Chapter 2
‘Stupid… stupid… stupid suit!’ Murray puffed with every uncomfortable flick of his oars.
He was doing his best, but it turned out that rowing a tiny boat through the brackish waters of Crumbleton’s salt marshes while wearing a neatly tailored morning suit was a lot trickier than he’d anticipated.
Maybe this was the reason he never wore a suit – let alone one with tails. The blasted thing hadn’t seen the light of day for well over a decade and, if he had his way, it would be at least twice as long again before it made another appearance.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have much choice in the matter right now, though. His usual uniform of shorts and a scruffy tee-shirt wasn’t going to cut it. He was the best man, after all!
Murray still wasn’t quite sure why Philip had asked him to be his best man. Sure, he was on good terms with his old school friend, but the guy definitely had many other – much closer – mates. Josh was the obvious choice. The pair of them had been practically inseparable for years. They played football together, did the whole Friday night at the pub thing, and had even gone on holiday with various girlfriend combinations over the years. As far as Murray knew, the bride liked Josh too… whereas he’d never even met the woman.
Before accepting, Murray had tentatively suggested Josh as a more suitable candidate for the role. Philip had gone very quiet and then – after a pregnant pause - he’d simply repeated his request in a louder voice.
When someone bellowed “WILL YOU BE MY BEST MAN OR NOT?” at you, you couldn’t really say no, could you? Besides – Murray had never been a best man before - and he was a big fan of giving things a go at least once if the opportunity presented itself.
Like kissing a beautiful stranger in a dark hotel carpark!
A huge grin appeared on Murray’s face. He knew he probably looked like a total weirdo right now, but there was no one around to judge him other than a heron… and she was more interested in hunting for tasty morsels in the murky water than paying any attention to what his soppy face was doing.
Murray let out a long sigh. As random experiences went, his stolen kiss with Crumbleton’s beautiful florist was definitely one of his favourites. It had happened well over a year ago now – but it still popped into his head at least once a day.
Who was he kidding? At least once every hour was more like it!
It had just been so completely unexpected. He’d ducked out of a decidedly stuffy town planning event at the Dolphin and Anchor for a breath of fresh air, only to discover that she’d had exactly the same idea. He’d barely had the chance to say hello before she’d turned to him and pulled him into a hard, desperate kiss – a kiss that had haunted him ever since.
Murray gave a wriggle of excitement and pulled on the oars a bit harder than his straining suit could handle. There was an ominous ripping sound from somewhere around the back.
‘Oops,’ he muttered, carefully shortening his strokes again, doing his best to ignore the fact that his heart was hammering, and his hands were starting to feel clammy with nervous excitement. Not only was he heading back to the scene of the kiss… he was finally going to get the chance to speak to the woman who’d taken up residence in his head!
As much as Murray adored living in a grounded trawler on Crumbleton’s salt marshes - surrounded by frogs and birds, peace and quiet – there were a couple of drawbacks. Having to row everywhere was one of them. The other was the fact that he got very little opportunity to bump into anyone “by accident.” By “anyone”, he meant Milly Rowlands, of course.
After that wonderful, insane, unexpected kiss – she’d slipped back inside the hotel without a single word… and Murray had been wishing for the chance to get to know her ever since.
He’d certainly made a few more visits to town over the last eighteen months than were strictly necessary… not that any of them had achieved much other than making him feel like a total idiot.
The one time he’d managed to summon the courage to go to her shop with the sole purpose of introducing himself properly, he’d been bounced at by a purple-haired whirlwind who’d informed him that Milly was out doing deliveries. Murray had promptly bought a random bunch of purple irises as an excuse for going in, and then skulked away, feeling like a total fool. That day, he’d made himself a promise that he’d forget the whole thing.
A promise he’d failed to keep.
Spectacularly.
Today – at long last – they were both going to be in the same place at the same time again… and he had every intention of saying hello.
He couldn’t make too much of a plonker out of himself at a wedding, could he?
‘Other than the fact that you’re rowing across the marshes in a suit!’ he muttered. That counted as pretty plonker-worthy!
He really should have waited to get changed at the Dolphin and Anchor, but he hadn’t wanted to let the side down by turning up wearing his usual dragged-through-a-hedge-backwards look. There were bound to be guests milling around everywhere, and he didn’t want to give a bad impression. He didn’t go to many weddings – but even he knew that no one wanted an animated scarecrow wandering around, frightening the guests.
If he was being completely honest, Murray didn’t really know how the whole event was meant to pan out. Other than keeping an eye on the groom so that he didn’t scarper before the “I Do” part of proceedings, he wasn’t sure what else there was to his role. He did want to get it right, though.
Come to think of it, in this case, “getting it right” might have included staying at the hotel the night before the wedding rather than still being stuck in the boat with less than an hour to go before the ceremony was due to start.
Murray promptly did his best to speed up a bit, and then let out a frustrated huff as the jacket’s sleeves threatened to strangle his biceps. At this rate, it was going to take forever to reach the stone wharf near Crumbleton’s City Gates.
Okay – it was time to take the bloomin’ thing off. He should have done it ages ago… but he hadn’t wanted to risk splashing himself with stinky marsh water in the process!
Resting the oars carefully down, Murray wriggled around, trying to ease his way out of the ridiculous thing without dunking one of the tails overboard in the process.
‘Come on, come on, come on!’ he muttered.
Great. Now he was half-in and half-out of the jacket… and he had a nasty feeling he was stuck. Doing his best to squash the desire to rip it off and toss the whole thing overboard, Murray let out a frustrated growl… and then jumped when the jacket growled right back at him.
‘What the actual…?’ he gasped, grabbing onto the edge of the boat as it rocked precariously beneath him.
The hunting heron launched into the sky in a flurry of wings and water droplets, clearly startled by his sudden shout. For a brief moment, Murray wished he could follow her. Instead, he started to pat the twisted mess of seams, lining and pockets, searching for his mobile phone – which was still vibrating somewhere inside the jacket. The minute he managed to free it, Murray glanced at the screen and let out a groan.
‘Josh,’ he sighed. Again.
This had been the biggest drawback of agreeing to Philip’s best man request. Josh had been calling him pretty much solidly ever since. Murray might not know what was going on between the two friends, but Josh had made it more than clear that he wasn’t happy Murray had stolen his thunder.
Every single time he called, he’d offered suggestions for the best man speech - jokes that would have Philip on his knees with embarrassment, and hints as to why the bride was “settling.”
Murray had done his best to ignore it all – including Josh’s regular reminder that he was bound to make a total hash of things, but not to worry because Josh would be waiting in the wings to save the day.
‘Josh,’ he muttered as he answered the call. ‘What do you want?’
‘What crawled up your butt, grumpy pants?’ came Josh’s greeting.
Murray bit his lip. The temptation to answer “you” was almost unbearable.
‘Erm… this isn’t a good time,’ he said instead.
‘Right, right… because you’ve finally realised that I’m the right person for the job?’ said Josh. ‘I’m guessing you’ve decided not to turn up? See – I told Philip you were completely unreliable. This was bound to happen… the minute he asked someone who lives in a flippin’ boat-’
‘I thought you and Philip weren’t talking?’ said Murray, not sure whether to be amused at Josh’s total desperation about something as trivial as being asked to be best man, or annoyed because the guy was such a total prat.
‘We’re talking,’ huffed Josh. ‘I mean… he’s been really busy, so it’s been mostly via messages and I’ve left some on his landline too. I just think he deserves to know that I’m the right guy for the job, that’s all. As his best friend!’
Murray smirked. He could only imagine the hundreds of voicemails Philip had been treated to if his own almost-nightly calls from Josh were anything to go by.
‘Anyway,’ said Josh, ‘it’s obvious you aren’t going to make it. I’ll deal with the flower delivery and I’ve got a speech prepared because I just knew something like this was going to happ—’
‘Don’t bother,’ said Murray easily. ‘I’m on my way right now.’
‘No one wants you here!’ squeaked Josh.
Murray almost dropped his phone in amusement. ‘Weird how they invited me, then,’ he chuckled. ‘Anyway, Josh, gotta dash… I’ve got a wedding to get to.’
Murray promptly hung up.
Was missing out on the “honour” of being the best man really enough to reduce a grown man to a bitchy, quivering wreck – or was he missing something here?
He mulled it over for all of three seconds before shrugging. He really couldn’t care less. Whatever drama was afoot, Murray wasn’t interested. Josh might want him to turn tail and head home, but there was no way he was about to give the weird little weasel what he wanted. For one thing, he wouldn’t dream of letting Philip down this close to the big event. For another… he’d waited for a seriously long time for the chance to officially meet Milly Rowlands.
Just the thought of her spurred Murray into action and less than a minute later, he’d freed himself from his straitjacket and was pulling on the oars again – guiding the boat towards Crumbleton’s stone wharf with easy, powerful movements.