Page 5 of Coming Home to Inishbeg Cove

Chapter 4

Sarah

Through the car window, I watched the waves rise like seahorses as they raced towards the shoreline. As we neared St Brigid’s church, Mrs Manning reached across the seat and gave my hand a tight squeeze.

‘Nearly there now, my dear.’

Beads of sweat broke out across my forehead and I thought I might be sick all over my mother’s wedding dress.

When we reached the church, Tadgh hopped out of the driver’s seat and came around to open the rear door. Before he had even touched the handle, I pushed it open myself and rushed out past him to gulp down fresh air.

‘Are you okay, Sarah?’ he asked, tilting his head to the side. ‘You’re very pale…’

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

‘Can’t wait another minute to marry Greg, eh?’ He laughed, and I smiled weakly.

He went around to the other side to help Mrs Manning out. Once she was steady on her stick, we set off towards the church.

When we appeared under the floral garland that framed the arched doorway, there was a collective gasp. I had made the garland myself from the roses in Mrs Manning’s garden, twined with ivy I had taken from the cottage walls. A breeze lifted my veil, which rippled out behind me on the wind. I heard Pachelbel’s ‘Canon in D’ begin. It felt as though my stomach was filled with a million butterflies, careering around wildly inside me.

‘Ready?’ Mrs Manning said, turning to look at me.

I took a deep breath and gripped her arm and, with my heart thumping wildly, we began walking. My forehead and the back of my neck were damp and clammy. I was pretty sure that all the make-up that Caoimhe had carefully applied earlier was now running down my face.

The aisle felt excruciatingly long – even longer because we were walking at Mrs Manning’s pace. It felt as though everyone’s eyes were boring into me, and I couldn’t help wondering if they had guessed my secret.

Eventually Greg’s smiling face came into view at the altar but, instead of feeling excitement, my stomach heaved. I took a deep breath, willing myself to stay calm. When we reached him, Greg leant over and hugged Mrs Manning before taking my hand and whispering, ‘You look beautiful. Ready to start the rest of our lives?’ He grinned at me and my heart twisted.

‘We are here today to celebrate the love of two very special people...’ Father Byrne announced as he began our wedding ceremony.

As we listened to the readings and prayers, all carefully selected by Greg and me, my mind kept returning to the secret I was keeping from him. I was going to have to tell him today; I just hoped it wouldn’t ruin our wedding day.

Suddenly I was being nudged gently. ‘Sarah – the vows…’ the elderly priest prompted. I realised with a start that I had been miles away. A ripple of laughter broke out among the guests. I quickly gathered myself.

‘Er ... I, Sarah…’ My voice trembled, and Greg smiled at me. ‘…take you, Greg, to be my husband, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, all the days of our lives.’

Greg squeezed my hand reassuringly.

‘What God joins together, man must not separate. I now pronounce you husband and wife,’ Father Byrne announced. A rapturous cheer broke out around the church.

Despite my worries, it was hard not to get swept up in the goodwill radiating from everyone. We went out into the churchyard, where the villagers showered us with confetti. The May sun shone brightly from the aquamarine sky, broken only by the wispiest of pulled candyfloss clouds. The sea twinkled in the cove and white fishing boats bobbed lazily, as if they were joining in on the merriment too.

We walked the short distance to the village hall. As we got closer, I saw that it had been transformed. Pastel-coloured bunting streamed down from the roof, sloping towards the ground in long, criss-crossing lines. In front of the hall, rows of spindly gold chairs were tucked neatly under three long tables, which were covered in white linen cloths. Vases blossomed with hydrangeas and the fuchsias that grew wild in all the hedgerows around the village. As I got closer to the tables I noticed that a simple wildflower decorated each place setting. I was truly speechless. I had left the decorating in Ruairí’s capable hands, but this was beyond my wildest dreams. He had taken an ordinary parish hall and transformed it into a venue worthy of a magazine spread, with the cove as the perfect backdrop. Gulls screeched and caterwauled across the brilliant sky, chasing the fishing boats, and I felt a contentment that I was in my village, with all the people I loved around me. This was happiness. Then I remembered my secret.

‘I told you we’d make it special,’ Ruairí said, catching my eye and winking.

‘You are amazing, thank you so much.’ I planted a kiss on his cheek. ‘I couldn’t have dreamed of anywhere nicer.’ Suddenly I was overcome by emotion.

‘It was all the villagers’ hard work,’ he said modestly. ‘We wanted everything to be perfect for you and Greg.’

We took our places and Tadgh treated us to a feast of shellfish and fillet steak with baby potatoes. There were crab claws, wild Atlantic cod, and the freshest garden vegetables. The food kept coming.

After we had finished eating, Greg stood up and tapped a spoon against his glass.

‘I thought we weren’t doing any speeches?’ I whispered.

‘I know, but today has been amazing. I feel I have to say a few words to thank everyone.’