All For Victory: A Romantic Comedy (The Dartmouth Diaries Book 3)

by Watts, Beverley

  ‘But at the end of the day, Boris was happy and that’s what it was all about. He really is a very sweet old man in spite of his, err, issues.’

  ‘How did the hospital staff react when you all walked in? Did anybody faint when faced with not just one but two idols in the flesh?

  ‘No,’ she chuckles, ‘We kept the members of staff who were allowed in the room to a minimum, and most of them seemed to be about Mabel’s age. They all had selfies though - I should think they’re negotiating with Hello magazine as we speak.’

  ‘Do they know about the wedding?’

  ‘Absolutely not. Everyone kept quiet about that, but I hope the nurses aren’t too quick to sell their pics - they’ll be worth a lot more after Saturday.

  ‘Anyway, no more fobbing me off. What happened with Laura?’

  ‘It seems as though Jason’s blown her out.’ My matter of fact tone completely belies the butterflies that are playing havoc with my insides.’

  ‘Did she say why?’ Tory’s voice is cautious – I know she doesn’t want me to get my hopes up.

  ‘No she didn’t, she just said that if I was going to make a play for him, I wasn’t to wait too long.

  ‘Of course that’s all well and good, but at this moment in time, I’ve no idea whether he finished with her because of me, or because he’s simply intending to steer clear of women altogether for the foreseeable future and retire to Tibet.’

  There’s a pause and I hear laughing in the background. ‘I should let you go,’ I murmur softly.

  ‘Why don’t you come over,’ she asks, after shouting at whoever’s in the room to be quiet.

  ‘Nah. Thanks for the offer, but I really think I need to be on my own right now. I’ve got a heck of a busy day tomorrow – did you know I’m planning a wedding?’

  She laughs softly. ‘Nobody else could have done it better Kitty Kat.’

  ‘Save it,’ I respond drily, ‘You might not be speaking to me by Sunday.’

  Chapter Twenty

  So it’s finally the morning of my best friend’s wedding and I wake up to Dotty licking my face enthusiastically – I’m obviously a bit of a bed partner novelty. Snuggling her to me, I look up at the ceiling and go over everything in my head.

  Yesterday was absolutely manic, with last minute – well – everything. I spent a large part of the day up at BRNC supervising the Hogwarts decorations with Richard and Rupert from Planet Gold, and by the time we left, I was half expecting to see Harry appear at any minute shouting, ‘Expecto Patronum.’ The whole College looks simply amazing.

  I never saw Jason throughout the whole day. In fact I couldn’t help but wonder if he was still intending to come to the wedding – he could have gone home for Christmas for all I know. Maybe it would be a good thing if he has. I still have no idea what I’m going to do.

  When the bloody hell did I become such a coward?

  Sighing, I turn over to look at Tory’s peaceful features. ‘Come on lazybones, it’s your wedding day,’ I shout, jumping out of bed. Dotty starts barking excitedly as my best friend mumbles something and turns over.

  ‘I need three cups of strong coffee before I can even think of getting out of this bed.’ I’d forgotten about Freddy.

  ‘Of course, the word bed might be a slight exaggeration. I feel as though I’ve spent the night undertaking some kind of medieval penance,’ he groans, lifting his eye mask. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Nearly eight o’clock,’ I answer, throwing open the curtains and looking out of the window. ‘I don’t believe it,’ I whisper, pressing my nose against the glass, ‘It’s snowing.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ is Tory’s panicked response, as she leaps out of bed, ‘I hope the ferry’s running. There’s no way I’m rowing across the river in my bloody wedding dress.’

  The three of us stand and watch the snowflakes drift lazily down, slowly turning the world into a sea of white.

  I’ve been on the phone on and off all morning, making sure that all the last minute details have been taken care of. For most of that time, Tory’s bedroom has been the centre of operations, with all and sundry dashing in and out to look for everything from safety pins to nail varnish remover. But now, finally, things have quietened down.

  Freddy’s gone over to do his ushering duties and I can hear the drone of helicopters bringing in the wealthiest guests. I just hope he manages to hold it together in the face of such Hollywood royalty - but then Kim’s there too, and with a bit of luck, she’ll keep him on track.

  Madison’s gone off for a last minute visit to the toilet before we get into the car, so now it’s just me, Tory and Dotty.

  ‘Are you okay? I ask softly, ‘You look absolutely stunning.’ And she does. The dress still fits perfectly, despite the sausages, and she’s wearing a simple garland of gypsophila in her hair to match her bouquet.

  She smiles at me shyly. ‘Thanks for everything you’ve done Kitty Kat, I really wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for you. You’ve been the best friend anyone could ever ask for.’

  I bend down and pour us both a flute of Champagne. ‘Junior won’t mind,’ I murmur handing her a glass, ‘Here’s to the future. You and Noah are absolutely perfect for each other and I just know you’ll be so happy together.’

  ‘What the bollocking hell are you doing Victory, I could have married and had a couple of carpet crawlers in the time it’s taken you to get ready.’

  We look at each other and laugh. Time to get this show on the road…

  ~*~

  The limousine drives slowly through the main gate of the College and up the winding drive towards the parade ground, finally coming to a halt at the foot of the steps leading to the main doors.

  Throughout the short car journey, the Admiral has been uncharacteristically quiet. He keeps glancing at Tory as though he can’t quite believe the vision next to him is his daughter. Luckily Madison’s excited chatter has prevented the silence from becoming slightly uncomfortable.

  The driver comes round to open the door and both Madison and I exit first. After handing my bouquet to my fellow bridesmaid, I lean back in to grab Dotty, all dressed up with her beautiful red bow, and I can’t help but grin as I hear the Admiral say brusquely, ‘Well girl, while it’s a bit of a surprise, I can’t deny you’ve scrubbed up well. Your mother would be proud.’

  The snow has lightly dusted the parade ground, and we make our way carefully up the steps to the main entrance. I tense as the huge doors are opened for us. This is the first time Tory’s seen the College decorated for her wedding. Her indrawn breath as she steps into the magically transformed main corridor tells me everything. She pulls me to her in a quick hug, mouthing, ‘Thank you, before taking her father’s arm. Madison squeals in excitement as she takes hold of my hand and we slowly lead the way towards the Chapel.

  My heart is beating like a drum, but not because I’m nervous for Tory on her big day. It’s more to do with the fact that Jason Buchannan is standing outside the Chapel doors looking this way.

  As we walk towards him, I just have time to notice how gorgeous he looks in his ceremonial uniform before the Admiral approaches and he straightens up, saluting smartly.

  ‘You look beautiful Victory,’ he smiles, ‘Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll go in to tell them you’ve arrived.’ Only then does he look over at me. My heart gives a leap, then begins to thump erratically as I register the bitter regret carved into his handsome features.

  For one, two seconds, everything around us pales into insignificance, then, ‘If you two have done making bloody cow’s eyes at each other, perhaps we can get this bollocking cake and arse party over with.’

  The Admiral’s whisper, which has likely been heard by the whole congregation, brings me back to my senses and I reluctantly tear my gaze away and try to drag some air into my constricted lungs.

  Handing Dotty’s leash to Madison, I gently pull them both through the doors as Jason takes his place near the front. Then I pause to cast a brief glance
back at Tory, just in time to see her wink.

  Walking slowly up the aisle, I see some vaguely familiar faces from the large and small screen, as well as those I’ve known all my life. Aunt Flo is sitting with Neil, and we make brief smiling eye contact as I walk by. It’s enough for now.

  Jimmy is sitting with his wife Emily, who’s obviously decided against puce. Jason’s father Hugo is there, sitting next to Jacques, and finally, I arrive at the front, level with a beaming Freddy and Mabel on one side, and Kim, Ben and Joseph on the other.

  Flickering candles in sconces and on window sills cast fantastical shadows on the beautiful vaulted ceiling and a huge Christmas tree next to the pulpit completes the festive picture.

  As I finally come to a halt, I resist the urge to turn round, and stare instead at Noah standing straight, tall and almost impossibly handsome – his black hair virtually blue in the dancing candlelight.

  Then, suddenly, there’s a collective gasp, the music swells and I know my best friend is walking up the aisle behind me.

  The ceremony is beautiful. In fact there isn’t a dry eye in the house, and thank God, it isn’t because of the smell. Unfortunately I don’t actually I hear that much of it because I spend the whole time thinking about the way Jason looked at me. The aching gentleness in his penetrating silver eyes.

  Difficult he might be, volatile certainly, but the real Jason Buchannan was opening his heart to me, leaving himself vulnerable for the first time since he’d had his heart broken all those years ago.

  Now it’s up to me.

  As Tory and Noah finally go to sign the register, I guide Madison towards our seats. Once there, I take a deep breath and lift my eyes to meet his.

  I’m currently standing outside the main entrance at the top of the steps. Tory and Noah are posing for photos, along with all the guests who’ve had the good sense to dress for the weather. The rest are helping themselves to moose milk on the Quarterdeck. Contrary to all predictions, the snow has persisted and the whole scene resembles something out of The Lion The Witch And The Wardrobe. It’s simply breathtaking – beautiful with an almost otherworldly feel about it.

  Suddenly I stiffen as I sense a presence behind me. Then, recognizing the spicy smell of cologne that is uniquely Jason, my body relaxes slightly, even as my heart starts to race.

  I hardly recognize his voice when he finally speaks - the raw, aching whisper sends a tremor up my spine.

  ‘Ms Davies, you look unbelievably gorgeous. Have you any idea just how much I love you?’

  I close my eyes at the shattering tenderness of his words, and after a brief pause, I take a small step back to lean against him. I feel his hand drop to my waist, then gently slide around in front of me, pulling me nearer and tighter to him, and there I’m content to remain, secure in the warmth of my captain’s love.

  This is Tory and Noah’s day. I smile as I watch their carefree laughter. Laying my fingers over Jason’s warm hand, I finally believe that one day soon, it will be ours.

  THE END

  If you’d like to continue Kit and Jason’s story, click on the link below to download Chasing Victory: Book Four of The Dartmouth Diaries, available on Amazon.

  Amazon.com

  Amazon.co.uk

  Of course, if you happen to have missed the first two books in The Dartmouth Diaries series, you can grab them from the links below:

  Claiming Victory:

  Amazon.com

  Amazon.co.uk

  Sweet Victory:

  Amazon.com

  Amazon.co.uk

  Author’s Note

  As I’ve said in my previous books, the beautiful yachting haven of Dartmouth in South Devon holds a very special place in my heart – not least because I met my husband there :-)

  If you’re ever in the area, please do take the time out to visit. The pubs and restaurants I describe are real and I’ve spent many a happy breakfast/ lunchtime/evening in each of them.

  Café Alf Resco serves, in my opinion, the best breakfast in Dartmouth, and is definitely not to be missed. (My favourite is the Cinnamon Toast.) They also have a couple of rooms available for those who fancy staying longer than just for breakfast…

  The Anchorstone café and The Ferryboat Inn at Dittisham are also a must for anyone who loves alfresco dining and sea food – although The Anchorstone is only open during the summer months.

  If you’d like more information about Dartmouth and the surrounding areas, here’s a link to the Tourist Information Centre.

  http://www.discoverdartmouth.com/things-to-do/shopping/dartmouth-tourist-information-centre-p1509323

  For all you budding sleuths out there, you might be interested to know that The Brie, The Bullet, and the Black Cat is an actual murder mystery game which you can download from numerous sources on the internet, including Amazon.

  Having played the game before, I know just how much fun it is (my family and I had a riotous night hamming it up), and for that reason I chose not to reveal the murderer at the end of Flo’s party.

  I heartily recommend you give it a go…

  If you enjoyed this book, I’d be really grateful if you would leave a review/star rating on Amazon. This is soo important and helps so much with both sales and of course my self esteem :-)

  However, if you do decide to leave a (hopefully) nice review, could you please do so via the Amazon website and not via the ‘Rate This Book’ feature on your Kindle; those reviews don’t connect to the website half the time!

  For any of you who would like to connect, I’d really love to hear from you.

  You can contact me via my website at: http://www.beverleywatts.com

  Or my facebook page at: https://www.facebook.com/beverleywattsauthor

  And lastly, thanks a million for taking the time to read this story. I really hope we can continue on to the next one together…

  Yours aye

  Bev

  If you haven’t already read Claiming Victory – Book One of the Dartmouth Diaries, turn the page for an exclusive sneak peek…

  Claiming Victory

  Chapter One

  Retired Admiral, Charles Shackleford, entered the dimly lit interior of his favourite watering hole. Once inside, he waited a second for his eyes to adjust, and glanced around to check that his ageing Springer spaniel was already seated beside his stool at the bar. Pickles had disappeared into the undergrowth half a mile back, as they walked along the wooded trail high above the picturesque River Dart. The scent of some poor unfortunate rabbit had caught his still youthful nose. The Admiral was not unduly worried; this was a regular occurrence, and Pickles knew his way to the Ship Inn better than his master.

  Satisfied that all was as it should be for a Friday lunchtime, Admiral Shackleford waved to the other regulars, and made his way to his customary seat at the bar where his long standing, and long suffering friend, Jimmy Noon, was already halfway down his first pint.

  ‘You’re a bit late today Sir,’ observed Jimmy, after saluting his former commanding officer smartly.

  Charles Shackleford grunted as he heaved his ample bottom onto the bar stool. ‘Got bloody waylaid by that bossy daughter of mine.’ He sighed dramatically before taking a long draft of his pint of real ale, which was ready and waiting for him. ‘Damn bee in her bonnet since she found out about my relationship with Mabel Pomfrey. Of course, I told her to mind her own bloody business, but it has to be said that the cat’s out of the bag, and no mistake.’

  He stared gloomily down into his pint. ‘She said it cast aspersions on her poor mother’s memory. But what she doesn’t understand Jimmy, is that I’m still a man in my prime. I’ve got needs. I mean look at me – why can’t she see that I’m still a fine figure of a man, and any woman would be more than happy to shack up with me.’

  Abruptly, the Admiral turned towards his friend so the light shone directly onto his face and leaned forward. ‘Come on then man, tell me you agree.’

  Jimmy took a deep breath as he dubiously regarded the wat
ery eyes, thread veined cheeks, and larger than average nose no more than six inches in front of him

  However, before he could come up with a suitably acceptable reply that wouldn’t result in him standing to attention for the next four hours in front of the Admiral’s dishwasher, the Admiral turned away, either indicating it was purely a rhetorical question, or he genuinely couldn’t comprehend that anyone could possibly regard him as less than a prime catch.

  Jimmy sighed with relief. He really hadn’t got time this afternoon to do dishwasher duty as he’d agreed to take his wife shopping. Although to be fair, a four hour stint in front of an electrical appliance at the Admiral’s house, with Tory sneaking him tea and biscuits, was actually preferable to four hours trailing after his wife in Marks and Spencer’s. He didn’t think his wife would see it that way though. Emily Noon had enough trouble understanding her husband’s tolerance towards ‘that dinosaur’s’ eccentricities as it was.

  Of course, Emily wasn’t aware that only the quick thinking of the dinosaur in question had, early on in their naval career, saved her husband from a potentially horrible fate involving a Thai prostitute who’d actually turned out to be a man…

  As far as Jimmy was concerned, Admiral Shackleford was his Commanding Officer, and always would be, and if that involved such idiosyncrasies as presenting himself in front of a dishwasher with headphones on, saluting and saying, ‘Dishwasher manned and ready sir.’ Then four hours later, saluting again while saying, ‘Dishwasher secured,’ so be it.