Mother of the Bride

by Caroline Anderson

  His eyes darkened and he lowered his head, touching his lips to hers, then with a ragged sigh he closed the gap and hauled her up against him, anchoring her head with one splayed hand while the other slid down and cupped her bottom, lifting her hard against him. She gave a little gasp, and he took instant advantage, his mouth plundering hers, the hot, moist sweep of his tongue dragging a ragged little cry from her heart.

  It brought an echoing groan from deep inside him, and he lifted his head and stared down at her with wild, tortured eyes.

  ‘Come to bed with me, Maisie,’ he said softly, his voice roughened with a need so intense it made her legs buckle.

  She closed her eyes, and felt a tear squeeze out from under one lid and slide slowly down her cheek. ‘Oh, Rob, I can’t. Don’t ask that of me, please. It would be so easy, but we can’t go there. Not now. I can’t let you hurt me again, and you will, I know you will.’

  ‘No! Maisie, no, I don’t want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. It was just the wrong time for us.’

  ‘And it’s still the wrong time, Robert. It’s still the wrong time. We’ve got a wedding to get through. I can’t deal with this complication now.’

  ‘And after the wedding? What then, my love?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, her voice little more than a whisper. ‘Ask me then.’

  And without waiting for his reply, she turned and walked out swiftly, running up the stairs to her room and closing the door firmly behind her. Then she turned the key, not to keep him out, because she knew he wouldn’t follow her without invitation, but to keep herself in…

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE meeting with the florist went really well, to Maisie’s relief, because by the following morning her nerves were stretched to breaking point and the last thing she needed was trouble with something so fundamental as Jenni’s flowers, but the woman was as sensible and willing to listen in the flesh as she had been on the phone and in her emails.

  She’d brought along a few ideas for table centres, a pew end, a photograph of a pedestal she’d done before that she thought might suit, and she promised to leave everything for Jenni to see on the weekend when she was coming home for her birthday.

  They met up with Rob and Helen for coffee in the Great Hall, and Maisie was glad to have the two women there to act as a buffer between her and Rob.

  As it was, when he passed her her coffee cup their fingers brushed and she nearly dropped the cup. ‘Steady,’ he murmured, his eyes gentle with understanding, as if telling her she had nothing to fear, he wasn’t going to make it difficult.

  He didn’t need to. She was doing that all by herself.

  She’d spent half the night glad she’d had the sense to walk away from him in the kitchen, and the other half regretting it. But now she was glad she’d walked away, because it had been the right thing to do, and she gave him a grateful little smile, took the cup and murmured, ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ he said, and they both knew they weren’t talking about the coffee, but about some new understanding between them that had come out of nowhere, it seemed, an understanding that held her breathless with the promise of resolution of a love so long unfulfilled she’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

  Really felt like, deep down inside her where her hopes and dreams had been locked up for so long she was afraid to open it up in case a chink of light would show them to be ashes. But they weren’t ashes, they were glowing embers, just waiting for the chance to leap back to life.

  She just hoped that in the fire that was sure to follow, she wouldn’t get too badly burned…

  The week of the wedding came upon them with the speed of light.

  Maisie had gone back after the weekend of Jenni’s twenty-first birthday, a poignant day for both of them, and Rob had been glad in a way to see her go because the tension between them was palpable.

  He missed her, though. Not that he had time to miss her, not really. He was working flat out at the castle, making sure that all the arrangements were in place and nothing had been left to chance, and he knew it would have been harder to concentrate on the detail with her there to distract him.

  He remembered, somewhere in the dim and distant optimistic past, thinking that the worst was over once the planning had been done, and he remembered the guarded look in Maisie’s eyes. She’d known, he thought with a wry laugh. Known what was to come, and let him keep his illusions a little bit longer.

  He was aching to see her again. Two more days, he told himself. Just two more days. Jenni was home, complete with all her baggage from uni piled in heaps in one of the attic rooms, waiting for a calmer time to tackle the unpacking.

  The gatehouse was almost ready, Alec having worked himself almost to a standstill to get it finished in time, and when he went over to see how they were getting on, he found them making up the bed with fresh, gleaming white linen.

  ‘Isn’t it lovely?’ Jenni said, glowing with pride in Alec, and he thought how lucky they were. He swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded, avoiding looking at the bed.

  Surely she wasn’t old enough, his little girl. Not to feel the wild, tempestuous emotions he and Maisie were going through right now. The need so deep it was flaying him alive. The fear that it would all go wrong and he would lose more than he could ever have imagined.

  ‘You’ve done a great job, Alec,’ he said gruffly, and headed for the stairs, past the little room that might one day house his grandchild.

  Grandchild! He wasn’t in any way ready to be a grandfather, for heaven’s sake! He was only just forty-three, still in his prime—or was he fooling himself?

  ‘What’s up, Pops?’ Jenni slipped her arm into his and hugged it. ‘Are you OK? You look sad.’

  ‘End of an era,’ he said quietly, turning her into his arms and hugging her. She tipped back her head and stared up at him.

  ‘You aren’t going to cry on Saturday, are you?’ she said, and he gave a slightly strangled laugh.

  ‘I don’t plan to,’ he said, knowing that the tears would be close to the surface for all that. So much emotion. And afterwards…

  ‘I have to get on. I just wanted to see if you were both OK and if you needed anything else.’

  ‘No. A bottle of milk, perhaps, for Sunday morning.’

  Ah. Sunday morning, when they didn’t realise they wouldn’t be here, because he’d arranged a helicopter to whisk them away on their wedding night to a highly exclusive luxury retreat, away from all possible intrusions, to give their love the time and space it deserved to blossom.

  ‘I think we might do better than just a pint of milk,’ he said drily.

  ‘Go on, then, push the boat out and buy us some croissants and bacon and eggs. Oh, and decent coffee. And smoked salmon. And champagne, if you’re feeling flush!’

  ‘Consider it done,’ he teased, the smile easy to find because it was all arranged, and he had no doubt the room service there would provide for their every whim.

  Libby and Tricia, her bridesmaids, were in on the secret and had promised to go through her clothes and pack a bag, and Alec’s mother was doing the same for him.

  All they had to do was get through the next few days…

  Maisie didn’t sleep on the train.

  There were too many emotions, too much to do, too much of all of it, really. Excitement and nervous anticipation and little shivers of dread in case anything went wrong, and under it all, carefully controlled, a little quiver of hope.

  He was there on the platform as the train pulled in, and he took her case from her, leaving her with the garment bag containing the dress and the hat box.

  ‘Is that a hat box?’ he said, eyeing it suspiciously, and she laughed.

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s not huge. It’s not even a real hat.’

  ‘Not one of those stupid chicken things.’

  She laughed again, so happy to see him, and shaking his head in denial, he dumped her case back down on the platform and hugged her.

&nbs
p; ‘Oh, it’s so good to see you,’ he mumbled into her hair, and she turned her head and kissed his cheek.

  ‘You, too.’

  ‘I’ve missed you. It’s really good to have you back.’

  ‘It’s good to be back,’ she admitted, and he lifted his head and stared down at her, a quizzical frown on his face.

  ‘Really?’ he said softly, and she nodded.

  ‘I never thought I’d say that, but it’s true. It feels good to come—’ She caught herself just in time, and said, ‘Back.’ Not home. Don’t jump the gun, Maisie, she warned herself.

  He picked up the case, slung his other arm around her shoulders and ushered her through to the car park. He had a Range Rover today, and she raised an eyebrow. ‘No sports car? On a lovely day like today?’

  He grinned. ‘I didn’t know how much luggage you’d have,’ he said, and slammed the boot shut, then opened the door for her. She climbed in, then turned her head, which was a mistake, because it was level with his and he leant in and touched his lips to hers.

  Just that. Nothing else, no words, just a tender, fleeting kiss before he closed the door and went round to get in behind the wheel.

  ‘No time for coffee today,’ he told her as they headed out on the road. ‘Jenni’ll skin me alive if I keep you out too long, and the marquee people are there, so I ought to be at home.’

  ‘I could have got a taxi,’ she protested, but he threw her a smile that nearly melted her bones.

  ‘No way. I wanted you to myself for a few minutes,’ he told her, and she found her hand wrapped in his, trapped against the hard, solid warmth of his thigh. Just like before.

  And just like before, they talked and laughed the whole way back to the castle. He told her about the honeymoon plans he’d made, and she told him about Annette and her progress.

  ‘She’s looking pretty tired, but they seem happy with her, and it’s looking really positive.’

  ‘Good. I’ll have to go and see her again next time I’m down.’

  Which implied she would be there, too, instead of here. So had she totally misread his intentions? Had he simply wanted to make love to her, nothing more, nothing less?

  But he’d said he didn’t want to hurt her, and he knew that would. So was he intending—?

  She stopped herself. Now was not the time. She didn’t have the emotional energy to concentrate on a love that had waited twenty years. It could wait another three or four days.

  ‘So, tell me what’s been going on. What’s left to do?’

  He laughed a little desperately, and said, ‘Ah, yeah. Well—I have no idea. There’s an endless list, but at least we’re now down to the things that don’t matter, rather than the things that do. Mrs McCrae and Alec’s mother have polished the church within an inch of its life, the gatehouse is virtually ready, Alec’s had his stag do—that was a bit of a laugh. They covered him in soot and treacle and feathers and dragged him through the village, and everyone came out and cheered him on. They all love him, and it was really touching to see it, but we had a bit of a game cleaning him up.’

  ‘Poor Alec,’ she murmured, smiling. ‘How’s his head?’

  ‘Oh, just about recovered, I think. So’s mine. Those boys know how to drink. I have no idea how much of my malt whisky they got through.’

  Maisie turned and searched his eyes. ‘You love him, don’t you?’

  ‘I do. He feels like a son to me, I have to say. It will be no hardship welcoming him to the family.’

  ‘Oh, on which note, how’s the speech coming on?’

  He groaned, and she laughed and squeezed his hand. ‘You’ll be great. Don’t worry.’

  ‘I’m not worried about the speech. I’m worried I’ll make a fool of myself. Jenni asked me if I was going to cry.’

  ‘And will you?’

  ‘I hope not.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Don’t. You’ll set me off.’

  They exchanged smiles, and she felt a curious warmth curl around her heart. It was almost as if they were still married, still a couple, still Mum and Dad in the same breath, instead of with a comma and six hundred miles between them.

  Except there was still the problem of the six hundred miles, she thought, and then realised, as they turned into the gates and rumbled slowly down the drive, it didn’t seem like a problem any more, because suddenly the castle seemed like home. She just hoped the feeling lasted.

  The morning of the wedding, to everyone’s relief, was gloriously sunny, not a cloud in the sky, and Maisie sat in the window of her room and watched Rob walk the dogs along the beach and up to the old ruins on the headland. He stood there for a while, motionless, and then, as if he could feel her eyes on him, he turned and stared back at the castle.

  She opened the window and waved, and he lifted his hand. It was as if he’d reached out and touched her, and she felt the warmth of his greeting down to her bones.

  ‘Mum? Are you awake?’

  She closed the window and turned to hug Jenni, bleary-eyed and sleepy, in so many ways still her little girl. ‘How are you, darling? Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Mmm. Still sleeping.’

  Maisie laughed and hugged her tighter. ‘Silly girl. Excited?’

  ‘Very.’ She dropped her arms and took Maisie’s hand. ‘Come on, I want a cup of tea, and we need to start moving. It’s only two hours before the hairdresser comes, and I want to do my nails and make sure I’ve got everything ready.’

  ‘Are the girls awake?’

  ‘Yes, I called them. They’re making tea in the kitchen with Grannie and Jeff, but I wanted you to come. Where’s Dad?’

  ‘Walking the dogs.’

  He got back while they were all in the kitchen making toast, and joined in, apparently quite at ease with three young women in scanty vest tops and sloppy pyjama trousers. He probably was, to be fair, now that Jenni lived here permanently. And if anyone needed to be self-conscious, she thought, it was her, dressed much the same except that she’d thrown a light robe over the top, and now she was glad she had, because his eyes kept straying to her all the time.

  ‘More toast, anyone?’ Helen said, but they all shook their heads.

  ‘No, thank you, Grannie. I need a shower,’ Jenni said.

  ‘Mmm, me too,’ Maisie agreed, and then caught a flash of heat in Rob’s eyes and turned away quickly before he could see the wash of colour across her cheeks.

  ‘I’ll go and check everything’s under control outside,’ he said, and left the room, to Maisie’s relief. Mrs McCrae bustled in and hugged Jenni, her eyes filling with tears, and Jenni hugged her back hard, making Maisie’s eyes fill as well.

  Oh, dear lord, it was going to be one of those days, she realised with a bubble of hysterical laughter in her throat, and almost ran back to her room before it escaped on a wave of tears. She showered and washed her hair, taming it with serum and scrunch-drying it. There was no point asking the hairdresser to deal with it. She’d had almost forty years of learning how to control the wild curls, and she didn’t want to look like someone else on such an important day.

  She threw on clean clothes and went to see how Jenni was coping, and got swept up in the preparations. The hairdresser arrived, someone opened a bottle of champagne, Mrs McCrae brought up a tray of bagels with cream cheese and smoked salmon, and Jenni’s room turned into party central. Jeff was recording it all for posterity, moving unobtrusively around the room as he photographed the dress, the shoes, the girls laughing, the pinning up of Jenni’s hair—all the little details that otherwise would be lost.

  She wondered what Rob was doing, and then saw him out of the window talking to the florist. She went out to join them, checked that everything was all right, that the table centres were where they should have been, that the pedestals were in the right places, and then she looked at Jenni’s bouquet and her eyes filled with tears.

  ‘Oh, it’s lovely! Thank you so much!’

  It was cream and white, with just a touch of lilac to take
the edge off, for Helen’s sake, and echo the bridesmaids’ posies. So pretty, so perfect for her little girl’s special day.

  ‘Hey, come on, you can’t start already,’ Rob said gruffly, and slung an arm round her shoulders, hugging her to his side. She slid her arm round his waist and hung on.

  ‘She’s my baby,’ she said, her voice breaking, and he turned her into his arms and held her while she cried the tears that had been threatening for weeks.

  When he let her go, she could see his own eyes bright with tears, the lashes clumped, and she gave him another quick hug and went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

  ‘Come on, soldier. We can do this.’

  ‘Yes, we can,’ he said, his voice steady and confident, and she had a feeling that he wasn’t talking about the wedding at all, and she felt all the stress and worry fade away.

  ‘How are you all doing?’

  ‘OK, Helen. How about you? That looks really lovely,’ Maisie said, smiling at her as she did a little twirl in her new outfit that they’d chosen together the last time she’d been here.

  ‘Thank you. I feel so much better in it. Oh, Jenni, you look beautiful. How long? Your father’s pacing.’

  ‘We’ll be down in five minutes,’ Jenni said, as the hairdresser anchored the veil into the back of her hair and stood back.

  ‘Perfect. That’s lovely.’

  Lovely? Oh, yes, she was lovely, but so much more. She looked like a woman, serene, confident, sure of her love.

  Maisie went out onto the landing, and the girls ushered Jenni out, arranging her dress and veil as they walked down the landing, Jeff firing off endless shots as they moved towards the head of the stairs. As Maisie turned the corner at the top of the stairs, she saw Rob standing there, one foot on the bottom step, his hand resting on the newel post, gazing up at them and looking for all the world like one of the oil paintings around the walls.