‘Here goes,’ I say to him. ‘I’m nervous.’
‘Don’t be,’ he says, kissing my hand. ‘My mum is going to love you.’
We step out of the car and the light breeze blows my yellow dress into the wind as the trees rustle around us, and Mrs Campbell comes our way.
‘You’re so, so very welcome!’ she calls as she slowly walks to greet us. She is waxy in her complexion, but her ferocity and determination to beat cancer again, now for the third time, gives me such a sense of wonder. I can tell immediately she’s a very strong lady who has seen it all.
‘Mum, I’m so, so delighted to finally introduce you to my beautiful fiancée, Kate,’ David says, and I blink back tears at hearing him say those words for the very first time.
‘Your fiancée?’ she says, clasping her hands to her chest in delight. ‘Oh, that’s the best news and such a great surprise! When did this happen?’
‘Just about an hour ago, so you’re the very first person to know, Mrs Campbell,’ I explain as I hold out my hand for her to see the exceptional ring David has had made for me. ‘He just surprised me today on the way here when we stopped off by the Causeway, so excuse me if I’m still in shock.’
Martha Campbell shakes her head and grins as her fine blonde hair wisps out from under a coloured headscarf in the light spring breeze. She was a beauty in her day, I can tell, and she radiates glamour, warmth and sophistication, like an older Grace Kelly in her royal blue woollen dress. I can see immediately why David has so much love for her.
‘I just know you two are going to adore each other,’ he says with ease.
‘It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs Campbell,’ I say to her, my flurry of nerves calming with the warmth in her eyes. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Ah, I’ve good days and bad days, Kate, but every soldier has to fight her own battle,’ she says, guiding us in through the front door of her beautiful home. ‘Your father is in the drawing room, David. Go ahead on in. This is just wonderful news altogether!’
If being with Martha Campbell is like standing beneath a gentle ray of sunshine, all I can say about being in the same room as David’s father is that it’s like being locked up in a refrigerated room.
I could almost bet that if I blew out some breath I could see it linger in the cold air that surrounds him.
‘Everything has already been decided. It was known long ago what each person would be. So there’s no use arguing with God about your destiny,’ he quotes to us as we sit around the dining-room table having afternoon tea. ‘Ecclesiastes 6:1.’
He has become more shrunken in his old age, like an old Churchill dog squashed into his black shirt and trousers. I wonder how someone with Martha’s inner and outward beauty could ever have ended up with someone as bitter and twisted as he is. David told me how he inherited money which changed him almost overnight, giving him a sense of great power and confidence towards anyone who dared go against his staunch beliefs.
‘I’ll cut to the chase and tell you both this,’ he says, before spluttering and coughing into a handkerchief. ‘I’d already heard rumours about your fledgling romance, but I decided to let fate and the hand of God take care of things, which he will of course. Whatever is meant to be is all up to him; it’s not for me to interfere.’
I glance at David as I nibble on a very delicate salmon and cucumber sandwich, afraid of putting my elbows in the wrong place or saying something out of line, and terrified even more that David’s frustration with his dad could blow up at any moment.
‘If that makes it easier for you to swallow, then so be it,’ David says, sitting back in his chair and stretching his arms up high above him. He is relatively calm so far, making him very much at home in the most exquisite surroundings, which feel like the very opposite of any sense of home I’ve ever known. ‘Looks like news spreads as fast as it always did around here. It’s good we give the locals something to gossip about.’
Reverend Campbell clasps his hands and leans his elbows on the table.
‘It’s not the gossips or whispers, but the sound of the underground you should be more concerned about,’ old Bob says, looking directly my way. ‘I did warn you many years ago, Kate. There was good reason behind my wishes and what I instructed on you that day. Did you forget what I said, or are you just ignoring it in the hope it will all go away?’
My heart jumps at the direct question and David pushes back his heavy, velvet-seated mahogany chair. I wince as it scrapes along the highly polished floor.
‘You will never instruct her again!’ he says, standing up. ‘And don’t ever speak to her in such a tone, ever!’
‘Kate, why don’t I show you the garden?’ says Martha, ever so calmly, which indicates she has witnessed scenes like this before. ‘It’s so peaceful out there. Let’s go for a walk.’
I stand up, not knowing what to do.
‘No, Mum, I want you to hear this too,’ says David, standing tall and proud beside me. He puts his arm around me and juts out his chin. ‘This is it, all right? I want no more bullshit, no more threats, no more warnings. This is it. Either you accept us for who we are as a couple who will be married one day soon, or you don’t. It’s your call, Dad. It’s black or white. I don’t ever want to come here again to hear your snide quotes from the Bible or your idle warnings as you twiddle your thumbs and look down on me and Kate. You either take us as we are, or you don’t. There can be no in-between.’
‘Well, if it’s black or white you want, then it’s your choice! You can have your parents in your life, or your new fiancée!’ says Reverend Campbell, trying to grasp back control of the argument, and I hear his wife gasp from across the table. ‘There is no in-between, David, you’re right. And it’s your choice! It’s us or it’s her.’
He doesn’t even have it in him to say my name. I want to scream at him, but I won’t give him the pleasure of seeing how much he is hurting us both.
‘You don’t speak for me!’ says Martha, her beautiful face full of scorn. ‘David and Kate, he doesn’t mean it and, if he does, he doesn’t speak for me!’
‘I do mean it this time and I speak on behalf of my family which is within my rights!’ says the reverend, his voice rising. ‘It’s your family, David, or it’s her!’
He sharply points at me this time and I jolt backwards. David clenches his fists and I hold onto his arm for fear that he might launch himself at the old man.
