by Clare Ashton
“Oh, Mum,” Poppy whispered. As soon as she put any effort into thinking of an answer she became distraught. “I don’t know what I’m doing. Am I going mad, or pursuing a love I was always meant for, or imagining something that’s not even there?”
“I think everyone can see there’s something there.”
Poppy ran her fingers through her hair and grabbed a great handful. “I feel like I’m going crazy.” She looked to her mother. “I’m overwhelmed by her. It doesn’t matter whether she’s spouting infuriating nonsense, or being the most abhorrent person in the world, or it turns out the kindest, there’s no-one else in my thoughts. And when she’s in the room, no-one else exists.” Poppy clutched her hand to her heart. “She’s such a big part of me, she need only say a kind word and I fall for her.”
“And is that a bad thing?” her mother asked.
“It’s terrible and wonderful at the same time. One moment I’m the happiest I can imagine, the next I’m terrified. And either way, I can’t think what to do.”
“I always thought you were a rather magical pair.”
“How?” Poppy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Emma sat back and folded away her book. “I suppose you were opposites in many ways. That was a source of friction and heartache, but I think also your greatest strength. Rosalyn brought out a bit of steel in you. When left to your own devices your kindness can be taken for granted by some.” She reached out and squeezed Poppy’s hand. “But your kindness mellowed Rosalyn and kept her focused on what was important. You gave her humanity. I think you balanced one another and made each a better person because of it. And what people you are.” Emma smiled. “Look how this town has changed since Rosalyn came back. It’s coming alive again and you’ve only just started.”
Poppy covered her eyes in despair. She’d hoped her mother would issue simple advice – an admirable impossibility in someone so open to different perspectives, but a desperate failing at this moment.
“Most importantly you supported each other,” her mother continued. “There was nothing that gave me more pleasure as your mother than seeing you loved by someone supportive after you’d outgrown my protection.” Her eyes became glazed. “And nothing as painful as when their support failed and I could do nothing to mend you.”
“Oh, Mum.” Poppy leant forward and clasped her mother’s hands, wishing she could absolve her from such responsibility. “I’m just…” she breathed in, “scared.”
“I know you are. It’s always intimidating when you stand on the precipice. And you need a bigger leap of faith than most.” Emma squeezed Poppy’s hands and kissed her on the cheek.
Poppy left with her thoughts and feelings in as much turmoil but with a greater understanding of why. She kissed her father good night and climbed the stairs with a tired body and heavy heart.
She sat on the bed staring from her porthole window, always a source of comfort and yet with a view of excitement and adventure.
“What am I going to do?” she whispered into the darkness.
She was drawn to a wooden box hidden behind the headboard. She slid it from the hiding place and stroked away a layer of dust. She opened the lid with cautious reluctance and stared at the contents inside – small notes made from thick letter paper, folded in half, hundreds of them. Every one she’d found beneath her pillow as a teenager. She plucked one from the top, the last she’d received, and opened the note.
Rosalyn’s distinctive handwriting looped over the paper in Indian ink from her favourite fountain pen and Poppy trailed her finger along the letters.
“I’m always here,” it read, with a small heart drawn beneath.
Poppy folded away the note and replaced the box. She stared into the darkness and murmured, “But you weren’t.”
Chapter 41.
Poppy peeped through the oven doors for another last time. She could see Derek grinning in the reflection.
“They’re still all right,” he said.
Poppy stood up. “Ring me if anything, I mean anything at all, is wrong.”
“I will.” He laughed. “But there isn’t.”
She had double checked everything, and again. Mum was already at the Hall trying to stop Pip consuming her weight in chocolate brownies, as well as preparing to cook an enormous quantity of the pea and leek side dish. The chafing dishes were on standby for Derek’s delivery of rosemary roast potatoes and the all-important joints of lamb.
“I’ve got to go,” Poppy said, wringing her hands.
“You could have gone half an hour ago.”
“Right,” she said. “I’m definitely going this time.”
“Go!” Derek shouted, and she scampered out of the room.
Poppy checked her reflection in the shop window. Her satin dress was forgiving of her last-minute activities, still flowing to the ground without a crease despite hunting for a bulb of garlic beneath the worktops. She felt a little self-conscious, her shoulders bare and the bodice tight, but she had to admit she’d brushed up quite nicely. Even the strands of hair that escaped the hundred hair pins looked deliberate styling.
Beyond the town hall, couples in suits and wedding finery were climbing the twisting path up the grassy bank to the castle ruins. At the top, the remains of the outer walls and gate stood guard and she saw Dai and the ushers disappear within.
The ruins glowed warm in the evening light as Poppy reached the castle. The sun was low in the sky and cast large shadows on the intact back wall of the keep, the largest being Dai’s.
“Isn’t this beautiful?” Poppy beamed.
Dai turned around with a grin. “Can’t believe it. What a view.”
Below, Wells sparkled in the sunshine, snug at the bottom of the castle mound and surrounded by endless green hills rolling into the distance.
“Don’t we live in the most perfect place?” he said.
Poppy smiled. “I think so.”
Dai breathed in long and deep as if taking it all in. Guests started to fill the rows of chairs on either side of the grassy keep and members of Dai’s choir, in their concert best, lined either side of the congregation.
“Are you nervous?” Poppy said, feeling jittery herself.
“Nope.” Dai said satisfied.
“Really?”
“Not at all. I knew Mary was the girl for me the first time we got drunk together.”
“But what about everything that could go wrong today?” Poppy asked incredulous.
“Ah, that’s for you to worry about, not me.” He laughed. “And I don’t want you to worry either. I don’t care if we end up eating cream crackers for dinner. Just a few weeks ago we had nothing, and now look at this,” he spread his arms wide. “With a decade of planning I can’t imagine a more beautiful wedding.”
Poppy had to agree. She’d never seen Wells look finer and the setting leant a natural grandeur to the occasion, which infected the gathering crowd with excitement. She watched the relatives, friends and members of Dai’s choir take their seats and gaze at their surroundings in awe. Then Poppy herself was struck dumb in wonder.
All the turmoil, vexations, grief and deliberation vanished the moment she saw Rosalyn again. Only she could make a simple cream tailored dress appear the most elegant attire in the world. Her slim legs, bare beneath the knee-length linen, her toned arms naked for admiration, the respectful high collar slit low so it teased Poppy’s imagination. How the world kept turning when Rosalyn made an entrance Poppy would never know, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from her.
Rosalyn’s hair, not a strand out of place, was worn high, revealing her slim neck and the exquisite line of her jaw. Her face, with a touch of makeup, was a paragon of natural beauty enhanced by her high cheeks bones, those luscious full lips and the soft dream-worthy eyes of piercing blue depths.
As Rosalyn sauntered closer Poppy stared, paralysed with admiration. The warm glow of the evening made Rosalyn all the more radiant, and Poppy was momentarily incapable of uttering a word resemb
ling English.
“You look beautiful,” Poppy said without thinking. “As if you’ve stepped off the most glamourous red carpet in the world.” Poppy straightened her dress, feeling self-conscious before Rosalyn’s perfection.
“You’re the one who’s stunning. But you always outshone everyone with that smile. That natural joyful smile.”
Poppy blushed, finding it extraordinary that someone as attractive as Rosalyn could see something to admire in her. But the way Rosalyn gazed at her, she couldn’t doubt she was indeed admired.
“Are you staying?” Poppy stuttered.
“Yes.” Rosalyn replied, warmth and deep love in her eyes. “I’ll need to rush off as soon as the ceremony finishes so I can organise the reception, but yes I’m staying.”
“Good,” Poppy said, and she gave her goofiest grin.
“I’ll see you later.” And Rosalyn wandered away to take a seat.
Poppy’s heart thudded in her chest and elation blushed on her cheeks.
“You invited her,” Poppy said overjoyed when Dai sidled closer again.
“You’ve got Mary to thank for that,” he said. “She’s taken quite a shine to Rosalyn.”
“Oh.”
“But I was going to.” He added, teasing, “Who knows, one day I might say something nice to her.”
The registrar had arrived and they turned for the ceremony to begin. But Poppy couldn’t help glancing back to Rosalyn. She looked exquisite but at ease, greeting local acquaintances and chatting to a woman beside her.
“That’s the choir director she’s talking to,” Dai whispered. “I’m very flattered she’s turned up. I wasn’t sure she knew who I was, not being one of the soloists. Very bright and capable lady,” he said. “Gives me the willies.”
Poppy smiled indulgently at Dai. Rosalyn didn’t seem perturbed at all and Poppy admired how easily she engaged the stern director and everyone who passed by. It seemed incredible to Poppy that this beautiful and accomplished woman should ever have been in love with her. Poppy fidgeted and smoothed down her dress again, not feeling worthy of Rosalyn’s appreciation and kind regard.
“Do I have a nice smile?” she murmured.
Dai was talking to someone else and didn’t respond immediately. “What’s that?” he said.
“Oh nothing, Dai. Sorry.”
He stared at her a moment, a serious expression on his face. “Fireworks, Poppy,” he said. “Your smile’s like fireworks. Rosalyn’s not wrong about that.”
Her heart leapt with his generosity and hoped that she was indeed beguiling for Rosalyn. She peeped over her shoulder to find Rosalyn’s eyes fixed upon her, fondness and the highest esteem glowing on her face.
At a nod from the registrar, the congregation and choir rose. After a cough, a shuffle and a deep chest full of air the choir’s deep melodious voice sang out “Pom pom pom pom. Pom pom pom pom.” The crowd began to giggle as they recognised an acapella version of the traditional processional music. Poppy grinned from ear to ear and Dai chuckled a deep sonorous laugh.
“I didn’t know they were going to do that,” he said, and he clapped his hands together.
Then Poppy and Dai turned to see Mary appear at the keep’s gate.
“Oh my days,” Dai said, and he covered his heart with his large hand.
Mary shone, beautiful in a white Celtic gown, her father on one arm, her mother on the other. Poppy already had a tear in her eye by the time Mary reached them, her face a picture of happiness.
And for the whole ceremony, there was not a gloomy face within the castle walls. A soloist enchanted, as he sang Ar Hyd y Nos and Mary’s sister held the crowd with bemusement and amusement as she recited Valentine. Even a hairy moment with the rings when they realised the grill they stood beside lead straight down to the dungeon, only caused merriment.
And throughout it all, Poppy could feel Rosalyn’s eyes upon her. Poppy’s face flushed under Rosalyn’s attention, almost as if she reached out and caressed her cheek. Poppy peeked towards her and Rosalyn’s face was full of kind emotion and regard. It took all of Poppy’s will power not to break away and run to her.
“You may kiss the bride,” shouted the registrar, and a huge cheer erupted from the congregation.
Dai and Mary turned to face the crowd, with such smiles their cheeks would ache in happiness for days. Dai looked to his friends in the choir and once again they prepared for song.
A deep breath then the first line of a song that’s written through everyone with a drop of Welsh blood – they burst into Calon Lân. Everyone smiled and lifted higher in their seats. When the chorus started, Dai added his powerful voice to the choir, as did every person in the crowd. Every man, woman and child stood and sang with a gusto impossible to contain when singing that emblematic song.
Poppy sang and a tear of joy ran down her cheek. Even Rosalyn, who grudgingly sang the hymn for years at school, joined in with a full heart. They held the final note for as long as they humanly could then broke into a cheer and applause.
Dai and Mary ran down the aisle and children threw flowers, the wind whipping the white petals into the air and sprinkling them over the whole congregation.
Chapter 42.
Those who were able took the ridge walk in the evening light from the castle up the valley towards Rhiw Hall. Poppy ran on ahead of the wedding party, her dress gathered in her hands. The path dropped into the valley where the estate grounds began and for the first time in years she approached the Hall via its formal drive.
The light was fading and the ancient beech trees were formidable in the twilight, but the drive was softly lit by lanterns hanging from the boughs. The effect was ethereal and Poppy was spellbound by the wooded approach. The drive opened out into the grand lawn encircled by a ring of lanterns. The Hall was alluring in the dusk, as was Rosalyn who shone a pale beauty waiting in the flickering lights.
“It’s magical.” Poppy grinned. “I’ve never seen it so enchanting.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Rosalyn said and she stepped forward, keen to meet her.
Poppy clasped Rosalyn’s hands in greeting, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, wanting to touch and hold her. “They’ll be here soon.”
“Everything’s ready. Drinks are poured and waiting in the gallery. I can keep them entertained and refilled for as long as you need.”
“Thank you. I should go and prepare.”
Rosalyn nodded, but held on to her hands.
“I…” Poppy stared at her, drifting dreamily in Rosalyn’s gaze. The temptation to draw her into an embrace and kiss and never stop was a momentary lapse away. Poppy could almost feel her mouth upon Rosalyn’s expectant lips. How easy it would be to run her hands down Rosalyn’s body, explore every curve and slip a hand beneath her clothes to find every delicate feature.
Just a sliver of anxiety and doubt remained.
“I need to go.” Poppy frowned and pulled away. She turned towards the stables and felt Rosalyn’s gaze upon her every step of the way.
Poppy spun around as she entered the carriage doors, unable to suppress her admiration. Lights cascaded down the walls and across the beams, transforming the space into a room of stars. Tables with starched cloths were laid ready, with the head table across the open doors. It seemed for all the world a perfect wedding venue.
Poppy rushed into the kitchen, which was filled with steam and activity. Pip, dressed in a white shirt and black trousers, was helping other waiters spread the plates for serving. Her mother stirred great pots of peas and gravy. Derek was unwrapping a first joint of lamb and carefully testing inside.
“Let’s all have a sample,” Poppy said.
Derek cut away a piece of lamb and arranged it on a plate and Emma slid on crisp roast potatoes, peas and herb gravy.
Poppy picked at the meat with her fingers, nibbling to taste, then dipped a finger full of gravy into her mouth.
“A touch more seasoning I think, but this has turned out very well.”
Her mother took a sample and nodded, as did Derek.
“We need to get serving before this spoils,” he said. “It’s rested perfectly.”
Poppy spun around. “Ready everyone?”
Pip and her companions nodded and the serving of more than a hundred and fifty guests began.
The dinner flew by with great appreciation and merriment. People were already on a high from the ceremony and the sparkling wine. The discerning made perspicacious comments on the meal, the hungry demolished great platefuls. And before Poppy could think thrice about making her best-man’s speech, the top table were shuffling in readiness for the traditional toasts.
“Oh god.” She was starting to hyperventilate. “Oh no. Excuse me, Dai, I need to check dessert’s ready.”
“You all right Poppy?” Dai peered along the table.
“I need to check drinks are topped up for toasts and desserts are on standby.”
“Poppy, love,” Dai smiled, “you don’t have to make a speech. There’ll be enough talking with me and Mary blathering on in ours.”
Poppy nodded. “I know. I’ll be fine,” she said with cold nausea inside.
She sped from the table into the service area and hid behind the doorway. She closed her eyes and gasped noisy inhalations. “Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.” She said with every breath.
“I wondered if you were still afraid of public speaking.”
Poppy opened her eyes to find Rosalyn peering at her, concerned. Poppy gathered her speech cards from her pocket and spread them before Rosalyn, intending to reassure her about her capability, but her ribcage spasmed into hyperventilation and she panted once more.
Rosalyn clasped her hands. “Come on,” she said. “Look at me.”
Poppy complied with difficulty, taking a moment to focus on Rosalyn’s piercing eyes.
“Now follow me,” Rosalyn said. “Deep breath in, all the way down to your stomach, and hold it.”
The air pushed out Poppy’s lungs and suppressed her frenetic gasps, and with a few more efforts she began to breathe normally.
Rosalyn smiled. “Better?”