Happy Ever After

by Kitty Wilson

  When they did finally arrive at Chase and Angelina’s, they were greeted by Hector, who took their car and valet parked it somewhere over by the old stable block. Richard’s attention was caught by a helicopter whirring down low and looking for somewhere to land, presumably full of the very glam. By which point Rufus and Rupert had run off and were staring through the front doors – the house currently out of bounds – and laughing loudly.

  ‘That picture is so rude!’ Rufus was nearly wetting himself as he doubled over giggling and Rupert had lost his usual grown-up composure and had his nose up against the glass. Richard tried to move them away and around the back to the field were everything was happening. But his mind was playing its usual cruel tricks. What was Marion doing with Hector helping? Why had she asked him and not Richard? Richard felt a quick flash of jealousy and then reminded himself of how his wife had woken him this morning and took charge of himself. Hector was not a threat; he needed to stop worrying about him. Although the fact that Hector had winked at him as he took his car had set his teeth on edge. What was that about?

  As he and the boys rounded the house to the back lawn they all let out a soft ‘wow’. He had been here many times before, as had they, and it was always stylish but now it was completely transformed. There was buzz and noise everywhere. There were circus performers, fire-eaters and jugglers roaming all over the place, a mini orchestra outside the closest dome, waiters wandering around offering canapés and glasses of fizz. Richard could spot a bar across the way and asked the boys if they would like a drink but Rupert pulled on his sleeve instead and pointed to the beach that sat to the side of the property.

  All day they had avoided the beach and now they wanted to head to one. He suggested they get a drink first but Rufus darted off, making that an impossibility. This was not how he had planned to spend his evening. He had foolishly assumed that with Rufus so keen to get here, he would be impeccably behaved when he did. Clearly, he still had a lot to learn.

  There was a band playing on the stage on the sand and the boys stood around watching. Richard spied a tequila tent but shelved the idea for later. For now, he needed to find Marion, let her know he was here and see what she needed him to do. He was pretty sure a medicinal shot of tequila was not her plan for him.

  He spent half an hour trying to find his wife but his boys kept leading him this way and that, claiming they had seen her, with Rupert spending a disproportionate amount of time with his phone in his hand. There were so many people here, it was hard to keep track and Rufus seemed high as a kite, the carnival atmosphere exciting him, darting off whenever something new and shiny caught his eye.

  His own eye was also turning with frequency. Richard did not know much about celebrity but there were very definitely faces here even he recognized and not from just around the village. At one point he came across Lynne having a complete meltdown after speaking to one of the guests, a well-dressed willowy woman who hadn’t heard that heels on grass or sand weren’t a great idea. Alongside the generous smattering of the brightest and the best, the whole of Penmenna and most of Treporth Bay seemed to be here as well.

  ‘Hi, if everyone could make their way to the large dome on the lawn… Angelina would like to say a few words.’ Serena suddenly appeared – she should really be a cat burglar – repeating this message to every group she passed, chivvying them along to the huge tent.

  Richard obeyed, aware he had been there an hour so far and still hadn’t seen his wife.

  It was unusual; she would normally be found at the centre of everything. But surely she’d be present if Angelina was making a speech? He turned to shepherd the boys but they were ahead of him, motioning him to catch up.

  There were so many people here, all now moving along to the central point. He wouldn’t be surprised to spot William and Kate in a minute; he had just seen two famous Saturday night TV presenters and a pop star who was supposed to be in rehab – or so Rupert informed him.

  ‘Hello, hello, everybody.’ Angelina tapped the side of a microphone and a burst of static shot across the field. Richard and the boys were inside the big dome now, all set out with chairs, and tried to edge their way forward, which was hard as everyone crowded in. ‘Thank you all so much for coming; Chase and I are so happy to see you all here, at our home. Our nearest and our dearest.’ She did a little head bow of meek gratitude. It didn’t fool anybody.

  Richard scanned the crowd. He wasn’t sure who he could place here as being near and dear to Angelina, bar her brother, who was over in the corner, and Marion, whom he still couldn’t see.

  ‘We realized, sadly, that we couldn’t get married before next year, but we can sure as hell celebrate our engagement.’ She paused and then waved her hand in an upward motion to encourage a cheer, obediently delivered. She waved them down again.

  ‘I also wanted to do that. I’ve seen the local headteacher do it with her children in school but look at me.’ She gestured, making them cheer again and then stopped them, gestured and then stopped. She was loving it.

  Chase leaned in and whispered in her ear and she motioned for silence. ‘I expect you know my brother Matt…’ A spontaneous cheer erupted now, along with hollers and wolf whistles. Richard laughed, catching a glimpse of Matt’s I’m-polite-for-the-cameras face. He refused to join Angelina on the stage despite her trying to wave him up. ‘Matt got married last week and has stayed here for this but is off on his honeymoon next week, lucky thing. So romance is in the air in Penmenna and I… am… here… for… it. Those of you that know me well know I’m all about giving back…’ There was a muffled crowd-wide titter at this. Ouch. But not enough to stop Angelina in full flow. ‘Whilst today is about celebrating Chase and me and our love – and it’s mainly about that, let’s be honest – Chase’s old friend from university wanted to renew his vows to his wife of many, many years, the best party planner in the world…’ Richard winced; he wasn’t sure Marion would like that term. ‘Marion, who has made today happen and who organized Matt’s wedding last week. So… I’m going to ask all of you to take a seat, bar the front three rows which are reserved for Penmenna people, you know who you are, and Richard, Richard Marksharp, would you come up here to the front.’

  Richard couldn’t see his boys, didn’t know what on earth was going on and was thoroughly perplexed. Plus, he still hadn’t seen his wife.

  ‘Richard, now!’ Angelina barked into the microphone.

  There was a kerfuffle as people took to chairs, clearing the aisle as a photo slideshow appeared on the side of the dome. Photos of him and Marion from when they were eighteen through to them now and with the boys. As he looked up to the front of the stage which had now cleared, he saw Rafe standing at the end, suit and grin on.

  He realized as he had been standing there in a state of shock, staring at the photos, that the front three rows of chairs were now filled with all his friends from school and the village. Rosy and Matt had taken a seat, as had Alex and Sylvie and Dan and Alice. Rufus’s teacher, Kam, was also there with his girlfriend, Pippa – whom he would never have expected to turn up to anything that celebrated Marion. Next to them was Hector, Sheila, Serena and her family, Jenny and Sophie and Jim, Mickey, Andy and Roger from The Smuggler’s Curse. Annie and Ethel. Even the butcher had turned up, as had Lottie from the corner shop. No sign of Marion though.

  ‘There’s more, now you’re all seated. Today Marion and Richard will renew their vows in front of all of us…’

  Richard couldn’t keep the smile of his face; was this why the boys were being odd? They were part of this plan all along, knew that their mother and Angelina had planned this? He walked to the front to stand by his son; the photo stream had ended and he could not wait to see what was next. As to where Rupert and Rufus were, he stopped worrying and assumed they knew more than he did at this point.

  ‘Hey, Dad, hope you don’t mind. But I’m here to be your best man,’ Rafe said in a low voice as Richard reached him.

  ‘I can’t think of anyone I�
��d trust more or rather have here up with me than you, son,’ Richard said, giving him one of his trademark ruffles of his hair, and this time Rafe didn’t duck. Both turned to face Angelina.

  ‘Before we can kick this off, it looks like you’re missing a celebrant.’ She whooped. Yep, whooped.

  ‘Dan can do it!’ called Alice from the front.

  Angelina gave her a terrifying look.

  ‘Not necessary. As you know it’s important to refresh your skills base frequently…’ Richard was desperate to turn, just a little, to see Matt’s face at this but resisted the temptation. ‘So I am very proud to let you all know that I have undertaken online training and stand here today in front of you as a celebrant. I may not be able to get married myself today but marry someone else I can.’

  Oh my God, in all his wildest imaginings he had never seen Angelina as the one to oversee their renewal.

  ‘Now Marion was quite clear that she didn’t want “Here Comes the Bride” because, as she says, everyone immediately thinks “fat and wide” and she is neither, so I chose this.’

  The strains of ‘She’s So Lovely’ played out, no hint of irony and with all of the first three rows singing along loudly, even Pippa, albeit a bit tunelessly. This time Richard did turn and there, walking down the aisle in a fitted ivory dress, her hair styled within an inch of its life and carrying the biggest bouquet he had ever seen, Rufus and Rupert by her sides, was his wife.

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Marion took a deep breath as she stood outside the dome. This was both ludicrously exciting and also a bit terrifying. She had nothing to worry about. She just needed to keep repeating that. The boys had got Richard where he needed to be and now Rupert and Rufus were either side of her, determined to be as involved as their elder brother was, determined to give her away.

  ‘You look amazing, Mum. Really special,’ Rupert said, looking at her with love, before he peered around the tent opening and inside.

  ‘You’re always pretty but you look like a princess today,’ Rufus added, squishing her hand and not wanting to be left out.

  Rupert walked back to her side and passed her the bouquet that she had placed on the floor whilst she was waiting. It was huge. It would be a miracle if she didn’t trip over it. Angelina had ordered it for her and it was as big and bold and brash as a floral bouquet could be. She loved it.

  She could hear Angelina squawking on stage but wasn’t sure exactly what she was saying. Then the music started; this was her cue. She could feel her heart beating as fast as a horse’s gallop. She took a deep breath and Rupert and Rufus tugged her forward a little.

  She was doing this. She had learnt a lot this year, about her life and how she wanted to live it. She wasn’t going to allow herself to get into a jittery mess now. No, this was her moment.

  As she walked into the dome and down the makeshift aisle, her hands clutching the bouquet, she heard the words to the song that was playing and, what was more, everyone singing the refrain.

  ‘She’s so lovely…’

  Really? People were singing this for her? She realized that the dome was packed but it was the first three rows who were now standing on their feet, singing and clapping her down the aisle. She could feel a blush rise on her cheeks. She couldn’t remember ever blushing before. She kept walking, one foot in front of another, not letting the emotion of being accepted, being supported by her chosen community, her chosen family, run over her. She kept heading towards Richard, the one who had always been there for her, through everything. Solid, unchanging and ever committed. She pulled strength from him as he watched her walk towards him. His smile lit up his whole face, the crinkle around his eyes as he beamed at her. She loved that. His gaze made her feel beautiful, special, as she was in his eyes and he was in hers; like there was no one else who mattered. She reached him; the boys low-fived each other and then stepped back to take their seats.

  It was still feeling a little surreal standing here, next to the man who had stayed by her side throughout, despite her most extreme faults when she was at her most anxious, through her rejection of him and all their marriage stood for. He was still here and his eyes were still lit with love.

  What Angelina was doing on the stage though was questionable. This was meant to be Marion and Richard’s moment; for all her friend’s generosity, shouldn’t she have buggered off by now?

  She flicked a quick glance across at him as they both stood there, happy and secure and wanting to proclaim their love, solidify their bond in front of all these witnesses. And there were a lot of them. Marion knew she had invited lots of people, paid for some particularly glamorous ones to keep Angelina sweet but still, there were a lot of people crammed in here and all their eyes were on her and her husband.

  ‘Dearly beloved…’ Angelina intoned in her best vicar-like voice, a hint of mischief in her tone that she couldn’t quite disguise. Surely not! Marion lifted her eyes to those belonging to her friend and felt the giggle rising all the way from her tummy and spilling out over her lips. Of course. There was no way Angelina wasn’t having a starring role in this.

  The service progressed swiftly. Marion had wanted it as close as possible to the traditional service, so as not to pile pressure on Richard for a ceremony he had been told wouldn’t happen. However, she knew that when it came to the vows, she had some things she wanted to say.

  Richard had held her eyes as he said his ‘I will’ after Angelina recited the vows and she knew he meant it, as he always had, with every fibre of his being. Now it was Marion’s turn.

  ‘Marion Mildred Marksharp.’ She would never forgive her mother for that middle name but no one, not even Pippa or Lynne, giggled at it. ‘Will you take Richard James Algernon Marksharp to be your husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honour and protect him and, forsaking all others, be faithful as long as you both shall live?’

  ‘I will.’ Marion’s voice rang out, pure and clear and loud.

  ‘Curses,’ Hector mumbled in a stage whisper, winking when she turned her head to glare at him, giving a thumbs up to Richard and making those around him chuckle.

  Marion wasn’t finished yet. She turned to face Richard and reached for both his hands. ‘Richard Marksharp, you are the most amazing man. I love you with all my heart, my soul and my body, and in front of all these people I pledge my loyalty to you, here, now and forever. I haven’t always been easy to live with and I’m learning more and more every year. But the one thing I can swear will remain unchanged is my determination never to let you go again. You are part of me, the better part of me and I shall cherish you every single day I am alive. Thank you for being in my life, thank you for giving me our boys and thank you for showing me how to love.’ She let out a sigh, so, so happy in this moment with the man she loved beside her forever, the boys they had made between them as invested in their celebration of love as she was.

  Before she knew what was happening, Richard, somehow channelling Cary Grant, swept her off her feet and into his arms with the most passionate kiss. As she gave in to it, she heard the crowd behind her push out their chairs, take to their feet and roar with joy. The whole community of Penmenna there to celebrate the love between Richard and Marion Marksharp.

  Acknowledgements

  It feels strange to be sitting and writing the final acknowledgements to this series. The Cornish Village School were my first ever books, and writing them has been so much fun. The characters have made me giggle, and whilst I can’t believe I’m saying it, I’m going to miss having Marion in my life every day.

  The writing community has been so supportive along the way and I have to give the biggest thanks to all the bloggers out there. Your kind words about these books have been so important, so helpful. They kept me going when I was having treacle-slow writing days, when my brain felt completely empty. Three in particular have turned up for every book, supported me endlessly on social media and made me smile – so whilst this is a huge thank you to all book bloggers, it’s an especial thank
you to Bernadette Maycock, Rachel Gilbey and Grace J Smith.

  A big shout out to my agent, the incomparable Hayley Steed for all her support throughout. She is a shining light who always has my back.

  My editor, Emily Bedford, has been so much fun to work with, our comment streams make me giggle. And another big thank you to all at Canelo who helped The Cornish Village School come into being.

  Then of course there are those people in my personal life. Rob and Andrew, who I have dedicated this book to, are two of the people I love most in the world. Ann, who is ever true and never seems to mind my constant barrage of questions, is wise and good and stuck with me for life. Jane and Sandra came into my life because of a shared love of writing and have become the best of friends. And, as ever, Namdi, Jack and Katharine who I love with every single spot of my being. Thank you to all of you for being the most supportive bunch of people and making me feel lucky every single day.

  First published in the United Kingdom in 2020 by Canelo

  Canelo Digital Publishing Limited

  Third Floor, 20 Mortimer Street

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  United Kingdom

  Copyright © Kitty Wilson, 2020

  The moral right of Kitty Wilson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.