“Does anyone else know about this?” Alice’s voice trembled.
Ashley gave her a ghost of his usual mocking grin. “Only Jules. We don’t want the whole village out celebrating.”
Mo loved him even more at that moment for trying to make light of it and ease the shock for her loved ones. Knowing how hard it had been for Ashley to speak about his illness, she appreciated this more than she could say. He was immensely private and hugely proud; the last thing he would ever want was pity or sympathy. It was easier, he’d said, to be disliked. That way nobody got hurt.
“We don’t want anyone but immediate family to know the truth,” she warned. “That’s a must, because it’s our business and our wedding.”
Summer nodded. “Jake and I won’t breathe a word.”
“Neither will any of the others if they know what’s good for them,” said Mo grimly. “Our wedding’s going to be a happy day and a celebration. If it means we help the church too, then so much the better, but there’s no way we want it to be an excuse for people to come and have a good gawk. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Gran! You know what it’s like in the village. Everyone loves a good gossip.”
Alice gave her a watery smile. “When they hear that you’re marrying Ashley Carstairs in record time it will certainly give them something to talk about.”
“So you’re giving us your blessing?” Ashley asked. His hand, still in Mo’s, was trembling. Mo found that she was holding her breath.
For an answer, Mo’s grandmother folded Ashley into her arms and kissed his hollow cheek.
“Welcome to the Tremaine family, Ashley,” she said.
“And good luck,” added Summer, laughing through her tears now. “You do know they’re all completely nuts?”
Ashley nodded. “Only somebody as crazy would take me on now.”
“Oh, I think our Mo has loved you for a lot longer than she’s told anyone,” Alice said slowly – and Mo, who knew that this was totally true, blushed. What was it that Ashley had once said about hate being dangerously close to love? He’d seen straight through all her fiery words and red-hot temper, hadn’t he?
Loving him as much as she did now, Mo was so thankful that he had. It had been a path of ups and downs, a storm of verbal battles and violent emotions, but in his arms she had found a quiet harbour she never wanted to leave. Still, there was no time for reflection now: Alice was already on her feet and tugging at Mo’s arm.
“Well, come on then!” she exclaimed, a picture of impatience. “We’ve got a wedding to plan!”
Chapter 24
There was nothing like a wedding to bring everyone in Polwenna Bay together. Once the villagers had recovered from the shock of Morwenna Tremaine and Ashley Carstairs getting engaged and had gossiped in the post office, village shop or pub as to whether Mo was pregnant or simply after his money (the stables being a well-known money pit), the speculation began to die down. It was replaced with excitement as the locals’ thoughts turned to the big reception and all the free alcohol Ashley was bound to pay for. Besides, everyone was used to Cashley demanding things to be done yesterday. He wasn’t exactly famed for his patience when it came to his boat, his cars or his house renovations, so why should getting married be any different?
“I think he’s got to marry her fast before she realises what he’s really like and changes her mind,” was Susie Penhalligan’s comment to her daughter Summer. They were sitting together in Cobble Cottage, making the final alterations to Alice’s vintage wedding dress so that it would fit Mo’s slender frame perfectly. The sheath of ivory silk would be stunning with Mo’s pale skin and flame-red curls – or it would if only she would tear herself away from Ashley for long enough to attend a fitting!
“Mmm,” Summer said noncommittally. Finishing her neat line of stitches and snipping the thread, she turned her attention to hemming the waterfalls of green silk that were to be her and Issie’s bridesmaids’ dresses. The fabric was slippery and very tricky to sew. She’d need to concentrate if she was to do it and her best friend (not to mention St Wenn’s) justice. It was hard to stay focused, though; her mother suspected Summer knew far more than she was letting on and kept firing questions at her.
For Summer, agreeing to be a bridesmaid was a huge deal and already she was incredibly nervous. Just as they’d promised, Ashley and Mo were allowing Jules and the PCC to use their special day as an advert for St Wenn’s potential as a wedding venue. Ashley had been as good as his word: for the past thirteen days his builders had swarmed all over the church and Polwenna’s valley had rung with the sounds of hammering, drilling and sawing. Gallons of paint had been delivered, the roof gleamed with new tiles, and in the churchyard the Pollards were wielding brand new brush cutters and chainsaws with all the gusto of Eminem in his heyday. But wonderful as all this was, at the end of the day it was just a village church having a spruce-up. It was hardly anything newsworthy.
No, what was attracting the attention of the national press was the rumour that Summer Penhalligan – the former glamour model shortly to be embroiled in a bitter court battle with her Premier League star ex – would be a bridesmaid. Summer had been keeping a low profile ever since she’d moved to the village, and the tabloids were desperate to have some shots of her and her mysterious new man. Summer knew that her presence at the wedding, especially as a bridesmaid, would give St Wenn’s the kind of publicity that money couldn’t buy. If lots of people wanted to get married there as a consequence, then surely the bishop would have to reconsider the church’s options?
This happy thought didn’t stop Summer feeling terrified about putting her head above the parapet the very next day. Her new life with Jake in Polwenna Bay was peaceful and precious, and she cherished being anonymous. Was she opening a paparazzi can of worms? Jake certainly thought so and even Jules had urged her to think carefully.
Seeing her daughter’s thoughtful expression, Susie put her needle down. “You don’t have to do this, love. Nobody is expecting it.”
“I know,” said Summer, “but I kind of feel that this is something I can do to help the village, if that makes sense? Jules was so good to us when we thought the boys were lost at sea that day, and everyone’s really welcomed me back too. I want to play my part. If my being there attracts the press and helps the church then I should do it. Besides, Mo’s my best friend and we always said we’d be each other’s bridesmaids.”
“Not that anyone ever expected Mo to get married. It was always the Olympics that was her dream.”
“She’s not fifteen anymore, Mum. She was bound to fall in love eventually.”
Susie frowned. “It’s a bit strange though, you must admit, love. It’s too fast. They were only yelling at each other in the pub five minutes ago and squabbling over Fernside. Mo was all for tarring and feathering him back then. Don’t you think there’s more to it?”
Susie’s maternal inquisitions usually made the Spanish version look amateurish, but luckily Summer was spared this one by her father arriving home and demanding lunch. Leaving her bickering parents to it, she packed her sewing away carefully before heading into the village to meet Mo and Ashley. The bride’s flowers and the favours were the next jobs to tick off her long list of wedding tasks, followed by making sure that the giant marquee was erected on the village green. Zak Tremaine and his band had yet to show up too. Summer hoped they would arrive in time for a sound check; currently they were more in demand than One Direction, having just signed a record deal.
A bridesmaid’s work was never done, it seemed, and cramming everything into two weeks was certainly stressful. Ashley might be wealthy but the one thing even he couldn’t purchase was time. Nevertheless, as Summer caught sight of him and Mo waiting for her on the quay, their arms around one another and wrapped up in their own world, Summer wished with all her heart that he could.
* * *
Jules had a headache beating behind her left eye in synchrony with the hammering that was going on directly above her. The rows of f
igures she’d been staring at blurred and danced in front of her vision. No matter how many times she blinked or tried to focus, she just couldn’t make sense of them. For some reason the numbers didn’t add up, literally or metaphorically. She’d texted Richard in case he could account for the anomaly but he was yet to reply.
Jules squinted again, but still it seemed that the church accounts contained ten thousand pounds more than they should. She knew that even Ashley hadn’t bought ten thousand pounds’ worth of calendars. It was most odd. Somebody somewhere had paid in a huge amount of cash. But who? And why?
It was just as well she’d been called to be a vicar and not an accountant or a detective.
She pushed the paperwork aside and rubbed her eyes, almost poking one out when there was a sudden clatter from above that made her jump. Usually the vestry was a little haven of tranquillity – but not since the preparations for the wedding had begun in earnest. Now Jules could hardly move for bumping into a builder or a villager and, like the Queen probably did, she was starting to believe that the whole world smelt of fresh paint. Ashley and Mo’s wedding was going to make William and Kate’s look understated at this rate.
Thank goodness tomorrow was the big day and life could soon return to normal, or at least what passed for normal in Polwenna Bay. If another tabloid paper called and asked her for a comment on Summer Penhalligan, or if another flower arrangement materialised on top of the pulpit, Jules feared she was in danger of uttering some very unvicarly language. How on earth was she expected to preach with a triffid blocking her view or the church phone ringing constantly?
She was toying with the idea of going through St Wenn’s accounts for a fourth time when there was a soft rap on the vestry door, followed by Danny’s blond head peeping round.
“Blimey. It’s gone mad out there! I’ve just seen Sheila planting peonies by the lychgate, and somebody’s threaded white ribbons through all the yew trees! Peonies and ribbon, I ask you! This is Mo we’re talking about here. Hay bales and baler twine are more her thing.”
Jules smiled. Typical man! “It’s her wedding day, Dan. The most important day in a girl’s life, apparently.”
He hurled himself onto the seat opposite her and shuddered theatrically. “Don’t remind me. Tara was an absolute nightmare. Bridezilla on steroids. Hey! Do you think I should speak up and warn Ashley when it gets to the forever-hold-your-peace bit? Forever is a long time.”
They looked at each other for a moment and Danny’s face fell. He was stricken by what he’d just said.
“What a bloody stupid thing to say. I should have lost my tongue, not my arm.”
“It’s OK, Dan,” said Jules gently. “It’s better to not think about it and just be normal. That’s what they both want.”
Only Jules and the Tremaines knew the real reason for the speed of the wedding.
A muscle ticked in Danny’s unscarred cheek. “I can’t bear it, Jules. It’s just so bloody unfair. Mo’s so happy and it’s not going to last, is it?”
She reached out and took his hand. It was strong and warm and, as he curled his fingers around hers, Jules never wanted to let it go. Stop being ridiculous, she told herself crossly. All this wedding stuff is getting to you.
“Dan, none of us knows what’s going to last or how long we have,” she pointed out. “I’m praying for them, as are you – and I know that, whatever the future holds, the happiness they have now is worth everything they may go through later.”
Even the undamaged part of Danny’s mouth twisted. “Are you saying that it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?”
Well, I love you, Jules thought despairingly, but is the way you make me feel worth the anguish of knowing that nothing will ever happen between us? Dan was still married and, besides, he was a parishioner and she was his pastor. The situation was painful and hopeless. But would she rather have never met Danny? Never laughed with him until she cried, or shared their early-morning walks along the cliffs?
Of course not.
“I guess that’s what I am saying,” she replied carefully. “Dan, I know that things with Tara have been difficult at times, but she’s still your wife and Morgan’s mum.”
Danny stared at her. “You think I still love Tara?”
“She’s your wife and I think—”
But whatever it was that Jules thought, she never managed to share it; an almighty crash from inside the church had interrupted her. Danny leapt from his chair and dashed into the nave with Jules not far behind him. All those walks on the cliffs had been doing wonders for her fitness as well as improving Danny’s injuries, it seemed.
Oh Lord. She really was working too hard. For a moment Jules had thought there was a pony in the nave. Maybe if she closed her eyes slowly, counted to ten and then opened them again, the horse, the smashed pot of flowers and that big pile of dung might just vanish?
One, two, three—
“Issie! What on earth is Bubbles doing in the church?” cried Danny.
Jules’s eyes snapped open. Oh. It seemed that there really was a pony in the church, complete with pink and green bows around its neck and pink glittery hooves. Danny had grabbed its head collar and was attempting to drag it back up the aisle – which was proving to be a challenge, since the pony was having a lovely time snacking on the flowers and crapping all over the scrubbed flagstones.
“It’s a surprise for Mo!” Issie Tremaine was tugging at her brother’s empty sleeve. Her braids were threaded with pink and green ribbons that matched the pony’s decorations. “Danny! Don’t be so boring! Mo loves Bubbles! He taught her to ride. She’d want to see him here on her wedding day.”
It was a fair point, Jules thought, but probably not the most practical suggestion.
“You’ve wrecked the place!” Danny snapped. “Why do you never think?”
“I do think! Mo will like this!” Issie sounded as though she was stamping her foot, but Jules guessed that could have been the pony. “She still needs her horses,” Issie added.
“Maybe Bubbles could wait outside and have some photos afterwards?” Jules called hopefully.
But neither Danny nor Issie was listening to her. They were far too busy bickering. As the rolling rump and squabbling siblings vanished into the porch, leaving a trail of crushed flowers and broken vases in their wake, Jules sighed and fetched a dustpan. Feeling beyond exhausted, she began to sweep up the mess. Still, maybe the roses in the vicarage’s garden would appreciate the manure.
“Don’t you dare shovel that up!”
The heavy door had swung open and there was Danny again, framed in the glorious sunshine. With his short hair turned to a golden halo and his white tee shirt bright against the darkness of the church, he could have stepped straight out of one of the stained-glass windows.
Striding across the flagstones, he caught Jules by the hand, then marched her outside and into the sunny splendour of a September afternoon.
“Danny! What are you doing? I need to clear up and make sure that I’ve checked the order of service!” she protested.
“Issie can clear all that mess up and Granny will be up soon to check on all the other details. You, Jules Mathieson, are having a break.” He was towing her now across the churchyard and through the back gate. He might not be in the army anymore but he was still strong enough to pull her along, even as she was dragging her heels and arguing that she was needed in St Wenn’s. Eventually it was easier just to give in and follow him. Jules knew Danny well enough by now to understand that when he had the bit between his teeth there was no stopping him. Besides, he was right: she did need a break. She’d thought of nothing except weddings and saving St Wenn’s for what felt like a lifetime.
Danny and Jules climbed the steep flight of steps that led behind the church and up to the cliff path. This time, though, they turned left and headed into Fernside, the woodland that Ashley had bought. He’d initially intended to make a driveway to Mariners through the land, but had unexpectedly g
iven it to Mo instead. The clues had been there all along, Jules reflected.
She increased her pace to match Danny’s stride. Once upon a time, Jules would have been puffing and sweating as she tried to keep up with him, but now it was barely any effort.
It was only September but already the leaves had started to turn russet and gold and the dense undergrowth was dying back. Fernside was a peaceful place full of ancient trees, gnarled hawthorn bushes and rooks that caw-cawed from their leafy summits. Now and again Jules could see the village rooftops far below them and in the distance the shimmer of the sea. Apart from the birds and Danny and Jules’s breathing there was no noise at all; it felt as though they were the only two people in the world.
“You can let go of my hand now,” Jules said as he finally slowed the pace.
But Danny’s fingers didn’t relax their grip, and rather than letting go he stopped dead.
“What if I don’t want to?” he said softly.
There was a strange tightening in Jules’s chest and her stomach lurched. She stared at him dumbly. She felt sure that confusion was written all over her face.
“Have I grown two heads or something?” he prompted.
“No… I…” Jules didn’t know what to say. Blood was pounding in her ears and when Danny took a step closer she felt giddy. He was looking at her so intently, his uninjured eye a deep and burning blue, and suddenly Jules felt shy. Her feelings for Danny were so clear in some respects and so confused in others, but she had never once even dared imagine that he might feel exactly the same way. Even though she knew she shouldn’t, Jules was willing him to kiss her.
She yanked her hand away.
“What?” asked Danny.
“You know what. It’s too complicated.”
A Time for Living: Polwenna Bay 2 Page 23
