14. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
Cillian cast a sidelong glance at May, standing with her legs apart and her arms folded across her chest. As the clear water lapped against their ankles, he thought about her comment about finding peace.
From the way she stood, there was nothing peaceful about her.
Every muscle in her body was tense. Except for her face, which was softened by what Cillian was sure was sadness.
What could this beautiful, bright girl, who had just finished a degree at Cambridge, possibly be sad about?
Her sister moving on? No. May seemed so happy about the wedding and certainly had no issue with Luke.
He remembered Luke’s revelations in the pub about May’s lack of parental support.
What kind of mother abandoned her fifteen-year-old daughter?
That was bound to leave a scar. Or perhaps May was suffering from her own heartbreak, and he’d been a distraction the first night they’d met.
At some point he was going to have to admit he recognised her and remembered the night they’d shared.
Not yet. With her moods so changeable, he needed to wait for the right time.
Besides, now he’d started pretending not to recognise her, it was hard to stop.
He shook his head. He’d deal with all that later.
He pointed to where Daniel and Jack were examining what looked like a cave on the far side of the cove. ‘I’m going to go see what those two are up to,’ he said.
‘Sure.’ May didn’t bother to look around.
Cillian waded out of the water, plumped down on the sand, brushed his feet clean and pulled on his socks and wellies.
As he crossed the beach, his feet sank into the sand, and he made a mental note to warn guests not to wear high heels to the ceremony.
An amusing image of stranded ladies in high heels and fascinators filled his mind. He smiled.
‘What are you looking at?’ he asked when he reached Daniel and Jack.
‘We were wondering whether this would be a good spot to have a table with a few refreshments. Are you planning on having just the ceremony here, or also the reception?’
‘I’m not sure we’ve got that far,’ said Cillian.
‘Well, either way,’ said Daniel, ‘people will want to toast the happy couples after the event. The way the rocks overhang, and with the trees above them, this part of the beach is usually in shade. So it would be a good place to line up a few glasses of champagne – if that’s the kind of thing we’re after. ’
‘Champagne sounds perfect,’ said Cillian. ‘As does this spot. Maybe we could hire a few local kids to act as waiters on the day.’
‘I’m sure there are youngsters around here looking to earn a few extra bob.
’ Jack placed his hands on his lower back and stretched.
‘If we did need a generator, I reckon over there at the back of the beach, near that undergrowth, would be good. It’d be close enough to run cables from, but far enough away that the noise won’t be deafening.
’ He arched his eyebrows. ‘The last thing we want is to ruin the tranquillity of the cove with a diesel engine.’
‘Quite right,’ said Cillian. ‘What about solar panels?’
At this, both Jack and Daniel laughed.
‘With the weather we get here, we never know. It’s been a nice summer so far. Let’s hope it continues,’ said Daniel. ‘I can get the path sorted, but nothing I do will counteract a few days of heavy rain.’
‘What are you talking about? What are you plotting over here?’ May had joined them.
‘We’re talking about rain,’ said Cillian, ‘and specifically what happens to the path if it rains in the days leading up to the wedding.’
May rolled her eyes. ‘Have a little faith, won’t you?’
‘We do have to think about practicalities sometimes though, May,’ said Jack.
‘Practicalities are boring.’ May flicked a wrist, sending the practicalities into the ether.
‘But necessary,’ Daniel insisted.
‘I hate that you’re all ganging up on me.’ She pouted. ‘OK, tell me the worst-case scenario with the path.’
‘Well,’ said Daniel, ‘the worst case would be that it’s so muddy the only way to get the brides down there would be in a sledge. If it’s a bit muddy, wellies might suffice.’
May grinned. ‘I’m sure I can source some white wellies. You can get anything on the internet these days.’
‘But are they going to want to wear Wellington boots on their wedding day?’ asked Cillian. He was pretty sure the answer would be no.
May shrugged. ‘They might not have to,’ she said. ‘This is all hypothetical. And anyway, worst-case scenario, they could arrive by boat, just like the grooms. See? There’s a way round everything.’
‘I never had you pegged as an optimist.’ Jack grinned at her.
May glared. ‘Thanks. Glad you have so much faith in me.’
Jack put an arm around May’s shoulders. ‘I’m not saying you’re a pessimist, just a realist. You’ve got your feet planted firmly on the ground. It’s nice to hear you being a romantic, placing so much faith in the Cornish weather to come good for Alice and Kitty’s big day.’
‘I simply don’t think there’s any point stressing about it,’ said May. ‘There’s enough to worry about in life without worrying about the weather.’
A shadow passed across her face, and again Cillian wondered what May Tyler had to worry about. On paper, she had the brightest future of anyone in the village, perhaps with the exception of him, admittedly. There was something troubling her though, and it wasn’t rain.
Jack filled May in on their ideas.
‘Sounds good,’ she said. ‘We’ll have to figure out chairs.’
‘The community centre has a whole set of old folding wooden chairs,’ said Daniel. ‘I’m sure they’d be happy for us to use them.’
‘Perfect.’ May gave him an approving nod. ‘Do you reckon you could get them over here by boat?’
‘I’m sure we could,’ he said. ‘And if not, they’re not heavy. With either quite a few trips or a number of bodies, we could get them down the path.’
‘Wooden chairs would look great in such a natural environment.’ Cillian found his enthusiasm for the beach growing by the second. ‘We’ll need to think about flowers too.’
May raised an eyebrow.
‘Hey,’ he said, ‘I’m an artist. I’m creative. I can do pretty.’
‘I know,’ said May, ‘you don’t get eyebrows like you’ve got unless you’re worried about pretty.’ She smirked.
His hand instinctively flew to his face. The beautician had told him he looked natural when Brian had made him go for a threading session.
‘Don’t worry about it.’ Her smirk blossomed into a full-blown grin. ‘I’m sure your fans love the polished look.’
Was she implying she didn’t? Why did he care? Still, as they wandered across the beach making plans, Cillian resolved not to go back to the beautician.