I Do--Or Do I?

by Karen King

  Beth picked up her bag. ‘Right, I’m off to cover the Education Show. See you later. And try to look more enthusiastic about your column!’

  The trouble was Cassie didn’t feel enthusiastic about it. It sounded so dull and bland, when actually planning her wedding was turning in to a right drama. If only she could tell the readers that version! Maybe she’d write it up just for fun. She created a new document, and using the same title and pseudonyms she wrote a more-true-to-life version of her wedding arrangements then sat back and read it, a smile playing on her lips. Now that was what she called interesting!

  ‘Have you got a moment, Cassie?’ Owen was standing in the doorway of his office.

  ‘Coming!’ Cassie hit the ‘save’ button then grabbed her notebook.

  ‘Cassie, is that column ready yet? I need to sub it!’ Gary shouted to her.

  ‘Sure, I’ve saved it to my desktop. I’ll send it over in a minute.’ She told him as she followed Owen to his office.

  ‘What’s up?’ she asked.

  ‘Alex Hawkins has been on the phone, complaining about the interview you did with him.’ Owen perched on the corner of his desk, not an easy task with his portly frame. ‘He said he’s been misquoted. Have you got your notes?’

  ‘Of course.’ Cassie flicked to the relevant page in her book. ‘I recorded the interview too so I can back it up.’

  ‘Fab-tastic.’ Owen skimmed the notes. ‘He obviously doesn’t like the way he thinks he’s come across but I can see you’ve quoted him ad verbum. Well done.’

  ‘He was a bit up himself, to be honest, but I tried not to make that come over too much,’ Cassie said.

  ‘No problem, I’ll get back to him. Hold on to the recording just in case.’

  ‘It’s in my desk drawer,’ she told him.

  Owen nodded. ‘Good. Now can you cover the demonstration outside the council buildings about the rates rise this afternoon? Get a few statements from people?’

  ‘Sure. I’ll grab some lunch then get on to it.’ She turned to leave.

  ‘Hang on – what about your wedding column? Have you finished it?’ he asked. ‘Can you send it to sub before you cover this?’

  ‘It’s finished and I was about to send it when you called me. I’ll go do it right now.’

  ‘Sending the column over in a mo,’ she called over to Gary as she walked back into the news room.

  ‘It’s OK, I saw it on your desktop and sent it over myself,’ he told her. ‘It’s already subbed and gone to print.’

  ‘OK, thanks.’ She grabbed her jacket, slipped her notebook in her bag, and set off.

  Sylvia dropped by that evening to inform them that she’d booked them a consultation appointment with J.M. for Saturday morning. ‘Then you can discuss with him the services you want, the type of album, and anything else.’ She turned to Timothy. ‘Don’t tell me you can’t make it, the wedding is just under two months away so we need to get this finalised. There’s still a lot to sort out.’

  Oh shit, she still hadn’t told Timothy about Jared, Cassie thought in dismay, and now they both had a meeting with him on Saturday. She had to find a way to broach the subject when Sylvia had gone. She didn’t want to tell him while she was here: she had a strong feeling that Sylvia didn’t really think she was good enough for her son and didn’t intend to give her any more ammunition. Not that it should matter, everyone of their age had past relationships, didn’t they? It’s just that Sylvia might make more of it … and mention that Cassie and Jared had made no sign they knew each other, which she had to admit could look suspicious – especially the way Sylvia would tell it. She’d definitely tell Timothy tonight when Sylvia had gone.

  Sylvia showed no sign of going, though. She’d brought a ‘suggested guest list’ with her and seemed intent on spending the evening discussing it, and other wedding preparations. ‘A small glass of chilled white would be nice, dear,’ she said to Cassie. ‘Just the one as I’m driving. And a sandwich if you have some granary bread.’

  ‘There’s a bottle chilling in the fridge.’ Timothy got up to fetch the wine and three glasses while Cassie went to check what was in the fridge for a sandwich.

  ‘Smoked salmon or Parma ham?’ she called from the kitchen.

  ‘Smoked salmon, please, with just a smidgen of butter on the bread and a couple of wafer thin slices of cucumber.’

  Cassie set about making a sandwich. She had a feeling this was going to be a long night.

  ‘We’ll need a girlie meeting, dear, so we can talk about the dress and flowers,’ Sylvia told her when she returned with the sandwich, crusts trimmed off and cut in to quarters, just how Sylvia liked it, with a bit of salad on the side of the plate and a fresh white napkin too. ‘It’s bad luck to discuss all that in front of Timothy. Have you chosen your wedding colours yet?’

  ‘Yes, Timothy and I discussed it last night and we both decided we’d like a pale blue,’ Cassie told her.

  ‘Pale blue? That’s an interesting choice. Pastel colours are pretty for summer weddings.’ She took a nibble of her sandwich and swallowed it daintily before continuing. ‘What about bridesmaids, dear? Two or three little flower girls would be nice. And a page boy, maybe? Then there’s the maid of honour, of course.’

  Cassie hesitated. She knew that Sylvia was anxious for Amanda to be her maid of honour. She’d dropped enough hints, as had Timothy.

  Surprisingly, Timothy came to her rescue. ‘Cassie has asked Samantha, her best friend, to be her maid of honour, which only seems fair as I’m having Philip, my oldest friend, as my best man.’

  Cassie could have hugged him. ‘We decided to have two flower girls. One from each family.’ She turned to Timothy for support. ‘We thought Sophia and Estelle. They’re similar in age and will make lovely flower girls.’

  Four-year-old Sophia (her sister Ellen’s daughter) and five-year-old Estelle (Amanda’s daughter) would look so cute with a pretty tiara in their hair and holding a basket of flower petals to scatter. And hopefully having Estelle as flower girl would make up for not having Amanda as maid of honour.

  ‘That sounds sensible, dear.’ Sylvia’s smile was a bit forced. ‘I presume your parents will be attending the wedding?’

  ‘Of course, my dad’s giving me away. And my mum and stepdad will be flying over from Cyprus the day before.’

  ‘Would you like me to arrange accommodation for them? I’m sure we could arrange special rates at the castle for our wedding guests.’

  Even with special rates, Cassie doubted if her mum and stepdad could afford to stay at Hollington Castle. The return flights and new outfits would make a large enough dent in their bank balances. Although they’d told her not to worry about that, assuring her they’d manage fine.

  ‘There’s no need. They’ll be staying with Ellen,’ she told Sylvia. ‘They’re looking forward to spending some time with her and Sophia.’

  ‘Really? How cosy. Well, the next important thing is the dress. We really need to order that as soon as we can. Now, I just happen to know the assistant to Leah Maylin, the designer, dear,’ she explained as if Cassie had never heard of the top designer. ‘She has a fabulous wedding collection, and although it’s short notice, she said she can slot you in as a special favour to me. I could book you an appointment with her for next week. Which days are you free?’

  Was the perishing woman arranging everything? Didn’t she think Cassie was capable of making suitable choices? Count to ten, Cassie. One, two, three … ‘It’s very kind of you but I’ve arranged to look for a wedding dress with Sam on Saturday.’ OK, she’d have to make it afternoon seeing as Sylvia had booked them an appointment with Jared again, but she was going. This is one thing she was determined to stick to her guns about. If Sylvia had her way she’d be wearing a floaty meringue that costs thousands. Cassie was going to choose her own wedding dress.

  ‘Are you serious, dear? You’re actually going to wear an off-the-peg dress for your wedding?’ Sylvia gave a little shudder, which made Cassi
e even more determined to choose the dress herself.

  ‘There are lots of lovely wedding boutiques in town, most of them have a designer section,’ she said. ‘I’m sure I’ll find something suitable.’

  Sylvia pursed her lips and shot Timothy a reproachful glance, obviously expecting him to agree with her. Timothy pretended he was busy reading the newspaper. Although Cassie was grateful he hadn’t taken his mother’s side, she wished he’d backed her up. They should be united about the wedding. It was bad enough that Sylvia had given them a list of who they should invite and hijacked both the venue and photographer.

  Sylvia left a little while later, making it quite clear that she wasn’t very happy.

  ‘I think Mother’s a bit upset. I know she tends to interfere a bit but she’s only trying to help,’ Timothy said reproachfully. ‘The wedding isn’t far away, and there’s such a lot to do, so it would be wise to take her advice. Mother has so many connections and is an expert at planning events like this.’

  That meant she wasn’t. Cassie wanted to scream, but she kept calm. Timothy hated raised voices or arguments of any kind. ‘I realise that but I am capable of choosing my own wedding dress.’

  ‘I know, sweetheart, I’m not suggesting otherwise.’ He leant over and placed his hand on hers. ‘Perhaps you could ask Mother to come with you and help you choose your dress? I’m sure that will make her feel better. She just wants to be involved a bit.’

  He picked up the remote and switched on the TV for the news. That was it, matter closed. He was obviously confident that Cassie would do as he wished, as she always did.

  Only this time she wasn’t. Sylvia had taken over the wedding enough. She was not choosing Cassie’s wedding dress. Absolutely not.

  Six

  They’d be here in a few minutes. Jared had been thinking about this meeting all week, wondering if Cassie had told Timothy about their romance yet. If so, how would he feel about his fiancée’s ex-lover taking their wedding photographs? Would he object? After seeing Cassie with him in the restaurant the other night, he hadn’t been able to resist looking up Timothy Campbell on the Internet, curious what this smug, smooth-looking guy who’d stolen Cassie’s heart did for a living. He hadn’t really been surprised to discover that he was a rich, hot-shot lawyer with an impeccable record. He’d seemed full of confidence – clear in the way he walked, dressed, and conducted himself. Not the sort of guy that would regard anyone as a rival. He probably wouldn’t be at all bothered that Cassie and Jared had been lovers, confident that he was far superior. In fact, Timothy would probably go all out to show how much better, richer, and cleverer he was than Jared.

  Jared reached in the jacket pocket of his worn brown leather wallet and opened it up; feeling inside the small inner zipped pocket he took out a photograph. It was a bit crumpled and tattered now but the picture was still clear. Him and Cassie, taken on their first holiday abroad together. Nine years ago. They’d gone to Cyprus and in this photo were at Aphrodite’s beach. Behind them was Lover’s Hill. He’d made a heart there with their initials inside, using tiny stones off the beach. J.M heart C.T. He wondered if the heart was still there, an eternal testament to the love they had once shared.

  He studied their faces beaming out from the photograph. They’d looked so carefree and happy. So much in love. He’d ruined that. He was the one who’d torn them apart.

  Still holding the photograph, he sat down at the desk and leant back in the chair, his thoughts casting back to the Jared who’d walked so casually away from the love of his life because he didn’t want to settle down, to go along the mortgage and kids route. He’d desperately wanted to fulfil his dream of becoming a serious photographer, of travelling the world and filming the amazing things he saw, of going that extra mile to see an Emperor penguin hatching an egg in its natural habitat, an elephant nursery, the sun rise over the Sahara desert, the spectacular Northern Lights. And he didn’t regret it – he’d had some amazing experiences. But he always carried this photo with him. Wherever he went, Cassie always lurked in the back of his mind, tucked away but never completely gone. Often, when he was in an isolated place, just him and his thoughts, waiting for the sun to rise or the animals he wanted to photograph to show up, he’d taken the photo out, looked at it, and wondered if he’d done the right thing.

  Then Cassie had walked back into his life and turned it upside down. He hadn’t expected to feel like this when he saw her again, the familiar ache in his heart. It’s just nostalgia, he told himself. You know what they say, you never get over your first love. And Cassie had been his first love. There had been plenty of others since but none of them had ever touched his heart like Cassie had. Which is why he was still single, he guessed. No one had ever matched up to Cassie. He dated women like Savannah for company and fun but had never wanted a serious relationship with any of them.

  Cassie had found someone to replace him, though. Someone rich, influential, clever. Jared had never been clever. He’d struggled to get through his exams at school but somehow he’d gained enough qualifications to get him on to the photography course he coveted at university. Cameras and photographs he understood, and the longing to travel had always coursed through his body. His career was his life. He couldn’t give it up. Another couple of months and he’d be off again. So it was a good job Cassie had found someone else, and was planning a wedding, because he daren’t get involved with her again. He still wanted his dream.

  The trouble was that he wanted Cassie too.

  The intercom buzzed. ‘Mr Campbell and Miss Tyler are here, J.M.,’ the receptionist announced.

  ‘Show them in, please,’ he told her.

  He’d felt a bit pretentious calling himself J.M. but he’d wanted to keep his society photographer persona separate from his real job. He’d prefer people not to know that J.M. from I.D. Images was Jared Macey the wildlife photographer. For now, he was glad to hide behind the initials, a cloak of anonymity.

  He slipped the photograph back into his wallet as there was a knock on the door and the handle turned.

  ‘Come in,’ he called as Timothy strode in. Suave, confident, expensive but not flamboyantly dressed; everything about him screamed money, social standing, a man to be looked up to. And one who was used to being in control too, he’d wager on it. The Cassie he’d known was feisty, free-spirited. Did she and Timothy clash a lot, he wondered?

  Cassie followed him, looking stunning in a white trouser suit and blue lacy top. He guessed by the panicky look she shot him that she hadn’t told Campbell they knew each other and didn’t want him to give her away. Why not, he wondered. Was her fiancé the jealous type?

  ‘Delighted to meet you J …’ Timothy held out his hand, leaving the question floating in the air. He obviously wasn’t comfortable with calling Jared by his initials; something about the way he spoke irritated Jared but he forced a welcoming smile on his face. He needed this job.

  ‘J.M.,’ he said. ‘Do take a seat.’

  ‘What exactly does J.M. stand for?’ Timothy pursued as he pulled a chair out for Cassie, then sat down himself.

  ‘It’s how I’m known professionally. I prefer to use my initials rather than my full name.’ Jared smiled again, and held Timothy’s gaze just long enough to register the irritation in the other man’s eyes, before looking down at the open folder on his desk. Timothy was obviously annoyed that Jared hadn’t answered his question, which probably didn’t happen to him often. ‘I took a few notes from my preliminary meeting with your mother and Cassie so I’ve a broad idea of what you’re looking for. Have you had a chance to look through the brochures and come to any decisions?’

  ‘Yes, Cassandra and I decided on a bespoke album in the traditional style. We’ve a few particular shots we’d like taken on the day.’ As Timothy rattled off their list of requirements, Jared suppressed a sigh. This was not going to be one of his easier bookings. Only the thought of his impending trip to the Arctic was going to see him through this.

  ‘I must
say that photographer seems to know his stuff, although he seemed rather arrogant to me,’ Timothy said as they left.

  Cassie squeezed his arm. ‘Well, at least we’ve got our photographer sorted out. That’s something we can tick off our list; although I meant to ask him if we could look at some samples of the albums and I forgot.’ She’d been too nervous in case she or Jared let slip that they knew each other, that’s why. ‘I’ll ask him to bring some to the venue when we visit and then we can look through them. It might give us more ideas for the sort of cover and photos we want.’

  ‘Good idea. I’ve been thinking I’d rather like a photographic record of our honeymoon. Perhaps the photographer could join us for a few days? He could take some professional shots of us walking along the beach at midnight, having dinner on the beach, that sort of thing.’

  No way was Jared coming along on their honeymoon. She had to tell Timothy about him now, before this got out of hand.

  ‘Look, there’s something I’ve been meaning to mention,’ she said but before she could continue Timothy’s mobile rang.

  ‘Sorry I have to take this, it’s a very important client.’ He flicked open the phone. ‘Timothy Campbell speaking.’

  Cassie sighed as she listened to Timothy’s side of the conversation. It was obvious he was going to have to go into the office. She’d have to leave it until tonight.

  She took out her own mobile and texted Sam asking if she had time to meet for coffee that afternoon.

  ‘Usual place, 2.30 p.m.,’ came back the reply.

  Thank goodness. She really needed someone to talk to. She’d stop at the office and pick up a copy of today’s paper first. She was dying to read her wedding piece.

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding!’ Sam stared incredulously at Cassie. ‘You still haven’t told Timothy about Jared? What are you playing at?’

  ‘I didn’t deliberately not tell him,’ Cassie protested. ‘I kept trying to but it never seemed to be the right time.’ Honestly, she felt guilty enough without Sam staring at her like that. ‘It’s not a crime, is it? We haven’t seen each other for seven years.’ Seven years, two months, and three days, to be precise. She could still remember the exact day Jared walked out of her life.