Making Your Mind Up (32 page)

And they had been, for the next thirty-four years. The last four and a half years without Mary had been an ordeal, but she seemed so close now. Freddie felt as if all he had to do was to allow his thoughts to drift away and there she'd be, waiting for him…and yes, here she was, smiling that dear familiar smile and reaching out toward him…

Filled with indescribable joy, Freddie relaxed and went to her.

Pulling into the driveway of Hestacombe House the next morning, Lottie saw Tyler outside the office waiting for her, and she knew.

“Freddie's gone. He died in the night,” Tyler said gently when she climbed out of the car.

It was expected. It was inevitable. But it still wasn't the news you wanted to hear. Lottie covered her mouth.

“Barbara says it was very peaceful. He just slipped away.”

Freddie hadn't been in pain. He'd made his peace with Giselle and he had stayed compos mentis until the end. As deaths went, who could ask for more?

“Oh, Freddie.” It came out as a whisper.

“Come here.” Tyler put his arms around her and Lottie realized tears were sliding down her cheeks. Taking shameful comfort from the feel of his hands on her shoulders and her wet face against the soft, much-washed cotton of his denim shirt, she mumbled, “I'm being selfish. I'm just going to miss him so much.”

“Shhh, it's OK.” Tyler's voice, soothing and in control, broke through Lottie's defenses. Silent tears gave way to noisy, uncontrolled, chest-heaving sobs.

Finally, when she was feeling like a wrung-out floor cloth and doubtless looking like one too, Lottie's outburst subsided.

“Sorry.”

“Don't be.”

Of course he was used to comforting bereft women, he'd had months of practice with Liana. Except Liana wouldn't end up in a mess like this, Lottie thought, with her eyes all puffy and her whole face streaked with mascara.

“Barbara's with him,” said Tyler, “and the doctor's on his way over.”

“Poor Barbara. She'll be upset too.”

“She says you can go on up and see him if you want to.” Tyler indicated Freddie's bedroom window, glinting in the morning sunlight.

Lottie wiped her face with a shredded tissue and hoped Freddie wouldn't mind her looking a fright.

Nodding, she took a deep breath. “I'd like that.”

* * *

“How are you doing? Need a hand with anything?”

Flustered and emotional, Lottie saw that Tyler was in the kitchen doorway looking concerned.

“Um, well, the drinks are waiting to be poured and someone has to fill the ice buckets and I'm worried we won't have enough glasses—”

“Whoa! OK, don't panic, let me handle it. And you only answered one half of my question.” Tyler began uncorking bottles of wine. “I asked how you were doing.”

“The best I can. Not very well,” Lottie admitted. “I thought organizing outside caterers would take the pressure off, but two of the waitresses haven't turned up and the ones that have are rubbish, so I'm just panicking instead, and it feels as if I'm letting Freddie down.”

“Well don't, because you haven't.” Tyler shoved a glass of icy white wine into her hand. “Now shut up and drink this.
Slowly
,” he added before Lottie could down the lot in one go.

Lottie nodded and obediently took a sip. She felt as if she'd run a marathon. The service at Cheltenham Crematorium had been emotionally draining, and Hestacombe House was crammed with mourners she didn't feel equipped to deal with. It was like trying to host a huge party when you were coming down with the flu. Practically everyone from the village was here, ready to give Freddie the kind of memorable send-off he deserved, and all she wanted to do was go to bed.

“Seb not turned up?” said Tyler. “I thought he might have been here.”

“No. He only met Freddie once.”

“All the same, he could have come along to support you. Wouldn't you have preferred to have him here?”

Lottie took another sip of wine. Yes, she would have preferred it, but Seb had told her he was busy today meeting potential sponsors for the next polo tournament, and when she'd tried ringing him earlier his phone had been switched off.

But she wasn't going to tell Tyler that.

“I don't need my hand held. I'm old enough to come to a funeral on my own. Anyway, I'm not on my own, am I?” Indicating the rest of the house, Lottie said, “I know practically everyone here. Half the people out there have known me since I was born.”

“OK, don't get defensive. I only asked where your boyfriend was.”

“He has an important meeting. And those wineglasses need filling up.” Lottie leaped to her feet. “Oh God, and the bruschettas need to go into the oven.”

“Give me thirty seconds,” said Tyler. “I'll be back.”

He was, with a dozen or so assorted villagers in tow, Cressida among them.

“You daft thing, getting into a flap and trying to do it all yourself.” Cressida whisked the tea towel out of Lottie's hands and gave her a hug. “We're here, aren't we? Between us we'll have everyone fed and watered in no time.”

“Not that many of us are planning on drinking water,” Merry Watkins put in with a grimace. “Freddie would have something to say about that if we did.”

Tyler steered Lottie out of the kitchen. “Come on, I think you can leave them to it.”

Relieved, Lottie murmured, “Thanks.”

“Don't mention it.”

“Oh, look at you with your hair all falling down!” Liana, rushing up to her, exclaimed, “And your eye shadow's gone all creased at the corners… You look
exhausted
.”

She meant
awful
. Which was undoubtedly true, but not what Lottie needed to be told. Presumably when Curtis had died, Liana had remained gorgeous throughout the funeral without so much as an eyelash out of place.

“Sorry, that was tactless of me.” Liana was instantly contrite. “I was a complete wreck after Curtis's funeral. If I hadn't had Tyler there to look after me, I don't know how I'd have gotten through it.” Glancing around, she said, “Is Seb not with you?”

Were they in league with each other? Was this some kind of have-a-dig-at-Seb conspiracy? Lottie jumped as a voice behind her said, “No he isn't, but I'm here. And I'm great at cheering girls up.”

Turning and flashing Mario a smile of gratitude, Lottie gave his arm a squeeze.

“Eurgh! Worse than I thought!” Catching sight of her creased eye shadow and red-rimmed eyes, Mario recoiled in mock horror.

“OK, I get the message.” Lottie altered the friendly squeeze to a painful pinch. “I'll go do my face.”

Upstairs in the enormous blue and white bathroom, she washed away the old makeup and applied a fresh layer. Downstairs the party was starting to buzz, getting into its post-funeral stride. Lottie took out her phone and tried Seb's number again but failed to get through. Oh well, that was business meetings for you. Since there was no point in leaving a message she dropped the phone back into her bag, gave her neck a squirt of Jo Malone's Vetyver, and readied herself to head back downstairs and rejoin the throng.

“Oh!”

“Sorry, didn't mean to startle you.” Fenella, who had evidently been waiting for her to emerge from the bathroom, took in the reapplied makeup and refastened hair combs and gave a nod of approval. “That's better. You looked a bit of a fright before.”

“So everyone keeps telling me.” Startled because she'd had no idea Fenella was even here, Lottie took in the familiar chic haircut, lustrous eyes, and immaculately tailored black suit. “How did you know Freddie had…?”

Except it was pretty obvious.

“I saw the announcement in the
Telegraph
.” Fenella paused, gently cleared her throat. “Well, I'd kind of been looking out for it. Hoping
not
to see it, obviously, but knowing that sooner or later it would appear.”

Lottie nodded, feeling awkward. Did that mean she was now duty bound to shake Fenella's hand and politely thank her for coming? More to the point, why
was
Fenella here? Was she perhaps still hankering after a mention in Freddie's will?

“No,” Fenella read her mind with ease. “I'm not expecting him to have left me anything. I just wanted to pay my respects. Freddie may not have been the love of my life, but I was still very fond of him.”

“We all were.”

“So who gets his money?” Fenella's eyes were bright. “You?”

“No.” Lottie shook her head. “Not me.”

“Bad luck. Anyway, I just wanted to say hello before I left. It's never easy going to a funeral when the only person you know is the one in the box.” Pausing, Fenella added, “Unless you think it might be worth my while to hang around for a bit longer. If there are any eligible men you think I might like to meet, please don't hesitate to point me in their direction.”

Ted, from the village shop? Envisaging the two of them together, Lottie said, “No one springs to mind.”

“Not even that handsome American? Tyler?”

“I think you'd have to be thirty years younger.”

“I imagine so.” Fenella acknowledged the dig with amusement. “But you wouldn't. Who's the very pretty girl with him?”

She was doing it deliberately. Witch. “A friend,” said Lottie.

“Disappointing for you.”

“Not at all. I'm seeing someone far nicer.” Feeling like a fifteen-year-old, Lottie boasted, “He organizes polo tournaments. He's gorgeous-looking
and
loads of fun.”

Luckily it seemed she wasn't the only one capable of juvenility. Fenella, arching her pencil-slim eyebrows, said, “Really? What's he doing with you, then?”

They looked at each other for a long moment. Lottie smiled first. “Thanks. You've actually made me feel better.”

“My pleasure.” Fenella returned the smile, then glanced out of the landing window at the sound of an approaching car. “Ah, here's my taxi.”

“Come on, we'll walk down together.” Lottie held out an arm. “Freddie was glad he'd seen you again, by the way. He didn't regret doing it.”

Side by side they descended the staircase. Fenella said, “Did he ever manage to track down Giselle?”

“Yes.” As she said it, Lottie belatedly realized that Fenella and Giselle had once met.

“Really?” Fenella's gaze darted with interest over the thronged guests in the hall below. “I say, how fascinating. Is she here now?”

Lottie hesitated fractionally. “No.”

Laughing, Fenella said, “That means she is. Maybe I should find her and say hello.”

“And maybe you shouldn't.” Lottie steered her swiftly down the last couple of stairs and in the direction of the front door. “Your taxi's waiting outside, remember. Thank you for coming. Bye.”

Fenella laughed, her expression softening as she leaned forward and kissed Lottie on each cheek. “Darling, I may be a gold digger, but I'm not that much of a bitch.”

The taxi roared off down the drive in a Technicolor swirl of leaves, and Lottie made her way back into the house. The noise level had cranked up another couple notches by now as people reminisced happily about Freddie and relaxed into their second and third drinks.

She found Giselle and Jeff in the drawing room, chatting away with Barbara. Jeff's dark suit had the air of one that has been pulled, blinking in astonishment, from the back of the wardrobe where it languished for the last twenty years.

“Here she is.” Giselle looked up as Lottie approached and handed her a photograph from the selection she'd been showing Barbara. “Jeff and I were going through the old albums last night. Have a look at this one. That's Freddie on the left there next to Jeff.”

Smiling, Lottie gazed at the snap of Freddie and Jeff with more hair than they'd possessed for years, larking about outside someone's house. They were spraying each other with shaken-up bottles of beer while a gaggle of girls looked on and giggled, arms raised to protect their hair.

“That's you!” Lottie pointed to a sweet-faced brunette in a bright orange minidress and white leather boots.

“I had a twenty-two-inch waist back then.” Nodding, Giselle said, “They were happy days.” Then she tapped Jeff and added, “Except
you
were drinking like a fish.”

“And look what happened when I stopped.” Jeff in turn tapped his head. “I went bald.”

“Oh, I meant to ask.” Giselle gazed up at Lottie. “Who was that woman we saw you saying good-bye to just now? The one who left in a taxi? I know it sounds daft, but I'm sure I've seen her somewhere before.”

Forty years ago,
Lottie thought but didn't say.
You and Freddie went along to a party thrown by that woman and her husband. Freddie had a torrid affair with her behind your back, but he wasn't rich enough for her so she dumped him and he came back to you.

Lottie shook her head. “God, I'm terrible with names. I can't even remember now. I think she's just an old friend of the family.”

“I'm just being silly then.” Giselle shrugged, but she was still frowning.

“Or maybe she's been on the TV and that's why you think you recognize her,” Barbara joined in reassuringly. “I was shopping in Camden Market once and I said hello to a girl I could have sworn I knew. Turned out it was Kate Winslet.”

“Do you know, you could be right.” Nodding, Giselle said, “She looked just like that opera singer we were watching on TV the other night.”

Phew.

“Only older,” said Jeff.

Lottie kept a straight face. If Fenella were here, she'd rip his head off.

Just as well she was gone.

Later, as Lottie mingled and chatted with those who had known and loved Freddie, she overheard Merry Watkins saying bracingly to Tyler, “Now you know what the antidote to a funeral is, don't you? A lovely romantic wedding! How about you and that pretty girlfriend of yours making an announcement, hmm? That'd cheer us all up!”