My mouth falls open in shock. ‘What do you mean by all? Do the Fieldings even know I’m home?’
‘Of course, they do. They said we must be sure to bring you along. It’s an afternoon event, with a buffet in the hall afterwards. And they’re putting on an evening do for all the young people.’
‘What young people?’ I ask.
‘Well, youngish,’ she amends. ‘I don’t suppose any of us old fogeys will stay late, but they’ve booked the hall until midnight for anyone who wants to stay. Elaine has arranged a hot supper about nine and a lovely disco for all you youngsters.’
I went to plenty of discos in the church hall when I was a teenager. But there aren’t very many young people living in the village nowadays. Most of them have moved away for work. It isn’t the sort of place where most people can afford to buy a house. The thought of the middle-aged members of the village jigging around happily to the Bee Gees and the best of Abba makes me smile.
‘I’m sure the Fieldings have only asked me out of politeness,’ I say. ‘There’s no reason for me to go. I don’t even know them. Please thank them for being kind enough to think of me, but I’d prefer to stay at home in the warm.’
‘You can’t do that!’ says Mum. ‘They’re absolutely counting on you coming. It would be terribly rude if you didn’t turn up. And, as I say, Alex will be there.’
Of course, he will. He’s apparently the sole reason his parents are having their vow renewal now instead of waiting until the summer. But that’s no reason for me to go along. Of all the people in the world I have absolutely no wish ever to meet again, Alex Fielding is right at the top of the list.
Still, I can surely find some excuse between now and then. I can make some arrangements with one of the old school friends Mum’s always so anxious for me to meet. She can hardly object to that. I’ll call Brandon after lunch.
She’s still talking excitedly, although I haven’t heard a word of it. ‘… and the most gorgeous purple silk!’ she finishes triumphantly.
I give a murmur of assent, hoping she won’t ask me what she’s just said. But she’s still burbling on about what is apparently shaping up to be the social event of the year in Little Mickton.
‘Would you believe that Robert was all for ordering sparkling wine? Elaine wasn’t having any of that. “If you want me to marry you all over again, the least you can do is spring for some Cristal!” she told him. And she was quite right. It isn’t as though they can’t afford it. Look at that lovely big house of theirs. They have a gardener three times a week, even in the winter, and Mrs Bailey has just upped her cleaning hours. A couple of bottles of good champagne won’t bankrupt them.’
‘It all sounds quite elaborate,’ I say. ‘Couldn’t they have held the party at their house? It’s certainly big enough.’
‘That was the original plan,’ she says. ‘But they thought that as they were having the vow renewal in the church, it would be easier to have the reception in the church hall afterwards.’
Even more reason not to go. That place holds very mixed memories for me.
I go upstairs to unpack after lunch, wondering how I’m going to get out of this vow renewal. If Mum insists, I’ll go to the ceremony and say hello to the happy couple afterwards. But there’s no way I’m attending the evening party. Even if I have to fake appendicitis, I’ll find a reason to come home early.
I look out of my bedroom window at the leaden sky. If it starts snowing quickly enough, we might all be snowed in, and the vow renewal will have to be cancelled.
I stop myself. Elaine and Robert have probably put a lot of effort into the preparations. I decide that the snow can hold off until after the ceremony. But it can be quickly followed by a blizzard that cuts the buffet short and entirely prevents the evening party.
Chapter Twelve
The cold morning light wakes me far earlier than I’d planned. I didn’t close my curtains properly. I roll over, pulling the quilt over my head and trying to recapture the dream I was having. What was it about? Something about Alex, which is annoying.
The more I try to remember, the more it slips away. I keep my eyes tightly shut. I can still manage another hour’s sleep. It’s one of nicest things about coming home. In London, I have to be up at six every morning to reach the office by eight. But here, there’s nothing to do and nowhere to be. I can sleep all morning if I like.
I’m just starting to drift off again when my bedroom door flies open with a crash.
‘Are you going to lie here all day?’ demands Mum. ‘It’s nearly eight o’clock!’
I groan and burrow even more deeply under my quilt. As a small child, I believed that if I couldn’t see Mum, neither could she see me. Perhaps this is still true.
I wait for the door to close and her footsteps to retreat along the landing. Instead, the light snaps on, and the room is flooded with light.
I push back the quilt and sit up. ‘Is there a fire?’
‘A fire?’ she says. ‘Of course not! At least, I don’t think so. Can you smell something? Is your father trying to make toast again?’
I push my hair away from my face and rub my eyes. ‘Don’t worry. I can’t smell any smoke. What’s the emergency?’
She marches over to the corner of the room and opens the wardrobe doors. ‘I hope you’ve hung up your things properly. I don’t have time to iron anything for you this morning.’
‘Hung up what things? I’m only here for a few days.’