Page 35 of The Last Saturday In July
‘Er, well, we could always …’ Jess glanced around. There wasn’t a lot else to do in the village, unless they went back to the river. Or stopped at one of the local cafés, and she’d drunk enough coffee for one day. ‘Okay.’
‘So, how do you know this place?’ Adam asked as they walked past a short row of small shops and pubs before they reached the centre of the village, with its small green, a stone statue of a local historical figure, and an old unused water pump.
‘How do I know it?’ Good question, how did she know it? ‘A friend of mine ... used to live here.’ God, that sounded a bit lame. ‘Well, she grew up in Dublin, but she moved here ... for a while.’ That was worse.
But Adam just nodded and pointed up ahead. ‘Nearly there.’
This felt wrong. She should definitely tell Adam the truth. But it wasn’t like she’d really lied to him – she just hadn’t mentioned that she was getting married. They stopped in the church grounds to admire the exterior. Jess had fallen in love with it on first sight. It was mid-nineteenth century Gothic revival and reminded her of a church a child would draw: a small, rectangular stone building, with a central spire and slanting, tiled roof. She supposed it was quite romantic to be marrying where Simon’s parents had tied the knot over thirty-five years ago. Even if it was a long way for most people to travel.
‘After you.’ Adam’s mouth quirked into a half smile, and Jess wondered if the weird feeling in her tummy was thanks to all the miniature jam scones she’d wolfed down at Linford.
Inside, the church was cool and empty, and Jess stood, inhaling the distinct smell of the wax candles and floor polish.
As Adam walked around, Jess stayed at the back, trying to imagine the dark pews decorated with ribbons and filled with their families and friends. She’d had a difficult time persuading Úna about the ribbons but, given that she couldn’t have flowers, she’d won that battle. Úna had got her way in almost every other aspect of the wedding, including the black-tie dress code, arguing that it would be simpler for guests. Jess knew her parents didn’t mind, but most of her mother’s extended family didn’t go in for very formal wear.
‘Jess?’
She looked up to see Adam standing at the top of the aisle. A shaft of late afternoon sun slanted through the window above his head, catching his dark hair.
He smiled. ‘You’re miles away.’
For a moment Jess couldn’t breathe. She tried to picture herself walking up the aisle, in her tightly corseted, billowing white dress. She tried to imagine Simon standing where Adam stood now: tall, angular and floppy-haired, in his dinner jacket and wing collar. Would he smile at her, the way Adam smiled? Briefly, she closed her eyes, trying to conjure up a mental image of Simon. But even with her eyes closed, the only person she could see was Adam.
Well, of course it is, Jess.He’s the only other person in the church. And if you’d told him about Simon, you wouldn’t be here right now.
Adam ran his hand over one of the benches. ‘Look at the detail. I love the craftsmanship of these old churches.’
She tried to remember what Simon had thought of the church, but he’d seemed satisfied that it was the right size and distance from Burlington House, where they’d have their reception. At the time, she’d teased him about his practicality. Now, it bothered her.
‘Maybe the Tourist Board should make this place an official stop,’ she said.
‘They could open a shop beside it and sell souvenirs.’
Adam gave her a long look. ‘You think the only thing I care about is the bottom line?’
Jess folded her arms. ‘You’re being groomed for a top position. You tell me.’
He walked down the aisle towards her. ‘Did Frank tell you I was made head of European operations earlier this year?’
‘No.’ Jess’s voice became less echoey as Adam approached. So, he wasn’t being groomed: he was already there. ‘You sure you’re not here to keep an eye on me?’ She tried for a casual tone, but her throat felt tight.
It was so quiet here, so peaceful. In the space between them, the sun scattered patterns on the intricately tiled floor.
Adam stopped at the last pew. ‘Frank told you the truth. I was due to come over later this year, but this wedding is too important to the group. And the reason I admire good craftsmanship is because my dad’s brother is a carpenter. He rebuilt our farmhouse and pretty much everything in it. He taught me woodwork when I was a kid.’ He tipped his head to one side. ‘You should see my dovetails.’
‘You grew up on a farm?’
He grinned. ‘You latched on to that bit?’
Jess kept her arms folded, wishing she didn’t feel so defensive around Adam. ‘You don’t look like a farmer.’
‘I grew up working on the farm, I’ve just never run it.’
‘So, let me guess. Farms are passed to the eldest son, and you lost out because you weren’t born first.’
‘Wrong on all counts.’ Adam leaned back against the bench. ‘Nowadays, farms are usually passed down to whoever in the familywill run them: sons or daughters. But, as it happens, I am the eldest.’
‘No pressure, then.’
