A Cornish Wedding

Home > Other > A Cornish Wedding > Page 21
A Cornish Wedding Page 21

by Jenny Kane


  ‘He took me for a ride. That is never going to happen again.’

  ‘You’ll have to face him, though. To get closure, or you’ll always wonder. Plus, if you don’t, all the work Dora has done today will have been in vain. Not to mention the massive phone bill she’s run up in my office will have been money down the drain!’

  Cass reluctantly unclenched her fingers and slowly pulled her hands free. ‘You have all been amazing. I’ll never forget it.’

  Dan frowned. ‘You say that as if you’re going away?’

  Shrugging, Cass said, ‘Once this is over I have no reason to stay. I have a business idea to start afresh. I could do that anywhere. This house will always be the one I was supposed to share with a man I thought I knew, but didn’t. I can’t stay here.’

  ‘You don’t have to go far.’

  Cass said nothing for a few minutes, then, looking at her watch just to break the tension between them, was surprised to see it had gone midnight. ‘Bloody hell, it’s tomorrow. Do you want me to make up the spare bed?’

  Dan placed his palms flat on the table and pushed himself upright. ‘I don’t think so. I have to be at the flats for breakfast anyway.’

  Not sure if she was sorry or relieved he was going, Cass passed him the paperwork he’d come for.

  ‘Thanks. I’m sure Dora will be in touch very soon.’

  ‘Thank you for telling me about Afghanistan. I feel privileged.’

  As Dan stepped through the door, he turned and gave Cass a gentle kiss on her cheek. ‘I’m not staying because there is no way I’d have been able to stay in the spare room. I’ll see you soon.’

  The following morning Cass woke to the ringing of the front doorbell.

  A delivery man was stood on the doorstep with a bunch of yellow roses.

  The attached note said was, Yellow is for friendship.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Beth sat back with satisfaction. The kitchen cupboards had been scrubbed to within an inch of their lives, and now, as the last plate had been slotted back into place, she felt a tremendous sense of achievement.

  ‘I knew you had nesting tendencies in pregnancy, but I never dreamed you’d turn into the world’s most gorgeous Miss Mop.’ Jacob leaned against the kitchen doorframe and watched Beth as she wiped a grubby hand across her cheek, smearing her face with sticky dust.

  ‘Let’s hope the feeling lasts long enough to give the whole flat a spring clean. It’s weird. I’ve never felt such an urge to be tidy before.’

  ‘You’re telling me!’ Jacob winked. ‘I don’t suppose you fancy giving the new studio a good wipe over as well?’

  Beth threw her dishcloth at him. ‘That is your problem, Mr Potter!’ She eased herself to her feet, more aware of her belly with each passing day. ‘How is the new place shaping up? I want to come and have a nose round. Somehow I don’t seem to have a minute. There is so much I want to do before I can’t any more.’

  Jacob frowned. ‘You make it sound as if your life is coming to an end.’

  ‘Well, love, it sort of is. Not in a bad way; in a very exciting way. But there will be massive changes to every aspect of my life. Our lives. Most of all my immediate freedom will be gone. I want to make the most of being able to leave the house without having to check a million things before I even have time to tie my own shoelaces.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that.’ Jacob was quiet for a while before asking, ‘Is there anything you’d like to do? Anything special, I mean, before the first baby Denny arrives?’

  Beth laughed. ‘The first? You’re anticipating a tribe of small Dennys?’

  ‘I’d love loads of kids, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Probably.’ Beth looked down at her stomach. ‘But shall we have this one first?’

  ‘Good plan.’ Jacob patted his girlfriend’s belly. ‘Why don’t you come with me to the studio, I’d love you to see it now I’ve got the work station set up. You can help me choose what to exhibit at your gallery in August.’

  ‘August! Oh my goodness, I’d forgotten.’

  Jacob gave a playful laugh. ‘You forgot there was going to be August?’

  ‘No, silly, I’d forgotten all about the anniversary of Abi’s arrival before then, and then the gallery anniversary in September, afterwards.’

  ‘I thought we’d decided to leave Abi’s anniversary celebration to Max?’

  ‘We were, but that was because Max wanted to have private time to ask Abi about him moving in with her. Now he’s moved in, shouldn’t we do something to mark the day?’

  ‘Beth, love, we are doing something.’

  ‘We are?’

  Jacob laughed. ‘I think all the disinfectant has gone to your head.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The wedding.’

  ‘What about it?’ Beth clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my God, I’m such an idiot. I never made the connection. They’re on the same day aren’t they?’

  ‘They are. Plus Max is taking Abi away that night. She doesn’t know yet. It’s an anniversary present, so for goodness’ sake don’t tell her.’

  ‘I don’t think you have to worry about that. Recent evidence suggests I’ll have forgotten by lunchtime!’

  Cass put her weight behind her elbow, and gently pushed the sandpaper block across the top of the small bedside cabinet Jo had declared was an ideal piece of furniture to practise her fledgling restoring skills on.

  There was something wonderfully soothing about the rhythmical motion, and of seeing the results of your hard work appearing before your eyes, she thought. While she made sure she got each run of the sandpaper in exactly the right place, there was no room in her mind for anything else. Which was a welcome relief after last night. . .

  ‘You’re quiet, Cass, everything alright?’

  Cass picked up the mug of coffee Jo had placed in front of her. ‘Just concentrating. I love how fast you can see things happen.’

  ‘Wonderful, isn’t it?’ Jo leaned against the wall, rubbing her own dusty hands down her apron. ‘It’s like being paid to give yourself therapy all day.’

  ‘Your apprenticeships should be on the NHS! You’d save the mental health department a fortune.’

  ‘You may be onto something.’ Jo chuckled into her cup. ‘Does this mean you’ve decided to take me up on my offer of an apprenticeship stroke partnership?’

  Stretching out the ache in her arms that came from using muscles so unaccustomed to hard physical work, Cass sighed. ‘I want to say yes.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘Last night I learned what was behind the collapse of my business.’

  ‘Justin?’

  ‘Yes, but not in the way I’d assumed. My friend Dora has several contacts in London and has unearthed a situation which was based purely on jealousy and not on any sort of financial greed. At least, that’s how it started. I’m not convinced that Justin didn’t decide to make the whole theft financially viable once he’d realised what was going on. But I don’t really know about that – that’s more of a hunch.’

  ‘And until you know for sure you don’t want to make me any promises?’

  ‘I don’t want to find myself in a position where I let you down.’ Cass looked at the furniture around her with an expression of regret. ‘I’ll understand if you’d like to make the offer to someone else.’

  Jo threw a rag at Cass. ‘Don’t be silly. I’m happy to wait.’

  ‘You are?’

  ‘For a confident woman you don’t half lack self-confidence!’ Jo put down her cup as the ring of a bell indicated a customer had come into the shop. ‘I asked you because you’re good. You have a good eye.’

  As Jo left her speechless to go and deal with her customer, Cass stared at her dust-smudged hands. She knew her face would be streaked with dust as well. Suddenly she started to laugh. She couldn’t stop, as hysteria gripped her.

  Justin would hate this. He might not even recognise her: no salon haircut, faded nail varnish, and no make-up
on. She felt oddly pleased that she’d left the house without even contemplating her appearance.

  With Jo’s words still warming her, and the memory of Dan telling her he had to go home because he’d never be able to sleep in her spare bedroom, Cass wrenched her shoulders back and, taking her mobile from her pocket, called Dora.

  ‘This has gone on quite long enough.’ Cass told the phone as she waited for her friend to pick up. ‘It’s getting boring, and holding up my whole bloody life! Enough already, it’s time I. . .Hello, Dora. I wanted to thank you for working so hard on my behalf. Dan has the documents you asked for. It’s time I invited Justin down here for a little chat. What do you think?’

  Abi had just finished highlighting the sparkle of a rainbow, when Max arrived at the gallery, armed with two rounds of sandwiches.

  ‘What’s this? Waiter service?’

  Passing Abi some lunch, Max pointed at the currently customer-free sofa. ‘Don’t you be getting used to it, lass. Come and join me.’

  Abi laughed. ‘Fear not, I don’t picture you as a waiter somehow. Your big hands would snap the bone china!’

  ‘Cheek!’ Max unwrapped his cheese and ham roll. ‘And there I was being nice!’

  ‘Nothing to do with wanting a bit of company while you wait for the coat of paint you put on Cass’s living room wall to dry, then?’

  ‘That was but a bonus, honestly.’

  ‘Yeah, right!’ Abi came and sat down next to her partner, and gave him a quick kiss. ‘Thanks for lunch. You are very kind.’

  ‘True.’ Max stretched his legs out, enjoying not being cramped up after a morning of painting the skirting boards. ‘Have you seen Cass today? She was out of the house before I got there this morning.’

  Abi frowned. ‘But you were there before nine, weren’t you?’

  ‘I was, but there was no sign of life. Although there was a fresh bunch of roses in a bucket by the sink.’

  ‘Really?’ Abi chewed her lunch thoughtfully. ‘From that toad Justin, I suppose, trying to wangle his way back into her affections.’

  ‘I’m not so sure.’

  ‘You didn’t read the card did you?’

  ‘No way. A card would be private. It’s just that the roses were yellow.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘From what I’ve heard about Justin, he would send red roses.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Abi nodded. ‘I think our time with Dora has rubbed off on us!’

  ‘Yes, this is indeed spy thinking. I bet James Bond considers the colour of roses all the time.’

  ‘I’d bank on it.’

  Max rolled his eyes at Abi. ‘Dan didn’t leave until late last night. I heard the car drive off. Then the florist’s van was on the door at eight this morning. Cass left pretty much straight after that.’

  Abi laughed. ‘You really have been spending too much time with Dora!’

  ‘Our very own Mata Hari.’ Max smiled. ‘The truth is far less interesting. I couldn’t sleep, and was up and about sorting the van about eight.’

  ‘Why, you don’t have to drive to work for a bit longer, do you?’

  Max shifted slightly on the sofa. ‘I was making room for some of my furniture from the flat. There are a few bits I’m like to keep if that’s alright. Not much, just a few things I had from my parents. I’ll sell the rest.’

  ‘What are you talking about? You don’t have to sell anything. Bring it all, we’ll find room. Max. . .’ Abi felt a small stab of sadness; she’d thought he was feeling genuinely at home with her in Miners Row. ‘This is your home as well now. You don’t have to get my permission to bring in some furniture. I want you to have as much of your stuff as I have mine. I want it to be our stuff now.’

  Putting an arm around Abi, Max pulled her close. ‘Are you sure, lass? Abi’s House is well, Abi’s House. You fought so long to make it that way. I don’t want. . .’

  ‘Max! We’ve been through this. It’s our house now. Our future. You do like living with me, don’t you?’

  Abi felt sick. She’d been so happy, but now every doubt she’d ever had about Max’s ability to commit to another woman after Lucinda came racing back to the surface.

  ‘I love it! Of course I do.’

  ‘You were about to add a “but” to that sentence. What is it, Max, please tell me?’

  ‘I don’t know; I feel a bit like I’m just on holiday, or a lodger maybe.’

  Abi felt as if she’d been doused by a bucket of cold water. ‘A lodger?’ Her words came out so quietly that Max barely heard them. ‘That’s why you should have your things, why we should get rid of some of my stuff and get things we have chosen ourselves.’

  ‘You don’t mind then? Me changing round things at your place?’

  ‘OUR PLACE!’

  Abi shouted so loud she shocked not just herself and Max, but the small group of tourists who instantly backed away from the threshold of the gallery.

  Chapter Thirty

  Beth was exhausted. Her cleaning was getting out of control. She’d only been home for the school holidays for one day. If she kept on like this she’d have no energy left for the whole summer.

  Jacob’s new studio was looking fantastic. As soon as they’d walked in together Beth had felt as if she was in a comfortable and familiar space. Although she’d miss the studio in Hayle, she knew she’d always have the memories of their time there together. A smile crossed her face as she remembered her first trip to Jacob’s studio. They’d gone to choose pottery to be displayed at her gallery, and had ended up having the best sex of her life on the studio floor.

  Beth rubbed her belly, unable to take in that she was almost four months pregnant already. ‘How things change.’ She couldn’t prevent the small stab of disquiet that was nudging her as she wondered if they’d ever do anything like that again.

  Walking through the village towards the gallery and her flat, Beth yawned; she was going to have to have an afternoon nap whether she wanted one or not.

  Waving to a family walking on the opposite side of the road that she recognised from school, Beth felt her fears calm. It doesn’t matter if we don’t have a wild sex life any more; we’re going to have something better: a family.

  An image of Jacob pushing a pram across the beach, while she held the hand of a toddler wearing a little swimming costume, warmed her from the inside. Suddenly Beth felt very lucky. If she hadn’t happened to have discovered Jacob’s ceramic website when she was first looking for artists to display at Art and Sole, then they’d never have met. With this thought keeping her smile firmly plastered to her face, Beth stepped inside the gallery to say hello to Abi before she went upstairs to her flat for a rest.

  Expecting to see the gallery’s manager either happily chatting to a visitor, or busy working away on her latest book, Beth was surprised to find her friend sat alone on the sofa, her knees tucked under her chin.

  ‘Abi?’ Walking around to the front of the sofa, Beth was confronted with an Abi who appeared completely defeated, as if she was trapped in dark thoughts. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Snapped out of her introspection by Beth’s arrival, Abi unhooked her legs. ‘Actually, nothing. It’s nothing.’

  Beth examined her friend more intently. ‘You were just admiring the watercolours then?’

  ‘Yes. That’s exactly what I was doing. Serena has a skill all of her own, don’t you think?’

  ‘She has.’ Beth sat down, ‘Abi, hun, I’m not convinced you were looking at anything at all.’

  ‘Perhaps I did drift into space for a while. The paintings have that effect, don’t you find?’ Abi’s voice was uncharacteristically harsh.

  ‘You sounded like Cass then.’

  ‘I suspect her city ways have awoken my own.’

  Now Beth was worried. This didn’t sound like Abi at all. She’d been in the room five minutes now, and not once had Abi asked how she was – not that she should have to, of course, but it was just what Abi did. ‘The self-confident part or the hard-nosed busin
esswoman part?’

  Abi continued to stare straight ahead for a while, and then stood up. ‘A bit of both, perhaps. Long overdue maybe. I feel as though I’ve been a doormat for far too many years. And do you know what,’ Abi turned to Beth now, her expression full of sadness, ‘I’ve had enough.

  ‘I know it took a lot of courage for Max to have another relationship after his divorce, and that it was a big step for him to move in. But it wasn’t exactly easy for me either after Luke. And now. . .’ Abi’s steady voice caught in her throat, but she quickly gathered herself ‘. . . now Max tells me he sees himself as some sort of lodger at Abi’s House. A lodger! Insulted isn’t even close to how I feel. I should never have let anyone close to me again, not after it took me such an age to get my self-confidence back, feeble though it is.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Beth was openly shocked now. ‘Max hasn’t said he feels like a lodger, has he?’

  ‘He has.’ Abi felt her fight already dissolving in the face of her friend’s shock. Sinking back down onto the sofa again, her tone softened. ‘I hate feeling like this, Beth. I don’t know who I am any more. I thought if I acted stronger; if I put my survival suit of armour back on, then maybe I wouldn’t feel anything.’

  ‘Like you used to when you lived with Luke?’

  ‘Yeah. I used to hide inside myself, safe in an invisible protection of my own making. It kept me sane, kept me going. But now. . .’

  ‘Now it doesn’t work because you love Max and anything that goes wrong hurts, whereas with Luke it worked. It was different because you stopped loving Luke long before he died. Right?’

  ‘Pretty much.’

  Still confused, Beth said, ‘Have you two ever argued before? Assuming you have actually had a proper row this time?’

  ‘No. No, I don’t suppose we have.’ Abi was taken aback by the thought. ‘And this was, well, I suppose it was an argument, but not a shouting row or anything. It was more a circular conversation with several dead ends, which ended in Max heading back to his flat.’

  ‘What?’ Beth was stunned. ‘Max has moved out. He’s gone?’

 

‹ Prev