‘The facilities onboard are basic, but mostly I use the very nice shower block behind the harbour master’s office.’ Out of the corner of my eye his lips could be twitching. ‘There might not always be a power shower, but I have total freedom and worldwide travel, plenty of fresh air and challenges, and no two days are ever the same.’
‘Except when you’re sitting in St Aidan harbour.’ Just saying. He’s been here weeks now. And if I sound a bit like I’m picking him up on every little thing, I am. Because however much we’re charging him, it’s not enough. To be brutally honest, I’m still annoyed that he thought I wasn’t good enough for him first time around.
‘You got me there.’ He’s smiling to himself now.
I grab my opportunity and go for it. ‘So does the bride sail too?’
His smile widens. ‘She loves it even more than I do.’
Result! I start my mental list with ‘tanned and outdoorsy’. Just like him. Add in ‘doesn’t mind teensy bathrooms’. But before I get to remark how much they have in common, he’s crossing his ankles and carrying on.
‘From what I’ve seen so far, weddings don’t sound like anything I’ll have an aptitude for.’ It’s a shame he’s already so negative.
I pull a face. ‘In which case, I suggest you start learning. The details are what make the day.’
His face drops. ‘You can’t be serious?’
I can’t help teasing him. ‘They don’t give marriage certificates out to people unless they put the hours in.’
He’s straight back at me. ‘And have you got one of those? I mean, are you?’
‘Am I what? Married?Me?!’ I’m so surprised, I stop steering and bump up the verge. Then I straighten up and flash him a smile. ‘Not at the moment. So I haven’t even got that piece of paper.’
I’m not going to go into how long my wedding to Ben was pending and how many hours of wedding planning practice I had there. How I woke up every New Year’s Day for five years and vowed that this would be the year. How with every new effort I’d search out better and more impressive venues, each time hoping this would be the one to get Ben onboard and keep him there. But the pattern was always the same. He was all for it on the first visit, but by the time we came to book I’d lost him. Then I’d be back to looking again.
‘So what about that other thing … the one with the ring?’
I can’t help my high voice. ‘Even for a guy, that’s vague.’ For a groom it’s spectacular, but to be fair when it comes to men having areas of wedding blankness, nothing will surprise me. ‘You mean the engagement?’
‘The one with the special hand?’
I flex my fingers on the steering wheel. ‘Third finger left side.’ A year on there’s still an indentation where my own ring used to be.
‘So how about that?’
As I look sideways and meet that dark gaze, I’m answering when I don’t mean to. ‘Only once.’ I shuffle in my seat. Remind myself he’s paying for my expertise not my life details. ‘Ancient history. It came to nothing and it’s way too complicated to go into.’
‘So there’s a story to tell?’
‘Definitely not today.’ Definitely not to him. And thankfully, the sign for Rose Hill village is coming up. ‘Not far now.’ The way this is going I can’t get there fast enough.
I swing the van into the pretty main street with its neat cottages, and can’t help smiling because the pots of pansies on the pavement by the brightly painted front doors are still so much the same as they always were my whole childhood. As we pass the end of the narrow lane where our cottage was, there’s the same surprise I always feel as it slides by. This is where I spent all my time until I was twenty-one, and yet apart from still being friends with Poppy and Immie, there’s very little trace now that we were ever here at all.
But one flash of those familiar grey-stone house fronts with their small-paned sash windows is enough to bring the memories rushing back. How they were pretty much all we saw for the years we were housebound. How the world shrank to the size of our front room as my mum was less able to do things. How determined and full of fight my mum was to begin with. How by the end that strength had ebbed into mute acceptance.
‘Everything okay, Milla?’
I jump as Nic’s deep voice penetrates my daze. ‘Fine. Just hoping you’ll like what’s coming next.’
As we leave the village behind and roll down the lane towards the farm entrance, there’s a tingle zithering down my back as the hand-painted signs come into view. Finding lovely things to say about Poppy’s venue won’t be hard at all.
Something about doing this now brings it all back to me. There is a poignancy to it all. All those bursting feelings of optimism and hope I had when I first had an engagement ring on my finger and started to search for a venue. How naive and young and hopeful I was back then. I try to forget the sting and make myself upbeat again to launch into my pitch.
‘So, Daisy Hill Farm! In summer the pasture bursts with flowers, ox-eye daisies and buttercups waft in the wind.’ There should still be a few left by July. ‘Whether you go for a formal marquee or a laid-back tipi vibe, you won’t find anywhere more beautiful for a meadow wedding.’ I’m giving silent cheers, because I didn’t let Poppy down at all with that.
Nic sends me a sheepish look. ‘Sorry, I should have said earlier – definitely no fields.’
My stomach drops so far it hits the road, but I make my beam bright. ‘My fault, I should have checked.’ And now I will. ‘So are we actually ruling out everything farm-related, or just big expanses of grass?’
