38
‘Finula, we can’t fit any more in.’ Marcus slammed the boot down.
‘Oh, I was just going to—’
‘No more,’ he cut in firmly, ‘seriously, it’ll be a miracle if this thing sets off – it’s packed to the rafters.’ Impatience was clear in his voice. Little wonder, Finula had been up since 6am, packing and fussing over what to take to Treweham. After what seemed like an age of planning and arranging to Marcus, the wedding would finally be upon them in a few short days.
They were staying at The Templar for a few days beforehand to meet Finula’s family who would also be there. Marcus’ aunty and a couple of cousins from Ireland were the only members of his family attending the wedding and were stopping in nearby accommodation. Secretly, if Marcus had had his way, he and Finula would have just gone away quietly and come back married, without any of this fuss. No chance of that though, not with his future father-in-law. Whilst he loved Dermot dearly and Dermot treated him like a son, Marcus sometimes longed for the quiet life whilst visiting him, instead of the full-on bonhomie that he knew to expect. It was good to know how welcomed they’d be, but it could be a little too over the top at times.
He imagined the pre-wedding celebrations in the pub, Dermot slapping backs, ordering drinks, roaring with laughter, introducing him to everyone and him having to play the dutiful son-in-law, when all he really wanted deep down was a quiet affair with just his wife-to-be. He looked at Finula and saw the stress etched in her face. Was it really what she wanted? A touch of resentment niggled at him. Had they been perhaps a little bullied into this family wedding?
His concerns soon evaporated once they were on the road and within distance of Treweham. He could sense the anticipation build inside Finula.
‘I can’t believe the wedding’s about to arrive,’ she said excitedly, sitting forward in her seat. ‘It’s been ages since I’ve seen my aunties and uncles.’
Marcus turned sideways for a moment. ‘Looking forward to it then?’ He smiled.
‘Of course! Aren’t you?’
‘Having a sexy redhead for a wife – you kidding?’ he joked.
He realised his previous misgivings had been selfish. He couldn’t possibly have expected Finula to have a wedding without her father and family. It wouldn’t have been fair at all, and, a voice inside instructed him, it was one day. Once he and Finula were married, they had the rest of their lives together. At this point Marcus made a conscious decision to throw himself into it and accept Dermot’s hospitality with the good cheer in which it was intended.
True to form, Dermot was there at the front entrance to welcome them. Marcus’ heart squeezed when seeing Finula hurry out of the Range Rover and rush into his arms.
‘How you doing, Marcus?’ He beamed, which poked Marcus’ guilty conscience.
‘Fine, Dermot.’ He smiled widely. ‘And yourself?’
‘Never better, busy, but never better.’ He guided them into The Templar. On entering the bar, Finula’s eyes instantly homed in on the marquee being erected on the back lawns, through the patio doors.
‘Oh, Dad, it’s going to be fab!’ she exclaimed. Marcus felt another stab of guilt.
‘To be sure it is, Fin, nothing but the best for my daughter,’ he replied proudly. Then he turned to Marcus. ‘I believe you’re stopping at Treweham Hall the night before?’
‘Yes—’ Marcus nodded ‘—probably best,’ and he gave a wry grin making Dermot throw his head back in laughter.
‘Good man ya’self!’ he exclaimed. ‘Best not to get under the bride-to-be’s feet.’
Marcus gave a tight smile in response. Finula by this time had moved to the patio doors to get a better view.
‘I think I’ll just—’
‘They know what they’re doing, Finula,’ warned Dermot. ‘Leave them to it.’ He really didn’t want Finula attempting to tell Christie, who was overseeing operations outside, what to do. He’d wisely learnt both girls had minds of their own and he didn’t fancy a clash of opinions.
‘Come on, Finula, let’s get unpacked,’ coaxed Marcus, knowing full well what Dermot was trying to avoid. Finula hesitated, then he quickly added, ‘Your dress, it’ll need hanging before it creases.’
‘Oh my God, you’re right!’ gushed Finula, then rushed back to the car.
Outside on the lawns, Christie was having a nightmare. To top it all, she’d seen Finula hovering by the doors out of the corner of her eye and willed her to stay away. The last thing she needed was an extra pair of critical eyes. Luckily, Daniel had offered a hand, bugger all use Dermot would be once his relatives arrived. Playing number-one host was all well and good, but certain things needed doing, and they weren’t all one-man jobs.
This served as a warning to Christie. How would she fare once Dermot left The Templar? A sense of foreboding settled in her, making her more tense. She looked across at Daniel who was carrying tables and positioning them according to the plan she had drawn up. Christie noticed he seemed a little less edgy, probably due to him being so absorbed with the works at Keeper’s Cottage. Also, Emily had rung him several times since moving to Liverpool, however temporary that may be, as Daniel had told her the appeal was due to be listed imminently. Judging by his raised spirits, he obviously thought the outcome would be favourable. She sincerely hoped it would.
Jenna, it appeared, was playing nicely and being reasonable. She had put Daniel’s mobile number in her phone under “Daddy” and taught Emily how to ring him whenever she wanted. Often Daniel’s mobile would ring when he was busy on site working, but he always made time to speak to his little girl. He was also due to pick Emily up next week and he’d booked a couple of nights at The Templar, as Emily had wished for. Christie too, was looking forward to seeing her again and could only imagine how hard it must be for Daniel.
She caught his eye and he winked back, making her heart skip a beat. They had shared another night together since his return to Treweham and it still felt rather clandestine, trying to hide it from Dermot. Silly really, she thought, they were both grown, consenting adults and it was after all her pub. Even so, she was reluctant for all the staff and locals to know just yet, wanting to set the right tone as the new owner of The Templar; and technically, she was still married. That sense of foreboding reared its ugly head again.
