‘I heard,’ she said. ‘We can’t get married unless I know that’s never going to happen again.’
‘It won’t,’ he breathed.
She could see anxiety in his eyes.
‘Will you go to rehab?’
‘Yes.’
‘Really go to rehab? Because if you don’t, I will leave you here or leave you when you refuse, and that will be it. I will never see you again, Stu Robicheaux.’
‘I’d do anything for you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ he said, holding her hands and looking down.
‘I need you to do it for yourself. It’s no good if you’re doing it for me. Yes, it will be for us and our future, but you have to do it for you.’
The celebrant gave a little cough as though to say she was aware something deep was being discussed, but that she had another gig on somewhere.
Meg nodded to her. ‘Just sorting something out,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Well?’
‘I’ll go, if you drive me.’
‘That’s a deal,’ said Meg.
Stu wasn’t the only gambler in the family.
She turned and smiled tremulously at her four daughters and she saw Chloe out of the corner of her eye. Poor Chloe, unsure of her welcome.
As if Meg Robicheaux would turn her husband’s secret daughter away. What sort of uncaring woman did they think she was? She was Meg, Queen of the Sorrento, ready to take on anything, modern goddess.
Savannah’s eyes were red but she looked less stressed. Something had gone on there. Eden was holding onto her twin as if holding her upright. Eden really held them all together, Meg thought. Who’d have believed it. She beamed at her daughters, her grandchildren and her dear friends.
‘I think we’re ready to get married,’ she said to the celebrant.
And amid the sun and the hazy scent of roses with insects buzzing lazily in the background, the string quartet playing, and family and friends watching them happily, Stu and Meg Robicheaux got married for a second time.
Civil ceremonies could go in many directions, and Meg and Stu had decided to make theirs like an ancient Celtic one. Outside, in the garden, under a beautiful woven trellis full of real and fake flowers and Vonnie’s pretty silken roses, the celebrant got them to hold hands.
‘This handfasting,’ she said as she tied the crios around their hands, ‘is a sign of a bond that cannot be broken. It is a sign of love that goes back thousands of years on this island. A love of the land and the creatures of the land, a belief in the goodness of people, a belief in the love of two people who have chosen to live their lives together. Your hands tied together, held together, symbolise this.’
Indy stood beside Savannah, her arm around her. Clary was in front of them. Chantal was holding her hand.
‘You know, Clary,’ whispered Chantal, ‘Rory and I are going to have a baby. Not yet but soon.’
‘Really?’ said Clary, whispering back.
‘Yes, really, and I think you should be godmother. You are very good with little children. Minnie and Daisy adore you.’
‘Me?’ Clary was astonished at the honour.
‘Yes, you,’ said Chantal. ‘You’ll be nearly eleven or twelve,’ she closed her eyes and prayed, ‘so, though you’ll be a cousin to the baby, you’ll be almost like an auntie, because you’re older. It’ll be super fun. You’re so wise and clever. Would you do that for us and the baby?’
‘I’d love that. Will you be getting a puppy too? My friend Alice in school got a baby and a puppy.’
‘You want a puppy?’ said Chantal.
‘Yes, but Daddy won’t let us …’ began Clary.
‘Oh, I think Mummy will let you get a puppy,’ said Chantal.
