There was nothing like not knowing where you were going to lay your head that night for making you tired, thought Bron. She hadn't realised that being the make-up artist to the stars would be quite so exhausting. The trouble was, she'd been up before dawn for too many days prior to the actual wedding. Doing the cakes and a lot of flower-arranging meant she was tired before she started on her proper job.
She hadn't seen James for ages. He might have gone home. He might have felt that this was not his sort of party. Maybe she had lost her moment, for ever. Vanessa would be cross with them both. She suddenly felt sad. She'd just have to accept he saw her as a friend and be thankful at least for that. Bron wasn't sure it was her sort of party either, really. It was lovely to look at, beautiful people being beautiful all over the place. The cake had looked fabulous. Everyone had admired it. The caterers had taken Bron's details. It might be the start of a whole new career. When Sarah told her how much she was going to be paid for making it she realised there was more money in cake than in up-dos. She would have felt exhilarated if she hadn't been exhausted. The events of the last couple of months had finally caught up with her.
When the last lick of lip-gloss, the last brush of powder had been applied and Carrie and her new husband had been carried away, Bron decided to slip off. She was aware that lots of the people she knew, Rupert and Fenella, Elsa and Laurence – Elsa had looked so happy she was pleased for her friend despite the pang for herself – and probably Sarah, were going to kick back and relax. The wedding had been a huge success and they could now stop working and start partying. While Bron wanted to do this too, she wanted some sleep first.
She slipped away down to the kitchen and out of the back door. She thought about her bed, probably still strewn with broken glass and muttered to herself. Then she remembered the caravan. She could sleep there. She felt like someone in a desert on the way to the oasis – nothing was going to stop her getting her head down.
The caravan was occupied. James was sprawled across the double pull-out bed, sound asleep. There were other beds concealed somewhere, Bron knew, but she didn't want to crash about pulling down bunks or finding hidden mattresses. Too much like work and far too noisy. Carefully, she climbed over James so she was next to the bulkhead and lay down.
Those last few months of keeping to the edge of the bed with Roger have come in useful, she thought as she pulled the light cover that James had thrown off over herself. Then she slept.
She woke a little while later. James was still asleep. She raised herself on her elbow and watched him. His mouth was very slightly open and his shirt was half pulled out of his trousers, revealing a little triangle of flesh. She couldn't help herself. She wanted him.
She took a few deep breaths and then decided she was a modern woman – of many parts – and that she should take control of her destiny. Vanessa had implied as much. She put her hand on his shoulder. He was wearing a new shirt – she knew that because they'd discussed what he should wear for the wedding and he didn't have a decent shirt. She could feel the heat of his body through it.
Her courage increasing, she moved her hand to the buttons and pushed her fingers between them, finding his warm skin. She undid a button. He stirred slightly but didn't wake up so she undid another. When his whole torso was exposed she spent another few minutes admiring it. She had seen his chest before – and his well-muscled back – when he was working in his garden without his shirt. But she'd never had the opportunity to see it at such close quarters.
Her eye went to the hook of his trousers. He only had one suit, he'd told her, and it came from a charity shop. But it was a very good suit and he'd looked delightful in it. Now she wanted to see how delightful he'd look out of it. She couldn't seem to help herself.
She allowed her hand to drift down his chest to his stomach, but although she wanted to, she didn't let it go any lower.
Why didn't he wake up? She could make him, she supposed, but she didn't really want to do that. He might say, 'What on earth do you think you're doing?’
She sighed, suddenly feeling tired and despondent. She lay down again and then, without letting herself acknowledge what she was doing, she laid her head on his chest and put her hand just underneath it. Soothed by his warmth and his smell, her eyes closed and she fell asleep again.
She woke up a short time later in a panic. Why was her head on a man's chest? Who was he? She knew it wasn't Roger but it took her brain a few frantic seconds to remember where she was and what she'd done.
She froze in horror. What on earth had she been thinking of? She'd practically undressed him! She'd have to get away. If he found her there he'd think she was a total slapper! If she could only slide out of his bed and go back to the party, he need never know she'd been there. It would have been all right, she realised, if she hadn't undone his shirt. If she'd just had a nap next to him she could have just told him she needed somewhere to sleep. Why oh why did she let her lust get the better of her?
Very carefully and slowly, she retracted her hand, but it had only moved an inch or so before it was gripped. Praying that James was still asleep and was only holding on from some reflex action, she tugged a bit harder. But she couldn't release herself. James was awake.
‘Let me have my hand back!' she hissed.
'No. Why?’
He seemed perfectly relaxed about the situation, unlike Bron, who was beside herself with embarrassment.
‘Because I want to get up and I obviously can't leave without my hand!'
‘What was it doing there, anyway?' He was holding it more gently now. 'Your hand, I mean.'
‘I… I was just having a nap – my bed is covered in glass if you remember – and must have put my hand on your chest in my sleep.' Reflex actions might be her best excuse.
He shook his head. 'Not buying it. Why is my shirt undone?'
‘I have no idea!' Bron tugged at her hand again, longing to escape from this humiliation.
‘Yes you have. You unbuttoned it!’
Bron was blushing too much to look at him. 'No! I didn't!’
James raised himself on one arm so he was now looking down at her. 'I know perfectly well that when I lay down my shirt was fully buttoned. I only intended to have a few moments' kip – I only kicked my shoes off at the last minute. You undid my buttons.’
There seemed to be nothing she could say to get her out of this dreadful situation. Her only relief was that she hadn't touched his trousers – although she had thought about it.
‘You fancy me, don't you?' James went on relentlessly.
`No-'
‘You may as well admit it. I caught you red-handed.’
She sighed. She could hardly deny it. 'OK, so hang me! I do – did – do fancy you a little bit. I'm a perfectly normal woman, after all-’
She didn't get to say any more for a while, which was probably just as well. He turned towards her and his mouth came down on hers and she accepted her fate as a total slapper. It felt very nice indeed.
Quite a bit later she said, 'You must fancy me too, then.’
James laughed. 'Of course I do, you ninny! Why would you doubt it?'
‘Because you've never done anything about it! I kept sending you signals and you just didn't pick them up!’
James sighed now. 'Well, I wasn't sure. I really didn't want to make a mistake. I've been there before and it would have been so awkward for you if I was wrong. You'd have moved out of one bad relationship only to discover the man next door had a major crush on you.'
‘That would have been quite a nice thought,' said Bron. 'Tell me, would you have ever made a move on me if I hadn't practically got into your bed?'
‘Oh yes. Any time now I would have been asking you to dance and then kissing you.' – Bron sighed. What had just taken place was a little bit more than kissing. 'So why wait so long?'
‘I only just found out for sure that you did really fancy me.'
‘What? What do you mean?’
‘Vanessa told me.’
Bron took the pillow and put it over her head. 'What?’
‘When she told me that I had to go with you to this wedding she told me in no uncertain terms that you fancied me and that I'd be a fool not to snap you up. I think she thought I wouldn't work it out for myself '
‘You didn't,' mumbled Bron, still under the pillow. 'Vanessa knew when I first came to work for her I'd just broken up a long-term relationship. She probably thought she needed to help us along.’
Bron mumbled some more.
‘Come out from under there.' He confiscated the pillow.
'I'm so embarrassed!'
‘I really don't know why. By the way, Vanessa says, when we're ready to move in together, she'll let us have the flat above the old stables. Much more space for us, and she can rent out both our houses.'
‘Oh, she really is the limit!' Bron laughed. 'Mind you, it's very kind of her to do that. Not that I'll be ready to move in with you for ages,' she added haughtily, trying to snatch back some pride.
‘Why is that?’
James had a soft, low voice and he asked this question very close to her ear. Bron found herself sighing instead of blushing and there was no more conversation for a while.
Somehow they got themselves back to the party. Bron insisted. She was still blushing inside at her brazenness.
She really didn't want her friends putting two and two together and working out what had gone on.
Of course, as soon as she saw Sarah she realised it would have been better to stay put. One glance from her put Sarah in full possession of all the facts.
‘Oh Bron,' she said, kissing her cheek. 'And James! All loved-up – how wonderful!'
‘Is it that obvious?' pleaded Bron.
"Fraid so.' Sarah kissed James too, and Bron wondered if she was beginning to lose her iron grip on events. 'I'm a very lucky man,' said James. 'Now, come and dance,' he said to Bron, and took her hand.