The Vintage Summer Wedding. Jenny Oliver

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ this, this dance group. In the village. They’re only little ‒ you know, eight to sixteen. No one’s older than sixteen. And well, they always perform in the summer shows and they put on little routines and stuff and everyone really loves it. Well, they’ve been working towards a Britain’s Got Talent audition.’

      Anna snorted in disbelief at the idea of wanting to go on some hideous ITV show like BGT.

      ‘They’re really excited. I mean, really excited. And I know they’re not the best but well, the whole village is kind of behind them.’

      They never got behind me, Anna thought with a feeling not dissimilar to jealousy.

      She could tell Seb was listening despite feigning disinterest.

      ‘Anyway,’ Jackie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘They’ve been working super, super hard and well, Mrs Swanson’s au pair was teaching them but her visa ran out a fortnight ago and she hadn’t told anyone, so now, well, she left on Wednesday. There’s um, no one to help them.’

      ‘I see.’ Anna did a quick nod, rolling her shoulders back. No way, she thought, no way in God’s own earth, Jackie, no way. Keep going, but this is never going to happen.

      Someone wedged the front doors open and the sounds from outside got louder, the laughter and chatting, but the heat stayed where it was, like a wobbling great blancmange.

      ‘You could do it,’ Seb said, jumping into the silence, unable to keep his trap shut.

      ‘I don’t think I could, Seb,’ Anna glared at him.

      ‘Well yeah, I mean that was exactly what I was going to ask. You see, it’s been me and Mrs McNamara—’

      ‘She’s still there?’

      Jackie nodded.

      Anna blew out a breath of disbelief. ‘It’s like time literally stood still here.’

      ‘Neither of us are particularly good dancers. I mean, I can hold my own at a party but you know, I don’t exactly know enough to teach them and well, we all know McNamara’s not exactly a lithe mover. I just don’t want to let the kids down.’

      ‘I’m sure you don’t.’ Anna tried to find something to distract herself, and rummaged in her bag for her lip gloss. Anna didn’t dance. Anna hadn’t danced in ten years. She hadn’t set foot on a stage, hadn’t warmed up, hadn’t looked out at the glare of the spotlight or felt the hard floor beneath her feet. Anna’s name had never been in lights. ‘God, it’s so hot. Why does it have to be so goddamn hot?’ She could feel Seb watching her.

      ‘Some of them aren’t the best kids and it’s really good seeing them involved in something—’

      ‘Jackie, I’m really sorry,’ Anna cut her off. ‘God, it’s just insufferably hot.’ She pulled her top away from her stomach, ‘I’m not going to do it. It’s just a definite no.’

      ‘Could you just think about it? We’d pay you?’

      ‘No.’ She shook her head again, reaching for the sing-along song sheet to fan herself with. ‘All the money in the world and I wouldn’t do it.’

      ‘Well, that’s not strictly true,’ she heard Seb add and shot him a look. ‘Actually,’ he said, sitting back with a grin on his face, ‘You’d be bloody awful teaching kids.’

      She narrowed her eyes. He raised a brow. While half of her could sniff out his attempts at reverse psychology in an instant, the other half felt like he was deliberately being mean. Like this was almost her punishment ‒ for hating Nettleton, for spending all their money, for not trying hard enough.

      ‘It’s OK.’ Jackie shook her head, picking up her gin and tonic and taking a sip. ‘I just thought I’d ask.’

      Anna rubbed her forehead and felt the heat prickle over her body. Jackie looked away, pretending to glance at the menu chalked up on the blackboard. The fan whirred on above the din of chat in the bar, a low hum beating out the seconds of their silence. Anna watched a fruit fly land in a spilt drop of her white wine and was about to lift her glass to squash it when Seb almost leapt from his seat.

      ‘Holy shit!’ he shouted.

      ‘What?’ Both Jackie and Anna said at the same time, equally desperate for some distraction after the dance snub.

      ‘It’s Smelly Doug.’

      Jackie pulled the screen her way. ‘God, it is as well. And look, he has a Porsche, he’s photographed himself leaning against it. Oh no.’

      ‘I don’t know who you’re talking about.’ Anna said, confused.

      Jackie took another sip of her drink. ‘You know, Smelly Doug. Never washed his hair, trousers too short, huge rucksack...?’

      Anna only had a vague recollection. ‘Was he in the year below us?’ Everything to do with school, pre-London, pre-The English Ballet Company School, was a bit of a blur. All she could remember was coming back for a few summers to stay with her dad and despising every minute of it.

      ‘This is fascinating,’ Seb said, as he clicked to look at more photos. ‘There’s one of him in Egypt. Doing that point at the top of the Pyramids.’

      ‘You should go on a date with him, Jackie.’ Seb nodded at her over the rim of his pint.

      ‘No way.’ Jackie shook her head.

      ‘Go on. It’d be a social experiment. Catch up, see what he’s up to. Find out how he could afford a Porsche. It’s a fact-finding mission. I’m putting him in your Yeses.’

      ‘Don’t you dare,’ Jackie laughed. Anna watched them, feeling stupid for feeling left out.

      ‘Too late.’ Seb sat back, smug, and Jackie snatched the phone back, incredulous.

      As Seb went to take a final gulp of his drink, his eyes dancing with triumph, Anna toyed with a coaster, pretending not to envy their laughter.

      Then a shadow fell across the table. And Anna heard a familiar voice drawl, ‘Seb, darling, I thought you were going to pop round as soon as you arrived.’ Hilary, Seb’s mother, was standing at the end of their table, feigning her disgruntlement with a dramatic wave of her hand. But when she then pressed her palm over her creped cleavage, the pearls looped round her neck bunched up and caught on the buttons of her cream silk blouse, causing her to turn to Seb’s father, Roger, for help disentangling herself.

      Seb glanced between the two of them, ‘Sorry, Mum, yes we were going to pop round. Arrived late last night though.’

      ‘Hi, Hilary. Hi, Roger.’ Anna stood up as much as the table would allow against her legs.

      ‘Hello, Anne.’ Hilary said, not looking up from her tangled pearls.

      Anna rolled her eyes internally; she knew she called her the wrong name deliberately. Every time she met Seb’s parents, they made her feel like she wasn’t good enough for their son. Like he’d trailed his hand in the Nettleton mud one day and pulled out Anna. The list of problems was endless. Her parents’ divorce, their messy break-up, her СКАЧАТЬ