Chapter Ten
“This is such a lovely idea,” Cassie remarked as she and Lisa strolled down Cliff Road and along the Esplanade to the Carleton Hotel with Kyra in her buggy.
“An evening wedding.”
“Mmm, with the sun setting in the background. So romantic,” Lisa agreed.
“The photos will look fantastic.”
Everyone had been anxiously checking the weather reports for days.
Surely after several weeks of glorious sunshine it wouldn’t choose to rain, today of all days?
Of course, there was always the option of retreating to the ballroom if the weather turned, but who wouldn’t want to have their wedding ceremony out on the terrace, with its sweeping view of the bay?
But it had been another beautiful day, and promised to be a beautiful evening.
The sun was westering across the sky, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight.
The sea was sparkling like diamonds and sapphires, lazy waves rippling like white lace along the edge of the beach.
There were still lots of families enjoying the remains of the day before it was time to go home for tea.
Sandcastles of various sizes bore witness to the young builders’ hard labour, games of cricket and frisbee were winding down — only the dogs were still full of energy, chasing their balls and scaring up the strutting seagulls.
A sign in the window of the CupCake Café announced that it was closed for the day.
Cassie laughed as they passed.
“I wonder how Debbie’s feeling?”
“Like she’s been wired up to the mains,” Lisa responded with a chuckle.
“Is that what it was like for you?”
“I could have blown up the whole National Grid!”
The hotel was at the far end of the bay, just past the Memorial Gardens, set on a low rocky cliff and surrounded by its own gardens.
The original house had been built by a wealthy Victorian factory owner as a summer retreat well away from the smog and chills of the Midlands.
It had undergone many changes in its fortunes since then, with different owners, a jumble of wings and extensions added.
It had seen better days, but it still maintained much of its former dignity.
Many of the guests were sentimental visitors who had been coming to Sturcombe for years, or golfers who came to play on the golf course on the rising ground behind it.
The two of them strolled across the gravelled car park and up the steps to the reception hall.
Inside it was all bustle and excitement as the staff got the place ready for the wedding.
A white pergola had been set up out on the terrace and Eric, the porter, was wheeling a trolley carrying a stack of folding white chairs.
In the conservatory two long trestle tables had been set up — one was displaying the wedding presents, the other would be laid out with a buffet which Chef was preparing in the kitchen.
A dozen large crystal vases stood ready for the white roses, gardenias and lily of the valley that were being unloaded from the florist’s van.
Vicky was coming down the stairs holding a clipboard on her arm.
“Hi,” Lisa called to her.
“How’s it going?”
Vicky rolled her eyes.
“Organised chaos. At least I hope it’s organised. Your help will be much appreciated.”
“Okay. What can we do?”
“Could you see to the flowers? They ought to be in water before they start wilting. If you want to drop your things off upstairs first, I’ve booked out Room 11 for the female guests. The men have Room 12, and the bridal party have Suite 10.”
“That’s great — sounds like you’re really on top of it. Cassie, if you’ll dump our things upstairs in the room, I’ll make a start on sorting out the flowers.”
“Right.”
It was great fun transforming the hotel into a fabulous wedding venue for Debbie and Bill.
The rather plain function room was draped in swathes of shimmering white organza hung from hooks high on the walls which had been put there for that purpose years ago.
The carpet had been rolled up and the parquet dance floor beneath had had a good polish.
The flowers were arranged on small tables around the room, and the DJ had come in to set up his decks on the stage.
On the terrace the pergola was festooned with garlands of white silk flowers, and the white wooden chairs were embellished with sashes of pale-pink organza.
And in the conservatory, fairy lights had been twined into the potted fig trees and kentia palms.
The buffet had been brought through from the kitchen — neatly trimmed sandwiches, mini-frittatas, mozzarella sticks, both savoury and sweet kebabs, strawberry pavlova and tiramisu.
At each end of the table was a large punch bowl — one was filled with a delicious non-alcoholic cocktail of elderflower and apple juice in sparkling mineral water, spiced with a sprinkle of mint, the other a very alcoholic mix of vodka and champagne in pineapple and lime juice.
The centrepiece was Chef’s masterstroke — a magnificent wedding cake.
Two tiers of smooth white icing with a fall of pink and white sugar flowers cascading down one side.
“Oh, it’s looking fabulous!” Vicky enthused, coming in to check on progress.
She glanced at her watch.
“It’s probably time for us all to go up and start getting ready. Debbie will be here any minute.”
“She’s here now!” Cassie ran out to the door as Debbie arrived with her mum, Kate, and little Amy.
“Don’t peek,” she insisted, putting her hand over her friend’s eyes and taking her arm to lead her into the ballroom as Amy ran ahead.
“Oh, Mummy, it’s so pretty!” Amy was dancing with excitement.
“There are so many flowers, it’s just like a garden.”
“I want to see!”
“There you go.”
Cassie took her hand away, and Debbie gasped in delight as she gazed around the room.
“Oh, it’s perfect. Thank you so much. Oh . . .” She pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes.
“Mummy, why are you crying?” Amy asked anxiously.
“It’s happy crying,” Debbie assured her.
“All this is so wonderful. I can’t believe it. Thank you for everything you’ve done. Oh, look at the pergola. And the cake!” She hurried into the conservatory.
“It’s just beautiful. I have to thank your chef for that.”
“He’s in the kitchen,” Vicky said.
“Then it’ll be time for you to start getting ready. You’re in Suite 10. Shelley . . .” She turned to one of the housekeeping staff who had been helping with the preparations.
“Could you take up a few bites and some coffee, please?”
“Of course.”
“If there’s anything you need,” Vicky added, “just let Shelley know.”
“Thank you. It’s all perfect.” Debbie had to dab at her eyes again.
“Is that happy crying too, Mummy?” Amy asked.
“Yes, it is. Very happy crying.”
It was a lovely evening.
A warm breeze was drifting in from the sea.
To the east, the sky was shading from lilac to cobalt blue, and a few clouds like pink and purple powder puffs floated low over the western horizon as the sun dipped slowly down towards the sea.
Music played softly as Debbie walked out onto the terrace on Kate’s arm and down the aisle between the chairs, followed by her two bridesmaids — little Amy and Bill’s teenage niece Bez, in matching pink dresses, holding hands.
The silver embroidery on Debbie’s bolero glinted in the low rays of the sun.
Her soft brown hair had been caught up with an ivory silk flower, and she was carrying a dainty bouquet of white roses and gardenias.
And when Bill, awkward in a brand-new grey suit, turned and saw her, his homely face broke into the widest, happiest smile you ever saw, and he reached out his hand to take hers .
.
.
Uh-oh — tissue time.
Cassie was a little surprised at herself.
She had been looking forward to the wedding, glad to see her old friend happy after the tough time she had had, but she hadn’t expected to be quite so affected by it.
She had never been one for all that romantic stuff — it wasn’t her thing.
It wasn’t.
She had been trying not to let her eyes stray across the aisle to where Liam was sitting with his family.
He scrubbed up well, she reflected with a flicker of amusement, in a well-cut pale-grey suit with a crisp white shirt.
As if he felt her gaze on him, he glanced across and smiled — and that warmth spread right through her veins.
She couldn’t stop herself returning the smile.
Oh lord, all this wedding-y stuff was turning her brain to mush.
With an effort of will she focused her attention back on the couple stammering their way through their vows.
Bill’s ears were scarlet, and Debbie was visibly trembling.
“Ah, bless,” she whispered to Lisa.
“They’re both so shy, it’s a wonder they ever managed to get together, let alone figure out getting married.”
“Vicky gave them a bit of a nudge.”
“A bit of a nudge? I’d have thought they’d need a couple of super-powered electro-magnets!”
Lisa covered her giggle with a discreet cough, her eyes dancing.
The sun was slowly sinking below the horizon as the formal part of the proceedings ended, the darkening sky streaked with gold and magenta, the sea sparkling with sequins — the perfect backdrop for the wedding photos.
Then Bill tucked Debbie’s hand proudly into his arm and cleared his throat.
“It’s . . . um . . . Well, it’s . . . um . . . time for champagne, and . . . um . . .”
Debbie smiled up at him, warm and encouraging.
He laughed.
“Let’s hit the food.”
Everyone joined in the laughter, following as he and his new bride led the way into the conservatory.
The DJ was playing classic old soul songs quietly through the speakers, and hotel staff in smart white jackets were circulating with trays of champagne.
Some of the younger children, their energy pent up for too long during the ceremony, were running around and playing chase, but no one minded.
Ollie was holding little Kyra on his shoulder, and she was gazing around, wide-eyed, babbling softly to herself.
Queuing for the buffet, Cassie suddenly found herself hugged by a small blonde fairy in a yellow dress, who launched herself against her, throwing her arms around her waist.
“It’s the tappoo lady!”
Cassie smiled down at her, feeling a warmth in her heart.
“That’s right.”
“Yours is still there, but mine washed off when I went in the sea.”
“Ah, yes — it would do that. But like I said, when you’re grown up, you can have one that stays on, like mine.”
The little girl pouted.
“Everything is ‘when you’re grown up’,” she protested.
“I know. It’s a pain, isn’t it? But think what fun you can have when the time comes, and you can have as many tattoos as you want.”
Liam had strolled over to join them.
“Oh, lord. If it’s going to be tattoos, I’m glad I have plenty of time to get used to the idea!”
“By then the fashion might have passed, and you won’t have to worry,” Cassie assured him.
“I’m keeping my fingers crossed. Robyn, sweetie, what would you like to eat?”
The child’s eyes were wide as she gazed at the spread on the long table.
“Can I have some of those please, Daddy?” She pointed to the frittatas.
“And those. And those.”
“Of course. This is a buffet, which means you can choose whatever you want. But not too much,” he added quickly as she began to pile up her plate.
He smiled at Cassie.
“She’d eat the lot, then be sick.”
Robyn turned her angel face up to his.
“I won’t be sick, Daddy. I promise.”
He laughed.
“I hope not, sweetie. Especially in that pretty dress. You wouldn’t want to spoil it.”
“Oh . . .” She hesitated, drawing her hand back from the savoury kebabs.
“Good one,” Cassie mouthed silently over the child’s head.
But then Robyn spotted the pavlova.
“And can I have some of that?” she pleaded.
“Later, when you’ve finished what’s on your plate.”
Her small face crinkled into a frown.
“Can’t I put this back?” She picked up one of the frittatas.
“No, sweetie.” He stroked his hand over her hair.
“That would be rude. Come and sit down now and eat your tea.”
“Can Auntie Cassie sit with us?”
Cassie managed to keep her smile in place.
She really couldn’t refuse, but she knew the kind of interest it would generate.
The downside of living in a small place like Sturcombe was that everyone thought they were entitled to know everyone else’s business.
And ten years certainly wasn’t long enough for old business to be forgotten.
They found a table in the corner.
Liam set a cushion on Robyn’s chair to lift her closer to the table, and tucked a napkin under her chin and on her lap.
“You can eat with your fingers,” he told her, much to her delight.
Cassie sat down opposite him.
She could feel her pulse fluttering — ten years wasn’t long enough for her to forget either.
She just hoped he wouldn’t notice the effect he had on her — this was supposed to be just a casual friendship.
Anything else .
.
.
No, she wouldn’t even think about that.
The food was delicious.
The hotel may not have been the smartest in the south west, but its kitchen had a deservedly high reputation.
She bit into a mini sausage roll, made with flaky pastry so light it crumbled away from her lips.
Robyn giggled.
“You’re making a mess, Auntie Cassie. You should have a napkin too.”
She laughed, brushing the crumbs from the tablecloth onto the side of her plate.
“So I should.” Debbie and Bill were chatting to Bill’s parents, discreetly holding tight to each other’s hands.
“It’s lovely to see those two together,” she remarked.
“They should have got together years ago — they seem made for each other.”
Liam nodded.
“He had a thing for her even when they were at school, but he was such a noodle he couldn’t work up the nerve to tell her how he felt about her.”
“So she ended up with that prat Alan Gowan instead. She’s much better off now. And at least it gave her Amy.”
She glanced around the conservatory.
It was growing dark outside, lending the place a cosy atmosphere, lit by the fairy lights in the fig trees and palms.
“We used to come here sometimes for a treat when I was little — afternoon tea on the terrace, with scones and raspberry jam.”
He laughed, pausing to help Robyn cut up a wedge of pizza.
“You must have seen some interesting places these past ten years.”
Cassie nodded.
“Oh, yes — lots.”
“What was your favourite?”
“That’s difficult,” she mused.
“There were so many. But I think I’d put New Zealand at the top of the list. Especially the South Island. It’s so beautiful, unspoiled, with all those fantastic mountains and rivers, and the most spectacular waterfalls. Have you seen Lord of the Rings ?”
“Of course.”
“Well, it’s just as beautiful as it looks in the films.”
He seemed genuinely interested, asking questions, his eyes warm.
Or was he wondering if she thought it had been worth it, to walk away from him ten years ago?
At least if there had been any bitterness, it seemed that time had healed.
Time, and Natalie — and the little blonde fairy in golden yellow, tucking enthusiastically into the contents of her plate.
* * *
Liam was aware of the covert interest that was being aroused by him sitting with Cassie.
The gossips would be having a fine time.
Well, let them.
If he and Cassie were friends now, all these years later, it was no one’s business but their own.
Sitting opposite her at the small table, he could take the time to study her without appearing to stare, could see the subtle changes the years had made.
Structure had emerged from the softness of her teens — strong cheekbones, a smooth oval jaw.
She wore her hair loose — it used to be long, almost to her waist, but now it just brushed her shoulders.
But it still gleamed like polished mahogany.
And her eyes .
.
.
It had been her eyes that had first caught his attention all those years ago — a deep forest green, swept by long dark silky lashes.
She was wearing a very pretty dress, pale lilac, in some silky fabric, with one of those high halter-type necklines that left her shoulders bare, showing off her tattoo and a slender figure that curved in all the right places.
The skirt, he had already noticed, swung to just above her knees, flashing those long, elegant legs.
He couldn’t deny that the echo of that old attraction was still there.
Or maybe it was a new attraction to the woman she was now.
A mature woman, comfortable in her own skin.
A woman who enjoyed her friends without needing to compete with them.
Who had spared the dignity of an old man at the pool table.
Who loved her dog, and had shared some of that love with Hobo.
Who could give a little girl so much warmth and attention .
.
.
She was chatting with Robyn now, telling her about whale watching on the Southern Ocean.
“Real whales?” The little girl’s eyes were wide.
“Not just in a story book?”
“Yes, real whales. Some of them would swim right up alongside us — they were bigger than our boat.”
“How big?”
“Oh, enormous. Some of them were as long as the ballroom there.”
“No they weren’t.” Robyn giggled.
“They couldn’t be that big.”
“Oh, they could. I’ve got some photographs.” She pulled her phone out of her bag and opened the photo gallery.
“See? That’s one of the other boats that was with us.”
Robyn gazed at it in open-mouthed awe.
“Ohhh . . . ! Look, Daddy.”
The boat looked like a fifty-foot cabin cruiser, the rail lined with tourists.
Alongside it, almost half as long again, was the sleek curving back of a whale.
“Do they eat people?” Robyn enquired, a little thrill of dread in her voice.
“No. This is a blue whale. They eat krill.”
The little girl frowned.
“What’s krill?”
“They’re little tiny things that look like shrimps. The whales eat tons of them every day.”
“Don’t they eat them all up?”
“No. There’s tons and tons more of them in the sea.”
Liam watched the two of them, their heads close together, dark head and fair, as Cassie showed Robyn more pictures.
What would persuade her to stay?
Maybe take a little time to see if they could rekindle their old relationship?
Would she even want that?
Would he?
But caution warned him that the chances of that working out a second time were low.
Sooner or later that old wanderlust would tug at her again, and she would be off.
And this time there was another factor in the equation — a very important one.
Robyn.
If he let his little daughter get close to her and then she left.
That would be unforgivable.
“How many whales are there?” The child’s curiosity was insatiable, but Cassie’s patience seemed equal to it.
“We don’t really know for sure,” she explained.
“The oceans are very, very big and it’s hard to count them.”
“Because they’re in the water and they keep swimming around?”
“That’s right. And they can dive very, very deep. Or sometimes they jump right up out of the water. I’ve seen them do that, but I’ve never managed to photograph one.”
“Do they have babies?” was the next question.
“Yes, they do. They’re called calves.”
Robyn giggled.
“Like the calves on Uncle Tom’s farm!”
“Well, a lot bigger than that. The calves take about a year to come, and when they’re born they’re more than twenty feet long already.”
“Oh . . . !” Robyn’s blue eyes widened.
“And they grow very quickly. They stay with their mummies for about six months, but when they get to about fifty feet long they swim away. But they often stay together in families, at least for some of the time.”
Robyn was scrolling eagerly through more photos, and came to some of elephants and giraffes.
She’d only ever seen them on television, and was thrilled that Cassie had seen them in real life.
Liam laughed.
“I can see she’s going to want to follow in your footsteps when she gets older.”
She slanted him a look of apology.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to encourage her to leave.”
He shook his head.
“No, it’s fine. If that’s what she wants, I wouldn’t try to stop her.”
As I didn’t try to stop you .
Though it was hard to let you go.
Maybe he should have guessed what she had been thinking back then.
There had been clues, if he had been perceptive enough to see them.
Her love of travel programmes on television, her eagerness to chat to anyone who came from another country.
And sometimes there had been a look in her eyes when she had stood at the edge of the sea, gazing out as if she could see far over the horizon to some distant land beyond.
If he had ever mentioned it to her, she would just laugh it off, say she was just thinking about her next essay or what was for dinner.
So he had never pursued it.
And now?
Listening to her lively stories of her travels, he had little doubt that she would leave — probably sooner rather than later.
And he would have to let her go again.
* * *
It was time for the speeches.
The waiters had come round again to refill everyone’s champagne glasses as the guests gathered around the buffet table which had now been cleared apart from the bowls of punch and the wedding cake.
As Debbie’s dad had died when she was a baby, Cassie — like everyone else — had been wondering who would take his place.
Kate was surely too shy to speak in front of everyone?
There was a murmur of surprise when Vicky Marston stepped forward.
“I hope you won’t mind this little break with tradition,” she began, smiling.
“I’ll keep it short. When I used to come down here to Sturcombe when I was little, to stay with my Aunt Molly, Debbie was my best friend. We used to play together on the beach and build wonderful sandcastles. When I came back, I felt so lonely at first, but Debbie remembered me and it was as if I’d never been away — though these days she makes the most delicious cupcakes instead of sandcastles.”
There was a small ripple of laughter and nods of agreement.
“So I’m so delighted to see my lovely friend so happy, marrying Bill at last. I’m sure he deserves her. And if he doesn’t,” she added sternly, “there’s me and a large herd of black-and-white cows to sort him out.”
More laughter.
“So, ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming. I give you the toast — Debbie and Bill.”
“Debbie and Bill.”
Then it was Bill’s turn, though he was too shy to do more than mumble his thanks to everyone and smile down at Debbie as he raised his glass, which everyone accepted as his proposal of a toast.
It was left to Tom Cullen, as Best Man, to bring the jokes, with stories about how devoted Bill was to the cows, especially when they were pregnant.
“I call it OCD — obsessive calving disorder.”
Most of the stories involved copious amounts of cow dung, but these were country people and were used to that kind of thing.
“So Debbie, if he starts talking in his sleep about Betty or Clarissa, you’ll know you have no need to worry. He won’t be talking about a mistress — he’ll be talking about a half-ton black-and-white prime Friesian cow.”
That produced a round of laughter.
Tom proposed the final toast, then it was time to cut the cake.
“It’s so beautiful,” Debbie sighed.
“I can’t bear to cut it.”
“It’ll be worth it when you taste it,” Vicky insisted.
“I got to scrape the mixing bowl.”
“Greedy,” Tom teased, giving her shoulders a squeeze.
There was that look again, slanting between them.
Pure love.
Cassie felt her heart skip, but she refused to let herself glance at Liam who was standing across to her left, his hand resting on his small daughter’s curly blonde hair.
Struggling to cut the cake with both of them holding the knife reduced Debbie to giggles.
They managed to get a slice onto a plate, and fed each other a bite with small silver dessert forks.
“Mmm, you’re right.” Debbie’s eyes were dancing.
“It’s absolutely delicious. Do you think he’d give us the recipe?”
“Absolutely not.” Vicky laughed.
“He keeps it so secret, he bakes them at midnight on a full moon, with two Rottweilers guarding the kitchen.”
“I don’t blame him.”
* * *
One of the waiters lifted the cake carefully onto a catering trolley and wheeled it off to the kitchen to be sliced.
Liam smiled down at his little daughter as his mother came over.
“Well now, time for you to be off home with Granny and Gramps.”
“Oh, Daddeee . . .”
“Amy and Noah are coming with you for a sleepover,” his mum reminded her.
“Oh, yes!” The child bounced with excitement, all objections instantly forgotten.
“Night night, Daddy.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a big kiss on the cheek, then did the same to Cassie.
“Night night, Auntie Cassie!”
“Night night, sweetheart.”
His mum slanted Liam a questioning glance, but he just smiled vaguely as Robyn ran off to fetch her friends.
“That’ll be fun,” Cassie murmured with a hint of dry humour.
“I hope you’re going to buy your mum a big bunch of flowers for dedication beyond the call of duty.”
He laughed.
“Of course.”
With the children gone, the adults lingered a while over their champagne before drifting back into the ballroom for the evening.
The room was subtly lit by the wall sconces, and the DJ was ready to start the music as the bride and groom reluctantly moved out into the middle of the dance floor for their first dance.
He glanced around for Cassie, but she was no longer by his side.
He searched the room and saw she was over by the bar, chatting to her brother.
Before he could move towards her, his sister-in-law Julia came up behind him.
“Ah, this is one of my favourite songs.” She swayed as the strains of a beautiful old soul ballad swelled through the room.
“It’s just unfortunate that Bill dances like one of his cows,” Liam responded dryly.
“Debbie doesn’t seem to mind — she’s dancing on air.”
“And she’s pretty good at keeping her toes away from his size twelves.”
The song ended to a soft ripple of applause, then several more couples moved to join them on the dance floor.
“Are you going to dance?” Liam asked.
Julia smiled.
“If you’re asking?”
In the past he’d always enjoyed dancing with Julia.
She had a good sense of rhythm and moved easily, spinning out and back as they jived to a series of lively sixties hits.
When at last the music changed to a slower number, Luke appeared at his shoulder.
“Do you mind giving me my wife back?”
“No way,” Liam retorted.
“We’re running away together.”
“Oh, fine.” Luke shrugged his shoulders in casual dismissal.
“You’re welcome.”
He pretended to turn away, but Julia caught him by the collar.
“Hey, you don’t get away that easy!” she protested.
“You’re the one who’s running off with my brother.”
“Maybe next week.”
The two of them moved into each other’s arms as naturally as breathing, still laughing and teasing.
Liam felt a twinge of envy as he watched them.
That was the sort of relationship he had had with Natalie — the sort of relationship he wanted again.
But he was beginning to doubt if he would ever find it.
* * *
Cassie was enjoying herself.
She’d dragged her brother out for a dance, she’d danced with Ollie, she’d taken a turn round the floor with Tom Cullen’s dad Jack.
They’d amused themselves by trying to work out exactly how they were related to each other, with her sister being married to his nephew.
She’d even braved a turn with the bridegroom, but he’d been so shy he’d barely said a word, concentrating all his attention on moving his feet while not treading on her toes.
Liam had been dancing with Julia, his sister-in-law.
The tall redhead was very striking, and they danced well together.
Now she was dancing with her husband, and Liam had been sitting out for a while, chatting at the bar with his father.
Would he ask her to dance?
The thought of it made her heart beat a little faster.
To be in his arms again, after all these years .
.
.
“Hi.” Tom Cullen appeared at her elbow.
“How are you? I haven’t had a chance for a proper chat to you since you got back.”
She smiled up at him.
“I’m great, thanks. And you’re looking very well — impending matrimony to the contrary notwithstanding.”
He laughed.
“Ah, well. I hit the jackpot.” He glanced across at Vicky, who was dancing with Bill’s dad.
And there it was again, that look in his eyes.
Any woman would crawl over broken glass to have her man look at her like that.
“Just a few more weeks, isn’t it?”
“That’s right.” He held out his hand.
“Would you like to dance?”
“Love to.”
Tom danced well, easy on the rhythm — there was no need to be careful of her toes.
They chatted as they danced and he told her the amazing story of the auction of Vicky’s portrait of her Aunt Molly.
“Wow! That must have been so exciting!”
“It was. I thought Vicky was going to faint when the final number came up.”
“I’m not surprised.”
Over his shoulder she could see Liam dancing with Lisa.
Then he danced with Debbie, then young Bez, Bill’s niece, who had been Debbie’s chief bridesmaid.
Was he ever going to ask her to dance?
Did she want him to?
It was eleven o’clock when the evening began to wind down.
Debbie and Bill were getting ready to leave for their honeymoon.
All the guests had gathered in the reception hall as they came down the stairs, having changed out of their wedding outfits.
The waiters had brought round trays of champagne, and everyone raised a final toast to the happy couple, then followed them out to the front of the hotel.
The car that was to take them to the airport for their flight to Paris had been festooned with ribbons and balloons, with ‘Just Married’ written in shaving cream on the rear window.
Before they could escape, they were showered with confetti.
They laughed as they ducked into the car and were driven away to cheers and applause.
As the guests all drifted back into the ballroom she felt a light touch on the small of her back.
Liam.
“Dance?” he suggested.
“Sure.” She managed a smile, hoping for a casual air.
Just friends .
.
.
But now she was dancing in his arms.
He had taken off his jacket, and she could feel the warmth of hard male muscle moving beneath her hand, stirring up old memories — and stirring a new awareness.
An awareness that made her heart beat faster.
But did he feel the same?
Okay, he had sat chatting with her — old friends, and mainly at Robyn’s instigation.
And he had asked her to dance — finally.
And now he was holding her close in his arms .
.
.
It would be all too easy to read too much into it — both her own feelings and his.
And that would be a mistake, could risk awkwardness on both sides.
Better to just keep it cool.
She drew back a little and smiled up at him — the sort of smile she might have given Luke, or Tom Cullen.
“Your parents are looking well.”
His smile was equally neutral.
“Yes, they are.”
“And Julia seems very nice.”
“She’s a tyrant.” The glint of amusement in his eyes completely belied his words.
“She makes me do invoices.”
Cassie laughed.
“Oh, dear. Not your favourite pastime?”
“About on a par with anything the Spanish Inquisition could have dreamed up.”
“And her little boy — Ben.” Think of something else to say — keep the conversation going .
“He seems very bright.”
“He’s as smart as a whip. Beats us all at Cluedo.”
“Is he going to be a vet when he grows up, like the rest of you?”
“It’s on his list.” There was pride and affection in his voice.
“Along with detective, train driver and spaceman.”
“Well, if he’s good at Cluedo, he’d probably make a good detective, anyway.”
“Actually, he cheats,” Liam confided with a laugh.
“But none of us let on that we know.”
The music changed to an upbeat number, and they moved apart, swinging into a lively jive.
Their feet seemed to remember the moves from all the times they had danced together long ago, hitting the rhythm, twirling and spinning as if all the years between were forgotten.
At last the DJ spoke into his mic.
“Okay, people. It’s coming on for midnight — the witching hour. So here’s your last dance. Hope you’ve all had a great time and get home safely. Goodnight.”
It was a slow, sultry song of love and longing.
Liam’s arms were around her — she hadn’t expected him to hold her so close.
Closing her eyes, she let her head rest against his wide shoulder.
She could feel the smooth power in his body as they moved to the music, the warmth of his breath stirring her hair.
It was as if she had been spun back through time, to that night when she was seventeen years old, the memory as vivid as if it had been only yesterday.
How was she supposed to separate the ‘then’ from the ‘now’?
Neither of them were the people they had been back then.
They’d been little more than kids, everything had been brand new, exciting.
Had it been love she had felt then, or nothing more than an adolescent crush?
And now?
The attraction was strong.
But was it no more than the echo of those old feelings, mixed up with a dollop of homesickness for Sturcombe — with a side-dish of sexual interest?
She was too confused to work it out.
She didn’t notice that the music had ended until the lights came up, stark and bright.
It was as if a bubble had burst.
She blinked, glancing around the ballroom with its dull beige walls and scuffed wooden floor, half-empty glasses on the tables along with the debris of the buffet.
Liam was still holding her hand.
She had to escape before he read in her eyes the thoughts that had been running through her head.
“Well, goodnight then.” She forced a brittle smile.
“See you around.”
“Yes.”
That was all he said.
Had she hoped he would say more?
Try to detain her?
Of course not – why would he?
They were supposed to be just friends.
She drew back her hand and turned away, trying not to run.
* * *
Liam watched her go, cursing himself softly.
He had wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what.
He had wanted her to stay.
Holding her in his arms, feeling the supple length of her body moving against his, breathing the subtle fragrance of her skin, had brought back so many memories.
His house was just a short walk away .
.
.
But that was impossible.
Robyn and his mum and dad were there, with the other two kids having their sleepover.
He couldn’t just walk in with Cassie on his arm, and climb the stairs to his bedroom as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
Besides, he’d never been one for casual sex, and he was pretty sure Cassie wasn’t either.
And anyway, with her it could never be casual.
Maybe he could persuade her to stay.
But for how long?
Would he always be wondering when she would decide to leave again?
He could survive a blow like that — he was a grown man.
He knew how to keep things in perspective.
But Robyn .
.
.
She had already grown fond of Cassie.
If he let her get too attached to her and then she left, it would break her little heart.
No.
He could indulge in the occasional fantasy, but he knew it was never going to translate into real life.
Shaking his head, he strolled over to hook up his jacket from the chair where he had left it, and with a brief goodnight to the DJ and the hotel staff who were clearing up he headed for home, and his empty bed.