Now I’ve come this far I may as well hear it all.
Sav leans his shoulder on the door frame. ‘You’d gone upstairs; the baby was in her Moses basket; Mum was sorting the washing… I saw my chance and it was over in a second.’
I let out a moan. ‘I can’t believe the level of betrayal… from both of you.’
Sav tilts his head on one side. ‘I brought him back in the end though, didn’t I? Any earlier could have been a disaster. You’re much more likely to work as a couple now you’re older.’
I’m talking through gritted teeth. ‘We are categorically never getting together.’
Sav looks up at the ceiling. ‘Keep your hair on. After all, you must have got on okay at one time considering…’ He catches sight of my explosive expression and hurries on. ‘Let me get you a coffee from Erica’s. It’s the least I can do.’
I mutter to him, ‘The least you can do is stay away from me for the rest of my life.’ I get to my feet, force my chin up and look them both in the eye in turn. ‘You know I’ll never trust either of you ever again?’
Sav steps back to let me pass and calls after me down the hall, ‘Go home and sleep on it, Maevey. Take it from me, bad things always seem better in the morning. I’ll shout you that coffee tomorrow.’
And with Sav’s advice resounding in my ears, I hurry out into the wind and try to make sense of what I’ve just heard.
25
Brides by the Sea, St Aidan, Cornwall
The wrong trousers
Sunday
‘Maeve, if you’re free later, Coast FM would like a word!’
When I walk along the mews first thing on Sunday morning, the shop door is wide open and Poppy’s calling to me from beside a stall which is already decked with flowers, lanterns and stacks of mini brownies and iced cake cubes.
The buzz of today’s extravaganza must have come early, because yesterday every bridal appointment was taken. I was still reeling from Friday evening’s shock, but I managed to tell Tia before the brides arrived, and then the day at the shop took my mind off it. As I swished the changing room curtains backwards and forwards, helped brides in and out of dresses and handed white chocolate cookies and glasses of fizz to besties and brides’ mums, it reminded me that most people shop for the dresses after they’ve booked their venues. Later, as we were sorting out things to take to the beach hut for today, it hit me that interest will be limited. This will be a slow-burn project, and I’ve got to be patient, but at least that takes the immediate pressure off for the extravaganza. Tia is down on the rota to set up and spend the day with me at Windflowers, and with the amount Jess has ordered in from Poppy, we’re all set for a day of chat while we eat our weight in cake.
I head for the shop door and smile at Poppy. ‘Good joke about the radio.’
She pops a piece of brownie into my hand. ‘It’s real, I promise. I messaged you when the radio reporter called in earlier.’
I dig into my bag and pull out my phone. ‘Damn, it’s still on silent. I’ve missed six messages from Tia too.’
Poppy nods. ‘They’re to say Thom’s fallen off his bike. He’s okay but Tia’s taken him to A&E in Truro so she won’t be here to help.’
‘Jeez!’
Poppy carries on. ‘There’s no need to worry. I put the cake supplies with the drinks, fresh flowers and the dresses in the office, and Jess has organised a stand-in helper.’ She looks past me along the cobbled street. ‘Looks like this is them now.’
I watch a dark blue Golf reversing towards us and my tummy drops like a lift. ‘But that’s Lando’s car!’
Poppy shakes her head. ‘Jess is incorrigible. She’s really taken you two and her summer love initiative to heart.’
As the car door opens and Lando climbs out, I get in first. ‘I can’t spend the whole day…’
I bite my tongue and stop. I’m not shouting about DNA tests and betrayals down the mews with the whole town out listening.
Lando raises a quizzical eyebrow, and I regroup.
‘I’d rather not dress as a bride and groom!’
If my next eight hours are pencilled in with Lando, I’d rather the ground swallowed me, but I can’t say that either.
Lando inspects a cloud. ‘Turning up as a groom wasn’t in my remit, but if you’re up for that, why not?’
