‘I know, I know,’ Fleur sympathized. ‘I didn’t understand then, but I do now. You’d just been through it, hadn’t you?’
‘I let myself get very fond of Billy. I vowed I wouldn’t. Right from coming into the WAAFs, I promised myself I wouldn’t let myself get fond of anyone, but then I had to meet Billy.’
There was another long silence before Fleur, pulling back a little, looked into her friend’s face glowing in the dancing light from the fire and asked gently, ‘Tell me honestly, do you wish you’d never met him?’
Ruth blinked and then slowly, with sudden understanding, shook her head. ‘No,’ she said huskily. ‘No, I don’t. “Better to have loved and lost” and all that, you mean?’
‘Well, I didn’t want to get all poetic on you, but, yes, I suppose that’s what I do mean.’
‘You’re right.’ Ruth sighed heavily. ‘But – oh, Fleur, it hurt so much. So much. I just didn’t want – you know.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘But seeing you with Robbie – well, I suppose I’ve changed my mind a bit. Whatever happens, you’ll have such happy memories. No one can ever take them away from you and . . . and despite everything – the war and even the trouble it’s caused in your family – oh, everything, I still bet you don’t wish you’d never met Robbie, do you?’
‘No, I don’t,’ Fleur said emphatically.
Thirty
Fleur woke up on the morning of her wedding with a strange fluttering in her stomach. She lay a moment, trying to quell the unaccustomed nerves, and then she smiled and mentally castigated herself. What on earth am I nervous about? I’ve no doubts about marrying Robbie. So why? But she knew why. Today might mean the end of any sort of relationship with her mother. If Betsy did not attend the wedding, as she had threatened, then Fleur knew that her mother would carry out her threat to the letter. She would never speak to her daughter again. As she rolled out of bed, Fleur sighed. She just hoped her mother would not carry out the threat that extended to her father and brother.
For herself, she could cope with it. The relationship between herself and her mother had always been a strained one. Kenny had always been their mother’s favourite; Betsy had never even tried to hide it. Luckily, it had not affected the love Fleur had for her brother, nor his for her. And Jake had always made up for Betsy’s lack of demonstrative affection towards her daughter. Fleur just hoped that today was not going to cause a rift between herself and her father and brother. If they bowed to Betsy’s demands and stayed away from the church today, then Fleur’s day would be spoilt.
That – and only that – fear was what was causing her to feel nervous.
The service was set for midday, but Fleur was dressed and ready and standing nervously in Mrs Jackson’s kitchen by eleven-thirty.
‘My word,’ Ruth teased. ‘You don’t intend letting him get away, do you?’
Fleur smiled nervously.
‘You look fantastic,’ Ruth said, standing back to take a final check on the bride’s appearance. Mrs Jackson too nodded her approval.
‘You look wonderful, my dear.’ She stepped nearer and reached up to kiss Fleur’s cheek and then dabbed a tear from her eyes. But the old lady’s tears were tears of happiness. ‘Now, I’ll leave you. I’ll go round to Harry’s. He’s borrowed a bath chair to take me to church.’ She hesitated and then said, a little nervously, ‘You – er – don’t mind if he comes round? I know he . . . he wants to see you before you leave for the church.’
‘Of course I don’t,’ Fleur said and almost added, I might have to ask him to give me away if Dad doesn’t turn up. When the old lady had closed the back door behind her, Fleur burst out, ‘Oh, Ruth, they’re not coming, are they? They promised to be here by now.’
‘Aren’t they meeting you at the church?’
Fleur, pressing her lips together to try to stop the tears flowing, shook her head. Her voice was shaking as she said, ‘No. Dad said he’d come here to take me to church.’
‘He’ll be here, don’t worry.’ Ruth tried to make her tone reassuring, but even she had begun to have doubts. ‘And Kenny,’ she added, hoping that Fleur’s handsome brother, young though he was, would have the guts to stand up to his mother.
They heard a sound in the back yard and Fleur’s heart leapt, but it was Harry who passed the window and opened the back door. He stood in the doorway. ‘Eh, lass, you look a picture.’
Fleur raised a smile. ‘Thanks, Harry.’
‘But where’s your bouquet, lass? You can’t get married without a bouquet.’
‘Well, flowers are so hard to come by. I thought I’d just carry a prayer book. You know . . . ?’
With a flourish as dramatic as any seasoned actor, Harry produced a bouquet of red roses from behind his back. ‘I made it mesen,’ he said proudly. ‘Cut all the thorns off, lass, so’s you don’t prick yasen, and I begged a bit of fern from Mester Clegg to finish it off.’
‘Oh, Harry. It’s beautiful! I don’t know what to say. Thank you – oh, thank you.’
Tears threatened again but Ruth was quick to rush forward and dab her eyes. ‘Oh, Harry, you old dear. They’re lovely, but if you make her ruin her make-up I’ll chase you round the yard again.’
Laughing wheezily, Harry backed out of the door. ‘In that case, I’ll be off to get Mary to the church. See you there, girls.’
They heard his footsteps go round the end of the cottage and down the cinder path and then there was silence. The minutes ticked by and slowly the colour drained from Fleur’s face until it was almost as white as her dress.
‘What about Robbie’s mum? Is she coming here?’ Ruth asked, trying to turn Fleur’s thoughts away, even if only for a few moments, but failing.
‘No – she’s going straight to the church. She . . . she said she . . . she didn’t want to make matters worse by bumping into my family here.’ Fleur’s eyes filled with tears now. ‘Looks like it wouldn’t have mattered.’
‘Look, love . . .’ Ruth began, but at that moment they heard the sound of a noisy engine spluttering to a halt outside the cottage. The two girls stared at each other for a moment before Fleur’s eyes shone. ‘That’s them. That’s Bertha.’
‘Bertha! Who the hell’s Bertha?’
Fleur laughed. ‘Our car. It’s an old banger of a car. Now I know why they’re late. Bertha’s been playing up.’
‘Mebbe your mother jinxed it?’ Ruth laughed as she opened the back door and Jake, flustered and red faced, rushed in followed by a grinning Kenny.
‘Fleur – I’m so sorry—’ Jake began, but then he stopped short and his mouth fell open as he stared at his daughter in her wedding finery. ‘Oh, Fleur,’ he whispered. ‘You look – beautiful.’
Now her tears spilled over and Ruth rushed to dab her cheeks with a clean handkerchief. ‘Stop that – you’ll wreck your make-up.’
Kenny grinned. ‘Who is it, Dad? Surely it’s not our Fleur? Where’s her trousers and her woolly hat?’ His teasing broke the poignant moment and they all laughed. Then Kenny held out his arm to Ruth.
‘Come on, pretty lady. We’d better go ahead and see if the groom’s been daft enough to turn up.’ For a moment his glance lingered fondly on Fleur. ‘You look great, Sis,’ he said softly. ‘We’ll see you in church.’
As Kenny and Ruth left the cottage to walk the three hundred yards down the lane to the little church, Jake stood once more just staring at his daughter, drinking in the sight of her.
‘You look lovely, Fleur.’
‘Oh, Dad,’ Fleur said, now a little more in control of her emotions. ‘Don’t set me off again.’
‘I just wish—’ Jake began and shook his head sadly. ‘I just wish your mother could see you. Maybe . . .’ His voice trailed away.
‘She . . . she’s not come then?’
‘No, love. I’m sorry. Nothing we could say made any difference.’
Fleur put her arm through his. ‘But you and Kenny are here. Thank you for that and I’m so sorry if it’s
made things difficult at home. But I’m not going to apologize for marrying Robbie.’
Jake looked deep into her eyes. ‘As long as you love him, Fleur, and you’re sure he loves you . . .’
‘I am.’
‘Then that’s all I need to know. And now, if Bertha can manage to carry us another few yards, we’d best be going.’
Bertha spluttered and coughed her way down the lane, pulling up to a thankful halt outside the gate of the old stone church, with its gently leaning square tower and arched porch. The path was so narrow that they had to walk in single file until they reached the door where Ruth awaited them. Adjusting Fleur’s headdress and veil and straightening her gown, Ruth then fell into step behind the bride and her father.
‘Ready, love?’ Jake asked, huskily.
Fleur’s eyes glowed as she turned to smile at him with unmistakable joy. Her love for Robbie shone out of her, and as Jake led her into the church and they turned together to walk down the aisle, he saw Robbie standing tall and handsome and proud at the altar steps.
Beside the groom stood Tommy Laughton, resplendent in his uniform, and behind them both, in the second pew back, were the other crewmembers from D-Doggo. And to Jake’s surprise, the church was almost full. There were a few other RAF and WAAF personnel, but then all the spare seats were taken up by villagers. They’d come to see a pretty wedding, to try to forget the war, just for a few hours, as they turned their backs on the gaping hole in the roof at the back of the church and watched the beautiful bride and her handsome groom.
Jake’s attention came back to the young man who was about to become his son-in-law. He saw the love in the young man’s eyes as he watched his bride coming towards him and Jake was left in no doubt now. Fleur was doing the right thing. Whatever Betsy’s feelings were, there was no mistaking this couple’s love for each other. As they neared the steps, Fleur had eyes for no one but Robbie, but Jake could not stop his gaze roaming over the few guests in the front pews.
And then he saw her. For the first time after half a lifetime apart he saw Meg again.
Thirty-One
The service was over and Fleur and Robbie had stood just outside the porch as all the guests and villagers had filed past them, shaking Robbie’s hand and kissing Fleur. Then the pictures had been taken with a great deal of laughter and amusement at the elderly photographer, who kept disappearing beneath the black cloth covering the square box camera which teetered precariously on a spindly tripod.
‘Just look at him!’ Kenny spluttered with mirth. ‘Trampling all over the graves to get his antiquated camera in the right place. Is he allowed to do that?’
Robbie and Fleur were almost helpless with laughter.
‘Well, I don’t think the folks he’s walking over are going to say much,’ Robbie chuckled.
‘I just hope there’s none of their relatives watching though,’ Fleur said, ever sensitive to the feelings of others. ‘They might feel it’s a bit. . . a bit – oh, what’s the word?’
‘Sacrilegious?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Well, I don’t think there’s anyone left much to notice.’
Fleur glanced around her. Most of the villagers who’d been in the church had gone, and only a few were left peering over the church wall to watch the goings on.
‘Now I wonder where they’ve all rushed off to?’ Kenny mused. ‘You’d’ve thought they’d have stayed to watch the comedy. Mind you,’ he added, nodding towards the little man waving his arms about to position his subjects and looking as if he were directing traffic, ‘I reckon he’s done it before. He seems to know just where he wants us to be.’
‘You sure about that?’ Robbie murmured.
‘Smile please,’ trilled the photographer and they all tried to straighten their faces into sensible smiles rather than wide, toothy grins and fits of giggles.
As the photographer declared, ‘That’s it, folks,’ Robbie turned to Fleur. ‘And now, Mrs Rodwell, we’re off on our honeymoon. Your carriage awaits, m’lady.’
‘I’ll just have to go back to the cottage and get changed. I can hardly travel in this . . .’
‘Why ever not?’ Robbie pretended surprise as he bent to kiss her. ‘I want the world to see my beautiful wife.’
‘Now then, plenty of time for that later, you two lovebirds.’ Harry hobbled up to them and held out his arms. ‘I haven’t kissed the bride yet.’
There were tears in the old man’s eyes as Fleur leant forward so that he could kiss her on both cheeks. ‘Eh, lass, but you’re bonny an’ no mistake. You’re a lucky young feller . . .’ he added, holding out his hand to shake Robbie’s.
‘Thank you, Harry.’
‘Right then, we’re all off to the pub. You will let me buy you both a drink before you go, now won’t you?’
Fleur and Robbie exchanged a glance. They couldn’t wait to be alone together, yet they didn’t want to appear ungrateful to Robbie’s mother, who had worked so hard on Fleur’s gown and Ruth’s dress, nor to Jake and Kenny, who had defied Betsy to be here. They owed it to their guests, to Harry and Mrs Jackson too, to spend a little time with them.
‘Of course we will,’ Robbie said. ‘That’s very kind of you, Harry.’
The old man beamed. ‘Right.’ Harry raised his voice. ‘Everyone across to the Mucky Duck.’
There was a ripple of laughter.
‘The what?’ Kenny blinked.
Ruth hooked her arm through his. ‘It’s the White Swan, really, but all the locals call it the Mucky Duck. Come on, you can escort me. I’m supposed to walk with the best man – handsome devil, isn’t he, in that uniform – but his girlfriend’s here and I don’t want to spoil the little bit of time they’ve got to spend together.’
‘It’s my pleasure,’ Kenny said gallantly and the faint flush on his face told her that indeed it was.
The crew of Robbie’s aircraft and six WAAFs, Kay and Peggy amongst them, formed a guard of honour down the pathway. Handsome young men in their smart blue uniforms that not only set the hearts of the young women in the village aflutter, but caused several of the older women to smile fondly and wish themselves forty years younger.
Then Harry led the way from the church across the road, pushing Mrs Jackson in the borrowed bath chair. ‘Come on, folks, follow me,’ he called, his excitement bubbling over as the wedding party fell into step behind them, with the vicar bringing up the rear.
‘Dear old Harry,’ Ruth murmured. ‘He’s loving this, isn’t he?’
Kenny was thoughtful. ‘D’you know, I reckon he’s up to summát.’
‘Eh?’ Ruth’s eyes widened. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘I dunno. Maybe he’s got them a special present that he can’t wait to give them. But there’s something going on behind those twinkling eyes. And there’s something else funny too.’
‘What?’
‘Well, I’d’ve thought there’d’ve been crowds to watch my beautiful sister come out of church, but there’s hardly anyone about now. In South Monkford, I know it’s a town and we’ve got a big church, but the street’s usually lined with folk when there’s a wedding going off. Anybody’s wedding – it doesn’t matter whose. They just like to have a nosy.’
‘Mm,’ Ruth mused. ‘Funny that. Mind you, most of them were in church. Maybe they’ve seen all they wanted to.’
Harry was rushing on ahead as fast as his bent old legs would carry him and wheezing a little as he pushed the bath chair in front of him. Arriving at the main entrance of the pub, he parked the chair outside and helped Mary Jackson to stand up and walk inside. But instead of disappearing, he threw open the double doors and stood just inside, beaming at the bride and groom walking towards him.
As they approached, Bill Moore, dressed smartly in a black suit, white shirt and black bow tie, came to stand beside Harry to usher the wedding party inside.
As Fleur and Robbie stepped into the dark interior of the public bar, a huge cheer threatened to shake the rafters. It
seemed as if the whole village was crammed into the room.
Fleur gasped and gazed around, stunned by the applause that greeted them and the cries of ’Congratulations’ and ’Good Luck’ on every side.
‘So that’s where they all disappeared to.’ Kenny laughed.
‘Come through, come through,’ Harry said, leading the way into a large room just beyond the bar. He stood to one side and waved his arm to show them a table at the far end, laden with food. In the centre stood a magnificent wedding cake, complete with bride and groom figurines on the top.
‘Everyone in the village has contributed. The women have been baking all week and . . .’
‘Oh, Harry!’ Now the tears flooded down Fleur’s face. The kindness of all the villagers, some of whom she hardly knew, was overwhelming. Even Robbie had tears in his eyes. He held out his hand and shook Harry’s hard. ‘Thank you, Harry. This is wonderful. I really don’t know how to thank everyone.’
‘It’s us who wanted to say “thank you”, lad. To you and your lass here. To all of you really . . .’ He nodded his head to include the best man in his RAF uniform and Ruth in her bridesmaid’s dress. ‘That’s fighting this war for us. It’s our way of showing our gratitude. But ’specially to you two and Ruth for all you’ve done for me an’ Mary. You’re . . . you’re like family to us. No disrespect to your own families, like.’
‘None taken,’ Jake, standing just behind Fleur, murmured. He was touched by the villagers’ obvious fondness for his daughter and for Meg’s boy, as he still called Robbie in his own mind. He only wished Betsy was here to see all this and hear what was being said. Perhaps it would melt even her hard heart.
But he doubted it.
Robbie was nodding his thanks, but unable to speak for the lump in his throat and Fleur was still trying to stem her tears. But they were tears of happiness.
Just for a few short hours they could all forget the war and its tragedies and celebrate a happy occasion. A very happy occasion.
Of course the moment had to come. The moment when Jake and Meg came face to face for the first time in twenty-two years.
Wish Me Luck Page 22