Page 27 of Home This Christmas

TWENTY-TWO

I resist the urge to turn around again as I watch the beautiful wedding ceremony unfold in front of the altar with the flickering candles.

The bride is wearing a simple long white satin gown, and her long blonde hair is threaded with winter flowers. The groom is wearing a rather fetching lilac checked suit, and open-necked white shirt with a large purple flower in the buttonhole.

I can’t help but think that this is the place I would probably have got married to Nathan. I wonder if he married his wife here. It seems more than likely that he would, and the thought of it makes me feel a little empty.

When Gerard finishes the service and the couple are declared man and wife, he takes the opportunity to tell the congregation how wonderful it is to see us all here and reminds us about midnight mass on Christmas Eve.

The couple, both smiling and looking very much in love, walk back up the aisle to the strains of a beautiful love song by a well-known artist.

As Marilyn heads outside to congratulate the couple, I spot Nathan making his way towards me and I feel myself go a little lightheaded.

‘We will have to stop meeting like this!’ He grins.

He looks even more handsome – if that were possible – dressed in a smart navy suit. In a certain light, I notice how his dark hair is lightly peppered with grey at the sides, which only seems to enhance his looks. It would appear Nathan is one of those guys that gets better looking as they age.

‘I know, people will talk.’ I smile, trying to stop myself from looking into his eyes.

‘So how long will you be staying on?’

‘For tonight at least. I hope to finally get away tomorrow,’ I tell him.

‘That’s nice.’ He smiles that gorgeous smile. ‘I mean that you will be staying on tonight. Maybe we can have that catch-up later, then?’

Nathan picks up my crutches from the floor, before taking me by the hand and helping me up.

The touch of his hand in mine gives me those butterflies again, but I push the feelings away. Especially knowing that he has a wife and two children – even though he appears to be on his own today.

‘So, see you back at the Swan Inn for the reception, then?’ he asks as I steady myself onto my crutches, hardly able to believe that I am here in Brindleford chatting to my first love.

‘Um not really, I just came to watch the wedding. I am not exactly a guest…’

‘You know me, though.’ He grins. ‘And you can be my plus-one if you like, as my original one has let me down. Look, I know I aways seem to be dashing off somewhere, but I have to take delivery of something at the farm. I’ll be back in half an hour.

And don’t worry, I’ll square you joining with my friend – he’s the groom. ’

I am about to ask him who his original plus-one was. Surely it would have been his wife. And where are the children?

Feeling a little confused at where his wife and children are, and who his original plus-one was, I make my way outside, as a photographer is asking a group to get together for a picture. I notice Nathan jump in for the picture and smile broadly, before he darts off, waving to me as he leaves.

What is going on here? I need to ask Marilyn and find out, but she is busy elsewhere. Just then, June appears and links her arm through mine.

‘So are you coming to the wedding reception?’

‘I’m not really invited,’ I remind her. ‘Although Nathan did say I could be his plus-one.’

‘Well, there you are, then. I would have sorted something anyway. We can’t have you sitting in your room alone all evening, can we?’

‘Don’t worry about me I…’

‘June, June! Come on, you need to get in this photo.’ The bride is gesturing her towards the group ready to be photographed.

‘Speak later,’ June says as she dashes off.

Whilst the photos are being taken, I decide to carefully make my way back to the hotel.

Back in my room, I wonder what it was that I felt when Nathan took my hand and helped me up from the pew in church.

Do I really want to see him later, as his plus-one, and unearth a load of old feelings?

Perhaps I ought to stay here holed up in my room until I can leave tomorrow.

I still haven’t watched those Christmas movies I promised myself I would…

I am sitting daydreaming and wondering whether I ought to call Mum, when I get a text from Sienna from the studio.

Hi Ruby, how are you doing?

I’d sent her a picture of my leg in plaster whilst I was in the hospital and it’s nice that she’s checking in on me. I decide to give her a call.

‘Hi, Sienna, not too bad thanks. Hopefully I’ll be on my way home tomorrow.’

‘Oh that’s good. I can’t believe you have broken your ankle, you poor thing,’ she says sympathetically.

‘I know, no ice skating for me this Christmas.’

‘So the trains are up and running then?’

‘Fingers crossed they will be,’ I tell her. ‘I was actually going to call you later and ask you if I am right in thinking Amanda Lewis is currently working for Yorkshire TV?’

‘I believe so, yes. Some sort of roving reporter, although the poor girls seem to get sent out in all weathers, reporting on all manner of things. Flooded streets, missing dogs on the moors, anything that requires her standing around and freezing half to death apparently.’

Sienna made friends with Amanda after she covered me in my absence and has stayed in touch.

‘I guess we all have to start somewhere,’ I say, thinking of the days I would be reviewing a market stall café, or similar.

‘We do indeed, anyway, so why do you ask?’

‘I was just thinking there might be a story she would be interested in covering, right here in Brindleford.’

I tell her all about the possible library closure.

‘That’s awful. And actually, I think that is something she probably would like to be involved in; I will text her number to you.’

‘Thanks, Sienna, speak to you soon.’

I make myself a cup of tea, and half an hour later, there is a knock on my bedroom door. It’s probably June coming to take me downstairs to a wedding reception that I feel entirely inappropriately dressed for. Perhaps I will stay here and watch a movie after all.

Opening the bedroom door, I am preparing myself to tell June I will skip the wedding meal, when I see Nathan standing in front of me.

‘Nathan, hi!’

‘So, are you coming to the meal as my guest, or what?’ he asks.

‘I’m not sure… I’m hardly dressed for a wedding, and there will definitely be no dancing,’ I say and his face breaks into a smile. That gorgeous smile.

‘Firstly, you look beautiful as you are,’ he says, locking eyes with me.

’Secondly, maybe you could manage a slow dance later.

You could hold on to me,’ he offers, and the thought of being in his arms almost makes me fall off my crutches.

‘Oh, and thirdly, who is going to eat your wedding meal? You don’t want your venison going to waste, do you?

Or the poor deer will have died in vain. ’

‘Hardly, as there are plenty of other guests.’ I raise an eyebrow. ‘Anyway, I’m still not sure about coming; it feels like an intrusion.’

‘Come for the meal at least,’ he suggests. ‘It’s a celebration, the more the merrier. You remember how things work around here?’

‘I do, of course.’

‘Then please, join me. It will give us a chance to have that much-needed catch-up. I want to hear all about your life in London,’ he says persuasively.

June appears and hurries us along. Although hurry is hardly the word, in my case. ‘Come on, you two. Hubby tells me the staff are about to serve the meal.’

She ushers us towards the dining room that looks resplendent and not a bit like the breakfast room I dined in this morning.

The low oak beams have dried flowers hanging from them and the stone walls have lit candle sconces. The tables are set with white flower displays, courtesy of the talented ladies from the church who are also guests.

We are shown to our table, that I am pleased to see, includes Marilyn and Gerard and another couple, who smile and introduce themselves.

‘I asked another couple from the village if they would mind moving tables, so we could sit together,’ explains Marilyn.

Just then a waitress appears and sets down glasses of champagne in preparation for a toast.

‘Thank you, that’s great, although I still feel a bit like an imposition,’ I say to Marilyn.

‘Nonsense.’ She smiles. ‘They were perfectly happy to swap.’

She nods towards the couple who are chatting and laughing at something the couple next to them have said.

I am about to ask Nathan about why he is here alone, when someone taps a spoon against a glass ready to make an announcement.

The bride’s father welcomes everyone to the wedding and thanks them for coming. He gives a charming speech before we are all asked to raise our glasses in a toast to the bride and groom.

I watch the bride and groom at the front table, flanked by both sets of parents and once more think of how my dad won’t be present at my wedding, should I ever have one. Come to think of it, will my mum? I am pretty sure she would, assuming she’s still around, which is a depressing thought.

Our first course of a delicious farmhouse paté is served, which Nathan tells me was supplied by his very own farm.

‘You sell produce?’

‘I have a farm shop,’ he says as he spreads the paté onto a thin slice of toast. ‘Which I am happy to say is proving to be very popular.’

‘So, you don’t have Hope Farm anymore?’ I ask, recalling there was no sign of a shop when I walked past it yesterday morning.

‘No,’ he tells me as he pours me some wine from a bottle.

‘What happened?’ I ask. ‘I imagined you taking over the place, having been brought up learning the trade.’

‘Oh, I did for a while,’ he explains as he takes a sip of his champagne. ‘But I sold up after the divorce.’