Page 37 of Four of Hearts

‘I did,’ Harry replied, grabbing a slice and slapping on some butter. ‘Wasn’t there supposed to be a form for me to fill out for breakfast or something? I didn’t see one in my room.’

‘We didn’t think you’d need one,’ Angus said. ‘Hungry?’

‘Very.’

‘Good.’

And with that, Angus was gone. Harry then settled into munching through his toast and sipping the orange juice.Somewhere above him, in the room he’d stayed in, hung his suit, and in one of the pockets, rested his speech. He’d worked on it for days. He’d been tempted to bring it down to breakfast but had decided in the end to just leave it till after he was done.

‘Here you go.’

Angus had returned and with more of a flourish than Harry had expected, and placed in front of him a mountain of food.

‘Tea or coffee, Harry?’

‘Tea,’ said Harry. ‘Goes better with a full English, doesn’t it?’

‘Gets my vote,’ agreed Angus, and left Harry to his breakfast.

Half an hour later, Harry could barely move. He managed to drag himself back up to his room to flop down onto his bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had fried bread. Goodness, that had tasted good dipped into the egg.

With a good while yet to get ready for the day ahead, Harry was in no rush to throw himself into the shower. So, instead, he grabbed his speech, sat on the bed with his feet up, and gave it one last read. Then, for good measure, another once over, just to be sure. That done, he stuffed it back into his jacket pocket, then found the schedule Matt had handed to him in the office the day before. It was very detailed, but for now, the only thing Harry was concerned about was when he was getting picked up to head to the river at West Witton, where the ceremony was taking place.

A knock at the door echoed loudly through the room. Harry was in no mood to go answer it. The knock came again. He forced himself to his feet with a groan, walked over to the door and opened it, to find that there was no one there.

Harry’s adrenaline spiked. He raced into the corridor, checking left and right.Was this his cousin again? When would that bastard ever?—

Harry spotted something against the wall by the door. He must’ve missed it when he ran out. It was a box, maybe half thesize of a shoe box, and wrapped in brown paper. On it was his name, etched in pencil, in Grace’s handwriting.

Stepping back into his bedroom, Harry shuffled over to the bed and sat down once again. He carefully peeled away the paper to reveal an unremarkable box beneath. He was none the wiser as to what it contained, no clue given on its surface.

With a bit of teasing with his fingers, he was eventually able to prise away the top of the box, to reveal what was inside, except that, too, was hidden, this time beneath white tissue paper. He peeled it back and found himself staring down at a simple, silver cuff, its surface hammered to a dimpled finish that caught the light of the morning as it pushed its way into the room between the curtains.

Harry lifted the cuff gently from its nest of tissue. He held it up to his face. He’d never worn jewellery in his life. That he was going to be wearing a wedding ring had been enough to be going on with, but this as well? Would it even fit over his wrist?

He spotted something else in the box, a small envelope. He picked it up, opened it, pulled out a card, the front of which was decorated with nothing more than the day’s date. Opening the card, Grace’s hand-writing called to him.

See you down the aisle x

Harry smiled, placed the card back in the box, then went to slip the cuff onto the wrist of his right hand. As he did so, something caught his eye on the inside of the cuff. Was that writing? He held it closer, saw faint lines of engraving, then words came to him etched in silver. He heard Grace’s voice whispering them to him, smiled, and slipped the cuff onto his wrist. Then he made his way to the bathroom for a shower. Today, he knew, was going to be the best.

SIXTEEN

The journey from Hawes to the river was at a sedate pace courtesy of Matt, who was taking his role as Master of Ceremonies very seriously indeed.

‘You can go above forty, Matt,’ Harry said, as they slowly climbed passed the old Roman Fort on the other side of Bainbridge.

‘My job is to get you to the river safely,’ Matt said. ‘I’ll be going the speed I’m happy with, and that’s that.’

When they arrived in West Witton, Harry was met by guests gathering on a small triangle of grass, where the main road was met by Chantry Bank, which led out of the village and up to the foot of Penhill. It was then that he realised he had no idea how any of them were getting down to the river, never mind himself. Then he saw the answer parked up behind where people were standing around and chatting, a large, white tractor, pulling an equally large trailer, decked out with bails of straw as seats, and far too much bunting.

‘Rustic,’ Harry said, as Matt led him up to where the tractor was parked.

‘We’re not taking it, though,’ said Matt, and Harry saw Jim walking towards them.

‘Good to go?’ Jim asked.

‘We are,’ said Matt. ‘Everything good down at the river?’