Page 104 of A Scottish Lighthouse Escape

I did invite Nancy and Jeremy, but they politely declined. As Joe’s parents and after what he did, I would’ve been surprised if they had accepted. But they sent a lovely letter to Mitch and me, wishing us all the happiness for the future and hoping that I’d keep in touch with them.

Even Kane and Bronte look resplendent, trotting down the church aisle ahead of me, Kane sporting a red bow tie and Bronte a gorgeous big pink bow tied around her neck.

A series of laughs, gasps and comments reverberate around the church.

I breathe in and smooth down my ankle-length, high-necked ivory wedding dress. The air is frosty, but winter sunshine drizzles in through the stained-glass windows. I adjust my faux fur cape around my shoulders. I have a single, white tea rose clipped into my loose hair and the bouquet I’m clutching with happy but nervous fingers is a mixture of white lilies and white and cream roses.

On either side of me are Barclay and Reece. I couldn’t decide which one of them I wanted to walk me down the aisle, so I decided to be greedy and have both of them! They are both channelling James Bond in their dark suits and sharp ties.

And waiting for me down at the altar is Mitch. He looks so, so handsome in a navy and beige checked three-piece suit with a tweed tie.

He mouths, ‘You’re beautiful,’ and my heart zings as I clip towards him in my white, Victorian-style ankle boots.

The ceremony is over in a flash, confetti is thrown and when I toss my bouquet over my shoulder Mia elbows every other person out the way and catches it. She lets out a delighted ‘Whoop!’ which makes James laugh and wink at her enigmatically.

Then the photographs are taken.

Once that’s done, I slip away for a few moments to place a couple of flowers from my bouquet on my grandparents’ grave and spend a few quiet moments with them. I tell them how much I love them and that they’re always with me. I also say to my grandma that I hope her exhibition did her proud and that Ruth is so sorry for the awful way she treated her.

I decide to keep a few flowers from my bouquet and press them so I can put them in a little frame at my parents’ resting place in Ealing. I’ll take Mitch there when we go for a visit after Christmas.

I’ve only just returned to the church when Reece and Ruth take hold of Mitch and me. We’ve no idea what’s happening!

We find ourselves being led around the back of the church and past its glinting, jewel-like windows on a short but mysterious journey.

‘Now close your eyes, both of you,’ Reece instructs.

We do as we are told. ‘Now, open your eyes, but keep them trained ahead,’ said Ruth next, excitement rising in her voice.

Mitch and I gaze out at the shimmering horizon of the water and the frill of the cliffs.

‘Okay,’ says Reece. ‘Now turn to your right.’

We do as we’re told, and there stands the biggest, prettiest marquee I’ve ever seen, strung in rose-gold fairy lights.

The flaps to the marquee are open and we can see tables and chairs inside. There are gorgeous Christmassy centrepieces on each table made up of festive candles and holly and huge red ribbons are tied to the back of every chair in enormous bows. More lights are laced around the roof of the marquee and mobile heaters are stationed around to keep the wedding party cozy.

Mitch and I gawp at one another. It looks like something out of a fairytale.

‘Do you like it?’ asks Ruth.

‘We wanted to surprise you both,’ adds Reece with a bashful smile.

I’m finding it hard to talk. ‘But we thought we were just having a quiet reception in the town hall.’

‘Ha! As if,’ chuckles Reece.

We hug them. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I breathe, struggling for words.

Mitch gives Ruth a kiss on the cheek and Reece a slap on the back. ‘No wonder you two have been acting strange lately.’

‘No stranger than usual,’ jokes Reece, offering Ruth a delighted smile.

We greet the guests as they meander in, marvelling at the Christmas-themed beauty of it. Even Kane and Bronte, who are noshing on some kibble Rhea has fed them, seem impressed by it all.

Then Mitch steers me out of the marquee. The bay is gliding and whispering below.

He smooths his tie down in the sea breeze. ‘I got you this, Mrs Carlisle.’