Page 83 of Coming Home to Sturcombe Bay
After sitting still in the church for almost an hour, it wasn’t surprising that the young contingent needed to let off steam, playing chase around the graveyard and kicking up the leaves that were already beginning to fall.
A few of the adults glanced anxiously at Eva to see if she would scold them, but she just laughed. “Let them play. They’ve been as good as gold, and I don’t suppose the occupants of the graves will object.”
It was a lovely setting for the wedding photographs — the ancient grey stone touched by the golden afternoon sunlight, the soft shadows of the trees. The churchyard was filled with wild flowers — Eva only had narrow paths mowed between the graves, letting nature flourish.
The photographer was very good at her job, efficiently marshalling everyone into various groups while keeping up a flow of casual chat to maintain a relaxed atmosphere. There was a good deal of laughter, especially among the men, teasing each other with cheerful insults: “Stick him at the back. That ugly mug’ll crack your lens.”
Cassie had posed with Vicky, Lisa, Debbie and a few other female friends, and also in the large group with all the guests together. She stood watching for a while, then slipped away to stroll over to Nanna’s grave.
The headstone had been removed by the stonemason to add her name to that of her beloved husband. The coral bells and bee balm that they had planted after her funeral had begun to settle in and would thrive there for years to come.
As she stooped to pull out a stray weed a shadow fell beside her. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Liam.
“Hi. I thought you might be over here.”
“Yes.” She managed an awkward smile. “It looks odd without the headstone, but they’ll be putting it back in a week or so.”
“It must be strange without her. She’ll have left a big hole.”
“Yes. We keep saying we’ll make a start on sorting out her stuff, taking it up to one of the charity shops, but somehow we haven’t managed to get round to it yet. I think we’re all thinking that she’ll come in and tell us off for messing with her things!”
He laughed. “I can imagine. She was never going to be one to go gentle into that good night.”
“No.” She tugged at another errant weed. “But in the end, she did. She was smiling.”
“I see she’s next door but one to Molly Marston. Bit risky, putting those two old birds so close together. They’ll be biting chunks out of each other for the rest of eternity!”
“And enjoying every minute of it . . .” She glanced up as Vicky and Tom came over, holding hands, Vicky holding up the train of her dress out of the long grass.
“Hello.” Vicky’s smile was as bright as a thousand suns. “We just came over to say hello and thank you to Aunt Molly.” She glanced up at her new husband, her eyes shining. “If it hadn’t been for her, we’d never have met.”
There it was again, that look of love that passed between them.
Vicky hunkered down beside Molly’s grave, pulled a white rose out of her bouquet, and laid it beside the gravestone. “Thank you, Molly.”
The four of them stood for a moment in silence, then Vicky smiled up at Tom. “We’d better be going.” With a last glance at Molly’s grave she turned away.
“Shall we go?” Liam suggested.
“Oh . . . Yes, of course.” Something twisted in her heart. For one moment she found herself wishing that she and Liam could be like Vicky and Tom. So in love . . .
Afraid that she might blurt out something stupid, she excused herself quickly and hurried over to rejoin Lisa and the family.
Vicky and Tom had been driven off in a classic Beauford open-topped tourer, and everyone else followed them on foot down the short walk to the hotel.
The whole place had been transformed into a flower palace with tubs of white roses and blush-orange roses, canna lilies, myrtle and lily of the valley, their sweet scent filling the air.
Out on the terrace the photographer was doing her thing again, ushering all the family and friends into their places for more formal shots, while white-coated staff moved discreetly among the guests with trays of champagne flutes and canapes.
There were more photographs to be taken. Cassie found herself corralled into a large group photo. The children were ranged along the front. Robyn was with Liam and his parents, but spotting Cassie, she scampered along to stand with her, turning her angel face to beam up at her.
Cassie smiled and patted her shoulder, then slanted a rather awkward glance of apology towards Liam. He just rolled his eyes, laughing. That was a relief. She guessed that little Robyn often latched onto random adults, as many five-year-olds might do.
“Okay, everyone. That’ll do.” The photographer lowered her camera. “Thank you very much.”
“Time to toss the bouquet, Vicky!” someone called.
“Phew!” Lisa smiled with relief. “At last we can sit down. I knew I shouldn’t have worn these shoes.”
