Chapter 45
FORTY-FIVE
Rita heard the bride before she saw her, laughter spilling across the yard. A flash of blonde, a burst of a brightly coloured sundress, and then… ‘Rita! Oh my God, Rita!’
Rita stared, wide-eyed. ‘Annie? What are you doing here?’
Annie, sixty, bold as brass, glowing like she’d swallowed the sun. Ex-airline cabin crew, all confidence and charm, the sort of woman who’d slip you an extra drink during turbulence and never forget a face. Rita’s heart lifted instantly.
‘Meet our bride,’ Sennen said, grinning.
‘I wanted to surprise you,’ Annie added with a smirk.
Rita couldn’t keep the smile off her face. ‘Well, you’ve certainly done that. And who’d have thought Michael Stone would be the lucky man?’
‘Who’d have thought indeed. Miserable old sod during our retreat, he was, but I soon bashed that out of him.’ Annie was completely straight faced.
‘Incredible.’ Rita beamed. ‘So that’s two firsts – our first retreat love story and our first wedding involving guests.’
‘I won’t be trying to say that after a couple of sherbets,’ Annie guffawed.
‘You look bloody marvellous,’ Rita said, meaning every word.
Annie laughed. ‘Darling, I feel it. Who’d have thought it, me getting married at sixty?’
‘It’s just a number,’ Rita said, then gestured to her stomach.
‘Who’d have thought I’d be pregnant with twins again at forty-six?
Soon to be forty-seven… tomorrow!’ With all that had been going on she had completely forgotten about her birthday.
The day when everything was supposed to happen.
The day she was supposed to know if she wanted to be with Jago or not and vice versa. How life can change in an instant!
‘Well, if Victoria Coren Mitchell can do the late-mother thing, why can’t you?’ Annie added.
Rita laughed. ‘Exactly. I love that woman. If I get even a line on the Connecting Wall on that ridiculously hard quiz show of hers, I start thinking I should’ve gone to Oxford.’
A people carrier with wedding guests arrived and Rita looked over to see Zenya and Teo greeting and shepherding them towards the yurts, pointing, chatting, laughing.
‘We’ll get everyone settled,’ Zenya called back. ‘You two take your time.’
Annie lingered, slipping her arm through Rita’s.
‘Honestly, if I’d known you did weddings, I’d have booked you in a heartbeat.
But when Sennen told me Rosecliff Barns had cancelled and you had space, well, it felt like fate.
’ She lowered her voice conspiratorially.
‘We were going to spend our wedding night in one of your yurts anyway. Can’t think of anything nicer than waking up to that High Meadow view with Mr Stone beside me.
’ Not wanting to explain that without Rosecliff’s refusal there would be no wedding venue here, Rita laughed, warmth blooming in her chest.
‘So… That’s why you’re taking the bride up the field in the Jimny, Mum,’ Sennen said lightly. ‘Annie requested it.’
Annie winked. ‘I do like an entrance, darling.’
‘Not sure about one in Mum’s old bone shaker, but you’re certainly going to get one in that Cinderella carriage,’ Sennen added.
‘Oh, I do hope it’s glorious.’ Annie grinned.
‘I’ll let Sennen show you the barn,’ Rita added. ‘Where is Michael, by the way?’
‘Oh, some of us, including the delicious Mr Stone, are staying at that fancy hotel in Polheron,’ Annie gushed.
‘First thing, make-up artist, hairdresser, the works. I don’t care about not seeing him before the wedding.
At our age, death will probably get us before bad luck.
’ She shrugged. ‘I just wanted to settle the die-hard yurters in first. Show them how gorgeous it all is here.’
She clapped her hands suddenly. ‘Giovanni!’ She waved to a sharply dressed man who lifted his arm back. ‘My beautiful friend, also ex cabin crew. He’s walking me down the aisle. Not sure I mentioned that, Sennen.’
Sennen laughed and waved. ‘You didn’t, but lucky you, he’s hot to trot,’ Sennen added, without thinking.
‘Sadly, not in the direction of a vagina,’ Annie said, deadpan.
‘Marrying Clive, a fellow trolley dolly in Sicily, next year.’ She turned back to Sennen.
‘I read that dreadful article. What a bitch of a woman, that writer was.’ Then she smiled serenely.
‘As long as the wheels stay on my wagon, the rings aren’t lost, the champagne’s cold, and my man is hot, I don’t much care what happens outside of that. So, Foxtrot Oscar to her, I say.’
‘Tell her Imogen’s staying here, just in case,’ Rita murmured to Sennen, as Annie checked her phone at a newly arrived ping.
Rita watched them head towards the barn, heart full. Marriage at sixty. It was unexpected, yes, but somehow for these two, perfect timing and entirely wonderful.