Lizzie Marshall's Wedding (3 page)

‘What happened with him, Becky?’ Susie coaxed.

Becky shifted uncomfortably. Even thinking about him irritated her. ‘I was walking across the fields towards the pond. I know I shouldn’t have been, without permission, but it’s second nature to me to go there when I’m having a bad time. I could hear someone shouting and I saw a figure in the distance, near the house but I’d forgotten the new owners moved in on Thursday, to tell you the truth and I thought it was Bill Jenkins, doing the garden, so I waved back and went on. When I got to the pond, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was empty!’

‘No!’ Susie said, clearly shocked.

Jess reappeared with another bottle and refilled their glasses and Becky waited until she’d sat down before continuing.

‘There’s a sign up saying to keep away or something. I didn’t really get a chance to read it. The next thing I know, Max bloody Bedford is racing towards me, yelling at me to get away from there and threatening me, saying I’m risking my life! He was like a madman. I’m not really sure what happened next, I think I may have had a funny turn or something because it felt like the ground had vanished from beneath me and I was falling. He grabbed me, picked me up and marched off with me then unceremoniously dumped me on the old witches’ oak, tree stump, without so much as a by-your-leave.’

‘Wow!’ Susie said. ‘Actually, that’s sort of romantic, and rather sexy – in an odd way.’

Becky and Jess glared at her.

‘You’ve been too long without a man, if you think that’s romantic.’ Jess shook her head in disbelief.

‘I said, sort of! I think it is romantic to be swept off your feet, especially by someone as gorgeous as Max Bedford – and he did save you from falling, so that’s romantic too. What happened then?’

Becky sipped her wine and cast her mind back to that morning. She could remember it all so vividly. 

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Becky had snapped.

Max Bedford set her down on the witches’ oak tree stump and stepped back, glaring at her. ‘Saving your life,’ he said, clearly displeased. ‘Can’t you read? This is private property and that area is dangerous. You could have been seriously injured – or worse!’

‘Don’t be ridiculous! The pond’s been there for centuries and it’s perfectly safe. I’ve swum in it hundreds of times.’ She stood up and smoothed her clothes with one hand, trying to regain her composure. She was shaking with anger and surprise.

‘So you come here often do you?’ he said sarcastically.

Becky tilted her chin up. ‘All the time.’

‘Well, perhaps in future, you’d be good enough to ask. I’m Max Bedford and my mother, Margaret is the new owner of Beckleston Hall. And you are?’

She met his eyes then watched as he looked her up and down, his brow creasing just a touch as if he found her discomforting to look at, or unpleasant; like something the cat had brought to him. She felt her temper flare.

‘I’ve lived here all my life and the moon will turn to cheese before the day dawns when some jumped up, London banker can tell me where I may or may not go!’ She could feel her cheeks burning as she stepped forward to pass him but he stood in her way.

Their eyes held for a moment then she saw his mouth twitch.

‘You did say banker, didn’t you and not ...’ he said, a grin spreading across his face.

Becky was astonished. ‘Yes,’ she said still furious, ‘I did say banker – but it’s not what I meant.’

She was even more astonished when he burst out laughing.

‘Actually, I’m neither one,’ he said. ‘Well I hope not anyway. I didn’t catch your name.’

‘I didn’t throw it. Why have you drained the pond?’ She gave him what she hoped was an unpleasant scowl.

 He didn’t seem bothered. ‘It leaked and it was dangerous –’

‘A natural pond can’t leak,’ she interrupted, still scowling.

 ‘I assure you it can – and it did. Are you going to tell me your name?’

‘No! What have you done with the ducks?’

Again, his eyes travelled the length of her body then met hers and once more, she saw the corners of his mouth twitch.

‘We’ve eaten the ducks,’ he said.

Her mouth fell open in horror. ‘You ... you bastard!’ she shrieked. Tears welled up in her eyes and, without thinking, she pushed him out of her way and ran as fast as her legs would carry her, even though they felt like jelly.

‘Oh my God!’ Susie said when Becky had finished her story. ‘Was he serious? Have they eaten the ducks?’ Her startled eyes darted from Becky to Jess and back again.

‘No! Um ... I hate to tell you this,’ Jess said, a rather contrite look on her face, ‘but Paul came in for a haircut the other day and he said something about the Bedfords employing him to empty the pond because it was leaking. I know it sounds ridiculous but it’s true. The roots of the trees in the copse have caused all sorts of problems apparently. Paul’s cutting some of them back, putting some special lining or something in the pond then refilling it. He did say the surrounding ground had become dangerous and liable to collapse and they’d had signs put up, just in case anyone went there. They were worried about kids and –’

‘Bloody hell Jess! Why didn’t you tell me?’ Becky’s eyes opened wide in disbelief.

‘Sorry, I should have, but I didn’t think you’d go there, not until you got to know the new owners anyway and, to be honest, until you mentioned the ducks, I’d forgotten about it.’

‘So ... he really did save your life then,’ Susie said, a wistful look in her eyes.

‘Possibly ... I suppose. But that doesn’t make him a hero in my eyes. And what about the ducks? Where are they then?’

‘Um ... Paul said they paid to have the ducks moved to a temporary enclosure. They’ll be brought back when the work’s complete.’

Becky shook her head and sighed. ‘It would have been nice to know that Jess. No wonder he thinks I’m the village idiot. I really believed him when he said they’d eaten them.’

‘Why were you so cross with him anyway?’ Susie asked. ‘It’s not like you to jump down someone’s throat like that. I hate to point this out but ... you were, technically, trespassing you know,’ Susie saw Jess glare at her. ‘Sorry! I’m just saying.’

‘I know. You’re right of course,’ Becky agreed. ‘It was just the wrong place at the wrong time. I was surprised; I was upset; I was angry and, after getting that letter yesterday and him being a banker ... he is a banker, isn’t he? Someone said he was, although he seemed to be saying, he isn’t, I think. Anyway, we all know they’re not at the top of my “favourite people” list.’

‘They’re not at the top of anyone’s,’ Jess said. ‘So, he doesn’t know who you are?’

‘Apparently not. There’s no reason why he should and I had no intention of telling him after the way he behaved.’

‘When he was saving you from falling into a dangerous mud-hole, you mean?’ Susie said. ‘I understand completely why you’re so angry with the banks Becky, but it’s not like you to take it out on people who’re not directly involved with Jeremy’s debts. Perhaps you over-reacted slightly?’

Becky frowned. ‘Perhaps, just a little. It all happened so fast. As I said, I was already upset because of the letter and today being the anniversary, and I’m missing Lily terribly – I can’t wait for her to get back from Jeremy’s parents’ tomorrow.  I suppose, when I saw the empty pond and I thought he was telling me I couldn’t go there anymore, it was the final straw. But he really is arrogant and ... there’s just something about him. I honestly don’t know what it is.’

‘And the Stores? Why did you get so angry then?’ Susie asked.

‘Because he was laughing at me! And then he called me a prostitute and a dog!’

‘I don’t think he did,’ Jess said. ‘Not from what I heard anyway. I think he was just messing around. He wasn’t being nasty or abusive or anything and you could tell from his gorgeous smile, that he thought it was all a big joke.’

‘Well I couldn’t! I didn’t find it the least bit funny – and I don’t think he has a gorgeous smile!’

‘Oh Becky,’ Jess said, refilling their glasses, ‘maybe, next time you see him, you should explain –’

‘No! I don’t care what he thinks. Okay, perhaps I did over-react but there is no way I’m going to tell that man anything and I’m certainly not going to apologise, so don’t even think about suggesting I should. He’d probably just laugh at me anyway. Oh God! I wish I could start today all over again.’ She buried her face in a cushion.

‘Don’t worry about it – and I wasn’t going to suggest you apologise. You could just tell him that you both got off on the wrong foot or something. He seems to have a good, if somewhat odd, sense of humour. I can’t see him holding today against you. He was still smiling when I left the Stores, so that must be a good sign.’

‘Smiling or laughing?’ Becky said, peeping over the cushion.

‘Does it matter? Either way, he thought it was funny. I’d only be worried if he’d looked angry and believe me, he looked far from that.’

‘Did he ask you out for dinner?’ Susie said, ‘When we were in the Stores, he said something about assuming dinner was out of the question.’

‘I think he was being sarcastic,’ Jess said.

‘Of course he was,’ Becky said. ‘As if someone like Max Bedford would want to go out to dinner with me – even if we had met under better circumstances.’ And for some reason, the thought of him not wanting to take her out, made her angry with him all over again.

CHAPTER THREE

Max decided he rather liked Beckleston, as he strolled up the drive towards Beckleston Hall, and no one was more surprised by this fact than he, especially as he’d only been in the village for two days.

When he’d arrived on Thursday, to make sure his mother’s move went smoothly, he’d only intended to stay until Sunday but here he was, on a bright, cold Saturday afternoon, with the sun slowly disappearing behind the centuries-old trees, seriously considering staying on for a week or so.

He could go back to London on Monday to arrange things for his absence; that wouldn’t be a problem. And the more he thought about it, the more the idea appealed to him. The last time he’d taken any time off, he remembered, was two years ago, when Lizzie hurt her foot and she was still, technically, his wife. No point in thinking about that though, that had nothing to do with the present.

His mother didn’t need him, of course, she was perfectly capable of looking after herself, and they’d retained Connie Jessop and Bill Jenkins, so it wasn’t as if she’d be completely on her own. Her life-long friend Victoria was around too. She lived just a few miles away and had helped coordinate things prior to his mother moving in. Nevertheless, he decided he would stay.

Strange really, because when his mother had called him, just a few months ago, and told him that she wanted to buy a Tudor Hall House in an East Sussex village, more than fifty miles from London, he’d wondered if she were losing her faculties. But now that she’d moved in, it seemed the most natural place for her to be; almost as if she belonged there.

Max’s mind wandered back to the conversation they’d had when she first told him she intended to buy the Hall. Being an only child, and his father having been dead for several years, he spent a fair amount of time with her, and he hadn’t noticed any deterioration in her memory or her general appetite for life. In fact, she probably had a larger network of friends than he, and frequently went to the theatre, art galleries and lunch with them. She’d even been to Rome and Paris with friends recently, so the mention of her wanting to move to a village, miles from London, came as quite a surprise. When he saw the village and the house, for the first time on the internet, he had serious worries. The village was small; the house was huge.

‘I’m not losing my marbles, Max and your inheritance is safe, as you well know,’ Margaret Bedford said when he questioned her about it. ‘I just fancy having a place in the country and this is exactly what I want.’

‘I couldn’t care less about the inheritance, as
you
well know, and I’m all for you having a country house but this isn’t a house mum, it’s a stately home! And one that needs a fair amount of refurbishment, by the look of it on the agents’ website – possibly even some structural repairs.’

Margaret tutted. ‘I admit it’s rather large for just me but I was thinking that I could employ someone and we could run art courses there. Maybe even have country house weekends. You know how the Americans love that sort of thing. And weddings; it would make the perfect wedding venue. It would be any bride’s dream to sweep down the central staircase. It’s beyond magnificent Max – at least, it was ... ’

‘Mother. Why do I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me? Have you already been to see it? What do you mean by, “was”?’

‘Ah. A slip of the tongue, darling. I hadn’t meant to say that. But let me tell you Max, here and now, I mean to have the place and there’s not a thing you, or Gerald Merriton, can do to stop me.’

Max was surprised by his mother’s attitude. She could be stubborn, he knew that, but she always listened to advice both from him and the family solicitor, and friend, Gerald Merriton. The fact that she’d made up her mind before getting their opinions, was a new path for her to take.

‘We could have you committed,’ Max joked.

‘Just you try it, my boy.’

‘Seriously mum, why are you so set on the place? And do you really want to start a new business venture at your age?’

‘What’s my age got to do with anything? I’m fitter than many people half my age and I’ve still got my wits about me. As I said, I’ll employ someone ... several people actually. I think it’ll be fun. Please don’t try and talk me out of it. I’ve made up my mind. I’d like you to come and have a look at it with me though. Get an idea of what needs doing and such.’

‘Of course I’ll come and look at it, but I hope you don’t expect me to start doing D-I-Y. That’s really not my forte.’

‘God forbid! The phrase, “do it yourself” isn’t even in your vocabulary, these days, is it Max? Although, when you were young, you and your father built a boat, I seem to remember.’

‘We did; it sank. The aeroplane nosedived and the car crashed. I learnt early on that there are certain skills I just don’t seem to have.’ He grinned mischievously and ran his long fingers through his unruly, thick, blond hair.