Never the Bride (Dilbury Village #1)

by Charlotte Fallowfield

  ‘If love was easy, there wouldn’t be any single people or divorce,’ she said wisely as she patted my hand, while I wiped away the last of my tears.

  ‘If we can’t agree on this, though …’ I trailed off, shaking my head.

  ‘When the time comes that you have to make the decision, you will.’

  ‘And what if I make the wrong decision?’

  ‘Take some advice from an old woman, Abbie. There’s no such thing as a wrong decision. You make your choices in life based on the cards played to you and your emotions at the time. Whatever will be will be, you can’t change fate.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I sighed, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Right. Well, I’d better go and empty my bladder, then wake up his lordship and get him home. We’ve had a lovely day, thank you so much for having us. Again.’

  ‘You know you’re welcome anytime. I’ll just plate up some food for you to stick in the microwave tomorrow while you go and wake him up and get your coats on,’ I suggested, helping her up off the chair. It was scary to see how less mobile the old couple was getting. There was a noticeable difference in her movement and speed compared to last year and the year before that.

  I put together two large plates for them and covered them in cling film, then did another bowl of scraps for Sumo, making sure to leave off any hint of Brussels sprouts or cabbage. He didn’t need any encouragement in that department, that was for sure. I whipped my head around when I heard a cry from the lounge.

  ‘Are you ok?’ I called as I set his bowl to the side. ‘Daphne?’

  I got no reply and scurried across the hall. I bet Sumo had got under her feet and tripped her up. I had visions of her lying on the floor with a broken hip. Instead, I found her sitting on the sofa, sobbing, as she held David’s hand. He was completely oblivious, as was Sumo, still fast asleep.

  ‘What’s happened, what’s wrong?’

  ‘I can’t … I can’t wake him up,’ she whimpered. ‘David, David, please wake up. It’s time to go home.’

  My heart sank as I rushed over and paid more than a cursory glance at him. He wasn’t snoring, his chest wasn’t heaving, and his lips had a blue tinge to them. I grabbed the phone and dialled 999 for the emergency services as I put my fingers on the pulse point on his neck. Daphne gave me a hopeful look through her tears, both of her hands firmly wrapped around one of his.

  Nothing.

  I looked up as Miller burst through the doors of the hospital waiting room at Accident and Emergency in Shrewsbury, then stalled in his tracks as he saw me sitting with Daphne, my arm around her shoulders, my other hand holding hers tightly as she sobbed. The ambulance had arrived so quickly, I’d barely had time to scribble a note and stick it on the kitchen island to say the words “Hospital. Emergency. David.”

  I swallowed a lump in my throat and shook my head. Of all the days to suffer a fatal heart attack, David had chosen to do it on Christmas Day. Sixty years of marriage ended in the blink of an eye, while she’d been sitting comforting me. I fought back my tears. I had no right to cry right now. No matter how fond I’d been of David, how guilty I felt that he’d been all alone when it happened, it wasn’t about me. Daphne had just lost her soul mate and the love of her life. Her grief was what mattered right now.

  ‘Damn it,’ Miller uttered, before turning around and punching the wall. He held his hands up in apology as the receptionist snapped her head up and the security guard gave him a warning glance. ‘What can I do?’ he whispered, as he crouched in front of me and placed a hand on my knee, squeezing it gently.

  ‘Can you sit with her while I sort out some of the paperwork? They said it shouldn’t be long, then I think we need to get her home. How did you get here?’

  ‘I’d had too much to drink to risk driving your car, so I headed up to The Cock & Bull. Tony the landlord hadn’t been drinking, so he offered to bring me in. He’s waiting outside.’

  ‘That’s good of him,’ I nodded, tightening my arm around Daphne as her sobs started to slow. ‘Do you think he’ll wait a while? I’d really like to take her home as soon as possible.’

  ‘I’ll check.’ Miller stood up, then hesitated and bent down and kissed me quickly, then clasped Daphne’s face and gently kissed her forehead. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered. She nodded and sniffed as we watched him walk away.

  ‘What am I supposed to do without him?’ she said quietly. ‘He was my reason, you know.’

  ‘I know, and honestly, I’ve no idea,’ I said sadly. ‘But however you face this, you won’t be doing it alone, and we’re going to take it day by day, ok? I’m just so sorry that you were … with me when …’

  ‘Don’t you dare, Abbie,’ Daphne warned as she straightened herself in her chair. ‘This wasn’t your fault. It was his time to go and nothing either of us did or didn’t do will ever change that. I told you that there’s no arguing with fate,’ she reminded me, her old arthritic hands curling tightly around mine. ‘As last days went, it couldn’t have been better, thanks to you mollycoddling an old couple out of the goodness of your heart. You have nothing to apologise for, do you hear me?’

  I nodded, hoping she really meant that. The only consolation was that the doctors had said he’d likely have had no idea what was happening to him. To all intents and purposes, he’d slipped away peacefully in his sleep after a bellyful of Christmas dinner and a few glasses of his favourite whisky. Right now David Jones had it easy. It was Daphne and me who had it hard. Not to mention poor Georgie, how was I going to tell her?

  Chapter Nine

  Hello And Goodbye

  January

  ‘I’M SORRY, ROGER, BUT this is your mother we’re talking about! I never had the chance to get to know mine, so trust me when I say that you taking your relationship with yours for granted makes me see red. You’ve been here once since the funeral and it’s unacceptable. She has Georgie and me, she’ll always have Georgie and me, but you’re family and it’s time you took some damn responsibility and took care of the woman who needs you more than ever right now.’ I slammed the phone down on him, with steam coming out of my ears. Georgie was sitting on the sofa, watching me with her mouth ajar and a stunned expression on her face.

  ‘I don’t think you should have sugar coated it, Abbie. Why not try telling him what you really think?’ she suggested, her tone laced with sarcasm.

  ‘Well, honestly! He’s her son, her only child. I love her like she’s my own family, you know I do, and I’d do anything for her, but she needs him right now. She needs her flesh and blood. He’s a pathetic excuse for a son, only turning up once or twice a year when it suits him. Begrudgingly having them for a few days before Christmas. Where has he been when they needed help, when the heating broke down, when David fell down the stairs and broke his ankle, when Daphne gave them food poisoning by using food from tins that were ten years out of date? Huh? Huh?!’ I ranted, pausing for breath as I put my hands on my hips.

  ‘I totally agree, but this anger you have needs another outlet, Abbie. You haven’t cried since it happened, not even at the funeral. I get that you’ve wanted to be strong for Daphne, but you need to let someone else be strong while you grieve, too. He was like a father to you.’

  ‘I don’t have time to cry,’ I muttered stubbornly. ‘With Roger … arsewipe out of the picture, who else does she have?’

  ‘Ermmm, hello, am I not much cop? Come and sit down, sweetie, it’s ok to stop for a moment and think about what you’ve lost, too,’ she urged.

  ‘I don’t want to, Georgie! I’ve experienced too much loss and I don’t think I can take anymore. If I let myself cry, I’m not sure I’ll stop. Come on, let’s go and check on her. I made some lovely fruit scones and strawberry jam, and got some clotted cream, as it’s her favourite snack. We can go and have a nice Sunday afternoon tea with her, take her mind off it.’

  Georgie sighed with a nod and held her hands up in defeat as I busied myself in the kitchen. Truth be told, I needed my m
ind taken off it. I’d been miserable since it had happened, finding it difficult to remember the last time I’d laughed. I was tired and irritable, and lately this long-distance thing with Miller was getting me down. I’d turned twenty-nine in June, and eleven bridesmaid dresses were now residing in my attic as my biological clock continued to count down. Sixty years the Joneses had been married. Was it wrong to want a love like that? To want to be with that person permanently, for your love to be so strong it would last a lifetime? I’d fallen for Miller so hard, I’d been so sure he was the one, but lately I was questioning that. How could we build a foundation as solid as Daphne and David’s when we were constantly chasing time with each other, with long breaks in between?

  I hugged Daphne as tightly as I could when she opened the door, causing her to remind me that at her age, she was likely to suffer from brittle bones and I might break her if I didn’t let her go. How pathetic was I that she was handling the loss of her husband better than I was? I blinked away some tears and busied myself putting together our cream tea while Georgie went to light a fire in the lounge. I laid out the tray, with Daphne’s pretty blue and white Wedgewood fine china tea service. I put doilies under the pile of freshly baked scones and little pots filled to the brim with sticky jam and thick yellow cream with that crust that just made the English treat so delightful. Except right now it was looking as tempting as cardboard. I carried it through and put it on the coffee table, then took charge of the teapot and poured a cup of aromatic Earl Grey for us all.

  ‘Well, this is lovely,’ Daphne smiled, reaching over to squeeze my knee as I took my place on the sofa next to her.

  ‘Hmmm,’ agreed Georgie, ‘nothing beats Abbie’s scones in front of a nice fire on a winter’s afternoon.’

  ‘Aren’t you having any, dear?’ Daphne asked, as she loaded one with jam and cream.

  ‘No, I’m not really feeling hungry right now. But you two tuck in,’ I suggested. I sat back with my cup and saucer and absentmindedly sipped the steaming hot tea, glancing up when I heard Georgie splutter, then choke.

  ‘Jesus,’ she muttered, screwing up her face as Daphne began to cough and pat her chest.

  ‘What? What’s wrong?’ I asked, my eyes darting between them as they both set their plates of food down and gulped at their tea.

  ‘Ermmm, have you been trying out a new recipe?’ Georgie asked.

  ‘No, it’s my usual one, I know it by heart. Why?’

  ‘You were a bit heavy handed with the–’

  ‘Currants,’ Daphne interrupted. ‘Lots and lots of currants. They just took us by surprise, went down the wrong way.’

  ‘Currants?’ I looked down at my scones in surprise. If anything, I’d put less in. I hadn’t had many left in my cupboard and couldn’t be bothered to walk up to the village store.

  ‘Yes, currants,’ Georgie agreed, nodding very emphatically when I looked up at her. ‘Down … the wrong way.’

  ‘Are you sure? I didn’t put in as many as normal. Don’t they taste good?’

  ‘De-li-cious,’ Daphne stated, over-pronouncing each syllable and flashing Georgie a look that I couldn’t quite work out, before she lifted up the piece she’d started and carried on tucking in.

  ‘Mmmm-hmmm,’ Georgie agreed, nodding so hard her head was at risk of falling off as she nearly emptied her pot of jam on the small morsel she lifted up to her lips and started to chew.

  ‘Want a bit of scone with your jam?’ I asked, raising my eyebrows as she chewed. Her blue eyes went wide as Daphne’s patterned cake plate as she made a meal of swallowing and forced back another cough.

  ‘How about another pot of tea, dear?’ Daphne suggested, giving me a poignant look.

  ‘There’s plenty left, let me pour you another cup,’ I offered, picking up the teapot.

  ‘I’m not feeling in an Earl Grey mood today. How about some plain breakfast tea? It’s in the top cupboard above the kettle.’

  ‘Hmmm, I’d love some breakfast tea to go with these really, really, delicious scones,’ Georgie nodded. I gave her a strange look, wondering if she’d suddenly developed some rare nodding illness, as her head just continued to bob up and down.

  ‘Ok.’ I gave them both another look. I was getting the feeling I was missing something here, but I picked up the teapot and headed back out to the kitchen.

  I flicked on the kettle as I rinsed out the dregs of Earl Grey and sighed. Even spending yesterday working hadn’t cheered me up, and I usually loved a good spreadsheet. Messing around with numbers always made me happy, but it was like someone had sucked out my happiness these last few weeks. I felt like I was living under a permanent stormy black cloud, waiting for the heavens to open. I rummaged in the cupboard, but couldn’t find the tea leaves Daphne had mentioned anywhere, nor in the cupboard to the left of the sink. I padded back to the lounge to find the two of them with their backs to me, bent over the fire.

  ‘They’re not burning. Quick, cover them with another log,’ Daphne ordered.

  ‘She’ll know. I mean, there were six on the plate, no one eats three scones each that quickly,’ Georgie replied, grabbing a piece of wood as I folded my arms over my chest.

  ‘She won’t if we just say how delicious they were.’

  ‘I can’t believe you’re advocating lying!’

  ‘You were the one who said burn them. Don’t lay this on me, Georgie Basset. I was all for eating them regardless,’ Daphne retorted. ‘Besides, we’re doing a kindness. She’s down as it is, I don’t want to see her any more unhappy.’

  ‘Ok, what’s going on?’ I demanded, making them both jump, then turn to face me with grimaces. Georgie swallowed hard as her cheeks went pink.

  ‘Nothing, just a bit chilly, that’s all.’

  ‘Don’t give me that. You’re both hiding something from me. What was wrong with my scones?’

  ‘Nothing,’ they both chorused. I narrowed my eyes at them and Georgie wilted, then covered her eyes.

  ‘Stop, stop. That’s the stare, the terrifying accountant stare that says you’ve found a discrepancy and has me visualising a life behind bars for a one pence tax fraud. Or the one that says my tax bill's going to be so high, I need to sell my house and leave Dilbury. You know it puts me on edge.’

  ‘Georgie Basset,’ I warned.

  ‘Your scones were disgusting. There, I’ve said it!’ she expelled in a rush. I gasped as Daphne groaned and covered her face with her hands.

  ‘My scones have won first place at the village fête for the last seven years,’ I protested. ‘And my jam and my cookies.’

  ‘Well, these wouldn’t have, sweetie. It was like swallowing seawater. Except I’ve done that and that was more pleasant. In fact, I’d rather stick my hand in the fire and pull them out than try and eat another crumb of one.’

  ‘Georgie, what happened to our plan not to upset her?’ Daphne scolded.

  ‘They were salty? Seriously?’ I uttered, stunned.

  ‘The jam too, which I didn’t discover until I put a mountain of it on a tiny piece of scone, hoping to ease it down,’ Georgie confirmed, nodding vigorously again.

  ‘Really?’ I plopped down onto the sofa, shaking my head.

  ‘I think you must have mixed up the sugar and salt, my dear. It’s not the end of the world,’ Daphne said softly as she shuffled back over to ease herself down next to me.

  ‘But other than maths and accounting, cookies, scones, and jam are what I’m good at,’ I moaned. ‘If I can’t even make those right, what kind of mess have I been making of my customers’ accounts? Why didn’t you just say, instead of trying to eat … then burn them?’

  ‘You’ve been so depressed lately, we didn’t want to add to your burdens.’ Daphne took my hand and stroked it as she smiled at me.

  ‘But … but … I have no right to be depressed. You … you …’ I shook my head, feeling the sting of tears prickling the back of my eyes.

  ‘You lost him too, dear,’ she stated gently. ‘Grief can remind us of other
people in our lives that we’ve lost, and I know you’ve been blaming yourself for it happening at your house while I was with you, which is ridiculous. Then there’s poor Mr. Sumo’s cancer, your American boyfriend who you barely see, and you’ve taken on too many clients and are working too hard. It’s all caught up with you.’

  ‘She’s right, Abbie. And I know this always-the-bridesmaid thing is getting to you as well. We need to inject more fun in your life.’

  ‘Well, I know something that will cheer you up,’ Daphne announced, giving us both a so-there nod.

  ‘Liam Hemsworth is moving to Dilbury?’ I offered as I sipped on the remains of my nearly cold tea, but even the thought of my go-to celebrity hunk didn’t raise any excitement in me. Wow, I really did have the blues.

  ‘No, but our new neighbour has moved in, and I have all the gossip.’

  ‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’ Georgie whispered as she flashed me a knowing smile. Daphne beckoned us in closer, then took a look around her before whispering the news.

  ‘She’s an author. Of very salacious material. I’ve not read any of her books yet, but I’ve heard they make Fifty Shakes read like a children’s novel.’

  ‘Fifty Shakes?’ Georgie giggled, and I couldn’t help but smile a bit too. ‘Do you mean Fifty Shades?’

  ‘No, I’m sure it’s Fifty Shakes.’

  ‘Well, I’m pretty sure I could write a novel more saucy than one about milkshakes,’ Georgie stated emphatically.

  ‘Milkshakes? Oh no,’ Daphne rebutted with a shake of her head. ‘It’s all about sex, my dear. With whips and handcuffs. Of course, it may be shocking to some, but some of us have had a slightly more colourful life.’ She gave me a wink, and I choked and sprayed my mouthful of tea all over myself, making Georgie do her unladylike snorting laugh.

  ‘You and … David … handcuffs … kink … need bleach for my mind,’ I groaned, slamming my cup and saucer down as I covered my eyes and tried to blot out that disturbing visual.