Rosemerryn

by Rosemerryn (retail) (epub)

  ‘Bugger the villagers!’ Laura cried vehemently, using a rare swear word. ‘It’s my life we’re talking about here, my future. I’m glad none of my family are coming down from London, they would have thought me mad!’

  Taking her by the shoulders, Celeste gave Laura a hard shake. ‘I’ve just seen Spencer going into the churchyard with Ince. He looked terribly nervous. Now if he can turn up with everything going on contrary to his nature and wishes, so can you. I’m going to pop downstairs and pour you a stiff brandy.’

  ‘But Celeste,’ Laura clung to her to stop her leaving the room, ‘I’ve got to sleep with him tonight.’

  ‘Is that all that’s worrying you? You dolt, Laura. You don’t have to do it tonight. Spencer will probably be understanding and I bet he’s just as nervous about it as you are anyway. Just let things happen naturally in their own good time.’ Celeste was getting flustered. ‘Oh, do stop fussing, Laura. You’re ruining your make-up.’

  Laura dropped her hands and took the handkerchief from Celeste. Sniffing loudly, she dabbed her eyes and blew her nose. She was about to start crying and pleading again when there was a knock on the door.

  Unaware of the drama, Daisy entered, her broad, kindly face abeam with happiness. ‘Take a look at this,’ she breathed, moving aside and pointing out of the room.

  Celeste gasped in wonder and a strange peace settled on Laura’s heart. Vicki was standing there. She was dressed from head to foot in beribboned pink satin and silk, a coronet of ivory wax flowers sitting on her white-gold hair, a pompom of camellias, anemones and columbine, which Laura had made herself, hanging delicately from her net-gloved fingers.

  Here was the reason Laura was getting married today. ‘Oh, Vicki.’

  ‘Are you nearly ready, Laura?’ Vicki said, proudly twirling round in tiny dancing steps to show off her dress. ‘Andrew’s come to give you away.’

  ‘I only have to get my flowers.’ Laura gave her a watery smile, picking up her bouquet. She turned away to make a quick repair to her make-up and Celeste exchanged an emotional look with Daisy.

  Spencer was sitting on the front pew on the right-hand side of the large granite church, almost paralysed with numbness outside, the jitters within. He clutched Ince’s arm as if it was a lifeline. ‘H-have you got the r-ring?’

  Ince produced it from his pocket. ‘Safe and sound, stop worrying. It’s a good job I remembered you had to have one and we had time to go to Launceston yesterday.’

  ‘I hope it fits.’

  Ince turned the gold band between his finger and thumb. ‘It looks the right size to me.’

  ‘How would you know?’ Spencer snapped. Even at this time and in this place he was jealous of Ince and Laura’s special closeness. That had better stop after today. ‘Do I look all right?’

  ‘Course you do. You’ve got a new suit.’ Ince thought that in his nervousness, his fair hair cut and slicked back, Spencer looked much younger than his thirty-seven years, but owing to his present mood Ince kept the thought to himself.

  ‘Do you think I’m doing the right thing?’ Spencer whispered, tightening the grip on his friend’s arm. Jealous of him or not, he valued Ince’s honest opinion.

  ‘You’re the luckiest man in the world,’ Ince replied, then fell quiet. To have a wife and family of his own was his burning desire. While he had not had any luck finding the right woman, his introspective friend was getting a second bite of the cherry. To Laura, too. Ince’s torch for Laura didn’t shine as brightly as when he’d fallen in love with her but he would have jumped at the chance to change places with Spencer right now.

  Roslyn Farrow, the vicar’s wife, and one of the new hat brigade, came up to them and whispered, ‘The bride’s at the door. When my husband gives you the signal, come up to the altar.’

  The Reverend Kinsley Farrow was determined to give Laura and the villagers a wedding they would never forget. When the organist struck up the Wedding March, he followed the cross-bearer and the nine-strong choir up the aisle, a few feet in front of the bridal party. When he reached the altar he beckoned Spencer and Ince to come forward and this they did, Spencer on shaky legs.

  Subdued exclamations of delight and a good deal of female sniffing into snowy white hankies accompanied Laura and Andrew as they proceeded up the aisle, followed by Vicki and then Celeste. Spencer thought Laura looked every bit as beautiful as Natalie had on their wedding day over seven years ago and he was bursting with pride to see Vicki looking like a fairy princess in her wake. With a tapping of heels on the cold stone floor, Celeste stepped forward elegantly and took Laura’s bouquet.

  Laura was struck, like Ince, at how young and vulnerable Spencer looked and it helped to soothe her taut nerves. Neither of them remembered singing the hymns, exchanging their vows or kneeling for the prayers, but it must have happened because they were being propelled along to the vestry to sign the register. Laura signed her old name away for the second time in her life, camera lights flashed and there were calls for the bridegroom to kiss the bride. Spencer obliged, pecking Laura on the cheek, and a cheer went up. Then it was time for them to walk down past all those people together, not two separate people any more but a bound and wedded couple.

  Spencer smiled broadly for the photographs outside the church then relaxed and allowed himself to feel important on what was, after all, his special day. He proudly escorted Laura to the village hall and she held out her free hand to Vicki. Vicki skipped happily along as the new family led the way to the festivities.

  ‘Why’s Aunty Daisy crying?’ Vicki asked, much puzzled.

  ‘Women often cry at weddings,’ Laura explained. ‘They cry when they’re happy as well as when they’re sad.’

  ‘That’s silly,’ Vicki snorted and she knew by the look on young Benjy Miller’s face that he thought so too.

  It hit Laura then that now she was Vicki’s stepmother she had the right to explain many things to her, but how would her new husband, who was a very possessive father, react? She looked at Spencer. He smiled at her. She smiled back.

  Five minutes into the reception Celeste got bored with being the matron-of-honour and the moment the speeches were over she made a beeline for Ince. The fact that he was deeply religious and unlikely to fall under her spell, that up until now he had only been quietly polite to her obvious overtures, added zest to the chase. He was standing in the corner by the piano, holding a glass of wine, talking to an old man. Celeste had already consumed a large quantity of champagne which had been supplied via Harry, but picking up a glass of lemonade she sauntered over to them.

  ‘She makes a lovely bride,’ Celeste purred, motioning to Laura. ‘Things will be different for you now, Ince, with Laura living at the farm.’

  ‘I shall enjoy her regular cooking,’ Ince replied in a quiet voice. He found Celeste unsettling and wished she would talk to someone else. ‘When it was just me and Spencer we sometimes didn’t eat until the middle of the night.’ He looked at the eager-faced old man with him. ‘This is Johnny Prouse, by the way. Have you met him yet? He lives round the corner from Laura’s cottage, in School Lane. Johnny, you probably know this is Miss Celeste Cunningham, a friend of Laura’s.’

  Celeste shook Johnny’s hand. ‘Ah, an old sailor, if I’m not mistaken. I’ve seen similar tattoos to the one on the back of your hand, Johnny.’

  Johnny was delighted. ‘Got this one done in the Pacific. Been all round the world, I have. I’ve seen the lady about,’ he told Ince, ‘but haven’t had the chance to speak to her before.’ He turned back to Celeste. ‘I was just saying to Ince, if he ever feels he must leave the farm, what with a new wife being there, he’s welcome to come and lodge with me. He used to backalong, until Spencer’s first wife died. You staying in the village long, Miss Celeste?’

  ‘For a little while longer, Johnny,’ she said, sipping her lemonade then gazing into Ince’s eyes. ‘I haven’t got any definite plans. I’m going to rent Laura’s cottage.’

  ‘She’m a lovely woman, is L
aura,’ Johnny rattled on. ‘Been some good to the village.’ Johnny told Celeste some of Laura’s good deeds and ended with, ‘She walked out with Ince for a while when she first come here, but it wasn’t to be, was it, boy?’

  Ince blushed blood-red. ‘N-no. If you’ll excuse me, I want to have a word with Mr Tremorrow.’

  Celeste was happy to chat for a bit longer with Johnny but her eyes kept creeping over to Ince by the food table. It was stuffy in the hall and his black curly hair was plastered by moisture to the back of his neck. She knew she made him feel uncomfortable; my, but he was going to make the most scintillating of partners when he gave in to her. He was probably still a virgin. Her eyes narrowed. She’d had no idea that there’d ever been anything between him and Laura. There might have been a few chaste kisses but presumably it had been too soon for Laura after Bill’s death for her to form a lasting relationship. It made Ince Polkinghorne all the more interesting.

  Ince felt mightily relieved to have made his escape. Celeste was attractive, in a tarty sort of way, and seemed a pleasant, patient woman; she was happy to spend time chatting to the sick and elderly of the village. Her intentions for him stood out a mile but she was worlds apart from him, with her lah-de-dah voice, highly fashionable clothes and strong perfume. Certainly not wife material.

  ‘I’ll come over tomorrow afternoon then, Mr Tremorrow,’ he said over Les’s bent back as the old man, wearing his ill-fitting suit and flat cap, piled his plate high with food for the third time.

  ‘Eh?’ Les said, turning round when he’d finally claimed enough to eat. ‘Oh, ’tis you, boy. Bring over a strong mallet with ’ee. I want a bit of fencing put up. And mind you don’t come before dinnertime.’

  Vicki had grown tired of being on her best behaviour and was sitting on her Uncle Harry’s lap, twisting his silk tie and threatening to cut off his air supply.

  ‘It’s all settled then, Spencer?’ Harry said earnestly to the bridegroom. ‘Vicki’s spending the night at Hawksmoor House with me and Mother?’

  Sitting beside her son at the top table, Felicity Lean affectionately rubbed her granddaughter’s back. ‘You needn’t worry, Spencer, we’ll take good care of her. We’ll take her to church and bring her home after lunch, when she’s had a good ride with Harry.’

  Felicity had a lump in her throat today. It had been heart-rending to watch her son-in-law marry another woman. A little while ago Vicki had called Laura ‘Mummy’, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It had torn at Felicity’s heart but she loved Laura in the same way as the other villagers and she was glad it was her who had taken Natalie’s place rather than another. What had hurt the most was being the one to suggest to Spencer that he move Natalie’s things out of his bedroom to make room for Laura’s. Spencer was hurt too and hadn’t been able to do it until three days ago when he had lovingly packed up Natalie’s clothes and personal things and taken them to Hawksmoor House. ‘It was like saying goodbye to her all over again,’ he had said with tears in his eyes. Felicity would keep them for Vicki for when she grew up.

  ‘I’m not worried,’ Spencer said, but he looked doubtful. ‘It will feel strange, that’s all.’ Felicity had asked him many times in the sixteen months her relationship had been established as Vicki’s grandmother if she could have Vicki to stay at Hawksmoor House and Spencer had always refused. He’d agreed this time because it would make his wedding night easier; Ince was discreetly staying the night at the pub. He ruffled Vicki’s hair, dislodging the coronet. ‘You be a good girl for Grandma and Uncle Harry, pipkin.’

  ‘I want to play outside with Benjy,’ Vicki said, seeing him through a window where he was tearing about the yard with a group of children. She pulled the headdress off her hair and plonked it on the table.

  ‘A bit of fresh air will do her good,’ Laura said, having observed several minutes ago that Vicki was looking hot and bothered.

  ‘I’ll take you, poppit,’ Harry said, and he carried her outside.

  On the other side of the double doors he met Tressa carrying Guy through from the kitchen where she had been feeding him. He looked so rapt with the niece he adored she dropped her guard and thought perhaps he wasn’t such a bad man after all.

  ‘I see we have a similar task,’ she remarked, speaking first to Harry for the very first time.

  ‘I suppose Vicki is too big to be carried really,’ he replied.

  Eager to be outside to join in what looked like a rough game of tag, Vicki wriggled out of his arms and ran off. ‘Mind your dress, poppit,’ he called after her, then pleased that he’d extracted a positive response from Tressa at last, he said with a big smile, ‘Your baby’s growing well. I would like to have seen Vicki at that age but Spencer kept her under wraps.’

  Tressa moved Guy’s weight to her other arm. ‘They grow up so quickly.’

  ‘Yes, they do,’ Harry agreed, then he thought he would box clever and not linger over Tressa today. ‘Well, if you’ll excuse me I promised my mother I’d help with the clearing up.’

  As he went back into the hall, Andrew came out. ‘Was that man bothering you again, darling?’ he asked, holding out his arms to take his son.

  ‘No, not this time,’ she was glad to tell him. ‘If you put Guy in his pram, darling, I’ll get Dad and Aunty Joan. ’Tis time we were getting home.’

  Joy Miller, Laura’s friend and stand-in assistant at the shop, shyly approached Laura as she stood looking over the wedding presents with Daisy.

  ‘I know this is hardly the time to bring it up, Laura,’ Joy said nervously, wringing her plump hands and running them down her shapeless floral dress. ‘But you’ve been so busy and I haven’t had the chance to ask you before, but I was wondering how things stood for me at the shop.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry you’ve been kept in the dark, Joy,’ Laura said, feeling guilty that her marriage plans had made her neglect Joy. ‘Aunty Daisy and I discussed it days ago and I meant to speak to you about it. I want to be a full-time mother – and wife – and we’d like to offer you a permanent part-time job in the shop. The hours will be the same as they were when Spencer cut his hand and we’ll raise your wages to a pound a week. Is that agreeable to you, Joy?’

  The young mother was delighted. ‘Oh, Laura, that will be wonderful. With Bert working regularly at Tregorlan, things have been getting better for us lately. This means we’ll be able to make plans for the future and the children will never go without shoes again.’

  Joy went off to tell Bert the good news, and Laura, sensing that Daisy was dying to talk about her wedding night, excused herself to thank her guests for the wedding presents.

  The afternoon was drawing to a close and the women were washing the dishes and packing up the remaining food while the men folded and put away the trestle tables. Celeste baulked at doing anything domestic. She glanced out through the doors and saw Alfie, in his usual grubby and scruffy state, with his brothers, whooping like a Red Indian as he chased some other children round the yard. Celeste realised that none of Alfie’s family had attended the wedding or reception. She knew this would be none of Laura’s doing and angrily assumed some spiteful snobbish villagers had told them they couldn’t come. Picking up a large plate she piled food onto it, cut off a huge slice of wedding cake and went outside.

  ‘Hey, Alfie,’ she shouted through the noisy game. ‘Come here. I’ve got something for you.’

  Alfie was inclined to ignore her at first, he was a master at tag and liked to show off his running prowess, but seeing the feast in the lady’s hands he abandoned the game. His brothers, all replicas of him in varying sizes, except for the youngest who was blonde and quite beautiful, immediately trotted after him hoping for a share of the goodies.

  Celeste held out the plate to them. What the Uren boys couldn’t clutch in their grubby fists they stuffed into their pockets.

  ‘Thanks, miss,’ Alfie spluttered, food toppling out of his chomping jaws.

  ‘Why didn’t you and your family come to the weddi
ng, Alfie?’ Celeste asked, frowning in indignation on the Urens’ behalf. ‘It was an event for all the villagers.’

  ‘Mrs Jennings saw Mother and asked us ’erself but we ’aven’t got any good clo’es to wear,’ Alfie replied matter-of-factly. ‘This is smashin’,’ he declared, stuffing a whole sausage roll into his mouth. ‘Anyway, Mother won’t step foot inside a church, being half gypsy, and Dad says all the church wants is money out of people. He told the vicar to bugger off when he called the other day to see if we’d been baptised.’

  ‘I see.’ Celeste thought this was likely to be the only food the children had eaten today. She leapt back when she noticed something crawling about in at least two of the boys’ greasy hair. She made up her mind to talk to the vicar about the Urens’ circumstances. ‘Run along back to your game, boys. Vicki and the others are waiting for you.’

  Celeste reckoned playing with the rough and tumble Alfie was probably the best fun the village kids had ever had but she hoped he and his brothers wouldn’t touch Vicki. She wondered if she ought to warn Laura of their uncleanliness. As Vicki’s stepmother she had the right to know if another child was likely to infect the little girl with head lice.

  Ince had come outside and had been watching Celeste for some time. ‘That was a kind thing to do. I was about to bring some food out for the children myself.’

  ‘Poor little things,’ she said, looking wistfully at the youngest boy, aged about two years, toddling on bandy legs as he tried to join in the fun. ‘I know they probably don’t want pity but I feel sorry for them. During the war I did some voluntary work among some of the poorer families in London. You don’t really expect to see kids living under the same conditions in the country.’