by Liz Eeles
Jacques is shaking his head, a slight smile on his lips. ‘Not to live with me but you English men are so repressed.’
‘I’ll show you repressed, mate,’ bellows Roger, tearing off his jacket and rolling up his shirtsleeves.
Jacques’ jacket comes off too and they start strutting round the kitchen table, chests out, jaws clenched and eyes narrowed.
When the strutting goes on for a while, I’m tempted to leave them to it. But Roger’s panting, his face is lobster-pink and he’ll go down like a sack of potatoes with one left hook.
‘Come on, fellas, let’s work this out in a civilised manner so we can go and hear the speeches.’
‘Work what out?’ Jennifer is framed in the back doorway, drink in one hand and Mrs Thatcher bag in the other. ‘Are you two arguing? What on earth is going on?’
‘Nothing,’ mumble Roger and Jacques like naughty schoolboys.
‘Hopefully I can get some sense out of you, Annie. Tell me exactly what’s going on in here.’
I take a deep breath. ‘Jacques is upset that Roger’s asking about his intentions regarding you. Roger’s upset that you might move to Paris and is worried Jacques will use you for sex. Roger doesn’t want you to leave Salt Bay because he likes you a lot. He’s trying to impress you which is why he’s on a diet and looking generally spruced up though you haven’t noticed.’
Jennifer, Jacques and Roger are all staring at me with their mouths open. But I’m through with secrets and half-truths and pussyfooting about. Tell it like it is, have it out and sort it out. That’s my mantra from now on.
‘I see.’ Jennifer closes the back door very quietly, but her hands are shaking. ‘Frankly, I don’t appreciate being fought over like a piece of meat. Roger, my living arrangements in Paris are absolutely none of your business and it’s outrageous that the two of you are arguing on Annie’s wedding day.’
Yes! Thank you, Jennifer.
‘But I have come to a decision,’ she continues, ‘and I may as well tell you now as later. Jacques, I’ve enjoyed seeing you again but tell me the truth, is all that you’re offering – the singing opportunities and help with securing accommodation in Paris – fuelled by guilt?’
He shrugs. ‘Not completely, because I care about you, Jenny. But I do feel guilty about the way I behaved when we were young and what you lost because of it. It’s bothered me for years and I want to make amends.’
When Jennifer smiles, her pale blue eyes twinkle and the years fall away. ‘What happened was a long time ago, Jacques, and you don’t need to carry that guilt with you. I may have lost a great deal but I’ve gained in other ways. Salt Bay seems small and inconsequential to you but it’s my home and I’m happy here because I love it and the people are’ – she glances at Roger, who’s staring at the table – ‘loyal and caring and very dear to me. It’s rather too late for me to change course.’
‘So you’re not leaving?’ mutters Roger.
‘No, I’m not, though it’s none of your business. Jacques, would it help if I told you that I forgive you?’
‘It would help a great deal.’ Jacques raises Jennifer’s hand to his lips and kisses it gently. ‘Thank you. I hope we can stay in touch now we’re friends again.’
‘Christmas cards and birthday cards. That kind of thing?’
‘Yes, that kind of thing.’
Jennifer smiles at the man who broke her heart forty years ago and pulls her hand away. She’s decided which path to take and, unlike mine, it won’t take her away from Salt Bay.
‘If that’s all done, we’d better get back into the garden for the speeches. Oh, and Roger,’ she says quietly when she passes him at the table, ‘I did notice.’
Thirty-Four
‘Is everything all right? You were ages and Barry’s itching to get on with the speeches though he’s adamant he wants to go last for some reason,’ says Josh when I slip into my seat next to him at the top table – which is actually Gerald’s wallpapering tables laid end to end and covered in white crepe paper.
I nod, pushing a creamy mound of seagull droppings off the crepe with one of the serviettes Jennifer supplied. They must be left over stock from Christmas because tiny fir trees are picked out around the edges. But that’s Jennifer for you – sensible and practical when it comes to money and matters of the heart. She, Roger and Jacques are sitting together near the bird bath and she raises her glass to me when our eyes meet.
Behind them, Amanda’s being talked at by Florence, who must have nabbed her on the way to her car.
Florence, who’s forgiven me for not wearing her wedding dress, gives me a wave as Emily and Tom walk past her, hand in hand.
‘Ollie, did you want to say something first?’ Josh leans across the table and gestures at his best man, who’s sitting quietly on his own. Ollie slowly gets to his feet and tucks in his shirt which is hanging out over his trousers. His straw-blonde hair is so messy he looks like Cornwall’s answer to Boris Johnson.
‘I haven’t got much to say really.’ His hands are trembling slightly because he’s nervous, bless him. ‘Just that Josh is the best man I know. He’s a true son of Cornwall and Annie is perfect for him even though she used to live in London and he hates the place. They’ve both changed each other as people, since they met, in ways too many to mention. Except that Josh isn’t so grumpy these days and Annie isn’t as scary.’ He glows with pleasure when people laugh. ‘What I mean is, they’re perfect for each other so let’s have a drink to celebrate their wedding.’
‘Any excuse!’ calls Arthur, downing half a glass of white in one gulp and wiping drips from his shirt.
‘And Annie looks beautiful and so do the bridesmaids,’ adds Ollie, who’s already half sitting down. ‘Lots of you already know that I’m leaving Salt Bay for a new job next month and I’m going to miss you all and especially Kayla who I—’ he clamps his mouth shut and slumps into his plastic garden chair.
Kayla, who’s been chucking it back for ages, leaps to her feet.
‘Ah, I’m coming with you, you great arse. You’ll be hopeless on your own and those lakes you showed me are pretty spectacular. They’ve got nothing on the great lakes of Australia, obviously. But they’re pretty amazing, all the same. Just don’t go getting any ideas about you and me settling down.’
A smile lights up Ollie’s face. ‘You’re coming with me? Do you mean it?’
‘Seeing as I’ve just said it in front of the whole freaking village, I can’t back out. Is that all right with you, Rog?’
‘Of course it is,’ shouts Roger. ‘I’m not your jailer. Personally I think you’re mad to leave Cornwall and go up north. And I’ll miss you, even though you’re daft as a brush.’
Kayla swallows hard. ‘I’ll miss you too, you old curmudgeon, and you too, Annie. But we’ll be down to visit loads. I feel like I’m abandoning you but you were right about the fear thing and you’ve got Josh now so you’ll be fine. Won’t you?’
I pull her into a hug and have a little cry because I’m so pleased she and Ollie will be together. And because everything’s changing.
‘I’ll be fine and it’s about time you started wandering again for the sake of those itchy feet. Josh and I haven’t sorted out a honeymoon yet and I reckon the Lake District would be perfect.’
Kayla kisses me on the cheek before plonking herself in Ollie’s lap. The plastic chair bows and bends but stays upright.
‘If all the excitement is over, I think it’s my turn.’
Josh puts down his glass of beer and gets to his feet. The sun is glinting on his ebony hair and sparking off the gold band on his fourth finger.
‘I want to thank you all for being here to share our special day and for all pitching in to save our wedding. It’s been wonderful and a huge thank you to everyone who’s brought us to this time and place – to family who are here, those sadly no longer with us, and to our friends. I’m not much of a one for heart on sleeve stuff but’ – he falters and his deep voice cracks – ‘I’m so proud
and happy to be Annie’s husband. She completes me.’
There’s an ‘aw’ from every woman in the garden and I dab at my eyes with a tissue. I’m sure you’re not supposed to cry on your wedding day but Kayla and now Josh between them have scuppered my self-control. My lovely new husband snakes his arm around my waist and kisses me gently on the lips. It’s rather a chaste kiss but he whispers ‘I’ll save the rest for later, Ms Trebarwith,’ and gives me a slow, sexy wink.
‘Is that it with the speeches then? Shall we cut the cake?’ calls Maureen, waving a huge knife above her head.
‘Hold your horses ’cos the father of the bride’s got something to say,’ shouts Barry. ‘I’d like to propose a toast to my lovely daughter Annie and her handsome husband Josh. I would have written them a song but I’ve been rather busy so I’ll save that for my first grandchild.’
Everyone cheers and I feel my cheeks getting hot. Give us a chance!
‘My other lovely daughter, Storm, has threatened me with physical violence if I’m embarrassing so I’ll keep it short. But Annie and Josh, I hope you’ll be happy, far happier than I was during my marriage, which turned out to be absolute shite.’
Storm slowly lowers her forehead onto the table as Barry raises his pint of beer.
‘To Annie and Josh.’
‘To Annie and Josh.’ Everyone throws back their drinks and applauds.
But Barry hasn’t finished. He’s just pulled out the sheet of paper he shoved into his waistcoat pocket when he first arrived this morning.
‘This is my wedding present to Annie and Josh, which I was going to give them in private but what the hell. This is for the two of you because you both deserve it.’
He hands me the folded sheet and steps back, biting his lip. Is it the promise of a song when he’s had the time to write it? Or tickets to his next gig? With my father, it could be anything. I open the paper and see the back of a cheque.
‘You don’t need to pay anything towards the wedding, Barry,’ says Josh quietly. ‘It’s kind of you but you’re as skint as we are and this is the twenty-first century.’
‘Look at it,’ commands Barry, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth.
When I turn the cheque over, blood rushes from my head and I come over all faint like a Regency heroine. I re-read it and push it under Josh’s nose – there’s Barry’s signature and the amount he’s scrawled: thirty thousand pounds.
‘That’s crazy, Barry,’ I stutter. ‘Is this a joke?’
‘No joke,’ says Barry, now grinning widely. ‘You know that boy band song I kept hearing on the radio? Turns out I’m not senile and it really is one of mine. I wrote it with Weirdo Wayne, drummer with Va-Voom and the Vikings, who turns out to be the boy band’s manager, lucky devil. The song’s topped the charts and is about to feature in a TV ad which means mega-bucks. Anyway, Weirdo’s apologised for not letting me know – he claims he thought I was dead – and now, after speaking with his lawyers, I’m getting royalties. I can prove we co-wrote the song and they don’t want any scandal spoiling the squeaky clean image of the band.’
‘But you can’t give your money to me. You can’t give us thirty thousand pounds.’
‘Yes, I can because you’re my daughter and I was never around to give you anything before.’ He grabs hold of my hands, ‘You can use it to mend the roof on this old place and get your B&B business going.’
‘But what about Storm? She’s your daughter too.’
‘I’ll find a bit of dosh for her and there’s a condition attached to your money. You use it to mend the roof and, in return, Storm and I will always have a home here. I won’t be here that much and I can sleep on the sofa when you’ve got B&B guests. But Storm needs a permanent base, somewhere she’ll always be welcome and can call home. You might be stuck with her for a while ’cos she likes it here and she’s happy. You’ve given her the home I never could, Annie, and I’ll always love you for that.’
He shrugs. ‘Anyway, that’s it. Let’s cut the cake.’
There’s a hush over the garden and then it’s pandemonium. I fling my arms around Barry’s neck while Josh slaps him on the back, the crowd goes wild, and Storm cries on Emily’s shoulder. At the back of the garden, Amanda gives Barry a thumbs up and slips away with her mute children in tow.
* * *
I plan on eating lots of cake. So much chocolate cake my stomach feels bloated and I won’t care because my daft, annoying, lovely dad has come up trumps and I feel like celebrating. In practical terms, his hugely generous gift means we don’t have to sell Tregavara House and leave Salt Bay. But it’s also given me something less tangible that money can’t buy – roots, continuity, happiness.
The only person not likely to be delighted is Toby but he doesn’t look too upset when he corners us both after the cake-cutting. He’s been having a good afternoon because news of his exploits on the cliff have spread and people are being nicer to him than they usually are.
‘Do you want to put that knife down, Pasco? Better safe than sorry if we’re about to have a conversation,’ says Toby, tilting his head at the cream-covered blade in Josh’s hand. ‘I wanted to say best of luck with the marriage thing.’
‘Thanks,’ says my new husband. ‘How are you after your cliff adventure?’
‘A bit sore and achy but mostly surprised that I managed it.’
‘It’s surprising what you can manage when you put your mind to it,’ I tell him, pointing at Freya, who’s sugar-rush central after stuffing down her portion of cake. She’s clambered onto a table and is jumping up and down while Lucy tries to coax her back onto firm ground.
Toby grimaces. ‘She’s a bit of a handful but I’m hoping I can be a good dad if I keep slogging on. I’m more confident after what happened, and apparently climbing a cliff to rescue a small child gets you brownie points so the locals don’t think I’m the Antichrist any more. All in all, it’s a win-win.’
‘Have you had any flack about her being on the cliff in the first place?’
‘No one’s mentioned it. Only Lucy went mad but she calmed down eventually when she realised I’d sorted the situation out.’ Toby accepts a slice of cake from Maureen, who’s passing them out on paper plates, and gives it a sniff. ‘Anyway, talking of paternal issues, I don’t suppose you’ll be selling me the house now your strange father’s loaded.’
I glance at Josh, who grins at me and nods. ‘I’m afraid not. Josh and I have had a chat and we’re going to stay here because it’s our home.’
‘Well done. You win.’
‘When you came round on Thursday and invited me to the beach you said it wasn’t a competition.’
‘I lied.’ Toby pokes his finger into the buttercream and licks it clean.
‘Why aren’t you furious that you won’t be able to turn the house into flats? I’m surprised you’re being so calm about it.’
‘I’m surprised too. But I think I was kind of going off the idea of taking on the house, anyway.’
‘Because it’s a millstone?’
‘Not really, though it is a total money pit. You’re a good fit here, Annie – much better than me. That’s obvious from seeing you with everyone today. And I’ve been thinking about what you said on the beach about me disappointing Alice and it hit home. I do actually miss her, you know.’
Lines furrow his cheeks when he screws up his face and Toby – this time Toby Two, the version who cares about people – doesn’t shy away when I give him a hug. He is family, after all.
* * *
An hour later, as the sun is casting golden beams across the ocean, I screw up my courage and tap the cake knife against my glass. The gentle tinkle hardly carries and no one takes any notice of me until Kayla yells ‘Oy! Listen up!’ at the top of her voice.
‘Can I say something?’ I squeak, all wobbly at the very thought.
‘The bride giving a speech isn’t terribly traditional,’ shouts Jennifer, who’s knocking back Baileys like there’s no tomorrow. She’s been da
ncing with Arthur, who, it turns out, can do all the actions to ‘Y.M.C.A.’ when he’s had a few.
‘I’m not a terribly traditional sort of person.’
‘True enough,’ she hiccups. ‘You go, girl.’
‘I just wanted—’ My voice fails and I clear my throat. ‘I just wanted to say how much Salt Bay and all of you mean to me.’
Storm starts miming sticking her fingers down her throat, but I’m not deterred. If your own wedding isn’t a good time to come over all schmaltzy, when is?
‘When I first came to Salt Bay last year, I had no family and no future really. I thought Salt Bay was awful – the back of beyond with nothing but rain and seagulls and not a patch on exciting London.’
‘Don’t mince your words, love,’ shouts Gerald.
‘But I quickly realised how wrong I was. There’s a brilliant sense of community here and I’m so proud of our wonderful choir, who sang so beautifully during the wedding ceremony and laid on this fantastic reception. You’ll never know what you all mean to me and how much I love belonging here in Cornwall with Josh and Storm and Emily and Barry and my great new in-laws. With all of you in fact. So thank you.’
Lovely Mary is crying and even Arthur is looking suspiciously tearful.
‘I’ll shut up now but finish by saying it’s sad that Alice isn’t here today. But thanks to her and to my dad’s generosity, Tregavara House and Salt Bay are my home and they always will be.’
Everyone cheers and raises their glasses. And I raise mine as well – to my beloved great-aunt and the wonderful old house in front of me that’s been the scene of so many Trebarwith weddings in the past. I’m a part of Tregavara House’s past and present and now a part of its future too.
