The Spark - Jules Wake Page 0,75
quarters. It was clear they’d been considerably jazzed up since the last housemaid had vacated them. Our room was light and airy with a pair of dormer windows affording a glorious view of the sea which you could see from the big brass bed against the opposite wall. The nautical theme was continued with an abundance of blue and white striped cushions and pillows, and pictures of lighthouses in shades of blue around the walls.
We had time to unpack, make the most of the huge bucket-headed shower in the en suite bathroom, in which Sam had to duck his head when he cleaned his teeth because of the eaves, before I had to head off to pick up the train passengers.
They were already in high spirits when they rolled off the train at half past four. Lynn’s idea of an in-carriage picnic had included a whole bottle of gin and not quite enough tonic to go around, and all of them, even Mum, had insisted on singing ‘I’m Getting Married in the Morning’ all the way to Rose Bowl House.
I abandoned them all in the hall to Hendricks and ran quickly up the stairs to collect Sam, conscious that the rest of the family might take a while to unpack and settle and I didn’t want to leave Gladys and Alastair hanging. The wedding was going to be a relatively small affair and I had no idea how many guests were staying in the house.
‘Everything OK?’ asked Sam, looking up as I walked in shaking my head.
‘They’re all sozzled already, even my mother, and I can usually rely on her to be the sensible one.’
‘Well your aunt and uncle are always good company.’ He stood up and grabbed my hand. ‘Come on, we’d better go down and start catching up.’
I’d worried unnecessarily because the little patio area outside the drawing room was already full of people and a rowdy croquet match was underway on the far side of the lawn. Gladys had changed and was holding court in a floaty pink number that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Strictly Come Dancing foxtrot. Next to her, Alastair, her fiancé, sported a very fine kilt with a froth of lace at his neck, and would have looked rather like a dashing Bonnie Prince Charlie if it weren’t for his delicate Singaporean features. When he spotted Sam and me in the doorway, he immediately detached himself from the small group he was talking to and headed our way with small, neat, dapper steps, accentuated by the laced ghillie brogues he wore.
‘Little Jess.’ His deep brown eyes twinkled. It was an old joke, given that I towered over his tiny five-foot-four frame. ‘It’s grand to see you. And this is yer young man, is it?’
I saw Sam start at his broad Yorkshire vowels. Alastair was somewhat of a hybrid, having been born in Singapore to a Singaporean mother and a Japanese father but raised in Doncaster.
‘Hi, Alastair.’ I gave him a kiss on his soft, clean-shaven cheeks. ‘This is Sam.’
They did the pleased-to-meet-you handshakes.
‘Nice kilt.’ I nodded down at the yellow and black checked plaid. ‘I didn’t know you had Scottish blood.’
‘Not a drop,’ said Alistair with another one of his irrepressible twinkles. He always looked as if he were up to no good, which was probably what had attracted Gladys in the first place. ‘But I liked t’outfit. Although I’m not so sure about going commando. Bit drafty, if you get my drift. Hardy fellas, them Scots.’
I swallowed down my laughter and nodded, pinching my lips together because he looked so much like an earnest robin. Beside me I could feel Sam’s suppressed shake of mirth.
‘Now what are you grand people drinking? Bitter, lad? Or these pink gins. Gladys had it mixed special to match her dress.’
‘I’ll have a beer, please,’ said Sam.
‘I’d better try a pink gin. The others have just arrived; they’ll be down soon.’ Although I didn’t think they needed any more gin.
‘Grand. Gladys is so pleased you were all able to come.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Between you and me, I think she was worried you might think making all this fuss is a bit daft at our age. But you only get married once. Well, at our time of life, anyroad.’ He pulled a face and drew out a stopwatch from a hidden pocket in his waistcoat, reminding me of the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland. ‘Let’s hope Gladys survives and gets through the