Wednesday
It’s Wednesday afternoon before we hit the perfect storm of spaces in everyone’s diaries and enough settled weather to make an outing to the Surf Shack worthwhile. The delay means I’ve also had time to work out how I’m going to handle spending time with Lando on photo shoots when he brings up such a mix of emotions.
The revelations about his family’s involvement with Sav have unleashed some long-buried yet ambiguous feelings about his wealth. Mum always taught us that having less than someone else materially or financially was never a reason to feel inferior, but that was always hard to reconcile when Lando’s talents, confidence, and easy access to large amounts of cash appeared to be linked so closely to his family fortune.
Looking back, it’s funny to see how the material discrepancy had such a different effect on each of us siblings. Sav wanted to emulate it and became ambitious to strive until he was rich, but I found the whole concept of excess less attractive. Far from wanting it for myself, the more I understood the wider implications of wealth and exploitation, the more I grew to dislike it. So where Sav was embracing and applauding Lando’s background, I didn’t hold back on my criticism. And the more of Lando I see now, the closer those old flashes of anger and irritation are to the surface.
Running alongside that is the memory of all those teenage years of unrequited adoration; the way my heart felt as if it was being wrung out. As a full-grown adult, I’d hate to feel like that.
And lastly, the big one; now it’s obvious Lando is here for more than a fleeting visit I have to somehow find a way to tell him that Nemmie is his. It would be wrong to keep putting it off.
Which all amounts to a lot.
My immediate survival tactic with the shoots is to leave my personal feelings out, put any fears about my life being turned upside down to one side, and simply treat this as a job. So long as we approach this in a purely professional way, I should be able to mark my boundaries clearly and stop any accidental spillage into my family life or emotions before it even starts. I simply need to keep my cool long enough to decide how I’m going to move forward. That’s the plan anyway. I just hope it works.
After deliberating, Tia decides to come as herself rather than a bride so she can concentrate on setting up the pictures, and Sera finds me a simple dress with layers of fine cotton that slips on and falls softly down to break on the silver Salt-Water sandals Tia has lent me. Admittedly the plunging neckline exposes way more cleavage than I’d choose, but that’s more than offset by the long sleeves that keep out the May breeze. Once they tie a cute white lawn bow around my head and push Angel’s lead into my hand, we’re good to go.
I know Angel being here is immediately blurring the line between home and work, but when Tia and Sera mentioned how much a large white dog would add to the photos, I jumped at the chance to bring him. Not only will he be an ideal buffer between Lando and me, but he’ll also let us get straight on to poses that look real. Believe me, anything that gets this over faster is worth embracing.
We pick up Lando on his way down from menswear, looking super cool in a white open-neck shirt, light blue suit and aviator shades. I get the same uncontrollable shuddering whenever I see him, but I suspect that’s down to fear about the future rather than anything lingering from the past. Then we take the short cut down the alleyways and steps so we reach the dunes without meeting too many locals, and set off across an almost deserted beach, where the retreating tide has left the sand flats ribbed with watermarks.
We pause by the remnants of an old jetty and get some lovely shots, which are mostly about the deep blue sky. Then we run down to the sea where the lines of breakers are gently curving around the bay and the small frothy waves are rolling up and down along the waterline.
Angel is every bit of the gift I hoped he’d be. Instead of Lando and I standing rigid while we try to pretend there aren’t twenty years of animosity and awkwardness to get over, Lando is holding up sticks to throw while Angel and I look on. If my loving expression is directed at Angel rather than Lando, no one is going to know that when they look at the final pictures.
We get to the randomly built pile of driftwood and planks with its broad sunny terraces known as the Surf Shack, and Tia carries on snapping while we stand at the counter selecting the biggest ice cream sundaes they have. Then we choose a table in an empty corner on the outside deck, do a few more close-ups of us pouring over the menu, have a quick whizz through Tia’s phone to see how we’re doing– not bad– and finally relax in our aluminium bistro chairs to wait for our order.
For the first time this afternoon we aren’t totally focused on the job, and I’m trying to work out what I can tell Lando about Angel to fill the silence when the man himself gets in there first.
‘Apparently we do weddings too.’
Lando is idly tapping the menu card on the table, watching the clouds scudding across the sky as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
I try to overlook that he’s still every bit as stunning as ever, which is, after all, why Jess has got him here in the first place, and stare at him sideways. ‘Would you like to tell us more?’
He leans back and pulls down the corners of his mouth. ‘The Silver Meadows glamping site is fully licensed for marriages thanks to a stone structure at the edge of the meadow.’ He holds out his hands. ‘And before you say it, I don’t have the first idea what weddings involve.’
I’m puzzled. ‘How have you missed all your friends getting married?’
He gives a shrug. ‘When I was travelling and checking out conservation projects, there was no time to break off for trivial events like marriages.’
Tia exchanges glances with me. ‘It fits that your place is a meadow rather than a plain old field.’
He nods. ‘We have silent discos, a fire pit and a horse box bar.’
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. ‘State of the art shizzle then?’ I have no idea why this is needling me when it’s probably been going on for ages, but it feels as if he’s stealing my wedding venue thunder.
He carries on. ‘Obviously my offer of help with the beach hut still stands, but technically we’ll be in direct competition.’
Tia gives a cough. ‘Up until now the local wedding venues have all offered very different experiences and price points, and they’ve always tried to support each other.’
He gives a cough. ‘I’m sure we’ll be able to continue that tradition.’
I shrug. ‘I’m afraid as the freshest, newest, teensiest gem in the St Aidan wedding crown, I may have the advantage.’ I give him a second to take that in. ‘Your location is spectacular, but as Poppy will tell you, tents and agricultural bars aren’t as hot as they once were.’
His forehead creases. ‘I’m completely out of my depth. I’m going to have to make use of your expertise.’
Tia grins at me. ‘We’ll have to ask Jess if she’ll allow a consultation.’
