Going to join them, she stopped when she heard Joseph’s name mentioned, staying out of sight but within earshot of their conversation.
“So, Joseph was just going to leave, without saying a word?”
“He had changed his flight; he was going home on the Sunday instead of the Monday.” Sighing, she continued, “Your wedding, you know it couldn’t have come at a better time, and not just for you either. If he had just upped and left, without even saying a word to Layla beforehand, it would have finished her, I’m sure. At least now, they’ll have an opportunity to sort this mess out.”
“And Layla doesn’t have a clue?”
“Nope, she doesn’t suspect at all. But surely when he sees how well you two get on together now, how much she’s helped you with all your wedding prep, not to mention how gorgeous she looks in that dress of hers, he’ll fall at her feet again.”
“Fingers crossed.”
“Mind you,” Penny continued, “they’re both as stubborn as each other. She wants to give him space. That’s why she hasn’t gone round to see him. But if that were me, I’d be blazing a trail to his door, banging it down. I can’t understand her.”
“They’re both playing it cool,” Tara agreed.
“Too cool, if you ask me.”
After a quick peek around the corner, Layla noticed they were about to turn. She shrunk back, glad there was a pillar she could hide behind.
Joseph had intended to leave Trecastle? Fly back to Florence without telling her? Only the fact Tara and Aiden were getting married had stopped him. She knew what she was guilty of, but was she to be condemned forever because of it? As for playing it cool, she wasn’t. She was burning up inside. Shudders coursed through her, but she refused to let them take hold. Tara’s wedding was less than forty-eight hours away; she had to hold it together until then. But if she was hoping that the happiness of the day might guide her and Joseph back toward each other, she now knew she had been deluding herself. She would smile her way through the day certainly, clap and cheer for the bride and bridegroom enthusiastically, but from Joseph she would continue to keep her distance. She was his ex now. He had decided that for both of them.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
TARA OPENED HER EYES. It was here—her wedding day. She could hardly believe it. Despite Aiden’s protests, she had made him sleep downstairs last night in the living room, on an old camper bed her dad had retrieved from the attic.
“But, babe,” he had protested. “We’re not doing that whole traditional wedding thing. We’re doing it our way. Let me sleep with you up here.”
“No.” She had stood firm. “Some things remain sacred.”
Her mother would have given him Leo’s room, but her sister had come home for the wedding. Previously, Tara had agreed with her parents to tell Leo about her illness after the wedding. She wanted her day and everyone who attended it to be happy—to feel the way she did, not weighted down by sorrow and sympathy. She needed their happiness to make her believe in happy ever after too. The only people, as far as she knew, with sorrow in their hearts would be Layla and Joseph. And it was because of her and the secret she had made him keep. She was the rift that had come between them, and somehow she would have to make amends.
Besides her mother and father and Aiden, the few people who knew about her illness had been sworn to secrecy too. She knew they wouldn’t let her down. She hadn’t seen Joseph since Aiden’s return—he was intent on keeping himself to himself—but she had texted him their plans. He had replied, saying how pleased he was for them and that of course he would attend their marriage; he wouldn’t miss it for the world. When she had sent a tentative “Are you all right?” he had bounced back one word: “Fine.” That was the Joseph she knew of old, private, incredibly so.
Their sudden wedding had been greeted with bemusement by her friends and extended family members.
“That’s typical of Tara,” she had heard her sister comment to her mum last night but not without affection. “She doesn’t do anything by halves.”
No, she didn’t, and she was glad she’d been made that way. Life was too short not to give everything and everyone your full attention.
Thinking of Leo seemed to materialize her. The door flew open, and she came bounding in, her younger sister, almost a carbon copy of her but with longer hair.
“Come on, lazy bones. We haven’t got time to waste. We’ve got to get you looking beautiful.”
“Cheers,” murmured Tara, not sure whether to be pleased by her remark or offended.
“I’ve run a bath for you, put some nice scent in it too. It’s one we sell in my shop, amber and patchouli. I brought it especially. Go and soak yourself while I lay out your outfit.”
“What about Aiden?” Tara asked, rising onto her elbows.
“He’s downstairs tucking into a full English breakfast Mum’s made him.”
“A full English?”
“Yep, the works.”
“Does he look nervous at all?” she asked in slight trepidation.
“Nervous? Aiden? Not a bit of it. He looks far too chipper to be the bridegroom, if you ask me. And boy, he’s got an appetite, hasn’t he? He even asked for an extra sausage. Mum’s as pleased as punch.”
Relieved, Tara levered herself off the bed and lowered her feet to the floor.
“Oh, look,” enthused Leo, throwing open the curtains. “You’ve got the luck of the devil, Tara. The sun is blazing today.”
As daylight poured into the room, Tara winced. She could feel the stirrings of a headache.
No, not today, she thought, cold fear making her spine tingle.
As she reached for the door, she stumbled.
“Tara,” Leo called out, all concern now. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Quickly, Tara tried to make light of it. “Aiden might not be nervous, but I am. Would you…would you mind helping me to the bathroom?”
“Of course not,” Leo replied, rushing to her side.
The perfumed air in the bathroom made her feel nauseated. Leo’s thoughtfulness had been very sweet, and she appreciated it, but how she was going to languish in that smell, she didn’t know. For a while now, strong scents had upset her.
Plastering a smile on her face, she turned to Leo and said, “Thanks for helping me, but I’ll be fine now.”
“Are you sure?” Leo didn’t look convinced. She looked downright suspicious.
“I’m sure.”
As soon as Leo left her alone, Tara closed the door, not locking it just in case she should pass out, something that had happened only once before. Thankfully she had been alone at the time—Aiden had remained none the wiser. Also she had been thankful when she came round to find she hadn’t done herself any damage in falling. It was perhaps the only time she’d been grateful that Aiden had left his clothes in a pile on the floor—they’d made for a soft landing. Quickly, she let the scented water out of the bath. Next she opened the window wide, breathing in deep the fresh air.
Refilling the bath with plain water, she sank into it, the nausea slowly subsiding.
If she lay still, perfectly still, the headache might pass—that, too, she knew from experience, was possible. Rare, but it had happened once before. Unfortunately, the headache showed no sign of passing. It persisted, the pain in her head starting to blind her almost. Although she screwed her eyes shut, tears still managed to squeeze themselves out. She could feel them, hot and angry on her cheeks.
Not today, she thought again, digging the nails she’d had perfectly manicured yesterday into the palms of her hand. Please, not today. Whatever universal forces are out there—tomorrow is fine, but leave me alone today. Please, please, please.
She could feel her body sink lower and lower into the bath—perhaps if she sank below the water…If she stayed there, it might be for the best. The thought of being able to end this pain was a tempting one. The water came up to her chin, covering her lips as she pursed them together. Soon her nose would be under wate
r too. It seemed such a peaceful way to go, not frightening at all. As she sank lower, she heard a sound like a thunderclap. Had Aiden burst into the room? Had Leo gone downstairs and said Tara wasn’t quite looking herself and he had cottoned on?
She sat bolt upright, water splashing around her as she did so, some of it escaping over the side. There was no one in the bathroom but her. The sound had been in her head. But what was it? The tumor? Immediately, her mind conjured up a lurid image of a huge boil exploding, the contents seeping out, infecting her further. In sheer panic, she clutched on to the sides of the bath, her knuckles white with pressure. It took a full minute, perhaps even longer, for the panic to subside and the realization to hit that her head no longer ached; the pain had subsided.
At that moment, the door did indeed open. Leo had gone downstairs and said something about her not being quite right after all.
“Are you okay?” a breathless Aiden said, throwing himself down beside her.
“I’m fine,” she replied, grinning. “Absolutely fine.”
After shooing Aiden back downstairs, Tara grabbed a towel, wrapped it round her, and rushed to her bedroom. It was true, she did feel fine, her headache non-existent. A reprieve granted, if only for the day. A prayer answered, for now, at least.
“Thank you,” she whispered, although who it was she was thanking, she didn’t know. Still, she repeated the sentence a dozen times before she felt able to stop.
Leo came back into the room. “Who are you talking to?” she asked.
Who indeed? She couldn’t explain. Instead, she suggested they start doing their hair and makeup. She glanced at her watch; it was just after ten.
“Yikes, we haven’t got long.”
She and Aiden were due to exchange vows on the beach at noon. Then, in true Aussie-style, there would be a barbecue, music, and dancing. Somewhere around sunset, she imagined guests would start departing for home. Layla, Hannah, and Penny had offered to go down to the beach early this morning to set everything up. She had gratefully accepted. She looked forward to seeing their handiwork.
The sisters set to work, giggling like the schoolgirls they had once been as they messed about with colors, with brushes, different looks and textures.
“Hey, not too much,” Tara said. “You look better au natural.”
Leo looked at her, her head to one side. “You know, you do too,” she said.
Without further comment, they quickly removed the war paint they had slapped on and started again, this time in not such a heavy-handed fashion.
“Much nicer,” Leo decided after Tara had applied just some gold eye shadow and brown kohl around her eyes and a tawny-colored lipstick.
Reaching across for the bronzer, she dabbed just a bit of it on Tara’s cheeks, chin, and nose, declaring both her and her handiwork “perfect.”
Tara’s hair was next. Leo stood behind her, teasing her bleached-blond strands into spikes. Funky was the look she was going for—funky but chic. In contrast, Leo’s hair was like spun silk, her curls shimmering whenever the light caught them.
The dress fit perfectly, and the shoes gave Tara the height she craved. Putting on the bracelet last, she stepped back and asked her sister what she thought.
“There’s something missing.”
“Really? What?”
Without answering, Leo rushed off to her room and returned only moments later.
“This,” she said, holding a pale blue garter triumphantly aloft. “Something blue…and sexy.”
Taking it from her, Tara tried it on for size. Once it was in place, she pulled a face. “There’s still something missing,” Tara said, repeating her sister’s words.
“What?” Leo looked aghast.
“A sixpence for my shoe.”
“A sixpence?”
“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. And a silver sixpence in her shoe. That’s the rhyme, Leo. My dress is old—well, vintage—and my shoes are new. I’ve borrowed Mum’s citrine ring, and now I’ve got something blue. But that silver sixpence, I don’t know what I’m going to do about it.”
Leo appeared to be thinking hard. “I know,” she said after a few moments, her eyes, blue like Tara’s, lighting up. “Perhaps Mrs. O’Brien’s got one stashed away somewhere. You know, the old lady who lives next door to the village store? It’s feasible. She’s about a hundred years old. I’ll go there right now and see.”
Tara burst out laughing. “I’m only teasing, sis. I’ve got everything I need.” Stepping forward, she hugged Leo before adding, “And everyone.”
“Oh, Tara.” Leo’s voice cracked. “You look stunning.” Pulling away slightly, she continued, “And you’re definitely okay? I wasn’t sure earlier. You looked really peaky all of a sudden, as if you were going to pass out or something.”
“I told you, just last-minute nerves getting the better of me,” Tara assured her. “Now, come on. Let’s go and show Mum and Dad how pretty we can be when we try.”
Chapter Thirty
AIDEN HAD ALREADY GONE to the beach to wait for Tara—Joseph had agreed to drive him there. Outside her parents’ cottage, she hugged her father and then her mother.
“Hey, no tears. We agreed that,” Tara said.
“Oh, don’t mind me, dear.” Her mother waved a conciliatory hand in the air. “Happy tears—they’re allowed, surely?”
Leo rushed out—she had been busy adjusting her hair in the hallway mirror—and all four of them squeezed into her father’s Vauxhall and drove toward World’s End.
On arrival, it wasn’t just Tara who gasped at the sight before her; her parents and sister did too. Whatever she had expected, it had been surpassed. The girls, along with Joseph, Jim, and Mick, had erected a cream-colored gazebo just out of reach of the tide. Under it stood tables heaped with food ready to be barbecued and three different gas stoves—one for carnivores, one for pescetarians, and one for vegetarians. There were tall-stemmed glasses too, rows and rows of them, bottles of champagne on ice as well as plenty of soft drinks for those who were driving. Band instruments were set up to the right of the gazebo—an acoustic set—Jim, Ryan, and Curtis in position. As soon as Tara had stepped out of the car, they had started playing “Here Comes the Bride”—not part of their usual repertoire, she was sure.
When she saw two elaborately decorated porta-potties, Tara had to do a double-take—the blue boxes, one for the girls and one for the boys, had been made much of as well. Bunting had been festooned over the top of them, and in front, someone had erected a wooden signpost with the words “The Watering Hole” marked in black. From the signpost hung corks on strings—a nod to the Antipodean amongst them. When Tara had announced she wanted her wedding on the beach, all that had concerned her had been the romance of it. Certain practicalities hadn’t crossed her mind. Thankfully, they had crossed someone’s—a lot of people were going to be very grateful for that.
At the sight of Tara and her family, those sitting on brightly-colored picnic rugs rose to join those who were already standing to clap and cheer their arrival. There were even a few whoops and wolf whistles. She knew who’d be responsible for those—Crazy-Boy et al. As well as his usual exuberant self, there was Del, Murray, Nico, and Alice, and her mother’s sister Jean and her family. Other faces too, friends she had grown up with and then grown apart from, together again despite the silent years. Layla stood with Hannah, Penny, Richard, and the baby to one side of the group. Mick and Joseph, she noticed, stood on the side farthest from them. She homed in on Layla and Joseph. Although they were smiling, the strain they had both endured in the last few days was clear. Hopefully, Plan A would be enough to thaw the arctic temperatures between them. If not, she’d have to be more aggressive.
At the forefront of all the people who made up her world, past and present, stood Aiden. Love and pride seemed to ooze from him; she could almost see both emotions forming a halo around him, shimmering in the sun. She briefly wondered if she had indeed passed into another re
alm; he seemed too heavenly to be true.
As she drew closer, she felt like she was falling again, but this time further in love. A part of her was amazed that such a thing was possible. If Aiden was awed by the sight of her, she was awed by him. As she had predicted, he looked edible in his linen suit.
Layla, Penny, and Hannah asked everyone to form an avenue that Tara, on the arm of her father, could walk down. Everyone shuffled into place, except Nico, who busied herself scattering rose petals for Tara to walk on—red, the color of passion, but also of anger, a color that suited a few moods here today.
Standing at the head of the aisle, her father beside her, Tara surreptitiously pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming any of this; it was so surreal. Everything—her friends, the weather, the tide, her headache subsiding—seemed to have conspired to bring her the perfect day. She had never felt so…well…so alive.
The silence was almost reverential as she started walking forward, her nude shoes, as she had told the girls they would be, long since discarded. Instead, her toes connected with sand the same color as the silk dress she wore.
Coming to a standstill beside Aiden, she smiled across at him. “You look lovely,” she said. “You’d look better naked, though.”
“Cheeky.” He grinned, leaning across to steal a quick kiss from her.
David, who was going to read the words they had written to each other, coughed. Like children caught messing about during a lesson, they stood to attention.
Before David could get into his stride, however, Aiden leaned across once more.
“I just want you to know, Mrs. Soon-To-Be-Taylor,” he whispered, producing a Coke can ring from his pocket—the ring that meant more to her than diamonds ever could, “that as far as you’re concerned, I totally do.”
After more clapping, cheering, and hugging, 96 Tears struck up on the guitar and drums, Jim’s sexy, gravelly voice suiting the song she had chosen well. She and Aiden had listened to Savage Garden a lot. Their song “Truly Madly Deeply” summed up their love if ever words could. As the first notes rolled out, Aiden, who hadn’t known the song she had chosen for their first dance, nodded in recognition—it was the tune he had played in the background when he had asked her to marry him. Stepping dramatically in front of Tara, like some Spanish Matador, he held out his hand to her. Giggling, she accepted it, only to be thrown backward in his arms for a long and lingering kiss. Releasing her lips, he then swirled her round and round, Aiden the Showman coming to the fore.
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