As Annie slowly walked down the aisle, handsome Giovanni by her side, Rita felt a shiver run down her spine. Everything, the Singing Tree, the cliffs, the sun glinting on the waves, the light playing across Annie’s meringue of a dress, was exactly as it should be. She looked to Sennen and blew her a kiss. She couldn’t have felt more proud of what her daughter had achieved in such a brief time, not only with her business, and also without her father being around.
With Annie in situ next to Michael, Hilda began to speak. Rita and Sennen, who had positioned themselves behind the other guests with Jago and Kelly, braced themselves. Thom had stayed back to help the others in the barn.
‘I suppose you weren’t expecting a celebrant of my age,’ she began, eyes twinkling. ‘But experience generally trumps beauty… and for those of you throwing worried looks at me, I trained for this many years ago. I thought if Robbie Williams can do it, then so can I.’
Kelly was rattling with laughter. Jago cosied in next to Rita, kissed her hand and whispered, ‘Happy birthday, beautiful lady.’
She snuggled into him. ‘Hold on to your hats with what she’s going to say next,’ she whispered back. Hilda spoke, eyes twinkling as she leaned on the lectern, her good arm flung out like she was conducting an invisible orchestra.
‘Love,’ she began, ‘is a gift. A bit like a pint of proper ale, sometimes you have to wait for it to settle, sometimes you spill it all over the carpet, and sometimes it turns up when you’re not even thirsty.’ The congregation laughed. She let her gaze sweep across the guests, then stopped at Annie and Michael, both of them clearly enjoying this impromptu performance. ‘Choosing joy is deliberate. You don’t stumble into it like a lost tourist. You put one foot in front of the other, look for it, maybe trip a bit, and then it shows up, cheeky as a seabird, and then poops on your head for good measure. But it’s worth it. Always worth it.’
Laughter ensued. A quiet sigh from Hilda, hidden in the breeze. ‘I kidded myself I’d found love later in life’ – she wobbled slightly – ‘but it wasn’t to be. And do you know what? That’s just life.’ Hilda cleared her throat. ‘But this isn’t about me; this is about the wonderful Annie and her Prince Charming, here.’
Rita felt a flicker of sadness for her. Life had thrown massive things at Hilda and she’d refused to duck. For a heartbeat, she seemed almost… fragile.
Beside her, Jago’s fingers found Rita’s and squeezed, warm and certain.
Up ahead, Annie beamed at her groom as though the rest of the world had politely stepped aside. Two steady voices answered. ‘I do.’
Applause burst like confetti into the salt-thick air. Someone whooped. Hilda dabbed her eyes with unnecessary flamboyance. Rita leaned slightly into Jago. Choosing joy, she thought, wasn’t about grand declarations. It was this. Standing still. Holding on.
And as the bride and groom kissed beneath a sky wide enough to hold all of it – love, loss, laughter and second chances– Rita allowed herself, just for a moment, to believe that joy might be choosing her back.
FORTY-EIGHT
Hours later, back in the barn, champagne flowed, fish and chips and sticky toffee pudding had been devoured, laughter bounced off the beams. Annie had promised that once the food service was over, everyone could join in, even Imogen. ‘We’ll show her what aproperwedding looks like,’ she’d said to Rita, grinning.
The music changed, and the room stilled for the first dance. Annie and Michael took to the floor, hands clasped, eyes gleaming. Then the opening notes of ‘Dancing on the Ceiling’ hit, and Annie’s grin widened.
Michael looked briefly terrified. ‘Lionel Richie, I’m not.’
‘Oh yes you are,’ Annie said sweetly, and immediately began spinning him. He stumbled, then caught the rhythm, and soon they were twirling, hopping, and laughing so hard they collided with a table, with Michael ending up engulfed in the ruffles of her dress and Annie shouting that she feared she would wet herself.
Teo grabbed Jude’s hand, dragging him into the fray, and they were soon attempting something that resembled a coordinated routine, mostly involving spinning in opposite directions and nearly toppling into each other.
Zenya found herself pulled into a clumsy exchange with Priya, their laughter mingling with the music. Then, Rita spotted Thom across the room, leaning far too close to Imogen. She shook her head. That boy of hers… he could charm the birds from the trees.
Rita was just going up to check on the animals when Jago appeared. ‘Wait a sec,’ he instructed. She didn’t notice his eyes flick toward Sennen, who gave the slightest nod. Or gesture to Thom, who was about to lean back into a giggling Imogen.
He then put his arm around Rita. ‘I’m sorry it hasn’t quite been the fourth of June we both expected,’ he said softly. ‘I’m going up to sort your animals and home to sort mine. How about you pop home, have a little rest, then come to mine for seven? I’m cooking you dinner. No arguments. Stan says he’ll run you up.’
Rita hesitated. ‘What about everyone here?’
Jago smiled. ‘Sennen has clearly got everything in hand and it’s basically running itself now.’
A clearly tipsy guest, singing at the top of his lungs, gyrated past them on his way to the bar.
‘OK.’ Rita nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted. There was nothing she’d love more than escaping the chaos for a cosy dinner with Jago.
FORTY-NINE
Seven p.m. and Stan pulled right up to the door of Jago’s farmhouse and moved around to let Rita out of the car.
She opened the door, stepped into the kitchen and froze.
‘SURPRISE!’ The room erupted with Jago, Priya, Zenya, Thom, Sennen, Kelly, Teo and Jude all grinning at her. Hilda sat in the comfy chair in the corner sipping on a large gin and tonic. A huge birthday cake sat on the table, candles waiting, and next to it, her favourite egg sandwiches on white bread, salt and vinegar crisps, and a bottle of zero-alcohol sparkling wine on ice.
She blinked. ‘I… I don’t know what to say.’
