A Wedding Under the Cornish Sky

Chapter One

Five years ago

‘So, this is our happy ending, then, Mrs Jameson?’

Zennor chinked her glass against Trev’s in the wedding pavilion of the St Piran’s Spa Hotel. It was the first time they’d been alone since the ceremony and Zennor was savouring every moment before they headed to the function suite where a hundred guests waited to celebrate their marriage.

‘I’d rather think of it as a happy beginning,’ she said, gazing into the deep brown eyes she’d found mesmerising from the first moment they’d met a year before. ‘And I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to being a Mrs.’

‘Oh, I think it’ll get easier after the first thirty years.’ He smiled down at her indulgently. ‘How’s the Bolly?’

‘Delicious.’

While the Bolly was delicious, Zennor wouldn’t have known one champagne from another.

What she did know was that it made butterflies flutter in her stomach the way Trev had when he’d made a beeline for her at a fundraiser to raise cash for the Surf Lifesaving Club where she was a volunteer.

She still could hardly believe that, barely a year later, she was now Mrs Jameson.

Everything about the wedding so far had been flawless, which was to be expected of the St Piran’s.

It was the hottest day of the year, and she’d been grateful for the merest hint of a breeze stirring the voile curtains of the pavilion.

The sun glittered on the sea like the diamond-studded band Trev had slipped on to her finger as they’d exchanged their vows.

It had been designed to match her engagement ring by the county’s top jeweller and she dreaded to imagine how much it had cost.

Her cream silk dress had come with an eyewatering price tag.

Her parents had insisted on funding it – not that Zennor could have afforded it on a recently qualified teacher’s salary.

Trev had presented her with French lingerie: a thong and balconette bra made of frothy satin and lace.

It was by far the most expensive underwear she’d ever owned.

‘I can’t wait until we’re finally alone. You look sensational,’ he’d whispered during the ceremony, turning Zennor’s cheeks the same shade as the blush roses in her hair.

A line appeared between her brows.

‘You’re frowning?’ Trev said. ‘Is anything wrong? I hope not because I want today to be perfect.’

‘No, nothing,’ Zennor said, smiling again. ‘It’s only that I still can’t quite believe I’ve done this …’

‘You mean that we’ve done this,’ Trev qualified. ‘We both said our vows just now. I hope you’re not regretting it?’

He was joking, of course, but occasionally Zennor wasn’t so sure.

He was a sensitive man and she knew he was self-conscious about being ten years older than her.

Zennor didn’t give a fig, but her parents and a few friends had expressed their concern – which she’d dismissed, of course.

Who cared? Trev was only in his mid-thirties. He was hardly decrepit.

‘Trev,’ she said, reaching up to touch his cheek. ‘If I’d regretted it, I’d have walked away long ago.’

‘That’s the thing. It hasn’t been that long. It’s only been a year.’ Trev’s admission revealed a rare tremor of insecurity in his normally rock-solid confidence. ‘You’re sure you don’t regret marrying so soon?’

‘As sure as anyone can ever be about anything in life,’ she said with a smile.

His lips parted as if he was going to respond, but he downed the rest of the fizz in one and checked his gold wristwatch. She’d been joking but was now concerned that she’d worried him.

The smile was back. ‘I can see our wedding planner looking at me significantly,’ he said, taking her half-full flute and setting it on the table. ‘Shall we enter the fray?’

Zennor laughed softly. ‘Fray? You make it sound like a battle.’

‘Well, it is. All those relatives neither of us has seen for years, people we can’t stand and would cross the road to avoid, old flames …’

Zennor frowned again and her skin prickled. ‘What old flames? Yours or mine?’ she asked lightly.

‘Neither. Both. I don’t know why I said it, but I know that most of the guests are only gathered here to stuff themselves and neck as much champagne as they can.’

Zennor gasped in mock horror. A lot of her friends and family weren’t there for the freebies, but to celebrate her marriage and be happy for her.

‘Well, I’d have been happy with burgers and beers, as I mentioned.

’ She pressed her index finger gently to his broad chest. ‘It was you who wanted to push the boat out and have real champagne.’

‘Burgers and beer?’ With a shake of the head, he lifted a curl from her face tenderly.

‘You are so down to earth, Zennor, so sweet and innocent. That’s why I love you so much.

’ He kissed her softly on the lips, sending sparks shooting through her.

‘But from now on, I want everyone to know that nothing is too good for my beautiful wife.’

Zennor felt as if she were in a movie, floating around the banqueting suite, hugging and being hugged, kissing people she’d never met, accepting a hundred compliments on her dress, the flowers, the venue and the Hollywoodesque fantasy that she was living.

Uniformed waiting staff glided around, refilling glasses and serving canapés and the delicious lunch that she and Trev – mostly Trev – had chosen so carefully.

She picked at her plate and barely touched her champagne, too excited to eat much.

There was little time to spend with her friends from the Surf Club since her duties as bride were endless, but later, at the evening party, she promised them and herself she could let her hair down and celebrate properly.

The only cloud on her perfect horizon was the absence of one person: Sybil, a childhood friend of her mother’s and surrogate ‘auntie’ to Zennor.

Sybil, an actor, had been unable to come because of work commitments, and while Zennor understood, having her there would have made the day truly perfect.

Their plates were whisked away and the speeches began.

Her lovely, kind dad, Hayden, made her cry, saying how proud he was of her both as a daughter and a woman.

In a break with tradition, at Trev’s suggestion, the best man, Ari, a business partner of Trev’s, spoke first and made everyone laugh but it was Trev himself whom Zennor couldn’t wait to hear.

She’d been teasing him about his speech from almost the moment they got engaged.

She’d asked him if he needed any tips on his performance.

After all, she’d recently finished her performing arts degree and was now teaching in a school.

Smiling, Trev had thanked her for her offer, but he’d said he’d be fine, ‘seeing as he’d done this kind of thing before’.

Secretly, Zennor had felt a little na?ve for even asking, realising that a successful businessman like Trev, who ran a hospitality recruitment company, didn’t need any help with public speaking.

She puffed up with pride as Trev stood up to speak.

Of course, every bride must think her new husband handsome, but she thought he’d never looked more imposing than today.

He filled out his suit as if he’d been born to wear formal wear every day.

No wonder, either. He’d had it tailor-made to fit his athletic six-foot frame, honed by playing tennis and gruelling workouts with his personal trainer.

‘Thank you, Hayden and Ari, for your brilliant speeches. You’ve given me a hard act to follow, but since I have to, I’ll start with the easiest part.’ He turned to Zennor with a broad smile. ‘On behalf of my wife and I …’

She glowed inside as the ripple of applause rolled round the room. Trev carried on, thanking the guests and the bridesmaids – Zennor’s best friend, Roo, and the teenage daughter of Trev’s cousin.

‘Finally, I’d like to thank – and you’ll forgive me for saying this – by far the most important person in the room: my beautiful wife, Zennor.’

Trev turned to her and addressed her directly. ‘I am amazed that she has done me the honour of marrying me. I probably don’t deserve her. No, I definitely don’t deserve her – and she could have married a hundred other men – but she chose me, and for that I can never express how happy I am.’

She shook her head, a little embarrassed by the praise but more fearful she might burst into tears.

‘But even if I can’t find the words to say how I feel about her, I know some people who might be able to …’

Trev looked into her eyes as if she were the only person there. He had that way about him, of making you – anyone – seem like the most important person on the planet.

‘What have you done?’ she murmured, butterflies taking flight in her stomach.

‘Wait and see,’ he whispered back and nodded to the hotel wedding manager who was standing at the back of the room.

A few seconds passed in silence before gasps rippled through the guests as four men emerged from different parts of the room singing a cappella.

A moment ago, they’d merely been bow-tied waiting staff, so good at their job they were almost invisible.

Now, they were like gods with soulful voices that could make your heart melt.

Trev reached for her hand, grasping it tightly as the waiters reached the top table.

One was a grey-haired man with a neatly trimmed beard and two were red-headed guys, so alike they had to be brothers.

The fourth was taller, with dark blond hair secured in a ponytail.

Zennor couldn’t remember him waiting tables, but she recognised him instantly. How could she ever forget Matt Veryan?

The fingers of her free hand tightened around the edge of the velvet seat as Matt and his fellow singers approached the top table. Her heart fluttered like a bird trapped inside a cage.

Surely Trev could feel her pulse racing. Did he realise that, in this very moment, she would rather be anywhere other than that function room?