Page 20 of Finding Love at Roseford Blooms
Lizzie laughed. ‘I’d have paid good money to see that!’
‘You can always come and help me, if you like,’ Simon said, a look of mischief in his eyes. ‘We could split them and safeguard against any mishaps.’
Lizzie shook her head and gestured to her arm. ‘For obvious reasons, I’m wary about doing anything that might make me even the tiniest bit unsteady on my feet, especially after the tumble I took the last time I was here.’
‘Fair enough,’ Simon replied, grinning. The crow’s feet around his blue eyes were decidedly attractive, and Lizzie found herself looking into his handsome, open face and suddenly wanting to share a drink with him, even if it was some dodgy home-made wine. There wasn’t a trace of the slightly geeky teenager he’d once been. She realised he was wearing his ‘public face’ today: the supposedly carefree lord of the manor, who was pretending not to mind that he no longer owned the manor.
There was a pause as both of them seemed to wonder where to take the conversation next. Eventually, Simon cleared his throat. ‘Your hair looks nice.’
Lizzie blushed. ‘Thank you. The pins belong to Bee. Obviously she had to help me with it.’
‘Look, Lizzie, I know you’re probably not up for a late night, but there’s a bit of a barn dance taking place in the marquee after the fayre has wrapped up for the day. Would you, er, like to join me for a very gentle spin?’
Lizzie couldn’t help laughing. ‘First you ask me to run the risk of falling over pissed, and then you want me to do-si-do?’
Simon joined in with the laughter. ‘Well, I hadn’t thought about it like that. But dancing isn’t obligatory. We could just watch from the sidelines.’
Lizzie decided to give him a break. ‘In that case, I’d love to.’
‘Great! It starts at eight, so shall I meet you back here?’
Smiling, Lizzie accepted just as Bee returned with two cups of tea, and Simon headed off.
‘You’re looking more cheerful,’ Bee observed as she carefully handed Lizzie her tea.
Lizzie tried to smother the grin that she knew was plastered on her face. ‘Am I?’
‘Well, don’t tell me, then,’ Bee replied. ‘But Simon looked just as happy. That a coincidence?’
‘Maybe,’ Lizzie teased. She turned towards the flower displays again. ‘Shouldn’t we finish judging? Then we can relax and enjoy the rest of the fayre.’
Bee shook her head, but didn’t comment further. Instead, after they’d drunk their tea, she passed Lizzie half of the slips of paper to record the last few placings for the flower displays, and they worked their way back down the sections, mostly agreeing with each other as they went. Lizzie had become quite adept at holding paper in the hand with the cuff and writing with the other, after a couple of weeks in the sling. As they made their way through the entries, Lizzie noticed a pair of posies that had what looked like the Phoenix Rosa variety of rose as their centrepieces and wondered if those were the ones that Simon’s nieces had made. A few weeks ago she’d never have been able to distinguish between rose varieties; she was obviously learning something at Roseford Blooms.
A short time later, forms handed back to the committee, Lizzie was about to head back to Bee’s cottage when she spotted Simon again. He was in animated conversation with two girls, who Lizzie assumed to be his nieces. The taller of the two was grinning at her uncle, and the shorter had a gorgeous-looking syrup-coloured retriever on a lead. The retriever, panting slightly in the heat, looked adoringly up at its mistress, and Lizzie found herself smiling again.
‘Please, Uncle Simon,’ Lizzie heard the younger girl say as she drew a little closer. ‘Ireallywant to have a look around, but Holmes needs a walk.’
‘He’s your dog, Elspeth,’ Simon replied. ‘When I bought him for you, it was on the understanding that you’d feed and walk him. And yet I seem to be the one doing most of the walking these days!’
‘I promise I’ll walk him this evening,’ Elspeth replied. ‘But can you just take him now, please?’
From the look on his face, Lizzie already knew Simon was going to acquiesce.
‘Give me his lead.’ Simon sighed. Then, looking down at the patiently waiting Holmes, said to the dog, ‘You’d better be on your best behaviour, old chap!’
Lizzie smiled. She had the sense that Simon really didn’t mind at all. She suddenly wished she were brave enough to go and ask to join him on his walk, but, despite their conversation earlier, she didn’t feel as though she could. He probably wanted a bit of time to himself before the fayre got going anyway.
As he headed off down the field with Holmes, Lizzie began walking back to Roseford Blooms. There were still a bit of time before the fayre started properly, and she should probably head back to Bee’s. She had to make the duty phone call to her parents at some point over the weekend, and she might as well get it over with. Rather now, she thought, than tomorrow when she might be feeling tired from the barn dance. She was feeling better by the day, but the aftermath of the car accident still crept up on her from time to time, and she needed to feel at her best to speak to her parents. At least, having helped Bee out this morning, she’d have a topic of conversation to fall back on.
19
After making the call to her parents, Lizzie had a leisurely afternoon looking around the fayre, which was everything she expected it would be. The head of the organising committee was extorting everyone to spend at the stalls, and, if they hadn’t, to buy their barn-dance tickets from the small table that also hosted a raffle. Children rushed about from stall to stall, parents in tow, and the regular ringing of the bell at the top of the ‘try your strength’ machine competed with the harmonious sounds of the Roseford village choir’s medley of Adele songs.
In spite of all this, Lizzie began to feel more than a little nervous about meeting up with Simon that evening. She’d caught glimpses of him during the afternoon, and they’d shared a quick chat, but he was soon buttonholed by other people, and Lizzie had spent her time looking around, trying to get into the spirit of the afternoon. All told, by the time the afternoon was drawing to a close, around a thousand visitors had attended the summer fayre, and it had been idyllic: the perfect example of an English country fayre. Now, the committee would be taking a well-earned rest, and everyone was preparing themselves for a night of cider, dancing and merrymaking to round it all off.
‘Don’t you go flinging yourself around in all directions, young lady!’ Bee said as Lizzie got ready to go back out that evening. ‘That arm of yours is still in no state to be messed about with.’
‘I’ll be careful.’ Lizzie smiled back at Bee. ‘It’s not exactlyRiverdance!’ She looked in the mirror and smiled at her reflection. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind me borrowing this dress, Aunt Bee?’ She had shyly pulled out the brightly coloured maxi from the carrier bag in the cupboard and asked Bee if she could wear it. Bee had laughed when she’d caught sight of it.
