‘She was a guest. Very elusive, it kind of makes sense now. I knew she was writing something but didn’t think it would be to do with my place. I didn’t even know she was a journalist…’
‘Some of it is all right,’ Kel soothed.
‘Let me get in. I’ll have a proper look. Can you email me it, please? Thanks, Kel.’
Rita got in, threw her bag down and immediately opened her laptop on the kitchen table. She suddenly felt the presence of Henry behind her, looked back and then let out a soulful smile. She had found herself doing that a lot since he had passed.
Rita clicked the link Kelly had sent and dove in, eyes hungry, straight into the Luxe Lifestyle wedding section, ‘I Dos & Definitely Don’ts’.
She read aloud: ‘The Seahaven Bay Retreat: Cornish Cornucopia or Rushed Regret.’ Rita blew out huge breath and continued. ‘When weddings go awry, quick thinking can save the day… or can it? If you’ve been following my wedding news lately, you might have read about some countryside venue chaos, namely that of Rosecliff Barns in beautiful Cornwall. A couple of double bookings here threw organisers into a spin. A spokesperson by one such planner from Weddings by Sennen told me they were let down by theflakyowners of the barn. leaving a hysterical bride scrambling at the last minute. NOT exactly the picture of professional planning. However, in a stroke of inspiration (or was it desperation?), Sennen Jory had a brilliant idea: why not hold the wedding in her mother’s wellness retreat barn in Seahaven Bay? The Seahaven Bay Retreat, set in its namesake town, is indeed charming. Pastoral views, a quaint, albeit weathered barn, a scattering of goats and chickens running around for those perfect rustic photos, it certainly has character. On paper, it could be a contender. But let’s be honest: it’s very much a work in progress. Licensing, guest logistics, and general organisation are still questions waiting to be answered. So, I’m on the white picket fence on this one for now. Could Seahaven Bay Retreat become a favourite for weddings? Maybe, if you’re the adventurous sort who likes a dash of unpredictability, some barnyard charm, and a side of wellness retreats. But if you’re looking for reliability and smooth execution, perhaps keep watching this space before committing.’
Rita sat agog. The spokesperson must have been her! Imogen had caught her unawares when she had come back from Jago’s in a complete mess that day. ‘How dare she,’ Rita seethed. She read it through again. Rosecliff Barns had come out of it a lot worse than her, and she was quite sure she hadn’t said the word ‘flaky’. She immediately went to email Imogen and ask herwhat the hell she was up to. Then she remembered that she was coming to stay when the wedding was happening. The sneaky cow! Rita took a breath. She hadn’t even decided if this would be a one-off wedding or if she would do more, but it was most likely the former. Who the deuces did that woman think she was! She would have to tell Sennen. And as for what to do about Imogen, she would just wait. Wasn’t it Shakespeare who said revenge is a dish best served cold?
Dearest Immie Hamilton-Clark, dare to outwit me, I don’t think so!
Human Resources, the little liar! Next time she came to Seahaven Bay, Rita would be ready.
She emailed the article over to Sennen, then counted aloud, ‘Three, two, one.’
‘How bloody dare she!’ Rita held the handset away from her ear as Sennen screeched. ‘Desperation, the gall of the woman!’
‘Well, it kind of was,’ Rita laughed.
Sennen laughed too. ‘And who was the spokesperson!’
‘Inadvertently me, I’m afraid. She asked me a load of questions and caught me unawares. I believed she was an HR exec, more fool me.’
Sennen sighed. ‘I guess all publicity is good publicity. But you don’t even know if you want to advertise as a wedding venue yet. I think it’s just so wrong.’
‘Did you see how many followers she has on her Instagram page, though?’ Rita added.
‘Yeah, I did. Good point. Even if you don’t want to become a wedding venue, let’s get everyone talking about Weddings by Sennen. Iwillbe international by December.’
Rita smiled at her daughter’s exuberance. ‘I’ll be happy we just get this one right in little old Cornwall first. It’s not long now.’
‘I know! I’m going to come down Friday, so we can make sure everything is fully to plan, is that OK?’
‘Of course it is, love. Just message me whenever you’re leaving, so I know when to expect you.’
THIRTY
Over breakfast a few days later, feeling ready fortheconversation, she finally did it. Before she could talk herself out of it, she sent the message to Jago. Simple. A time, a place. Tomorrow – she hoped – her future would be clearer.
Feeling suddenly freer for just doing this, with her hair full of straw, wearing elasticated shorts with a splodge of mud down her baggy white smock top, Rita walked back down from the goat pen, egg basket in hand. She stopped to talk to Teo, who was busy working.
‘I’m sure I see your Thomas in his Porsche on the coast road earlier?’ Teo quizzed as he continued to paint the door to the Nook store duck egg blue. Rita had decided that everything outside of the barn should also be freshly painted white with a hint of blue.
‘He’s been down twice already recently, so I very much doubt it. Sennen is due tomorrow, though, to discuss final wedding plans.’
Teo lifted his paintbrush. ‘This is a continental colour, Rita. I feel very at home.Muy bueno!’ Teo’s voice trailed off. ‘Talking of continental…’ A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. ‘… ah, here comes your very own gigolo.’
Rita’s eyes flicked to the courtyard just as Jago pulled up in his Defender, gravel crunching under the tyres as he eased it to a stop. He stepped out, looking catch-your-breath sexy, in cargo pants and a blue linen shirt, the kind of effortless cool that made Rita realise why she’d fallen in love with him in the first place. But there was something else, too, a flicker of apprehension in the way he paused, one foot on the gravel, as if crossing the courtyard might summon a disaster. Rita didn’t move, letting the tension coil between them like a spring.
Teo, clearly satisfied with his handiwork, wandered off with a small chuckle.
She then remembered what a fright she looked: hair messy, shorts on, legs unshaved for a month. A bit like the first time he’d turned up announced and she’d found him attractive, she reminded herself. A reminder that life rarely did as it was told!
She met him by the front door.
