Chapter Twenty-Seven #3
‘Fiancé, thank you. William MacGregor.’ William turned his head and Selina hurriedly introduced them, saying, ‘Penny and I were Land Girls at the farm long before Joan came along. In fact, Penny, Caroline and I were the original three at Postbridge Farm. Though it all seems so long ago now.’
‘Well, I remember it like it was yesterday,’ Penny retorted, her bright gaze narrowed on Selina’s face.
‘If you recall, you and I fell out over a boy. That’s why I left.
You thought I was making eyes at someone you fancied, so you and Caroline browbeat me for days over it.
Not that I’m complaining … After all, if I hadn’t moved to Bude, I would never have met John.
And he’s the love of my life, so I suppose I should be grateful to you for being so … ’ She paused, her chest heaving.
‘Careful now, Pen.’ John took his wife’s hand.
‘I was only going to say forthright,’ Penny finished in a burst, but Selina didn’t believe her.
‘Oh, and did you hear about Eva and Max? She’s expecting again.
This will be her second child.’ Eva had been a glamorous friend of Violet and Hazel Cotterill back in the day, who’d kept in touch with them all in Porthcurno after moving to London with her husband Max, a handsome American pilot.
‘I bet she’s still a smashing dancer, though,’ Penny added enviously.
‘Everyone is pregnant,’ Selina complained, throwing up her hands.
‘Well, I’m not.’ Penny looked dissatisfied.
‘Not for want of trying,’ her loving husband pointed out.
‘Early days yet,’ Selina said into the silence that followed, trying to sound encouraging. ‘One day, I’m sure …’
William, sensing a change in the conversation was required, cleared his throat. ‘I believe that’s the bride arriving. Shall we go inside?’
They turned to find Mrs Newton marching sturdily along the path to the church, resplendent in a pink linen dress with a plunge bodice and a vast corsage of white satin appliqué flowers sewn to one shoulder, a bouquet clutched in her hand, Joe Postbridge by her side.
Her heels clacked on the path as she came to a halt beside them.
‘Why aren’t you lot in church yet?’ Alice’s gran demanded, puffing a little as she adjusted her bodice.
‘I’m not taking my vows to Bernard Bailey with a load of scrapin’ and shufflin’ going on behind me.
Go on, get inside.’ She smiled at Penny as an afterthought. ‘Hello, love, nice to see you again.’
‘Nice to see you too, Mrs Newton. Congratulations! Is Mr Postbridge giving you away? I think that’s a lovely idea,’ Penny replied breathlessly while being dragged away by her husband. ‘And so sorry. We’ll be in our seats in a jiffy, honest.’
Selina and William dashed after them into the church, thankful to see that Peter had already had the presence of mind to usher his sisters inside.
Bernard Bailey stood in readiness at the altar, lean and upright in a grey pinstriped suit, his profile austere but handsome, waves of silvery hair at his temple.
The bridegroom looked nervous, which Selina thought was rather sweet.
In the front pews, wedding guests in suits and hats and fancy dresses had turned, craning their necks to see who had just come in.
Caroline wagged a finger at the latecomers, looking amused.
Grace was seated to one side of her, Tilly on the other, with a dark-haired lad Selina didn’t recognise squeezed in rather close beside the youngest Land Girl.
That must be the infamous Benny, she realised, mentioned in Caroline’s letters.
It seemed love was in the air for all of them that summer, she thought happily …
Violet too was peering around at them, Sarah Jane fidgeting and kneeling up mischievously beside her. Ernest Fisher sat bolt upright on her other side, holding a squirming Morris on his knee, with his two fair-haired daughters Lily and Alice, along with their husbands, sitting in a row beside him.
In the pews opposite, Penny and John were hurriedly shuffling into place beside Joan and Arthur and baby Felix.
Beyond them, she could see Mrs Newton’s sister Margaret blubbing into a hanky, a wiry lady in a floppy hat keeping her company.
Half a dozen ginger-haired cherubs also sat crowded into the pew, giggling and whispering incessantly, while the Reverend Clewson frowned down on them to no avail.
Selina suspected these must be the Treedy children; she’d heard from Caroline that the oldest boy, Jack, had already grown bored with Australia and was sailing home again, much to his mother’s delight. Apparently though, the intrepid lad had his sights set on America next.
Nearby sat Hazel and George Cotterill with their pretty young daughter Lily, a rosy-cheeked baby Dickie gurgling and bouncing on Hazel’s knee. The church was absolutely crammed full of children, Selina realised, and felt again that strange urge to be bouncing one of her own offspring on her knee …
‘Ladies first,’ William murmured in her ear as she hesitated. ‘And top gear, please. Mrs Newton is at the church door.’
Embarrassed, Selina fairly sped down the aisle until she reached the pew where Peter, Jemima and Faith sat eagerly awaiting them.
‘Phew, we made it,’ Selina gasped as she slid into the pew.
‘Yes, we certainly did,’ William agreed, sliding in beside her, a little breathless too. With a smile meant only for her, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, just as the organ began to play and the congregation shuffled to their feet to welcome the bride.