Wish Upon a Star (28 page)

Aimee’s thinly veiled insinuation that I was after his lottery winnings really set my back up, too – what a bitch!
And
she was warning me off Jago, with all that possessive stuff, not to mention the great vulgar chunk of diamond on her ring finger. I can only assume they’ve got back together again, and actually, that feels like another betrayal, when all along he’s been telling me that Aimee was a mistake and he wasn’t going to give her another chance.

Not that it matters to me really, of course, because we’re just friends and that’s all he’s ever seen me as … which of course is exactly how I want it to be, too. We have such fun together, he’s great with Stella and I just really, really like him and feel comfortable with him … or I did, till this afternoon.

If he succumbs to the Abominable Aimee, she’ll whisk him back down south and make sure I never see him again …

Oh, but Aimee did make me feel fat and frumpy! She’s as tall and thin as a model and totally beautiful, in an artificial and glossy way, with a private-school voice and that air of never having been denied a single thing she’d ever wanted.

In fact, she emanated such polished perfection that she was probably dipped bodily into a vat of wax weekly and then buffed up.

I’d walked – and even run – home so fast that I was pink and out of breath by the time I got there and had to cool down and then eat half a chocolate fudge cake before I was ready to go up to the studio.

There I found Stella fast asleep on the chaise longue with Moses wedged in between her and the back and Toto lying at her feet like a cut-price heraldic dog on a tomb.

She woke up as soon as she heard my voice and told me that she’d just seen a fairy in the garden.

‘She’s been away with the fairies since you left,’ Ma said, scraping her palette off and then wiping it with an oily cloth.

‘Mummy,’ Stella said, ignoring this, ‘I think that fairies are just very small angels.’

‘As theories go, that seems a very good one to me,’ I agreed.

‘I’d rather have an economy-sized one than something that flits about faster than the eye can grasp, like a hummingbird,’ Ma said.

‘Well, let’s flit down and have some tea,’ I suggested, holding out my hand to Stella.

Jago sent me an email later apologising for Aimee and saying he was sorry I’d seen her at her worst. So was I, come to that, but I expect she can be much, much worse than that. Then he said he hoped I’d be in town tomorrow as usual and he’d tell me all about it then.

Tell me about
what
? About him and Aimee getting back together? Do I want to know all the details about that? I don’t think so!

And why had he added a recipe for sharp lemon tarts at the end? I don’t remember either of us mentioning them.

It was easier to go into town next morning than explain to Stella and Ma why I didn’t really feel like it. The shopping still had to be done, after all (Ma proving surprisingly and illogically resistant to the idea of internet grocery shopping and home delivery) and I wanted a lot of lemons for curd, some waxed discs and jam pot covers. Stella also gave me to understand that there would be hell to pay if I didn’t bring her back her gingerbread pig.

Dorrie and Sarah were in the shop when I went in and after saying hello and asking after Stella, Sarah called through the door to the bakery, ‘Jago!’

He came in looking more like Captain Jack Sparrow than ever, his black headscarf tied pirate-fashion and long, black curling strands of hair showing beneath it.

His soft caramel eyes lit up when he saw me and there was no mistaking the warmth in them, so that my quick-frozen heart started to thaw a bit … until I wondered if he was so bubbling with happiness at his re-engagement that he wanted to share it!

We went up to the café, where Stella’s three friends were already having lunch – I think they must come in every market day, like me. That, or they spend every day there.

We ordered lunch and then there was a little silence until I broke it by saying, as lightly as I could, ‘So, that was the lovely Aimee – and you’re back together again?’

‘What –
no
!’ he exclaimed, looking both startled and horrified. ‘What gave you that idea …? Then he paused and added ruefully, ‘Oh … I suppose it did look a bit like that, what with Aimee going into her “this is my man” routine.’

‘
And
she was wearing an engagement ring,’ I pointed out.

‘Yes, she chose such a flashy great thing you could hardly miss it, though last time I saw her she was wearing it on the other hand. I think she’s gone totally bananas, because she introduced me to someone in the pub as her fiancé and she’s even told her father we’re back together, though I’ve told her repeatedly there’s no chance.’

‘But … are you sure about that? I mean, now I’ve seen how beautiful she is, not to mention sophisticated and—’

‘Bitchy as hell?’ he finished for me. ‘She was really nasty to you – and no, before you ask, I didn’t tell her any more about you and Stella than everyone knows: that you’re raising money to take her to America for an operation.’

‘I should have known that,’ I said contritely.

‘By the way, after she’d met you, Aimee said she thought she’d seen you before somewhere.’

‘I can’t imagine where … though she’s posh and so was Adam, so I suppose she could have been at one of the ghastly parties he dragged me to. Now, there was
another
fiancé on an entirely different wavelength.’

‘Yes, we got matched up with the wrong people: he and Aimee were clearly made for each other,’ he joked. ‘I think David must have tried to get her off my back by telling her I was in a relationship with you and that’s why she was so jealous.’

‘Well, she’s got no need to be jealous of me!’ I said, astonished.

He put his warm hand over mine on the table. ‘I really am finished with her, and she’ll have to accept that, but I was sorry for her and trying to let her down gently and she seems to have got the wrong idea.’

‘I don’t think subtlety’s her strong point,’ I agreed.

‘I’m going to be much more direct with her in future – in fact, I was brutally honest after she’d been so rude to you, so she’s probably gone off in a hissy fit. Still, with a bit of luck she’ll soon find someone else and lose interest in me,’ he added hopefully. ‘All
I
want is to make a new life up here – and help you to get Stella to America, of course. Those are the important things.’

His phone buzzed and he read the message, then looked up at me and grinned. ‘No, it’s not Aimee, before you ask! I should think she’s at Haydock racecourse, knee-deep in businessmen. No, it’s David reminding me that Sarah made us promise to paint all the flat ceilings this afternoon, while she and Dorrie mind the shop.’

‘Are you painting tomorrow, too?’ I asked. ‘Only Celia and Will suggested you go over there with us and I said I’d ask.’

‘No, I’m let off tomorrow because they’re going to go to the Ikea store near Warrington. Sarah has a list about ten feet long and I only hope they don’t expect me to put the flat pack stuff together when they get it back, because I can’t even read the instructions on those things.’

‘She sounds as if she has very definite ideas on how she wants the flat,’ I commented.

‘She certainly does, and it’s not my taste at all. I’d love to come with you tomorrow – and are we still on for Winter’s End on Monday or will Stella be too tired?’

‘She should be OK. I’ll take her buggy, but you’ll probably end up carrying her round instead,’ I warned him. ‘I only want you to come as a beast of burden.’

‘Neigh, never!’ he said, and I hit him with the menu.

At Celia and Will’s the men vanished to the coach house studio, leaving us to have a girly chat over coffee.

I told Celia all about meeting Abominable Aimee and thinking she and Jago were engaged again and then finding out they weren’t.

‘Of course they’re not,’ she said. ‘She sounds totally the wrong kind of girl for him and I’m sure he realises that and is thanking his lucky stars for his escape.’

‘She’s very beautiful, though. But I think you’re right – and I hope so, because he’s so nice that she doesn’t deserve him in the least!’

I’d taken Toto with me, though because he’s quite small I worried at first that the greyhounds would suddenly decide he was a rabbit and chase him. I needn’t have bothered, because they were intimidated by his cold stare as he stalked across the kitchen floor and ate their left-over dinner, before flopping down in the nearest comfy bed.

On Bank Holiday Monday Jago drove us up to Winter’s End, even though it wasn’t that far to walk, then we pushed Stella in her buggy up the long drive from the car park. The weather was bright and very warm for the end of May, so there were a lot of other visitors too.

Though Stella and I had been there before, she was always entranced by the maze and fascinated by the Friends of Winter’s End, the volunteers who manned it on open days, dressed in Elizabethan costume. Some of them had been at the fundraising meeting and stopped to say hello to us and especially to Stella.

‘I can’t go anywhere these days without being stopped every five minutes,’ I said after about the fifth time.

‘But that’s nice, isn’t it?’ Jago said. ‘It’s how things should be in a small community.’

‘Yes, it is, you’re quite right: I feel everyone
does
care and they’re all working to help us.’

Stella got out of her buggy in the rose garden in order to examine more closely Ottie’s
Spirit of the Garden
statue. It was more than a little strange, so I hoped it didn’t give her bad dreams. Mind you, if Ma’s paintings hadn’t done that by now, she was probably immune.

Seth Greenwood came through one of the rose arches, accompanied by a timid-looking man dressed in ruff and tights and carrying a parchment with a big ‘W. S.’ inscribed on the back in flowing script, in case anyone didn’t immediately guess who he was meant to be.

‘Ah, a beautiful princess!’ Seth said, picking a yellow rose and handing it to Stella with a courtly bow. You can do that kind of thing if it’s your garden.

Then he gave me a fat, tight white rose with pale pink edges to the petals, and I tucked it into the lapel button of my denim-coloured linen jacket. Shakespeare didn’t say anything, though he did bow to me and give a twitch of a nervous half-smile, before scurrying off after Seth, who is a big man and tends to stride about as if he’s wearing ten-league boots.

While we were heading for the fern grotto, Hebe sailed by in full Queen Elizabeth I regalia, but luckily she didn’t spot us, because heaven knows what Stella would have said to her.

After we’d seen all the grounds and had tea in the café, we showed Jago the famous knot garden terraces at the back of the house and the Shakespeare wall with quotations from the Bard cut into the stones. Even the flowerbeds were filled with plants mentioned in his plays and poems.

‘Lots of people have knot gardens round here, because that’s Seth’s speciality. He runs a company called Greenwood’s Knots.’

‘I think I like the true lover’s knot best,’ he said. ‘I’d never really known much about them before, but now I want one.’

‘Ma hasn’t got one because she prefers a natural effect. In fact, her garden would be a total wilderness if it weren’t for Hal. She’s even let him put in a couple of formal flowerbeds, but she won’t allow him to tame the whole garden.’

‘It’s great as it is, and I suppose a knot garden would be a lot of work, anyway. I think I’d better settle for a bit of lawn and a border, maybe a small fruit tree.’

‘There’s some kind of tree at the end of your garden; we’ll have to see what that is when the jungle’s been hacked down.’

We sat on a stone seat in the Shakespeare garden lazily chatting about whether apple pies were better with cream or ice cream, and the merits of honeycomb crunch versus cinder toffee, while the bees buzzed lazily round the flowerbeds and Stella slept in Jago’s arms, still clutching Bun and a slightly moist fuzzy mouse.

She didn’t wake up on the drive home, either. When we pulled up, Hal was weeding a flowerbed and Ma was sitting nearby, drawing and smoking a pink Sobranie. She said they were going to the pub again later, so her life is rapidly moving from a semi-hermitic existence to one of riotous dissipation.

We put Stella on her bed to have out her nap and Jago would have stayed for tea, except that David rang him and he had to go back to help him carry the last heavy boxes of flatpack furniture out of the hired van up to the flat.

It sounded as if he and Sarah had bought up the shop!

When Stella finally woke up she was well miffed to find that Jago had gone and was only cheered up when I suggested we made honeycomb crunch.

The minute Aimee arrived at the hotel near the racecourse she’d suddenly realised who Cally Weston was: the nobody that Adam Scott had produced as his fiancée at some party
years
ago.

His parents lived near her father’s house in the Cotswolds and she’d known Adam all her life, even if their paths hadn’t crossed very much recently … and now she came to think of it, Adam’s parents had been round to dinner when she was spending the weekend with Daddy and the gold digger.

In fact, Lydia Scott, who’d been sitting opposite, had told her Adam was back and working in London and then gone on and on about how he’d said he was ready finally to settle down and raise a family, and they hoped he did because they would so love grandchildren and they were getting on a bit …

They’d even said something about how they’d liked that nice girl he was engaged to once and how it was unfortunate that it didn’t work out!

It was a pity she found the Scotts so boring that she hadn’t really been listening properly.

Of course, Cally looked a lot better when she’d been engaged to Adam – my God, she’d let herself go. No makeup, shabby but definitely not chic jeans, a baggy T-shirt, hair that hadn’t been near a hairdresser forever – and
fat
!

Of course, when Jago had called out ‘Cally!’ in that soppy voice, as if she was something special, her instincts had been to demonstrate that Jago was hers and see her rival off. But once she’d really had a good look at her, she’d realised she actually wasn’t any rival at all, so she’d annoyed Jago for nothing.