The Secret Life of Evie Hamilton - Catherine Alliott [158]
He looked quite delicious in his morning coat and was kind enough to give my attire only the briefest of glances. In fact he was so smiley and chatty I relaxed, and as we drove along, on the wings of an impulse, I ran the roses up the flagpole again. And the sexy note. And then of course I had to explain the sexy note, which involved explaining the scantily clad siren at the window. I cringed behind the wheel as I awaited his response. The first stone. He laughed.
‘Well, I haven't met your husband, but from what Malcolm tells me he's a rational, intelligent man. He'll surely wait to hear your side of things? Before he jumps to any conclusions?’
‘Yes,’ I breathed happily, my head appearing out of my shoulders like a tortoise's. ‘Yes, he will.’
‘Anyway, it was clearly only a joke.’
I flinched. Odd how everyone thought that; how risible the notion was.
I felt soothed, though, and my bones unclenched as he chatted away sociably. Clarence was a honey, I decided, a real honey. Perhaps he'd help me meet and greet? Park cars, press the flesh, whatever it was we had to do, and hopefully Caro would arrive soon and then I could escape and find Ant, and he'd see the funny side, as everyone predicted, and we could have a glass of something, and all would be well? Manically checking my mobile every few seconds for messages, and with half an ear on what Clarence was saying about how much he'd enjoyed Oxford and how sad he was his sabbatical was coming to an end, we finally arrived at the farm, having been forced to take the scenic route on account of the traffic.
The congregation was already drifting out of the church, following the bride and groom. It was a rare and lovely sight. Under a bright blue sky and a canopy of spreading, golden chestnut trees, Alice, beautiful in ivory silk, white roses scattered in her long blonde hair, on the arm of her new husband, was leading the procession down the narrow lane, Far From the Madding Crowd-style – always Caro's vision – through the field gate at the bottom, and into the meadow, where the marquee flapped gently in the breeze against a vista of green hills and gently swaying russet trees.
We waited for everyone to pass by, a happy, smiling throng. I spotted Felicity in the crowd, in a pale blue suit and hat, talking to Malcolm. She looked lovely. Was lovely, I decided, unclenching some more, banishing impure thoughts. As the last of the guests strolled by, I swung the car into the yard. I got out and, with Clarence following more sedately, hastened around to the back of the house where I found Jack sitting on the back doorstep, talking to a very pretty young waitress.
‘Oh, hi, Evie.’
They both stood up guiltily. The waitress melted away, taking Jack's cigarette with her.
‘Jack, I'm supposed to be helping. Did you manage to park the cars OK?’
‘They park themselves in the churchyard. Mum gets stressy but it always goes like clockwork. She rang and said you were coming but there's no need, honestly. No offence.’
‘No offence taken. This is Clarence, by the way.’
‘Hi, Clarence.’
They shook hands.
‘So, waitresses circulating with drinks and all that sort of thing?’ I swung round, taking a few tottering steps down the lawn in my heels and shading my eyes against the sun towards the marquee. I spotted Ludo, looking devastatingly handsome in the receiving line, because – yes, that's right, their father was dead, so he'd given Alice away – beside a distinguished-looking grey-haired woman with good bones, who must be their mother. I watched, fascinated for a moment as they smiled and shook hands with everyone.
‘Yeah, the waitresses have got trays of champagne and some orange juice for the drivers.’
‘Well done. Canapés?’
‘Not yet. Mum usually let's