters and The 1975?’
‘He is? He’s always rapping Drake whenever he works with me.’
‘Yeah, it’s weird as I’d have thought he’d be into rap and R&B, but he’s actually seen loads of bands that I have. It turns out that we have tons in common.’
‘And he is devilishly handsome.’
‘Rosie, you’re a married lady.’
‘Married, not blind. You could do better than to have a little holiday romance with him on your last night here. I mean he’s French and everything. You know what that means,’ she says winking.
‘I don’t know what that means,’ I say before I can stop myself. I can’t even run an urban dictionary check because I don’t have my phone.
‘Come on, you know what their reputation is in bed. And, plus, we’ve got doors now and insulated walls, so I won’t be able to hear a thing. Go fill your boots.’
‘Rosie, ick.’
My sister and I have never really been ones for discussing boys and things, and now I know why.
‘Come on, if I was single, I would.’
‘Luckily enough you’re not single. Should I be worried about leaving you both here alone?’
‘Don’t worry, I wouldn’t act on it. I’m sure I’m old enough to be his mother.’
‘He’s only ten years younger than you.’
‘I could have been a very forward ten-year-old.’
‘I remember you at ten and you still played with your My Little Pony collection.’
‘I played with you, and your My Little Ponies. I was only being a good older sister.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ I say laughing.
The kitchen door swings open and Alexis walks in, bringing a blast of fresh air that makes my wet feet go chilly.
‘What are you doing?’ he says, looking from our feet to our faces. ‘Is this some English tradition?’
Rosie and I get the giggles.
‘Yes, yes. It’s very normal to bathe your feet in paint trays. We’re just getting ready for tonight,’ she says, trying to compose herself.
‘OK . . .’ he says, clearly thinking we’re barking. ‘It’s good, yes?’
He pulls up a chair next to me and unlaces his boots, before slipping them and his socks off and sliding his feet into my tray. I retract mine a little as he makes contact and I can’t help my blushes.
‘Shall I crack open a bottle of bubbles?’ asks Rosie, jumping up. ‘Celebrate your last night with us?’
‘Your last night?’ says Alexis, looking confused.
‘Yes, I’ve got to head back to London tomorrow.’ I try and read his facial expression, but I can’t tell if he looks sad or if he’s struggling to work out my accent.
‘The painting won’t be the same without you,’ he says, and in his sultry French tones he makes it sound so sexy.
‘No, it won’t be. We might actually get some paint on the walls,’ says Rosie.
‘Hey, that’s not fair,’ I say laughing. It’s woefully true though. I’m sad about leaving this project, but in reality, Rosie got all the practical genes in the family. I might be the queen of organisation but I’m not a natural when it comes to ticking things off the lists I’m making.
Alexis’s foot rubs up against mine and I don’t think it is accidental this time. Maybe Rosie’s right, I do deserve a little bit of fun on my last night.
*
‘Hark, look at you, lovey, don’t you scrub up well,’ says Liz as I walk into the village hall. She’s sitting behind a trestle table with a cash tin in front of her and a list of names. She looks expectantly at us until we hand her our tickets.
‘Go on through and enjoy yourself. And you,’ she says pointing her finger determinedly at Alexis, ‘you have to save me a dance.’
‘Always,’ he says with a pout.
It looks like I might have competition for my French fancy. And I don’t think it’s only from her. We walk into the hall and all eyes are immediately on us. I’m initially flattered before I realise that it’s mainly the female eyes of the room, and most of the women are gazing at him. The hall itself and is unrecognisable from the yoga class, with hay bales and bunting and dim lighting.
Rosie and I find the makeshift bar, and Alexis goes off to do his rounds of adoring fans.
‘You’d think he’s a celebrity,’ says Rosie as we watch him have his biceps stroked by one woman, while another leans in close to him and snaps a selfie with him.
I watch him and I bite my lip. I’ve always wanted to sleep with a celebrity. Maybe now’s my chance.
‘You both came,’ says a woman bounding over to us, and it takes me a minute, as she bundles us into hugs, to work out that it’s Jenny.
Now, I thought Rosie and I had made an effort in our jeans and sparkly tops, but Jenny has gone all out with her knicker-grazing, short, lacey black dress, and a fiercely dyed red bob.
‘You’re just in time for the good stuff. The band’ll start in a minute, and I think most people are here.’
I scan the crowd, looking for her date, but I don’t see him. I make eye contact with Rodney and he raises a glass in my direction and gives me a wink.
Jack’s not here, though. Which I know I should be relieved about; the last thing I wanted to see was him here with Jenny draped over him, but I can’t help feeling a little bit sad.
‘Drink?’ asks Rosie, as Jenny bounds off to give Alexis an even bigger hug than we got.
‘Yes, please.’
We get a few odd looks as we get our drinks, not because there’s anything wrong with us, but I think because we’re outsiders in the village and people have that kind of nosey curiosity.
‘You’re the ones who have bought Lower Gables farm, aren’t you?’ chuckles one man. He nods. ‘Knew Ned well. It’s nice to have a bit of life back in the old place. Good on you.’
He pats Rosie on the arm and walks off.
‘I’m so pleased you talked me into coming,’ I say to Rosie as we stand up against the wall and try to blend in with the chairs. The thought of anyone pulling us up into the scary dancing is quite unreal. I do remember doing country dancing once at Guides. The prospect of having to hold hands with sweaty Lucy Rivers, who I always seemed to get partnered with, seems preferable to dancing with most of the men here. Speaking of whom, Rodney has just appeared at our side.
‘Ladies,’ he says, tipping his imaginary hat.
‘Rodney,’ I say, feeling awkward. This is the first time I’ve spoken to him since I left his kitchen. ‘Have you met my sister, Rosie?’
‘No. It’s a pleasure,’ he says kissing her hand.
I see him clock her wedding ring and he drops her hand quicker than a hot potato.
‘Can I interest you in a dance?’ he asks me.
‘Um,’ I say, wishing that another young man would cut in, but alas Alexis is acting like a maypole with girls dangling off him in all directions, and my usual white knight is nowhere to be seen. ‘OK,’ I say, at least taking relief in what Jack said about most of his actions just being loneliness.
‘Ooh.’ I jump as he grabs my bottom, I hope by accident, before his hand finds the small of my back as he leads me across the dance floor.
The band announces the song, and suddenly I find myself being trotted around with my hands latticed with Rodney’s.
‘Follow my lead,’ he says as he proceeds to walk me forwards and backwards.
‘Oops,’ I say as I step on the woman behind me as we change direction once more. ‘I don’t think I’m a natural.’
‘Stick with me and I’ll teach you,’ he says winking.
But before I get too freaked out, he’s handing me over to a man on the other side of the circle.
Ding dong. He looks just like Colin Firth.
‘Hello,’ I say, shaking my hair back. ‘I’m Daisy, and I have no idea what I’m doing.’
‘That’s OK, I’m used to dragging my wife around; she’s clueless too.’
I sigh in disappointment and as I’m handed back to Rodney I pass by a pretty blonde woman who’s presumably Colin’s wife, more’s the pity.
It’s a good job I’ve not had time to drink too much, as the way I’m being flung backwards and forwards is shaking me right up, and by the end of the dance I’m pretty dizzy.
‘Ready for the next one?’ Rodney asks eagerly.
‘Um, I think I’ll sit this one out. How about you ask my sister? I’m sure she’s dying to have a dance.’
‘OK,’ says Rodney, grunting as he goes off in search of Rosie, and I wander over to the entrance to get a bit of fresh air. Jenny was right, it is boiling in here, that and I’m pretty unfit.
I go to walk outside and I walk straight into someone.
‘Sorry,’ I say, as an automatic reaction. I look up and find myself face to face with Jack.
He looks at me with the same sort of disdain, as if he’d found something unpleasant on his shoe.
‘Um, hi,’ I say, awkwardly. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since our run in at the farmhouse.
‘Hi,’ he says, through gritted teeth, more out of politeness than anything,
We stand there for a second in silence, until I can no longer bear it. ‘I was just getting some air,’ I say, and I go to move past him and we swap places so that he can go off into the hall to find his girlfriend.
To think that I’d almost contemplated staying up here for him. I shake my head. Thank goodness E.D.S.M. wrote and threw me a lifeline back to my old world.