Instalment Thirteen – By Bridget Jones

The weather in the following week deteriorated, much like Annie’s spirits.  She knelt on the sofa that morning as she had done many times as a child, her arms crossed defiantly on the back of the sofa, resting her chin in a melancholic pose as she stared absentmindedly through the sash windows of Parwich Heights.  Multiple shades of grey merged to form a blanket in the sky that hung ominously over the village.  She watched as hundreds of plump droplets descended from the sky, drumming against the panes of glass in a kamikaze fashion, and a crack of thunder rumbled through the valley.

Recollection of a childhood memory coaxed a tiny smile from the corners of her mouth – remembering how she and her brother had listened in awe at their parent’s explanation of these meteorological phenomena.  ‘Mum, what is thunder… how is it made?….’  Annie would quiz.  ‘Oh it’s only God moving his furniture around….’ she would reply.  Or, in the case of rain, it was God crying.  She and her brother, had discussed how big the furniture would have to be to create such a din, and concluded that God was some gargantuan goliath in the heavens.  They had wanted to ask, how he didn’t fall through the clouds, but it all got too complicated and scary to contemplate, that they never questioned any further.

For the first time since coming to Parwich, Annie felt an overwhelming sense of loss, and isolation.  She didn’t want to contemplate life in the village, without her soul mate Fern.  She was pleased that the demure blonde had found an escape from her mundane life tainted with violence….but, a part of her deep down was just a tiny bit jealous.

She, Annie Carruthers was the one meant to live happily ever after – at least that’s what she’d planned with Quentin anyway.  The young woman sighed heavily as she remembered the reality, of the dream that had been snatched cruelly from her grasp.  Now here she was in her fleecy pyjamas, locked in some god forsaken time warp – contemplating a life of spinsterhood like some cobweb adorned Miss Haversham… with no ‘great expectations’!!

‘Hi Annie’ a cheery voice shouted out, which Annie instantly recognised as Fern, the reason for her self-pitying reverie.

‘Bloomin’ heck!….’  The redhead jumped deftly from the settee, as if it had just spontaneously combusted in that instant.  She’d forgotten that earlier that week, following the aftermath of the St George’s day parade she and Fern had agreed to go on a girly shopping trip to Ashbourne for something suitable for the mysterious soiree at Lillington Hall.

Annie watched as her friend’s peachy complexion peered round the door of the sitting room, and greeted her with a perplexed look.

‘Annie I know you like the casual look…’ Fern tittered, ‘but even you must admit that this is taking casual to the limit!!’.  Annie cast her eyes down to the baggy, red polka dot pyjama bottoms, and teddy bear adorned top and nonchalantly countered, ‘Do you think so?…I thought it rather fetching myself!!’, and shot her friend an ironic look as she hopped and skipped out of the room a la ‘Morecambe & Wise’ leaving Fern shaking her head in disbelief.  The wooden floorboards creaking with each jaunty bounce…’but if you insist…I have another little number, of which I’m sure you’ll approve….’ she said haughtily, and with a final flick of her leg, Annie disappeared behind the cottage door of what would once have been referred to as the parlour.

‘Annie…’  Fern shouted after her, ‘don’t be too long…I’ve got a boat to catch later, remember…..’  There was no response but silence, apart from a creak on the old wooden floorboards as Annie stopped in her tracks, before treading dolefully upstairs.

∞∞∞∞

Later that afternoon, a few pounds the lighter…and not in weight, the friends snuggled cosily on a soft squidgy leather sofa in a bar set alongside the bridge in the bustling market town of Ashbourne.  They sipped merrily on flutes of pink champagne, gossiping idly as if they hadn’t a care in the world.  Gradually, they became aware of murmurings and general air of commotion.

Annie peered over the rim of her raised crystal flute, as she took another sip of the bubbly intoxicating drink and watched enviously as Aiden O’Connell strode confidently towards them.  Looking as dapper and gorgeous as ever in his dark navy moleskin jacket, a crisp white linen shirt open at the neck just enough to reveal the hints of the hirsute toned torso that lay beneath.

Guiltily Annie snapped out of her hypnotic state, and followed Aiden’s piercing emerald gaze that fell hungrily on her companion.  Fern was equally entranced, and her cheeks coloured rapidly at the sight of her very own Adonis.

‘I thought I’d come to bid yer a final adieu….before we head off’ the unmistakable lilt of his deep Irish tones alone could disarm any woman, as he tore his eyes from his paramour and flashed an irresistible smile at Annie.

Caught up in the palpable energy of the passion between the two lovebirds, and encouraged a little by the warm woozy feeling the champagne was starting to have, Annie dipped playfully into a glossy paper bag labelled ‘Lou Lou’s’ that was tucked discreetly under the low coffee table.

‘This…’  Annie announced triumphantly, ‘is my undergarment of choice, for the evening…’ at which she flaunted a dainty, intricately laced piece of fabric that she’d retrieved from the depths of the bag.  Peacock like colours adorned the sheer, practically transparent fabric trimmed in purple lace detailing, and set with an amethyst jewel dangling provocatively between the two modest cups.  Fern sniggered indiscreetly, as the red head flashed her bra and matching pants, without a care for who was watching.

The raising of Aiden’s eyebrows indicated his approval, as he took a deep sup of his pint of Guinness. ‘I’ve got something too……’  Fern added playfully.

‘And, do I get to see it?…..’ he ventured, as he leant back and rested an arm casually on the back of the sofa.  Fern melted under his gaze.

‘Later maybe….’ she mouthed breathlessly, at the thought of his strong embrace, and soft searching kisses.

‘I’ll look forward to it…..although, you are best enjoyed as nature intended!  No amount of silk or lace could improve on the beauty of that…..’ Feeling more and more like an unwanted hairy gooseberry with each passing moment, Annie thought it was a good job that there was a table separating Romeo from his Juliet.

‘Excuse, me you pair….’  Annie interjected ‘there is a third party here…’ she raised her arms in mock exasperation.  ‘You’ll soon have one another to yourselves, but until then can we please come back down to planet Earth for a moment!!’  At that, all three laughed raucously, and Fern reached over to give her friend a huge hug.  They clung together tightly…..this was something they were going to miss.  They’d known each other for such a short time, but such was their closeness it was as if they’d known each other in a previous life – and were just taking up from where they last parted.

Annie, dabbed at a tiny bead of moisture that had appeared at the corner of her eye.

‘Will yer come on yous twos….it’s not like yer never going to see each other again is it!…There are such things as mobiles….they do work in Ireland too yer know!!’  The young actor smiled teasingly, revealing the dimples that made him so damned dishy.  The girls looked at one another in acknowledgement, and reached in unison for the champagne flutes that Aiden had just re-filled.

‘To us and a new start….’ the trio chinked glasses, and Aiden looked lovingly at his partner….’Here, here…’  Annie added with gusto.

With a deep intake of breath, and another dab of her eyes hoping her mascara hadn’t run, Annie settled back into the comforting folds of the sofa, and cupped the champagne flute in her hands, as if it were a warming mug of hot chocolate.  ‘So, are you all packed then?…..’

‘Yes, ready for the off….Although Aiden’s packing was somewhat lighter than anticipated….wasn’t it sweetheart?…’  Fern twirled a golden lock of her hair round her index finger, and looked reproachfully at her Irish inamarato.

Penitently, Aiden raised his pint to his lips to take in a large swig before continuing.

‘Yes….I got back to the motor home after we wrapped on Wednesday evening to find half m’ wardrobe strewn through the streets of Lillington!….’  Annie smirked unsympathetically.  ‘It wouldn’t have been so bad, but the damn sheep were doin’ a bloody good take on River Dance all over m’ best chinos, and Armani suits to be sure so they were….and that’s not the worst of it….’  He took another draft of thick ebony liquid ‘most of the crotches were missing from m’ pants!…’.

Annie laughed out loud now, at the poetic license of the culprit’s actions.  ‘Let me guess’  the flame haired beauty suggested.  ‘It wasn’t Emma by any chance was it?…..’ referring to the stunning Ms Sanders, Aiden’s co-star in the TV production.

‘How did yer guess?’ the actor added ironically.

‘Well, call it a woman’s intuition…..you’re not exactly known for being backwards in coming forwards, if you get my meaning!!  And, it may have something to do with the fact that you were shagging her, and now……’  Annie nodded in Fern’s direction, as she sipped innocently on her fizzy drink.

‘And, now I’m shagging Fern…….’ the Irishman followed Annie’s unspoken chain of thought, ‘Is that what yer mean?….’

‘Well, that’s the truth of it, isn’t it?…’  Annie quipped bluntly.

Aiden shifted forward, till he was sat on the edge of the sofa, and thoughtfully turned the pint glass in his vigorous grip.

‘Yeah, yer right….Holy mother of Jesus, I’m not proud of what I did to Emma…but she’s hardly the Virgin Mary herself yer know!!’  He shot Fern an apologetic look, and it was evident that he was genuinely consumed with an overpowering love for this local lass.

‘I admit, before meeting this lovely lady….’ he motioned towards Fern, who was obviously captivated by his every word.  ‘I admit, I was a bit of a Jack the lad…’.

‘Pah….that’s putting it lightly, if what I’ve heard’s true!!’  Annie chided, locking eyes with the fetching hunk  sat opposite, wanting to warn him off ever repeating that sort of behaviour with her best buddy.  But she was disarmed by his irresistible eyes, and found herself thinking that it was impossible for any woman not to fall for his Gaelic seductive charm.

‘I know I’ve been an eejit…and I’m not proud of some of the things I’ve done’  He was truly chastened, no-one witness to his confession could doubt that.  ‘But, I’ve never really loved anyone before…..and, well Fern, she’s different.  I want to keep and cherish this little one forever…..’  Aiden offered his strong hand across the table, and Fern’s exquisite hand disappeared in his confident grip.

‘This one’s fer keeps…..’  Annie studied the pair, and felt reassuringly that this match was meant to be.  She wouldn’t have been able to relinquish her friend to anyone less deserving – and felt happy that she was able to share in these final precious moments together.  For not two hours later, she’d waved the lovers off – watching them disappear down Church Street in his immaculate silver Range Rover sport, horn beeping intermittently in a jubilant retreat.

Annie slowly lowered her raised arm, which had been waving an enthusiastic goodbye to the couple.  She gently hugged herself, cradling each elbow in her cupped hands.  A sense of loss that was becoming a frequent occurrence these days, swept through her body – seemingly dragging her heart to the depths of her belly.  As the car disappeared beyond view, Annie turned reluctantly reaching to retrieve the bags she’d accumulated during the morning’s shopping spree.  The contents that had given her such a sense of excitement and anticipation a few hours before seemed so pointless and unimportant now.

‘Pull yourself together woman!!…’  Annie’s feisty spirit rekindled, as a single tear escaped from her eyes tracking slowly down her flushed cheek, before she wiped it away with the back of her hand.  ‘Be happy for her, if anyone deserved happiness it was Fern…..’  A quiet smile spread across her face, as the young woman marched on with resolve.

‘So happy endings do exist….’ she contemplated as she passed through the crowds of Saturday shoppers, browsing the abundance of antique shops that dotted the High Street of the market town.  After all, who’d have thought that Fern’s life could go from ‘zero to hero’, in such a short space of time?  Her life of misery and despair transformed, into a living fairy tale.  Although, it had needed a bit of brute strength from Aiden to ensure that it didn’t escalate into a nightmare ending.

He’d given old Nathan a taste of his own medicine when he’d returned to Parwich a week or so ago, banging on the door of Chestnut Cottages demanding to see Fern.  The thickset bully got more than he bargained for when Ireland’s own heartthrob opened the front door, and planted a swift right-hander onto Nathan’s nose, which sent him reeling backwards, clutching his bloodied face.  Aiden strode purposefully towards his prey, as he cowered towards the gate.  Taking a fistful of Nathan’s Khaki jacket he hoisted the ruffian up, so that he was teetering on the tips of his steel capped boots, swaying uncertainly as a mixture of anger and fear flashed through his eyes.

The sandy haired actor, jerked his quarry closer till their noses were almost touching and he studied the white’s of Nathan’s eyes which darted frantically trying to read the handsome actor’s face.  The face that he looked upon was contorted with hatred, and dizzily he looked down to the tight set lips, which were moving incomprehensibly – the knock he’d received had left Nathan dazed.

‘D’yer hear me, yer bastard…..’  With a heavy slap Nathan came to, ‘Not so cocky now are we sunshine – not man enough to pick on someone yer own size..’,  Aiden spat, his normally sensual lips drawn back in a grimace.  ‘If yer so much as enter this village again, yer’ll have me and me mates to answer to…do yer hear me?….’  Aiden took the whimper that emerged from the crumpled face before him to be an affirmative.   ‘Trust me, I jest not…..The Peaky Blinders have nothing on us when we’re pissed off, so I suggest yer don’t try anything stupid’  The athletic actor, flashed a celebratory smile as the one time bully gulped – his adam’s apple bobbing frantically to swallow his fear.

‘Now sod off yer poor excuse for a human!…..’  At that, Aiden released his grip, and pushed Nathan forcefully so he stumbled and fell on the garden path.  Without letting his gaze move from Aiden’s, for fear that another right hook was destined to follow – the pathetic figure scrambled to his feet as fast as he could.  The last Fern saw of her unfortunate ex – was as he shot through the garden gate as if his life depended on it…not looking back.

Annie smiled at she recalled Fern’s animated description of the day that she was ridded of Nathan Bramall once and for all.  ‘Oh to have your own Prince Charming!….’ the redhead smirked ruefully as she stepped into the taxi.

‘Parwich Heights please.’  She sat back watching dreamily as the scenery rolled by, suddenly exhausted by the emotions of the day, and overcome with a tad too much pink champagne.

∞∞∞∞

A shaft of resplendent sunlight emerged from the blackness of the clouds that raced overhead, and illuminated the tiny chapel like some heavenly searchlight.  Dappling, the uneven stone floors with tiny shards of jewel like colours, from the ancient stained glass that was set in the mullioned windows above.

The hush was broken only by muffled whisperings emanating from a pew set before the altar of the little church.

‘Well…what did he say exactly?….huh?’  The voice of the mature woman probed urgently.

In the lull before the man spoke, a melodious chorus of birdsong resonated.

‘He told me he knew about the letters….’ the woman took a sharp intake of breath

‘What…but he can’t…..’  Dorothy Cundy played nervously with the pearls strung about her wrinkled neck, ‘It’s not possible..’

‘I’m telling you, that’s what he said….’  Chambers stood with a groan, as his knee creaked in protest, and he began to pace the stone-flagged floor before the altar.

‘He said he knows about Grace, and everything..’  He wrung his hands apprehensively, the skin like crumpled crepe paper beneath his fingers.  ‘Dorothy, what am I going to do?….’  Thomas Chambers looked imploringly to the haughty figure of Mrs Cundy sat before him.

He flinched, as she rose from the wooden pew – what she lacked in height, she made up for in girth!  An imposing woman that Chambers thought he’d do well to stay on the right side of.

‘What are you going to do Thomas?!’  She said with disdain, eying him as if he were something unpleasant she’d just stepped in.  ‘What about our family Thomas…. have you thought about that!…’

At that, Dorothy Cundy turned her back and waddled noisily from the chapel, her sturdy black heels pounding the stone floor of the aisle, reverberating around the cold walls.

‘Dorothy….’  Thomas implored, but his voice was a whisper that barely left his lips.  He surveyed the empty chapel, the last light of day rapidly retreating, allowing the shadows of evening to descend to keep the souls of the dear departed company once more.

The proud butler took his head in his hands, gripping tufts of silvery hair in his clenched fists.  His usual grandiose manner vanished as he was overcome with feelings of shame and inadequacy.

Raising his eyes heavenward, Chambers muttered as if in anticipation of divine inspiration ‘Well Albert,…..tonight, I think things will change forever’, he snivelled as he wiped his dribbling nose with his cuff, something the professional Thomas Chambers would never be seen dead doing!

‘Yes, I’ve tried matey, really I have…..but I think change is afoot…….’  There was no answer, only deathly silence as night finally fell, and a dejected Chambers shuffled pathetically towards the chapel door, which stood slightly ajar.  This was it….time to face the outside world ‘God help me….’ he muttered to no one in particular.

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