Wedding in the Family

by Susan Alexander

  He turned to look at her, and she nodded, her eyes veiled, a mist of tears behind her lashes which she wouldn't let him see.

  'My father is expecting us for lunch tomorrow and you're coming to that with me. If you don't want to stay at your home tonight, I can arrange a room for you here at the hotel, and you can bring your things when you come to dinner this evening.'

  'No, thank you,' she didn't want him organising anything else for her. 'I'll stay at home for tonight. Mother would be most unhappy if I stopped here, and it would make my father think he'd been right about…' Jake stiffened as she broke off in confusion.

  'Our having an affair, you mean? That's hardly likely,' Jake said cuttingly, 'but I assure you, my dear, if I wanted to have an affair with you I wouldn't allow your father's feelings to stop me.' He stood up. 'Now we'd better get on with the rest of the day.'

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Cornish Bay Hotel was ideally suited to wedding receptions. The gold, high-ceilinged room, with its huge french windows to the gardens and trout lake beyond, was impeccably laid out for the event. Along the walls long white-covered tables were ranged, weighed down with flower arrangements, glasses lined up in military precision, flanked by buckets cooling the champagne. Varieties of snacks, canapés and tiny sandwiches were arranged artistically around the room, while in the centre stood the square white three-tiered wedding cake, each level held up by four scrolled columns in traditional style.

  Davina could see her parents welcoming the last of the guests by the open door. Monica and Philip, arm in arm, were watching the bridesmaids arranging the last of the wedding presents ready to be photographed. Looking at Philip in morning dress, tall, blond and handsome, she turned away, her mind going back to the church ceremony.

  'Bride or groom?' Davina had not recognised the usher who whispered to them as they entered the cool church, almost the last to arrive.

  'Bride.' It was Jake who answered, and they walked down the long expanse of carpet to find their seats.

  Davina looked up at the stained glass windows high above the altar, and nostalgia hit her for all the days of her childhood which were so definitely gone and past. Life had been so easy then, so uncomplicated.

  The organ music seemed almost too much sound for the tiny church, bursting into the aisles with village friends in their festive best, and a few of the groom's more sophisticated London relations. There were flowers everywhere in huge white urns on high pedestals and in banks of small spring blossoms ranged before the altar.

  Jake handed her the order of service, and she turned to stare at him slightly bemused to see him standing there, unable to focus for a moment and recall why he was with her. And then the organ swept into the wedding music. Philip appeared with his best man to stand in front of the altar, slightly turned to watch Monica as the bridal procession came up the aisle. Davina too watched her sister, lovely in ivory satin with a train that swept the floor and a long lace veil billowing out around her.

  The vicar began the ceremony and Philip and Monica turned their backs to the congregation. As they took their vows Davina swayed and feared she might faint, but Jake pushed her down to sit with her head between her knees till it passed. And then it was all over, and they were out in the lukewarm sunshine, the photographer busy posing the family, darting in and out of bushes and gravestones to snap the best angles. Davina fixed a firm, determined smile on her face and kept it there.

  'Champagne.' Jake was beside her, holding a glass with the sparkling liquid.

  'Thank you.' She sipped the ice cold bubbly wine, but it made her feel slightly queasy and she merely held on to the glass as though it was a lifeline, giving her something to do with her hands. She looked at Jake, towering above most of the men in the room, looking masculine, sure of himself as always. His face was grim and cold, his mouth set, curling slightly. She knew that expression only too well; it meant things were not to his liking. She thought suddenly how silly that sounded, as though they were both in the office, and she was wondering what had displeased him.

  And then suddenly they were the centre of a stream of people brought over by her mother. She was introduced to Philip's parents and friends, greeting his sister with an embarrassed half smile. And they were inundated with a stream of aunts and her mother's friends, all anxious to admire—her ring, her clothes, her obvious, cool self-confidence and, above all, her fiancé. The man she had captured for herself.

  And suddenly Davina was fiercely glad to be there with Jake, grateful for his presence. And he was magnificent. He held her hand, impressed and charmed them all, as they took in his height, his good looks, his obvious charm, wealth and success. Even arch questions about wedding dates did not halt him in his stride. He simply looked down at her lovingly and kissed her gently on the cheek, at which she blushed furiously. They were a tremendous hit, until finally he made their excuses and took her away, murmuring something about fresh air and marching her firmly out to the lift and up to his suite.

  As he poured himself a whisky Davina sank down on a chair and noted the impersonal quality of the thick pile carpeting, the heavy brocade curtains and soft deep couches. Only a few of his personal things scattered about gave the room any character.

  'Here, try this,' he said, holding out a steaming cup of coffee.

  'Oh, how wonderful!' she said thankfully.

  The hot sweet liquid cleared her head and she sat back, leaning thankfully against the cushions.

  'Can we leave now, do you think?' she asked, eyes closed.

  'Not yet. You'll have to wait for the speeches and the cake cutting.' His voice was impersonal again.

  She opened her eyes to look at him. He was at the other side of the room, but she could see the lines of strain in his face. He looked pale as though he had not slept well, and she wondered if he was worried about his father. She had seen him worn out at work many times, but not in this grim, forbidding, controlled way. Was he angry with her?

  He turned away and walked to the window. 'Well,' he said evenly, 'you saw Philip last night, I gather. Was everything sorted out between you?'

  Davina didn't answer.

  Jake moved from the window and came towards her. 'Well?' he repeated insistently.

  'I don't believe our arrangement included lengthy confidences… on either side,' she said shortly, fully aware she sounded rather petulant and childish.

  'I see,' his voice grated harshly. 'You gave me your confidence in London, and now we're suddenly strangers, and I'm to be told nothing. Perhaps you feel I have no right? Let me assure you I have every right. If you and Philip have been making love while you're supposed to be engaged to me, it becomes very much my business. Perhaps you were seen?'

  Davina gasped. Had they been seen last night on the beach? Could Jake have been there? She looked up at him, her eyes wide and her mouth trembling. Her throat felt constricted, and she didn't know what to say.

  'I did see him,' she brought out at last.

  'Alone?' he rapped out at her.

  'Yes, alone,' she snapped, suddenly angry, 'and it's none of your business. Whatever you say, our engagement is only a farce.'

  'I suppose you told your precious Philip that too?' His mouth curled with a sneer.

  'No, I didn't!' her voice was trembling. 'How could I? I had to explain why I wouldn't run away with him.'

  Jake expelled a sigh as though he had been holding his breath. 'You did make that clear to him, then?'

  'Yes, of course. He was to marry my sister today, wasn't he? What else could I do?'

  'Does that mean you found out you don't love him any more?'

  She said nothing.

  Her silence seemed to infuriate him. He strode to the window and back again, hands pushed deep into his trouser pockets. At last he stopped.

  'Davina, when are you going to wake up? Your Philip is just as much a dreamer as you. He doesn't love you. He doesn't love anyone but himself. And how long do you think that would make you happy?'

  'How do you k
now what he's like?' she snapped. 'You met him once for a few minutes and yet you know all about him. You don't know him at all…' her voice broke and she stopped.

  'Do you think he would look after you, stay faithful to you, make a home for you and your children?' Jake was controlling his anger with difficulty. 'Isn't it time you came out of the clouds where your emotions have been clamped for the last two years, and found what life is really like? What emotions are all about?'

  'How dare you talk to me like that!' she exclaimed, her anger rising, her breasts heaving. 'You don't know anything about me or what I feel. Just because I don't play around getting experience like your lady friends…' She stopped, aghast at what she had said.

  Jake stopped walking and stood still. 'Is that what you think I mean?' His voice was very quiet.

  'Yes… no… how should I know what you mean?' She was near to tears.

  He turned his back on her. 'I'm talking about feelings, not dreams.' His voice was harsh again with urgency, some kind of suppressed emotion. 'You've been living in a dream, Davina, with your absent Philip. Dreams are safe and don't hurt, but they're also lifeless and cold.'

  She said nothing, her face rigid with tension and fear at his tone. He seemed to be whipping himself into some kind of fury, and she didn't know what to do. He turned to her, his head back, lids lowered over his eyes, his lips curled contemptuously.

  'Life is just too difficult for you, isn't it? It's all so confusing,' he drawled.

  Davina got up. 'I'm going back downstairs,' she said, wanting only to get away.

  'Just one moment,' he said coldly, and moved towards her.

  'No,' she said, 'I don't want to go on with this… please!'

  He ignored her.

  'Perhaps the time has come to bring you down out of those clouds and dispel some of that confusion.' He took her by the shoulders, and for a moment surprise kept her motionless. She looked up into his face with a sudden premonition.

  'No!' She twisted in his hold. 'No, Jake, please!' Her voice was panic-stricken. 'Please don't, Jake!'

  Ignoring her efforts to be free, he put his arms round her, enveloping her completely, crushing her body with his own and imprisoning her hands against his chest. He looked into her frightened eyes, and bent his head, fastening his mouth to her lips in a hard, brutal kiss which rocked her against him, her head forced back on her neck by the pressure of his lips.

  She tried to pull away, to free her mouth from his, but his grip tightened painfully, and his kiss hardened as he parted her lips with his. She could feel the heat of his body and the taut muscles straining her closer, anger in his hold. She felt completely helpless and suddenly stopped fighting him. As her resistance to him drained away, the anger seemed to leave him. He lifted his head, and his fierce hold on her eased. He moved his lips slowly and sensually against her mouth, and she quivered in his arms, suddenly awakened to a response she had never felt before. Her senses flamed at his touch, and she returned his kiss with fire and passion, her mind whirling out of control. Jake lifted a hand to cradle her head and she wound her arms round his neck, her fingers caressing the thick, crisp hair as his kiss deepened demandingly, and his hold on her tightened.

  And then suddenly she was free. He put her away from him slowly and deliberately. They were both breathing raggedly, and he turned his back and walked away. Davina's legs felt as though they would collapse under her, and she reached behind for the sofa, sinking thankfully into its depth, trying to recover her composure.

  Jake poured himself a large whisky and drank it straight down.

  Her lips felt bruised, and she was trembling uncontrollably, her face aflame with colour.

  The silence seemed endless. Then he turned to her, his face expressionless, his head back and eyes veiled by thick dark lashes against the unexpected whiteness of his face.

  'My apologies,' he drawled. 'That… got a little out of hand.'

  She looked away from him, tensing at the tone in his voice. She was afraid she might be sick, and sat quite still.

  'Davina,' his voice was suddenly sharply anxious, 'are you all right?' He put down his glass and started towards her.

  'Please—' she began, when suddenly the phone shrilled and she jumped at the unexpected noise.

  Jake picked up the receiver.

  'Yes,' he began. 'No, around noon, if that's all right…'

  Davina got up quietly, walked unsteadily to the door behind Jake's back, and made her way out into the corridor.

  In a slight daze she found a ladies' room which was blessedly empty, and sat down on a stool in front of the mirrors, staring horrified at her own reflection. Her eyes were huge and dark in her pale, strained face, her hair dislodged from its neat coil, and her make-up hopelessly smudged. She pulled herself together and set about methodically repairing the damage. After a wash she felt better, and by the time she had arranged her hair and used her perfume spray, a touch of lipstick made her feel almost back to normal, ready to go downstairs.

  She was tempted to run out on everything and everyone, take the next train back to London, but she put that idea out of her mind. It wasn't possible.

  She clamped down completely on what had just happened with Jake. She didn't want to think about it, to remember it. Later, she told herself firmly, but not right away.

  Jake was pacing the foyer as she came out of the lift on the ground floor. He stopped and looked at her intently for a moment, before he took her lightly by the elbow and they returned to the reception.

  The toasts and speeches were under way and the cake cutting followed. Finally Monica stood on the hotel stairs and threw down her bouquet straight at Davina, who dropped it as though it burnt her, and everyone laughed gaily.

  It was beginning to darken into dusk as Jake drove her home. On the doorstep he stopped for a moment as though about to speak. She looked up at him fearfully in the half dark.

  'Thank you,' she said in a polite little voice.

  'I'll pick you up at eight,' he said brusquely. 'Try and get some rest.'

  Davina let herself into the empty house, relieved to be alone at last. As she heard the Rolls drive away she ran upstairs, took off her clothes and climbed into bed.

  Once more she was awakened by a loud knocking on the door.

  'Ina, wake up, it's late!' It was her mother's voice.

  'Yes, Mum, I'm awake. Hang on a second, I'm coming.'

  She jumped out of bed and flung on a dressing gown. Her mother was at the door in a housecoat.

  'Hello,' Davina said sleepily. 'I must have dropped off. Come in.'

  Mrs Richards looked at her daughter's face steadily for a moment and then turned away. 'I was just getting us a cup of tea and wondered if you'd like one. We're having it in the kitchen, but I can bring you one up here if you prefer?' She sounded almost embarrassed as she hesitated. 'You don't look so good. Would you rather give it a miss tonight?' she asked anxiously. 'Perhaps it's all been a bit much.'

  'What?' Davina was puzzled. 'No, I'm fine. I was a bit tired—I didn't sleep too well last night, but I must go. Whatever would Monica and… everyone think if I didn't turn up?' she ended lamely.

  'Very well, dear, whatever you say.' Her mother turned back. 'Why don't you have a nice refreshing shower first and then come down? I'll make a fresh pot.'

  She closed the door, and Davina turned back into the room, catching sight of herself in the mirror. Her eyes widened in horror. She looked ghastly. Her lips were swollen and vividly bruised, her eyes darkly shadowed and there was a terrible purple bruise on her arm. No wonder her mother had stared! But there was no time for thinking and dreaming, she reflected wryly, and stripped off. Within moments she was under the shower. Then, wrapped in a voluminous towelling coat, she wandered down to the kitchen.

  Her father was sitting at the kitchen table, dressed in comfortable old tweeds, and reading the paper. 'Ah, there you are, dear,' her mother said. 'Come and sit down.'

  For a moment Davina wanted to run again, but sh
e controlled herself and sat down opposite him. He looked up briefly and acknowledged her with a nod.

  Her mother glanced at her and smiled with relief. Davina grinned back uneasily as she helped herself to tea.

  'Lovely,' she said. 'Just what I need.'

  There was a pause.

  'Well,' Davina said cheerfully, 'that all went off very successfully, didn't it?'

  'Yes,' her father said coolly, 'it was very well planned.'

  'Is Jake coming to pick you up, love?' her mother asked.

  'Yes, about eight.'

  'Well, you'd better hurry with that tea. It's nearly that now.'

  Her father got up. 'Well, I must go and do some work, so I'll leave you two to gossip.'

  'Work?' Her mother's voice was astounded. 'Why, whatever do you mean? We agreed to have a nice quiet evening in front of the telly. What work?'

  'I… er… I've some letters to do,' he said rather stiffly, picked up his paper and his cup and went off.

  Davina clenched her hands round her cup.

  'That's odd,' her mother said reflectively. 'He seemed so much more relaxed. We had a long talk when we got home and I thought…' She went over to the sink.

  'Never mind,' Davina said, 'he's probably not in the mood for company.'

  'Mm…' her mother said thoughtfully.

  With her father's going the atmosphere changed, and Davina longed suddenly to confide in her mother, tell her the truth about Jake, the engagement and everything. But she remained silent. She couldn't do it. And once started no one knew there such confidences would end. Anyway, she was leaving in the morning.