`I can walk back to Aunty's,' Tiffany said, thinking Ben meant to go to Marchberrow on his own.
`What sort of fiancée have I got myself?' Ben asked, putting her into his car. 'You're coming with me.'
Tiffany took to the Colonel straight away. He was a born flatterer with a twinkle in his eye, but he was sincere when he congratulated Ben on his future bride, adding, 'If I was
thirty years younger, I'd have given you a run for your money, Ben.'
They didn't stay very long, and on the way back to Middledeane, Ben mentioned that he had invited the Colonel to their wedding while she had been sitting in the car and he had stood chatting for a few minutes longer when they had said goodbye.
`I'm glad you invited him,' she said. 'I liked him.' The thought had passed through her mind that she would like the Colonel to give her away, but she hadn't like to suggest it on so short an acquaintance. 'I ...' she began, then thought better of it and closed her mouth.
`I?' Ben prompted.
`I was just going to say I would have liked to have asked him to give me away, but ...'
`Why didn't you ask him?'
`Well, I don't know him very well,' Tiffany replied. 'He might not like the idea.'
`He'll be delighted,' Ben told her. 'I'll ask him if you like.'
`Would you?' she asked, and at her eager question he pulled into the side of the road, stopped the car and turned to look steadily at her.
`You don't think your father will be offended?'
`It's not a question of offending him,' she said. 'I doubt very much if he or my mother will be all that interested.' Her voice was husky as she choked back threatening tears. Her mother had sent her a card at Christmas, but her father hadn't bothered, and her mother's card she knew had only been sent because she happened to come across her address in her address book when writing out her Christmas cards—birthdays were always forgotten. 'I know it must sound awful to you,' she went on, keeping her eyes
glued to her hands in her lap, 'but as far back as I can remember, life with my parents was one big row. They only stayed together because of me, but a day never went by without them reminding me of it, and I ... I was never more grateful than when they split up and I was able to go and live with Aunt Margery.'
Ben placed a hand under her chin and forced her to look at him. He studied her eyes, seemed to see in their depths something of the sensitive child she must have been. It was still there in the love she had for her aunt— wasn't she marrying him basically to save her aunt from further anxiety about her?
`I know you think me hard,' Tiffany said quickly, unable to hold his straight look, but finding it impossible to pull away, 'but if my parents came to the wedding I know they would only fight, and ... and,' a note of defiance crept into her voice as she pictured how it would be, 'and I want my wedding day to be beautiful.' She stopped abruptly, aghast at what she had said. So wanting Ben not to see her as hard as she must seem, she had said that last bit without thinking. Had she given herself away? For a few agonising seconds she felt the colour riot through her skin, then Ben was saying quietly :
`If not having your parents there to see you married will make your day beautiful, so be it,' and then he was placing an arm loosely across her shoulders and drawing her to him.
Tiffany's eyes grew wide as his head came down, and she felt a flicker of panic as the thought came to her that he was going to kiss her mouth. Whether he read the instant's panic in her eyes, she couldn't tell, but his kiss never landed on her mouth, and instead she felt the lightest of kisses settle on her cheek. Then the arm was taken away from her and he was starting up the car, looking over his shoulder
as he watched for incoming traffic before pulling out.
There was no time for her to give any thought to what had happened after that, for they were back at her aunt's house having a hurried bite of tea, then they were back on the road driving towards London, and Tiffany dared not give way to her thoughts in case she said something else without thinking.
'I won't come in,' Ben refused the offer, on seeing her to the door of her flat. 'I'm on duty before dawn cracks tomorrow, and I have a few phone calls I want to make before I turn in.'
Left to herself Tiffany wondered if he would be phoning his father in Switzerland, then as her hand strayed to her cheek, a happy glow started to bum within her. Ben's kiss had meant, she felt sure, that he had understood her not asking her parents to the wedding, had understood and not found her wanting. She thought then she would never again doubt her decision to marry him. She wanted her little share of heaven, brief and without passion as it might be—she loved Ben Maxwell, and she was going to have her half a loaf.
The time raced by before Tiffany's last flight prior to her marriage. First of all she saw Admin. about having time off, and found it unnecessary because Ben had already arranged it for her. 'Then she had to buy something to be married in, and after much searching found exactly what she was looking for. It was a white dress crocheted in cotton, and lined with white satin, and managed to look delicate, demure and elegant all at the same time. It had a fitted bodice and long sleeves, and with it, in sanctity of the occasion on which it would be worn, went the most exquisite little Juliet cap. More than satisfied with her purchase, Tiffany raced back to her flat thinking she would
never be cleared and packed in time. Ben had given her a key to his flat so that she could install her clothes and anything else she didn't want to part with.
Janet's offer to help was gratefully accepted, and the two girls set about clearing the flat.
won't need this, or that,' said Tiffany, holding up her electric kettle and pointing to the carpet sweeper.
`I'll find homes for them,' said Janet, who seemed to know scores of people.
The flat looked bare when Tiffany left to go on duty. Most of her things were now at Ben's place and her flat echoed hollowly. Only one more night to be spent here, that would be when she returned from her flight, when she would stop off here, pick up her suitcase, and the large paper carrier with her dress and cap in. One more night in her own bed, then leave the key with Janet who was going to get rid of everything else before handing the key over to Morton's. One more night, then she would be off to Aunt Margery's to help with the last-minute preparations.
Tiffany chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. She couldn't help hoping that living with Ben would turn out all right. Then she gave herself a mental shake; of course it would be all right. Why, with both of them working and unless they happened to be on the same flight, she doubted she would see him all that often. They would probably only see each other to say hello and goodbye as they passed on the stairs—somehow that thought wasn't at all pleasing.
It had been an exhausting flight, her last one as Miss Nicholls, and Tiffany wanted nothing more than to go to her flat, and hope that the depression that had suddenly come over her and added to her weariness would be gone when she awoke. But any ideas she had of driving to her
flat and going to bed were soundly knocked on the head by her colleagues.
`We're not letting you go without a celebratory drink,' one of the flight engineers declared, and his call was taken up by several others, who needed little excuse for a party.
Knowing she would look a spoilsport if she didn't do as they asked, Tiffany went with them to the staff club and endured their good-humoured leg-pulling for an hour before, on the pretext of having masses to do, she was able to make her escape.
It had been wishful thinking to hope that a glass of something alcoholic might lift her spirits—it hadn't. Only three more days to her wedding; perhaps she needed this holiday, she thought as she climbed the stairs to her flat.
Exchanging her uniform for her housecoat Tiffany realised Ben would be on holiday too, and wondered if he would be going away somewhere. Then her cheeks burned with colour. Was she supposed to go too? All thoughts of sleep immediately left her. There was no earthly reason why Ben should take her on holiday with him—it wasn't a proper
honeymoon, was it? Oh, why hadn't she asked him? But how could she?
Another thought struck her—what if Ben didn't intend going away anywhere? What if he meant the two of them to stay at his flat together? For a whole week ! her mind shouted. How could she bear to stay with Ben in the close confines of his apartment for a whole week? She was definitely getting jittery. Brides were supposed to feel like this, so stop worrying, Tiffany, she adjured herself, it will be all right.
The hands of the clock moved slowly round and when it was nearly midnight, Tiffany felt exactly the same, and it still wasn't all right. Pointless going to bed, she knew she wouldn't sleep. Her nerves were stretched with worrying
if she was doing the right thing, and the terrible thought struck her what if she and Ben ended up hating each other? It was then she began to feel decidedly weepy.
When a knock sounded 'on her door she nearly catapulted from the settee, her nerves were so tautly pitched. Who on earth would be calling at this time of night? She hoped it wasn't any of that mad crowd from the staff club coming to finish off the party at her place. Her hair was out of its usual French pleat, and she tucked a loose end behind her ear and tried to force a smile as she opened the door.
`Ben ...' It was barely whispered, and pure shock, since she hadn't expected to see him until they stood side by side in church, had tears rushing to her eyes.
He looked ready to state the reason for his late visit until he saw the gigantic struggle she was having to get her emotions under control.
`What ?' he began instead.
But Tiffany didn't wait to hear any more. It was unthinkable that he should see her in tears. She fled, ran to her bedroom and closed the door between them, and was striving so desperately for control that she didn't hear the bedroom door being quietly opened. Was unaware that Ben was behind her until two hands descended and turned her round to face him. He took one look at her strained face, felt her tremble, and on a gentle note she had never thought to hear from him asked :
`What is it, Tiffany?'
Mutely she looked at him, knowing if she said one word she would be crying all over him And then he was pulling her against his chest, his arms were coming round her, and it was heaven to feel his hand stroking her hair until she felt calmer.
She tried to pull away then. She started saying, 'Oh, Ben, I've been so ... so ...' but could get no further, and
gave herself up to the security of being in his arms. How could she explain her doubts and fears to this confident self-assured man? This man who had decided to marry her, and having received her acceptance in all probability thought no more about it.
At last he seemed to think he had held her long enough, and one arm dropped away from her as he led her into the sitting room, his other arm still about her. 'I can see your nerves are shot,' he said quietly. 'Suppose we sit down and you tell me what it is that's bothering you.
Strangely, none of her thoughts and worries seemed anywhere near as large now that he was there, but Tiffany found herself telling him something of what she had been feeling.
`All the ifs and buts about our marriage came crowding in—I ... I just couldn't think clearly anymore,' she told him.
`You're tired, I expect,' Ben told her, sitting on the settee beside her, his arm still around her. 'Added to which you've got a bad case of pre-marriage nerves. What's wrong with you, Tiffany, is nothing but sheer panic, which isn't surprising since it's weeks since we last saw each other —you've probably forgotten what I look like.' He was way off beam there, she hadn't forgotten a thing about him, though she wasn't about to tell him so. 'It's understandable that your ifs and buts should take on enormous proportions,' he went on calmly. 'And the fact that you're tired hasn't helped any.'
Tiffany was prepared to agree with anything he said, and told him she was feeling very much better.
`Good,' he said, and she could have wished he had kept his arm about her as he said it, but he didn't, and she had a dreadful feeling he was now going to leave. She relaxed as she heard him say, 'Now how about making your
fiance a cup of coffee before he makes a hasty exit?' and on a lighter note, 'You'll be getting talked about, entertaining gentlemen callers at this time of night!'
Tiffany shot into the kitchen. This was a new Ben, even more lovable than the one she had thought she had been getting to know. She still hadn't the nerve to ask him what his holiday plans were, but right at this moment it didn't worry her.
Since the other chairs had already gone, she took the coffee into the sitting room and returned to the settee beside him, a feeling of shyness suddenly swamping her.
`Er—did you have any special reason for coming to see me?' she asked, not that it mattered; it was enough that he was here.
`No—I was just passing and happened to look up and see your light was on. I wondered if there were any last-minute problems, so decided to come up.'
She was glad he had, but couldn't think of anything to say to that, so she lapsed into silence until she saw his glance flick round the room and found her tongue.
`Looks a bit bare now, doesn't it?'
`Not to worry—only one more night. You're going down to Middledeane tomorrow?'
`That's right,' she agreed. 'All packed and ready to go. I just have a few last-minute things to do before I take the key in to Janet.'
`You've got your passport?'
`Passport?'
He nodded. 'I thought we'd spend one night in the flat, then go over to Switzerland. I'd like my father to meet you.'
All Tiffany's gremlins disappeared. It didn't matter that the reason Ben was taking her with him was purely in order to set his father's mind at rest. He was taking her with him, and nothing else mattered. She could do nothing about the
smile that beamed his way, it lit her eyes and, had she known it, she looked beautiful. Ben looked away from her and she thought she saw a muscle jerk at the side of his throat, but couldn't stop the words that came tumbling from her lips.
`I didn't think you would be taking me on holiday with you,' she blurted out, which caused Ben to glance her way again.
`I've done some odd things in my day, I admit,' he said, `but it just hadn't occurred to me to go on my honeymoon without my bride.' He waited to see her crimson, she did, and he gave her that half smile that made her heart turn over. 'Are you all right now?' he asked, standing up.
`I'm fine,' she told him.
`Till Tuesday, then, Tiffany,' he said, then she was alone.
CHAPTER FIVE
TIFFANY'S wedding day dawned shining and cloudless. Margery Bradburn came into her bedroom carrying a breakfast tray which brought a protest from her niece, `Oh, Aunty, you shouldn't have,' but her aunt's wobbly smiled silenced her and Tiffany put her arms round her and thanked her.
Her aunt Margery was doing very well, Tiffany thought, and hadn't cried once that morning. But when she saw her niece in her bridal white, nothing could stop the tears from coming to her eyes. 'Tiffany, you look beautiful,' she cried, peeping over her shoulder to look at her through the full-length mirror of the wardrobe door. Tiffany turned and hugged her aunt, and the moment was relieved when
the front door bell sounded, announcing the arrival of Colonel Wainwright.
A friend of Ben's, Dr Ian Repton, was to be the best man, and Tiffany wondered if Ben's father's wife Frances would be in church. She hadn't been able to bring herself to ask him that question.
Neighbours from the village where Tiffany had spent most of her adolescent years were congregated at the entrance of the small village church, and cries of, 'Good luck,' and, 'Doesn't she look lovely?' followed them as, on the arm of Colonel Wainwright, Tiffany entered through the church door. Then she was unaware of anything save that Ben was there. She knew he was aware she had arrived because she saw the man beside him look at her, then turn to say something to him But he didn't turn round, and she desperately needed to read reassurance in those grey eyes.
Ben's voice was firm and clear as he spoke h
is vows, while Tiffany's voice came shakily as she began to make her responses, until she felt the warmth of Ben's hand holding hers, and then she knew that everything was going to be all right. The tremor left her voice, and though still quiet, her voice was now as clear as his had been.
He looked at her as he placed the ring on her marriage finger, and that half smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, his eyes taking in the purity of her in her white dress, her newly shampooed hair shining beneath her Juliet cap. Her answering smile caused his fingers to tighten ever so slightly on the hand he was holding, then relaxed, and the service continued.
Margery Bradburn had arranged for a photographer to be on hand when they came out of church, and Tiffany had a few moments in which to catch her breath as she became fully aware she was now married to this rugged man at
her side who was laughing at some quip his friend Ian Repton had made.
And then general introductions were being made, Ben making sure her aunt was not feeling left out, and receiving Mrs Bradburn's kiss of congratulation. The smart female standing beside Colonel Wainwright came over to Tiffany, and Ben was introducing her as Frances. Tiffany thought her to be only a few years younger than Ben, probably about thirty-three or four, then Frances was saying, without any sign of the animosity Tiffany had been looking for, 'I'm so pleased to meet you, Tiffany, and I just know you and Ben are going to be very happy,' then she was kissing Tiffany's cheek.
Everybody seemed to be coming over and saluting her in the same fashion, Tiffany thought, as Ben ribbed Ian Repton for holding on to her for too long, for all Ian's kiss, like the others, had landed on her cheek.
Then Tiffany was alone with Ben in his car and they were driving along to the olde-worlde hotel seven miles away where Ben had hired a private room for a celebration meal.
Tiffany was very quiet as they drove along. Back at the church there had been a lot of banter and her mind was busy with the thought that everyone had kissed her— everyone, except Ben. Not that it mattered to her one way or the other, but for the look of the thing he might have given her a peck on the cheek—Aunt Margery was sure to have noticed.
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