Desperately Seeking - By Evelyn Cosgrave Page 0,79

out of a day spent on the land, bending it gently to his will. He would have cared about his animals but without being sentimental; he would have worked hard but enjoyed every moment. And he would have loved to pass it on to the sons he would have by the willing wife at his side. I stopped myself. I had sworn off idle daydreams, even if they were somebody else’s.

Keith was right about there being nothing here. We had only passed two other houses for about ten miles before we’d reached his relatives’ place and it didn’t look like the land could support many more. It had a kind of eerie beauty, though; it wasn’t exactly moorland but there were pinks and purples reminiscent of the Burren. I could almost imagine Heathcliff and Cathy scaling the landscape. But that was just it: it was romantic as I looked at it now in the height of summer, but it would be a different story in the middle of winter when somebody needed a doctor, or a bag of chips. I didn’t need to muse on it any longer. I was a city girl through and through – there was no question about that. It was still nice, though, to be able to appreciate an alternative.

The only thing marring my appreciation of the scene was my growing awareness of my empty stomach. I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I needed to eat. I decided to go back to the house and find something to keep me going. Surely all country houses were full of food – you wouldn’t be able to turn round for legs of lamb and chickens and sides of bacon.

As soon as I stepped over the threshold, I was accosted by a bridesmaid who led me into the kitchen where the table was laden with sandwiches and sponge cake. I filled a plate with beef and ham sandwiches. On my way to a corner seat by the door I was met by Keith’s mum, who poured me a mug of tea and told me to come on into the living room. ‘Keith’s been looking for you everywhere, bless him. I think he thought you’d got swallowed up by the family. He’s over there by the window. Here, I’ll give you some tea for him.’

I barely made it across the room, what with all the tea and sandwiches, and when I got there Keith was scowling.

‘Where were you?’ he snapped.

I was startled – part of me was still scampering through the furze with Cathy Earnshaw. ‘I went for a walk,’ I said. ‘You disappeared the minute we got here. What’s the problem?’

‘It’s time to be heading.’

‘Well, I’ll just eat this and we’ll go,’ I said, handing him his tea.

‘Never mind that, we can eat later. Let’s go now.’

‘Keith, I’m starving – it’ll only take a minute. And I really need a cup of tea. Those kind of roads always give me a headache. You chat to your family.’

‘I already have.’

He was talking in that kind of furious whisper where every word is almost spat out, over-enunciated to make up for the lack of volume. I didn’t know what his problem was.

‘I’ll just go over there,’ I said, ‘say hello to your dad and finish my sandwich. Then we’ll go. There’s no hurry. The bride still doesn’t have her makeup on.’ I was smiling at him and tugging at his shirt with my only available finger.

‘OK,’ he said, softening, ‘but be quick. We have the rest of the day to spend with these people.’

I slithered off across the room and had a nice chat with his dad. Keith looked on while he talked to one of his great-aunts about the demise of butter churns.

It was while we were on the road to the hotel that we had the silly argument about bridesmaids and best men. I made a casual remark that the ritual was rather silly, that it was demeaning for a girl’s sisters or friends to have to be got up in an inferior dress and pretend to fuss over the bride. ‘As for the best man,’ I said, ‘it’s just an excuse for him to play the big man with all his speeches, and parade around like he’s running the show.’

Keith wasn’t sure whether or not to respond. Maybe I was having him on, or being flippant, or maybe I had no appreciation of the rites and rituals of marriage. He decided it was the latter and launched