by Liz Eeles
‘Oh, this?’ I wiggle my fingers some more and grin. ‘I’ve got something to tell you so cadge a break from Roger and I’ll meet you out the back in five minutes.’
‘Five minutes, my tight Australian arse!’ Kayla throws down the cloth she’s carrying and yells: ‘Urgent business. Back in a few minutes.’ Then she rams her sunglasses onto her shiny face, grabs my arm and pulls me through the kitchen into the back yard.
There’s a smelly dustbin out here and a skinny feral cat is grubbing in the dirt for fallen fish bones. But it’s peaceful away from the tourists and inquisitive members of the choir.
Kayla parks her backside on a low wall, takes hold of my hand and starts pushing my ring up to the knuckle and back down. ‘Is that what I think it is?’
‘If you think it’s an engagement ring, then yes, it is. Josh and I are getting married.’
‘No way!’ yells Kayla, throwing her arms around me so ferociously she almost knocks both of us off the wall. ‘That’s brilliant news! Let’s go and announce it in the pub. You won’t have to buy yourself a drink all afternoon and you’ll be rat-arsed by teatime.’
‘No, you can’t tell anyone. I wanted to tell you first but Josh’s family don’t know yet, so you can’t tell a soul.’
‘Nooo. Don’t do this to me,’ wails Kayla, pushing her sunglasses up off her face and into her thick red hair. ‘This news is mega and it’ll cheer everyone up after losing Alice. You can’t make me keep it quiet. It’s cruel and inhumane and against my human rights.’
‘What, against your human right to spill the beans? It’s only for a day or two, Kayla, and I’m taking a risk here ’cos I know what you’re like. So you have to promise me you’ll keep it a secret.’
‘Ugh, OK,’ she says with a grimace. ‘Honestly, the things you ask of me!’
‘What are you two doing out here?’ Ollie steps through the kitchen door and shields his eyes against the glare of the sun. ‘Roger told me you were back here. He said, and I quote: “If that work-shy girlfriend of yours isn’t back behind the bar in two minutes, tell her she can collect her P45”.’
‘Well, Roger can go whistle because Annie and I are out here on very important business.’
Ollie bounds over to Kayla and kisses her on the lips. Straw-blonde hair is flopping into his eyes and his short-sleeved T-shirt shows off his muscled rugby player arms.
‘We were just having a quick chat, Ollie, about girl things.’ I scoot along the wall so he’s got room to sit between us.
‘Annie and Josh are getting married,’ blurts out Kayla.
‘What the—? Really?’ I stare open-mouthed at Kayla who at least has the good grace to look embarrassed.
‘Sorry but you’re asking too much of me. I said I wouldn’t tell anybody but Ollie isn’t anybody. He’s the man I lo—’ she hesitates, ‘like spending time with.’
‘Wow! That’s amazing news, Annie. That Josh is a very lucky man.’ Ollie envelops me in a quick hug and squeezes so tight I can hardly breathe. ‘Marriage isn’t for me and Kayla because we’re both free spirits but it’ll be great for you two. When’s the big day then? ’Cos I’ll have to make sure I get back for it.’
I breathe in slowly in case Ollie’s cracked a rib or two. ‘Back from where? You only live a few miles down the road.’
‘Kayla hasn’t told you then?’ Ollie frowns. ‘I’ve finally been offered that promotion at work. It’s a really big jump up, to regional sales manager for the North-West covering the whole of Cumbria, Lancashire and part of Yorkshire.’
‘Crikey, that’s fantastic, though we’ll miss you. Why didn’t you tell me, Kayla?’
Ollie rests his hand on Kayla’s knee. ‘I only found out late yesterday and we haven’t told anyone else yet. They need me in post by mid-October so I’ll be upping sticks and heading off for good in three months’ time.’
Beside him, Kayla is smiling although her boyfriend is about to abandon her and head up North.
‘What about Kayla?’
A shadow flits across Ollie’s invariably cheerful face. ‘I’ve asked her to come with me and I’m hoping she will. In fact, I’m taking her to the Lake District for a few days to show her the area.’
Kayla gives a slight shake of the head but carries on smiling. It’s very odd.
‘Anyway, I’ve got to go or I’ll miss the late kick-off. I only nipped in to check that we’re on for meeting up later, Kayla.’ Ollie leaps to his feet, shakes out his legs and grins when Kayla gives a mute nod. ‘Brilliant. I’ll pick you up at eight then. And that really is wonderful news, Annie. I’ll ring Josh when I’ve got a signal to say congratulations.’
When he’s bounded off, I fold my arms and wrinkle my nose at Kayla. ‘Ollie, the man you’re crazy about, is moving hundreds of miles away but you don’t seem upset.’
‘Oh, he’s not going anywhere,’ says Kayla, adjusting the straps of her vest top. ‘He says I’ve filled his head with stories about experiencing new places and new opportunities and that’s why he’s giving it a go. But it’s all for show. There’s no way he’ll leave his beloved Cornwall, especially ’cos he knows I’m not keen on moving.’
‘But I thought you were a free spirit, a nomad, an Aussie backpacker who’s only in Salt Bay for a while and can’t bear to be tied down.’
‘Which is true, and I’ve got nothing against moving, per se. But my next move will be south and Ollie knows that. The last couple of winters here have been dire and there’s no way I’m going somewhere with worse weather. If that’s even possible.’ Kayla shudders at the memory of torrential rain and curling Cornish fog that lasted for days. ‘Nope. Ollie’s just trying to make me panic at the thought of him leaving and then he can make a huge gesture and stay.’
‘Um, maybe.’
It doesn’t sound like uncomplicated Ollie’s style at all. Marriage has been off-limits with these two since he proposed in the pub last year and was turned down by a freaked-out Kayla. But the two of them have been pretty much joined at the hip in unmarried bliss since they got back together.
‘Are you quite sure, Kayla? You reckoned the whole going for promotion thing was a ruse, but it’s turned out to be real.’
‘Absolutely sure. Ollie Simpson would rather walk through Salt Bay in a dress than move away from Cornwall and me.’ She flicks her hair from her shoulders and smiles, convinced that her boyfriend can’t possibly live without her. ‘Anyway, onto real and more important things. Are you going to have a big society wedding with lots of guests and a huge do at a posh hotel? Ooh, you can have champagne cocktails and a cake with real gold flakes in it. I saw an amazing one in a magazine once and it wasn’t even poisonous which surprised me.’
Firmly anti-marriage herself, Kayla obviously has no qualms about spending a shedload on someone else’s nuptials.
‘It’s not going to be a big, expensive wedding,’ I tell her, firmly. ‘The ceremony will be at the village church and we’re thinking of having a small reception afterwards at Tregavara House.’
‘Hhmm.’ Kayla looks doubtful. ‘That might work, but you’ll definitely need champagne.’
‘Cava, maybe. But we need to keep a contingency fund for any house repairs so we can’t spend much on a fancy wedding.’
‘This owning property thing is a right drag,’ huffs Kayla. ‘No wonder Josh told Ollie he was worried about it. I think it’s a shame Alice left that valuable painting to Toerag Toby or you could have sold it and had a mahoosive wedding with enough left over for a gold-plated roof. You could have had fireworks and a master of ceremonies to announce all the guests when they arrive. And doves! I saw a programme where the bride and groom released a basket of twenty white doves to signify their enduring love. It was so romantic.’ She gazes dreamily into the distance.
‘We don’t need doves or fireworks or a master of anything, Kayla. All I want is to marry Josh and a small village wedding is fine, so Alice did the right thing about the painting.’
She definitely did because it
would break my heart if I had to sell a family heirloom. Toby doesn’t have any such qualms, so the guilt will sit more lightly on his shoulders when he pockets the proceeds.
‘Kayla,’ yells Roger from the kitchen door. ‘You need to get your backside back in here sharpish. I’ve got emmets five-deep at the bar and it’s getting ugly.’
Kayla gets to her feet with a sigh and brushes tiny stones from her backside.
‘I’ll catch up with you later, Annie, but I’m so happy about your news and I promise I’ll keep it a secret. But don’t wait too long before you tell everyone else ’cos there’s only so much keeping quiet I can do.’
When she’s scurried back into the pub, I sit for a while twirling my new ring round and round my finger. Josh has seemed more relaxed about taking on the house since we talked openly about it, but I wonder whether he told Ollie he was worried before or after our cellar heart-to-heart.
Which reminds me… pulling my phone from my bag, I use the Whistling Wave’s Wi-Fi to log into my emails. I got a company in to quote for a brand new roof a few days ago – just out of interest because the roof repair seems solid – and I’m still waiting to hear back.
My inbox is clogged up with spam – delete, delete, delete – and there’s a long list of ailments from Maura in London, who’s pregnant with her second child. She’ll end up giving birth soon after Pippa, a lovely soprano in our choir who’s blooming at the moment.
I scan through Maura’s long email and wince. Eew, who knew that being pregnant could cause itchy nipples and piles? Maura’s never been coy about her body or her feelings and the brakes are off now she’s awash with pregnancy hormones. She’ll probably have an emotional meltdown when she hears I’m getting married.
Two emails below Maura’s I spot the one I’m looking for and click on it. Good grief! I do a double-take when £30,000 leaps out from my phone screen – the estimator has helpfully underlined the figure in red just to make sure it’s even more likely to give me a heart attack. That’s crazy money!
The bubble of wedding euphoria that’s surrounded me since Josh got down on one knee deflates like a pricked balloon. How can we build up a contingency fund like that and get married too? Fireworks and doves, indeed! This is going to be the most cut-price wedding Salt Bay has ever seen.
Eleven
Emily is overcome with excitement when we tell her about the wedding and totally beside herself when I ask her to be a bridesmaid. She went over the top at Christmas with gaudy Santa jumpers and flashing reindeer antlers on her head. But this is on another level. There’s hyperventilating and screaming and a dash into Penzance to pick up a copy of Brides magazine. In contrast, Storm plays it cool and blanches with horror when the subject of being a bridesmaid is broached.
‘There’s no way I’m wearing some sad dress that looks like an explosion in a meringue factory,’ she informs me. But she does give me a quick hug and whispers in my ear: ‘He’s quite fit for a teacher’ which is high praise indeed.
When I text Barry with the news, he texts back from Hartlepool where his band’s playing a pub gig:
Nice one and about time he made a decent woman of you. Don’t worry, I’ll be back to give you away x
There’ll be no ‘giving away’ at my wedding seeing as I coped perfectly well without Barry for twenty-nine years until he turned up on my doorstep. But he can walk me up the aisle if he wants to. I’d like that.
Josh’s mum and his sisters are delighted with the news and Freya goes hyperactive at the prospect of being a flower girl. I’m happy too and can hardly wait to tie the knot but feelings of disloyalty niggle around the edges of my bright new life.
How can I be happy and looking forward to my wedding when I’ve just lost Alice? There seem to be two people in my head these days – sad Annie who aches inside at the sight of Alice’s empty chair by the fireplace and giddy Annie who’s dreaming of wedding dresses.
We manage to keep the news quiet over the weekend but it’s a good job the choir has an extra rehearsal on Monday night to practise for Perrigan Bay’s summer fete. There’s only so long anything stays quiet in a close-knit community and these days I’m fine with that.
Catching the eye of someone on the Tube marks you out as a weirdo in London so Salt Bay, where everyone knows your inside leg measurement within a week of arrival, was too much at first. But I’ve slowly learned to appreciate being surrounded by people who give a damn about me. And then there’s the choir.
Salt Bay Choral Society has and always will have a special place in my heart. The village was sad and subdued when I first got here and had never fully recovered from the Great Storm of 2002 which drowned seven singers in one night. That’s why the original choral society was disbanded. But I helped to resurrect it and am so glad I did because it brought me and Josh together and helped me feel at home. I saved the choir and in return the choir saved me. So it’s the perfect place to share our good news.
‘We’ve got something to tell you,’ announces Josh when all the choir have trooped into their seats and settled down.
‘Thank goodness because keeping it quiet is killing me,’ shouts Kayla. ‘It’s like knowing the Strictly result before everyone else and not being able to tweet it ’cos you’ll get hammered by trolls.’
‘Trolls? What on earth is the girl talking about and what exactly is going on?’ Jennifer is fanning herself with the sheet music for ‘Sunny Afternoon’ that Arthur reckons is far too modern for us. He gets in a right strop about singing anything composed after the Reformation.
‘Annie and I are taking the plunge and getting married,’ says Josh, giving me a sexy wink. I’m standing at the piano behind Michaela, who’s flexing her fingers and ready to go.
‘Woohoo, about time! I love a wedding,’ yells Maureen, jumping up and squashing the bag of leftover cupcakes from her tea shop that will feed us at breaktime.
The church is suddenly filled with sound and everyone rushes forward to shake Josh’s hand and give me a hug. Everyone except elderly Cyril, who hangs back but mouths ‘Congratulations’ at me. There are tiny scraps of bloodied tissue paper across his chin where his razor has nicked the skin.
‘Did you know about this, Kayla?’ demands Jennifer when the fuss dies down. ‘Is that why you ran off when I tried to speak to you in the shop this morning?’
‘Yep. You have no idea how difficult it’s been keeping this quiet, but I knew if I told you it would be all around the… oops.’
‘All around what? Are you implying I can’t keep a secret?’ snorts Jennifer, Salt Bay’s biggest gossip whose encyclopaedic knowledge of every local affair, peccadillo and nose job is unmatched in the area.
‘We’re getting married in mid-September and we’d love the choir to sing at our wedding, which will be in this church.’
Kayla gives me a wink for coming to her rescue.
‘We’d be honoured,’ says Florence, ruddy cheeks glowing bright against her steel-grey hair. And the rest of the choir murmur in agreement.
‘And you’re all invited to a reception afterwards at Tregavara House,’ adds Josh. ‘Nothing fancy but it should be lots of fun.’
‘Hey, Annie, you’d better sit down,’ shouts Roger. ‘Apparently it’s not good to be on your feet too much in the early days.’
‘You what?’
When I look at him in confusion, Kayla starts sniggering: ‘He thinks you’re up the duff ’cos you’re getting hitched so quickly.’
‘I’m definitely not pregnant, Roger.’ I grin at Pippa, who’s due in a few weeks’ time and looks like she has a beach ball stuffed up her T-shirt. ‘There’s just no point in waiting and we’d like to have the reception in the garden so I’m hoping to catch an Indian summer before the bad weather sets in.’
Everyone nods, having experienced unforgiving Cornish winters when the wind is stiff with salt spray and wellies are the footwear of choice. Cornwall in the summer can be glorious. However in the winter, as Kayla’s already discovered, not so much. An
d I’d rather not be married in a freezing gale with disorientated seagulls smacking me in the face.
I’m also keen to have the reception at Tregavara House as soon as possible – before something else falls off or falls in and it gets harder to justify spending money on anything other than the house. Josh went pale when I showed him the email from the roofing company and sometimes in the early hours, when sleep is impossible and courage deserts me, selling my ancestral home feels like the only long-term solution.
‘Well, I think your great-aunt would be delighted at your news,’ says Mary from the soprano section. ‘This church hasn’t seen a Trebarwith wedding since Alice and David walked down the aisle so it’s lovely that you’re getting married here. A Salt Bay wedding will be wonderful!’
‘It’ll be Emily and Tom next,’ says Kayla, who can be a right old stirrer. She gives Emily a thumbs up.
‘Ooh, are you young things courting? That’s lovely. Here, have a cupcake to celebrate.’ Maureen delves into her carrier bag and thrusts a squashed butterfly cake into Tom’s hands.
‘I think we’re just friends, aren’t we, Em?’ says Tom, glumly, taking a huge bite of chocolate sponge. Buttercream squishes across his upper lip and sticks to his fledgling moustache.
‘Yeah, best friends,’ mumbles Emily, her face red-hot with embarrassment.
‘Excuse me!’ Arthur is waving his hand in the air like he’s back at school. ‘We’re happy to sing at your wedding but you won’t expect us to perform that dreadful Robin Hood song, will you? That one about everything you do being for you? If so, I’m afraid I’ll have to abstain on principle.’
‘Don’t worry, Arthur. It’ll be old-fashioned songs and hymns all the way,’ Josh reassures him with a glance at me and I nod in agreement. After being rootless for so long, I’d like our special day to be steeped in family tradition and echoes from the past. Maybe we can include music that Alice and Josh’s mum had on their wedding days.