He jerked his head back. ‘Jessica, Elsa is coming this Friday. I know you can’t have forgotten. The room needs to be perfect by then.’
‘That’s not going to happen. I did say not to invite her until we’ve completed the project.’ I started shifting some of the rubbish into a cardboard box.
‘Yes, but I ignored you and now she’s coming on Friday.DIY SOSrenovates a whole house in that time.’
‘DIY SOShas a team of paid experts working around the clock, plus dozens of volunteers.’
‘Maybe we could get some volunteers then? This is an SOS situation, after all.’
‘I’m not sure anyone else would see it like that.’
‘Jessica, this is my future wife we’re talking about! My unborn children. The legacy of Wood’s funeral directors. An entire family lineage!’
‘If we make a start tomorrow then there’s still time to get the room to a reasonable standard. If Elsa’s worth marrying then she won’t allow a half-decorated room to make or break her decision.’
Arthur didn’t look convinced.
‘If this project is going to work, then you have to trust that I know what I’m doing.’
He sighed. ‘You’re right. I’m just all in a tizzy because every time I’ve had dinner with a woman before, she’s either outright refused to see me again, moved to Wyoming or been wrongfully incarcerated. And this time it really matters because I happen to be in love with her. But you’re right. I trust you implicitly. I know it’s going to be brilliant. Sorry for being such a pain.’
I took another look at the scuffed walls, the ugly chairs and not much else, and felt a twinge of panic. While Arthur took the full cardboard boxes to a local recycling centre, I grabbed a cheese sandwich and escaped upstairs to spend the rest of the evening trawling through interior design websites. All that achieved was to bombard my brain with increasingly expensive possibilities, where they jostled for space amongst my growing agitation.
Eventually, I forced myself to stop scrolling, closed my notebook of half-baked ideas and surrendered to another night of staring at my ceiling, wondering what on earth I was doing here, and how I’d had the audacity to ask someone to trust me, when I still couldn’t trust myself.
* * *
On Sunday, I did my best to shake off the previous night’s pity party and hurried through the rain to the Barn. I was relieved to see that only a few picnickers had braved the weather with umbrellas and waterproof coats. The majority were in the main hall, gathered around the tables and chairs from the previous day’s wedding. It was slightly incongruous to see people in their jumpers and jeans sitting in chairs draped with peach covers and gossamer bows decorated with baby’s breath. A mass of delicate foliage and fairy lights adorned the three solid walls and ceiling, creating the impression that we were in some sort of fairy glen.
‘This is incredible,’ I told Connie, slipping into the empty chair beside her, my plate laden with buffet treats. ‘Even more so given the last-minute change of plans. I hope the happy couple appreciated it.’
Connie rolled her eyes. ‘The lights didn’t quite match the apricot napkins, three of the tree-stump centrepieces were too knobbly and I had the audacity to say no to a genuine indoor meadow, but they paid the ever-inflating bill, and Isaac and I have already agreed our migraine bonus. I’m very grateful that next week we’ve got an eighteenth birthday party, though. That’ll be a breeze in comparison.’
‘Given your chilled-out week, I was wondering if you could help me with something?’
‘Yes!’ Connie almost yelped in enthusiasm. ‘This will be the perfect way to cement our friendship. What do you need? Advice about a man, in which case I propose face-packs, ice-cream and a pedi-session while we examine the issue from all angles? Ooh – a makeover? Not that you need it, of course!’
‘Shall I fill you in, or do you want to keep guessing?’ I attempted a laugh, but it quivered with underlying anxiety. ‘Wilf, do you want a guess?’
‘Um… maybe you’ve split the back of your trousers and you need Mum to sew them up?’
‘Oh!’ I pretended to check. ‘I don’tthinkthat’s happened. But please let me know if I’m wrong.’
‘It happened to Masie in my class and everyone laughed. Not everyone. I didn’t. Miss Cooper did, though. I saw her try to hide it with a fake cough. Mum had come in to talk about how I wasn’t doing very well and she didn’t laugh either; she sewed it up because she’s really good at things like that.’
‘That’s not it, this time. But I do need help with something your mum is really good at.’
Wilf scrunched up his face in concentration. ‘Do you want grass growing inside your house?’
‘Nope, but getting closer.’
‘You want me to help fix the cottage?’ Connie asked, eyes lighting up. ‘I’ve been itching to get my hands on that interior disaster ever since your brother invited me for dinner.’
‘My brother invited you for dinner?’ I already knew this, but it would be interesting to hear her perspective. Purely for project purposes, of course. Nothing to do with general nosiness.
‘Oh, ages ago. Just a new colleagues getting to know each other thing.’ She flapped her hand as if it was nothing, but I detected a hint of rosy cheek in the not-quite-apricot-enough light. ‘Anyway, is that it? You want to harness my creative décor skills to turn the bachelor-sty into a house fit for Jessie Brown?’
‘Just the living room, for now.’
