Boyd cordoned off the section of the beach they were using for the party with rope, to resemble a VIP area. Branches of driftwood were strewn around the edges, bound with pale green moss, dusty pink roses and amethyst sea holly. In front of the hut were three trestle tables covered in fine hessian, and on them were white enamel plates and pearl-handled cutlery, and platters of food for sharing: chicken and pistachio pie, spanakopita, cured meats, local soft-rind cheese, ripe fruits and baskets of Boyd’s focaccia. There were white linen napkins tied with rough string and zinc buckets filled with bottles of sparkling rosé and recycled glasses with white ribbon tied around the stems.
And beyond the food, there were benches covered in sheepskins, picnic blankets scattered with Moroccan cushions and beanbags, and grey-and-cream striped deckchairs, so everyone could sit and eat just where they wanted and gaze out to sea.
The whole effect was of a dreamy bohemian beach banquet, all the colours very soft, as if faded by the sun and the salt.
For a moment Gwen’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at her handiwork. She had begged and borrowed, even stolen if you counted hauling the wood for the food boards out of a skip. It felt wonderful, to have done this for two people whose love she believed in so fiercely.
She looked at her watch. The wedding ceremony would be starting about now. Robyn had invited her to the registry office, but it had been impossible, timing-wise, with everything she had to do, and it was family only, really.
She went into the hut to get changed before everyone arrived. She had found the perfect outfit – a vintage Paul Smith jacket and capri trousers, simply cut, elegant but eye-catching. It was rather bright compared to the understated look she had gone for with the wedding décor, but sometimes you needed to express your personality. It made her feel happy and it fitted like a glove. Outside the hut, she could see Boyd putting the finishing touches to the archway, fixing the starfish in place. He was, it seemed, more of a perfectionist than she was.
He looked up and saw her watching, then came over.
‘You look stunning,’ he told her. ‘I’ll be off now. But I’ll see you later.’
She knew, that if she’d asked Robyn, she would have invited Boyd to the wedding. But it felt too early, and he felt awkward about it.
‘I don’t want to be a wedding crasher,’ he’d said.
‘You wouldn’t be,’ Gwen replied. ‘But I understand. And I’d never have managed all this without you.’
‘It’s been a pleasure,’ he said. And it had been. He’d loved hearing her ideas, and helping her make them come true. It really was going to be a dream wedding.
‘Is everything organised for later?’
He winked at her.
‘Don’t worry. I won’t let you down.’
And he kissed her on the cheek and headed off up the dunes.
Unfinished business, she thought, and smiled.
48
Jake was waiting on the steps of the registry office with Rocky and Ethan. It was quarter to twelve. Surely Robyn should be here by now?
‘Chill, dude,’ said Ethan, who could sense his brother’s agitation.
‘You don’t think she’s got cold feet?’
‘Errrrr – no?’ Ethan rolled his eyes, and jabbed Jake in the ribs with his elbow. ‘Tell him, Dad.’
‘She’s not late yet,’ said Rocky. ‘This is not anyone’s definition of late.’
‘It’s the bride’s prerogative,’ smiled Tina. ‘I was ten minutes late, remember?’
Rocky nodded. ‘She was. Nearly gave me a heart attack.’
Tina pulled out her phone and stood in front of the three of them.
‘Right, come on, you three. I want a photo of you. I want to admire my handiwork. Line up on the steps.’
Rocky watched as his ex-wife chivvied them all. She looked incredibly glamorous herself, in a bright pink coat dress over silk cigarette trousers. After their rapprochement of the weekend before, she had spent the week helping them get ready, and they’d all gone off on a trip to Exeter when she found out Jake hadn’t actually planned to buy anything new to wear.
‘It’s supposed to be casual!’ he’d protested, but actually they had a brilliant day out, the four of them, shopping followed by lunch. And Rocky could see how much his boys appreciated the truce. They had been good-natured and long-suffering as she had chosen their outfits for them: tweed jackets, jeans and linen shirts, set off with floral silk ties.
Earlier in the week, Tina and Rocky had taken Jake and Robyn out for dinner, to break the ice, as Robyn had never really got to know her. Tina had exuded warmth as she congratulated Robyn on the baby.
‘I can’t believe how excited I am about being a grandmother.’
‘I can’t believe you’re going to be one – you look far too young.’
Robyn had been slightly in awe of Tina at first, but when she’d come to look around the Linhay, they had bonded over paint charts and light fittings, and Tina had bought the most beautiful kelim rug as a wedding present. And when she had seen the nursery she had actually cried. Tina was softer than any of them realised underneath the glamour and the drive.
Rocky felt a little stab of regret that they hadn’t worked harder to fix things sooner, but maybe reconciliation came at its own pace. It couldn’t be forced. But he had to admire Tina for having the courage to hold out an olive branch in the first place. It had made everything so much more relaxed.
There were cheers as Sheila and Clover arrived. Clover had worked her magic on her mum too: the blue jacket and white trousers had a nautical splendour, yet she didn’t look uncomfortable. Just beaming with happiness.
‘I don’t know where they could be,’ she said. ‘They left ten minutes before we did.’
‘Probably parked up waiting for us all to go in. Come on. Let’s go.’ Jake nodded his head towards the entrance.
The small crowd moved inside the building and walked down the corridor to the registry office, where the registrar was waiting to greet them. It was just a simple room, with a few rows of chairs lined up in front of the table where the signing of the register would take place.
‘I’ll sort the music,’ said Ethan, and conferred with the registrar’s assistant, fiddling with the Bluetooth speaker until he got his phone connected.
Everyone else arranged themselves in the chairs, only taking up the front row. Jake stood at the front, chatting to the registrar, his hands in his pockets, feeling for the box with the rings in it for the twentieth time.
And then the music began – Jack Johnson, ‘Better When We’re Together’ – and he looked up, and there she was, walking in on Mick’s arm, and Jake took a deep breath and put his shoulders back and smiled at her. She was in flowing pale green, a small posy of bluebells in her hand, her hair cascading around her.
His Robyn. The love of his life. His bride to be. He didn’t think he had ever felt so proud.
The ceremony was short and simple. They stood facing each other, repeating the heartfelt words required of them, aware that this moment was the culmination of the love they felt for each other. At the given moment, Jake produced the two rings he had ordered from Marley that would match the engagement ring.
As the ring slid on to her finger, Robyn remembered his words of that night only four weeks ago. ‘This vein leads straight to your heart’. She could feel it, the love shooting up her vein, and she could see he could feel it.
And with trembling hands, she put his on too, and they looked at each other.
‘I love you,’ she mouthed.
Next to him, Rocky heard Tina give a tremulous sigh of happiness. Sheila was dabbing at her eyes. Mick nodded in approval. Clover leaned against Ethan.
‘Oh my God,’ she breathed. ‘I hope someone looks at me the way Jake’s looking at her one day.’
Ethan put an arm around her. ‘They will,
’ he assured her, and Clover actually blushed.
Robyn and Jake held each other’s hands tightly as they drew in for their first kiss. And everyone applauded, as everyone always did at a good wedding.
And there they were, husband and wife.
49
It was two o’clock and the sun was high in the sky, aware that it had a very important job to do today and that everyone was counting on its performance. Beneath it the sea spangled, throwing out droplets of diamonds and sapphires. The sand glittered with gold-dust, warm beneath everyone’s feet. Behind the tideline, a cluster of seagulls sat and watched as the guests arrived, one by one, two by two, dressed in finery unusual for this setting, and made their way to a beach hut almost at the end. The gulls ruffled their feathers in excitement, sensing an opportunity to scavenge. But not just yet. They knew to wait until the coast was clear. Something was afoot, and they would have to be patient.
Most of the guests had arrived and were wandering around with a Driftwood cocktail, made by Boyd with gin and elderflower and lemon. They revelled in the sunshine and the glorious view, Gwen’s team of young waiters passing around canapés to keep hunger at bay: scallops wrapped in bacon and chicory leaves stuffed with crab mayonnaise.
And then suddenly, they were here, the bridal party, arriving to applause and laughter as they made their way down the dunes, led by Jake and Robyn, followed by Mick and Sheila, Rocky and Tina, and Clover and Ethan.
Gwen had never seen Robyn look so radiant or Jake look so proud. Her heart swelled with affection and pride and joy as she watched them greet their guests: Robyn’s friends from school, Jake’s mates from college, some of their favourite clients, Bruno Thorne and his wife, Marley and her wife, a few of their neighbours from the Shedquarters. The guest list had grown sneakily. Of course it had, as all guest lists do.
And then Robyn spotted her and ran up, flinging her arms around her.
‘Oh Gwen,’ she cried. ‘It’s more wonderful than I could ever have imagined.’
Jake was at her side too. ‘This is incredible,’ he told her.
‘Just enjoy your day,’ said Gwen, who shied away from attention when it came down to it. ‘And congratulations.’
‘But I can’t thank you enough,’ said Robyn, moved to tears by the effort her friend had gone to. ‘If it had been left to me, there’d have been a few sausage rolls and a bowl of sangria.’
‘You can thank Boyd,’ said Gwen. ‘The poor man has been run ragged for the past week, following my instructions.’
‘Boyd?’ said Robyn, her eyes gleaming with interest. ‘Is he here?’
‘No,’ said Gwen. ‘He’s gone home to have a rest, I think.’
‘You could have invited him.’
Gwen hesitated. ‘No. I mean, you don’t really know him. This is only close friends.’
‘Gwen,’ said Robyn. ‘He would have been welcome.’
There was a faint pink tinge to Gwen’s cheek. ‘There’s plenty of time,’ she smiled.
Before long, everyone was sitting or lying somewhere on the beach, diving into the food, opening bottles, passing around the platters. The afternoon passed in a blur of bliss, even Mouse and Lara in seventh heaven as they bounded around looking for scraps.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Tina to Rocky as they sat on a rug together. ‘I might sell the business. The wear and tear is getting to me. I’ve already got RSI and I can’t stand up all day any more. I just can’t. I think Tomas would be keen to buy the business off me.’
‘Well,’ said Rocky. ‘If you think you’re ready for retirement?’
‘No!’ She looked horrified. ‘Just semi. I could stay on as consultant and do one or two days a week for my oldest clients.’
‘Can you afford to do that?’
It was great, he thought, that she trusted him enough to have a conversation like this.
‘I can sell my house. It’s far too big now. And get a flat. A nice one. But a lock-up and leave.’
‘Leave?’
‘Once the baby’s here, I want to try and spend more time here. I want to be a hands-on granny. I don’t want to miss out.’ A shadow flittered across her face. ‘I know you might think that after what I did, I don’t deserve it.’
‘No,’ said Rocky. ‘I don’t think like that. You know I don’t.’
‘I might not have been the best mother to Jake and Ethan, but maybe I can make up for it.’
Rocky reached out and squeezed her hand. He didn’t say anything, and she wasn’t expecting total absolution, but she felt comforted. It would take time, but the wounds she had inflicted on her family were starting to heal already.
She wanted to do more at the refuge too. She would keep doing that until the day her fingers seized up altogether. It was the women there who had made her realise how lucky she had been. And how spoiled. How she had turned her back on something real and honest just because it hadn’t quite suited her. Was it too late to atone?
‘Don’t rush into anything,’ Rocky advised her. ‘Find a way of winding down before you sell.’
She looked at him. He was so wise. She hoped that the woman he had started to see would appreciate him. He’d told her about Melissa, about how she’d run out on him after their first date. She was lucky he was giving her a second chance. But that was Rocky. Endlessly forgiving.
She sighed. She would never find another Rocky. But she was glad to have him back in her life, and for them to be a team as both parents and grandparents.
After everyone had eaten, Gwen brought out the cake and set it on a table for Robyn and Jake to cut. Sheila held her breath, convinced it was going to topple over, but it looked splendid, and everyone clapped as the pair of them cut down through the layers, both of their hands on the knife.
And then Robyn stepped forward to speak.
‘We agreed on no long speeches, because we wanted to keep things informal. But I just want to say a big thank you to my mum Sheila for the cake, even though I shouldn’t really eat it because it’s soaked in rum. But thank you, Mum, for the most beautiful cake, but more importantly for being the best mum in all the world.’
She ran over and threw her arms around Sheila’s neck, suddenly overwhelmed with love for her and wanting to be sure she knew exactly how important she was. She hugged her dad too.
‘You’re the best dad in the world, too,’ she whispered to him, and Mick patted her. She didn’t have to say it in front of everyone and embarrass him. He knew.
Jake went on to thank everyone else, especially Gwen, and everyone clapped and cheered as she took a curtsey, rather hating the attention. But the day had been just what she planned, right down to the last tiny detail. And the surprises weren’t over yet.
As the sun began to go down, Gwen lit two fire-pits then handed around skewers loaded with plump marshmallows for everyone to toast. The flickering flames filled the air with a sweet smoke. Ethan came and sat cross-legged on the beach hut steps and began to strum his guitar. Clover went and sat next to him. They looked like something out of a video, all golden and tousled and glamorous, Ethan with his tie undone and his shirt untucked, and Clover with her hair tumbling down over her bare shoulders.
Robyn and Jake looked at each other, confused. ‘What’s going on?’
And Clover and Ethan began to sing, their two voices mingling in a duet, smiling at the lyrics as they batted the words back and forth to ‘I Got You, Babe’, Ethan’s voice husky and rough, Clover’s sweet as honey, both of them a little tentative at first, but as the audience cheered them on, they grew more confident. They had chemistry, and although it was raw, it was charming.
Jake held out his hand to his bride, and everyone gathered around as they started to dance, barefoot and starry-eyed. Jake, conscious of his two left feet, was slightly awkward at first but held his bride in his arms nevertheless, spinning her round and pulling her
into him then bending her back to rapturous applause.
‘I had no idea those guys could sing,’ said Robyn.
‘This is Ethan’s gift to us,’ laughed Jake. ‘He’s been training up your sister.’
‘I love it!’ Robyn threw her head back, laughing, and looked up at the sky. The sun was starting to drop, a ball of fiery coral throwing out burnt orange and hot pink over the horizon as the rest of the wedding party joined in the dancing.
And then suddenly there was the noise of an engine. She looked out to sea. A man in a white cap was driving a motorised inflatable boat towards them. It was long and sleek, and carved through the waves at high speed, flashing white and silver, before coming to a halt just off the shore.
‘It’s Boyd!’ she said, recognising the boat he had been negotiating to buy the day she’d first met him.
‘It’s time for you to leave,’ said Jake. ‘It’s been a long day. A long week. Come on.’
He bent down and scooped her up in his arms, just as he had that morning only a few weeks ago, when he’d dropped her in the sea. She put her arms around his neck out of instinct.
‘But I need to say goodbye to everyone,’ she protested.
‘Nope. You’ll be here all night if you do that.’
He stepped into the sea.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Wait and see.’
Jake was up to his thighs in water when they got to the side of the boat. Boyd, resplendent in a navy blazer with brass buttons, leaned over to greet them.
‘Captain Boyd, at your service,’ he said.
‘Did Gwen put you up to this?’ asked Robyn.
‘Maybe,’ he said with a grin, and reached out a hand to help her on board. She could sense there was no point in protesting, but sat down in her seat and buckled herself in. Jake clambered in and sat next to her.
A Wedding at the Beach Hut: The escapist and feel-good read of 2020 from the bestselling author of THE BEACH HUT Page 29
