Page 40 of Finding Love at Roseford Blooms
‘May I?’ Lizzie asked.
‘Sure.’
Lizzie shifted position again on his lap and turned back to the laptop screen. Simon could see her eyes scanning the document, her brow furrowing slightly as she took in the information. When she had finished, she turned back to him.
‘Is this really a possibility?’
‘It’s just an idea,’ Simon replied. He felt a blush colouring his cheeks, as if he’d been caught looking at something he shouldn’t. ‘It’s a bit pie in the sky, really, and I’ve no idea if the British Heritage Fund would allow it so close to the estate anyway.’ He tried to shrug it off. ‘Had a conversation with Finn a few weeks ago and started chucking a few ideas down… probably not worth thinking about.’
‘Then whyareyou thinking about it?’ Lizzie gestured to the screen again. ‘Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, checking the drainage in the lower field or something?’
Simon laughed. ‘You’re far too young to makethatreference.’
‘There is such a thing as Amazon Prime,’ Lizzie replied. ‘And don’t ignore the question.’
Simon sighed. ‘Finn and I went for a drink before the wedding. I mentioned I was keen to have a project of my own that I could manage, to kind of leave my own mark on Roseford. He suggested some kind of event, or a festival, and it’s an idea that keeps coming back to me. The wedding made me want to think about and tweak it a little more. Made me wonder if it was a possibility. If I could actually create something here.’
Lizzie smiled down at him, and, although he still felt embarrassed, he could see the warmth and enthusiasm in her eyes.
‘I think it’s a great idea,’ she said softly. ‘And it seems like this is a bit more than just some scribbled notes after a few drinks. They actually make sense!’ She looked again, and Simon saw her brow furrow in thought. ‘The field’s a great space, and if you could get the BHF on board to host a few indoor events as well, you’d have the makings of a great little arts festival.’
‘Thanks,’ Simon replied. ‘But it’d be a lot of work, and that’s if the BHF are happy with the idea. There’s so much red tape involved, just in the risk assessments. It’d probably take twenty years to get it all approved, by which time I’d be far too long in the tooth to set it in motion.’
‘But no one’s saying it has to be a huge, Worthy Farm style extravaganza in its first year,’ Lizzie said. ‘I mean, Glastonbury had to start somewhere, right?’
Simon really did laugh out loud at that. ‘I think the residents of Roseford, as well as the BHF, might have something to say if I turned RoseFest into the Glastonbury Festival!’ He shook his head. ‘I was thinking of something far less ambitious in the first instance. A small arts festival, perhaps. Some music, some literary stuff, some activities for the kids? Oh, I don’t know.’ He slumped again. ‘It’s only a bunch of words on a page, after all. Probably won’t come to anything.’
‘It won’t if you keep thinking like that,’ Lizzie said. ‘Nothing ever does.’
‘And where would I even start?’ Simon continued. ‘I know the BHF has its contacts for events, but the idea is to retain as much control of it as I can, to make itmycontribution to the future of the estate. I don’t want it just to be another carefully curated BHF event.’
‘So it’s something to make you feel better?’
Simon felt stung. ‘No. Well, not entirely. It’s… oh… I don’t know, something that I can build on, and maybe my family, one day, can call their own, if they can’t actually lay claim to Roseford Hall any more.’
‘Legacy, then?’
‘Sort of, yes.’
There was a pause between them, and Lizzie seemed to be mulling over their conversation. Simon reached for his coffee again, and Lizzie shifted slightly as he did so. He realised he’d put his cup down on the invitation from Cross Dean, and the heat from the cup pulled the invitation with it as he lifted it.
Lizzie grabbed the invitation as it fluttered off the bottom of the cup. ‘Wow. This looks… interesting, too.’ She glanced from the invite back to him. ‘Are you going to go?’
‘Are you seriously asking me that question?’ Simon laughed. ‘It wasn’t the greatest time of my life, to put it mildly. I would rather stick red-hot pins in my eyes than go back there.’ He was rattled enough by Lizzie’s enquiries about RoseFest. He cursed himself for not chucking the bloody invitation in the bin the moment it had arrived.
Lizzie’s shrewd gaze made him fidget a little underneath her. ‘Really?’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘I mean, after everything I’ve told you about what happened to me here?’
Uncomfortably aware that he’d witnessed Lizzie laying her own ghosts to rest, but he was too afraid to exorcise his own, Simon tried to formulate a response, but found his brain severely lacking. ‘It’s not the same,’ he muttered.
‘Isn’t it?’
‘No.’ Simon leaned forward to kiss Lizzie again, but she saw through his ploy to distract her immediately, and, after a brief touch of lips, she drew back from him.
‘So, what you’re telling me is that it’s no big deal for me to face my demons, but when it comes to your own, you’re just going to let them fly out of hell while you hide under the bed?’ Lizzie’s turn of phrase was amusing, but she clearly wasn’t going to be deflected. ‘Don’t you think that’s a bit rich?’
Simon leaned back in his chair and gazed briefly up at the ceiling. ‘It’s not like that, Lizzie.’
‘Isn’t it?’ Lizzie, refusing to be put off, got off his lap and perched to one side of him on the desk. ‘From where I’m sitting it seems pretty much the same to me. You’ve got one night at Cross Dean to contend with; one night to face all of those idiots and show them just how little an impact they’ve had on your life. Then you can walk away and come back here, and carry on. And you’re telling me you can’t do it?’
