Page 46 of Finding Love at Roseford Blooms
‘I think I could tell that from the way it looks,’ Lizzie replied softly. There was such wistfulness in Edmund’s eyes; the sadness of a life not completely lived. Cut too short by forces far greater than himself. She found herself contemplating the man in the painting, and wondering who he’d have been, what he’d have achieved, if he’d had the chance.
Seeing Simon next to the painting was an eerie reminder of the brevity of life. Moved by the juxtaposition, she stepped forward and kissed him, hard.
As they moved apart once again, Simon’s face registered surprise. ‘Had I known that would be the effect of showing the family etchings to you, I’d have brought you up here ages ago!’ He laughed nervously, and Lizzie joined in.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s been a bit of a day.’
‘Want to tell me about it?’
Lizzie shook her head. ‘I’m not sure. It’s complicated.’
Simon stopped and took her hands in his. ‘No pressure, but I’d like to help if I can. You can tell me anything, Lizzie.’
Encouraged by the compassion in his eyes, Lizzie smiled up at him. ‘I know that,’ she said softly. ‘You proved it when I told you about what had happened to me at that party. But this is years and years of history, Simon.’ She looked down the Long Gallery again. ‘Although I suppose you might know something about that!’
Simon grinned and raised an eyebrow. ‘I might have some idea.’
‘I guess I’ve always felt as though I didn’t quite fit into the neat little box my family wanted to put me into,’ Lizzie said. ‘And for most of my life I’ve done my best to squeeze in, to be what they think I should be. My sister, George, was better at all of that. She still is. I started my company to try to make my parents proud, and for a while I think they were, but they can’t seem to get to grips with the fact that I want, no, Ineedto do things differently now. If it was up to Dad, I’d go back into marketing, do a nine-to-five job and be moreconvenient, but I feel as though that’s not me any more. I tried to tell them that, and they really didn’t take it well.’
‘Change can be scary,’ Simon said reasonably. ‘And you’ve been through a lot in the past few months. Might they just be looking out for you?’
‘I’m sure that’s a big part of it,’ Lizzie conceded. ‘But I’ve always found their approach quite claustrophobic. Their idea of looking out for me is to try to make all of the decisions for me. When I was younger, it was reassuring, but now I really feel like I need to put some distance between them and me. Being in Roseford has opened my eyes to that.’
‘But you struck out on your own when you created your business,’ Simon said. ‘You’ve already said your parents were proud of you for that?’
‘Yeah, they were,’ Lizzie replied. ‘But it also frightened them. Until Paul and I had made a real success of Warner-Basset, in financial terms, they were trying to persuade me to go and work for someone else, for a bigger company where I’d be more secure.’ She gave a short laugh. ‘Dad’s even set up an interview for me with one of his friends at a company I worked for years ago, he’s that concerned I’ll chuck everything away.’
‘You’re not going to take him up on it, I assume?’ Simon raised an eyebrow.
‘Nope.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘Oh, I don’t know!’ Lizzie replied. ‘For the first time in my life, I don’t have a plan, and it actually feels quite nice. I know it won’t last forever, but while it does, I’m going to try to enjoy it.’ To underline that point, she leaned up on tiptoe and kissed Simon.
‘Amen to that,’ Simon murmured, ‘if it gets me more responses like that.’
They broke apart and continued their walk down the Long Gallery, and as they reached the middle, Lizzie noticed that, in one of the bay alcoves that looked out onto each side of the gardens, there was a picnic basket, a folded blanket and a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket.
‘Are we allowed to eat up here?’ The rule-follower in her reared its head.
Simon gave her a mischievous look. ‘Well, I won’t tell if you won’t,’ he replied. He took her hand. ‘What the BHF doesn’t know won’t hurt them.’
They laid out the blanket, and Simon began to unpack the basket. Lizzie noticed the beautifully cut smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwiches and slices of Victoria sponge with thick, whipped double cream were wrapped in discreetly labelled Roseford Café packaging and suppressed a smile. Lucy had done them proud.
Finding herself hungrier than she’d anticipated, she wolfed down a couple of the sandwiches. Simon had twisted the cork off the top of the champagne, and, although he’d joked about firing the cork down the length of the Long Gallery, he’d shot it into his hand. ‘Wouldn’t do to take out any of the ancestors,’ he said, pouring two flutes and passing Lizzie one.
‘So, I’ve been thinking about what you said this morning about RoseFest,’ Simon said, once they’d had their fill of the picnic. ‘And I just don’t know where to start. It seems like such a mad thing to try to plan.’
‘Well, it won’t be straightforward,’ Lizzie replied. ‘But then what is, that’s worth achieving?’
Simon leaned back on the picnic blanket, propping himself up on one elbow. ‘Easy for you to say,’ he said. ‘You haven’t got the weight of these guys all looking down on you, waiting for you to fail. Again.’
‘Don’t you think that’s a bit of a cop-out?’ The champagne had already loosened Lizzie’s tongue, and she knew she was probably being less diplomatic than she should, but she persisted anyway. ‘Maybe it’s time you thought bigger, instead of passively accepting that you’ll only ever be a spare part around here.’
Simon looked surprised, and a bit affronted. ‘Maybe I’m just terrified that if I cock this up, everyone’ll be pointing the finger and saying, “Look, there’s Simon Treloar, the one who had to get rid of the family home, and he can’t even handle setting up a poxy festival.”’ He stood up suddenly and began to pace towards the top of the Long Gallery.
‘Are you sure it’s disappointing other people you’re so afraid of, and not letting yourself down?’ Lizzie retorted, standing up to follow him. ‘I mean, heaven forbid you should show any weakness; be anything less than perfect, Simon.’
