‘And I was going to show you that path along the river.’
‘Stop fussing – we’ll get to it all. I thought it was my job to nag, not yours.’
‘I’m not nagging, I?—’
Zoe stopped dead. As the church came into view, she could see the vicar seeing off what looked like the last of his congregation. Before she had time to come up with some kind of diversion tactic, he glanced her way, noticed and then offered a cheery wave.
‘Good morning, Zoe! Or should I say, good afternoon? We’re almost there, aren’t we?’
Cherie took that as her cue to march across. ‘I’m Zoe’s mum. Are you the vicar here? Can we look inside the church now that everyone’s gone? I’ve heard all about the drama with Georgia’s baby; might as well see the scene of the crime, so to speak.’
‘Oh yes,’ he said with a quick grin. ‘That was a day I won’t forget in a hurry. Zoe was marvellous. Cool, calm and collected –never seen anything quite like it. We were all so impressed, some of my helpers said she ought to run for the council. Come in…let me show you around. It’s not much, but it’s our spiritual home, and we’re very proud of it.’
It was the most enthusiastic Zoe had seen her mum all day as she followed the vicar inside, barely a glance behind to see if Zoe was with them.
‘So you’re Zoe’s mum,’ he said as he opened the doors. ‘I wouldn’t have said you were old enough. I can see the resemblance, though. Same nose and eyes.’
‘It’s often said.’ Cherie flushed with pride at the compliment. ‘I think we look younger because we’re so petite.’
‘And because you obviously take great care of your appearance,’ he said.
Cherie chuckled. ‘I suppose that’s a bit sinful, isn’t it? Pride – isn’t that one of the seven sins?’
‘I don’t think it’s sinful at all – you’re simply looking after the gifts that God bestowed on you, and I don’t think there’s a problem with that. If anything, it’s showing gratitude for what you have.’
‘That’s an interesting way to put it…’ Cherie threw a sideways look at Zoe. ‘I’ll remember that next time I mention getting Botox and my daughter tells me what a terrible idea it is.’
‘I’ve never said it’s a terrible idea per se,’ Zoe replied wearily. ‘I said it was a terrible idea to go to that cut-price beauty salon down the road, which, as far as I can tell, has no proper qualification to do invasive treatments at all. But if you want cellulitis, then go ahead.’
‘The font’ – the vicar went over to stand by an unassuming stone basin, decorated with raised patterns that had worn smooth over many years – ‘was a gift from a German dignitary in the eighteenth century. I think it’s rather lovely myself.’
‘It’s so old!’ Cherie cooed as she went to look. ‘Zoe! Just think, when you have your first baby christened, this will be the perfect church!’
Zoe tried not to wince at her mother’s clumsy statement. She’d forgotten about Zoe’s lost baby, or perhaps she hadn’t seen it as such a traumatic event as Zoe herself. After all, as even Zoe herself had said on more than one occasion since she’d qualified as a midwife, losing babies was a fact of life. It happened, and to some poor women it happened more than once, and that was just how it was. But that was before Zoe herself had lost a child, and now she saw it very differently. It was a fact of life, but that didn’t mean it was nothing. For her, it was an event she’d never get over, no matter if she got pregnant again.
‘It’s funny you should say that,’ the vicar continued as he led them to the large, ornate cross standing at the back of the pulpit. ‘It seems that St Cuthbert’s is developing quite a connection to your family.’
‘Oh, the Georgia thing?’ Zoe said, more sharply than she’d meant to. ‘Yes, but she’s not strictly family, more an old family friend. Ooh, what about this window? Mum, come and see this window here…isn’t it beautiful? Look at the colours, that sun rising behind the hill…Vicar, is that a local landmark?’
‘I think it is,’ he said, coming to look. ‘I don’t remember exactly where, though. No, actually I was talking about your father and his upcoming—’ The vicar seemed to realise his faux pas and cut his sentence short, but it was too late.
‘I don’t think—’ Zoe began desperately, even though she was afraid the damage was done. And just as she feared, her efforts were in vain because her mother’s expression suddenly transformed from pleasant interest to stony interrogation.
‘What’s this?’ She spun to face Zoe. ‘Your father’s…?’ She glanced from Zoe to the vicar, clearly waiting for one of them to enlighten her. ‘Your father’s what?’
‘Oh…’ the vicar said, his face losing two shades. ‘I only meant…’
‘What did you mean?’ Cherie demanded. ‘He’s not getting married here, surely?’
‘Well, he has enquired and…’ The vicar gulped as he looked at Zoe for help, help that she was unable to give. ‘He phoned to confirm the arrangements yesterday. I thought you knew. The banns have been read this morning, as a matter of fact. I did wonder if you’d come to hear them, but…’ His sentence trailed off as he looked back at Cherie. ‘As a matter of fact…’ he added, suddenly staring at his watch, ‘I have lots to do and I’m afraid…you’re welcome to finish your tour of the church, but I really must get on. It was very nice to meet…perhaps I’ll see you again…Well, I must get on. Goodbye.’
With that, he dashed towards a side door, leaving Zoe to pick up the pieces from the bomb he’d just detonated in their midst.
‘Mum, it’s nothing to do with me, and I didn’t know until?—’
‘It’s fine,’ Cherie said stiffly. ‘It makes no difference to me where they get married. They’re going to do it anyway – the fact it’s going to be in the village where our daughter has just moved to is neither here nor there. I suppose you’ll all be here? You and your brother and your boyfriend? All at the wedding? Here, in this church, in this village?’
‘I suppose so. I haven’t had a minute to ask Tom if he’s coming, but presumably he is.’
