Love at the Little Wedding Shop by the Sea - Jane Linfoot Page 0,125

And if I’m hanging back a little, just to enjoy how easily those words rolled off Nic’s tongue, after everything we’ve been through to get here, you can’t blame me for taking a moment. There’s the castle with its chunky towers etched against the billowy white clouds behind us, the sea shimmering into the distance around the bay. The sound of the waves ebbing and flowing on the sand out beyond the lawns, the faint movement of sea air across my cheeks. Then, walking away, there’s the man who’s so beautiful and broken that my heart breaks all over again for him.

And sometime tomorrow I’ll walk away from him too and nothing for me will ever be quite the same again. There will be no excuses to text him to tell him off for being indecisive about gin garnish. No reason to call him and summon him to the shop to see my latest find. I know it’s going to be hard. But I’m getting through it by telling myself he’ll still be there to wave to when he’s out on Snow Goose’s deck every evening, propping his back against the mast as he watches the sun go down. Not that I’ll be stalking him. But if I time it right, we’ll still manage a cheery hello most mornings as I’m getting in my van and he’s nipping across to the harbour master’s offices for a shower. If I leave the shop on the dot of twelve thirty, it’s likely I’ll pass him on the cobbles on his way to the bakery to buy his lunchtime sandwich as I take Merwyn for his run on the beach.

I’ve thought it all through. It isn’t going to be easy. Call me my mother’s daughter, but I’ve got my Spotify playlist ready – all the songs that have formed the backdrop to the last few months. That will be my crutch to get me through the hard times of my withdrawal. If I stick at it for a few months, it should be completely do-able. What matters is, he’s still going to be there. He just won’t be there with me so much. And it may take a while, but I’ll have to learn to live with that. Learn to be happy expressing my one-sided adoration and concern from a hundred yards away instead of across a table or the front of a car.

But for now I need to let myself be. Soak up every moment. Make the day last as long as I can.

Chapter 35

Even later on Thursday.

On the terrace outside at Cockle Shell Castle.

Cake faces and long afternoons.

So much for willing time to stand still.

Where Cally’s wedding day seemed to last a lifetime and then some, Pixie and Ewan’s whizzes by. Maybe it’s because of the fun or perhaps it’s the party vibe. Nic looks relaxed as well as edible as he jokes around with the groomsmen, whose names I should know but end up forgetting because there are so many of them. Clemmie’s afternoon teas go down well as everyone sits in the sunshine with their cake stands popping exquisite sandwiches and scones and pastries and cakes into their mouths, drinking fizz at the curly painted metal tables or lazing on brightly checked picnic rugs with our vintage china plates from Bill’s barn. This rolls seamlessly into a gentle wander or wheel down to the beach on the carefully constructed boardwalk made out of railway sleepers.

And when everyone has had enough of collecting shells and throwing stones into the water, making sandcastles, and paddling, it’s back to the castle for more lazing on the lawns, an ice cream van and another consignment of fizz in ice buckets. Then, just because we could, impromptu games of croquet, hopscotch, boules. The kiddies darting in and out of the lovely wooden playhouse at the lawn edge. Then the evening emphasis changing to the terrace on the hot-tub side of the castle, with vans serving burgers and nachos, a not-too-smoky barbecue, and a horse-box bar, followed by Clemmie’s amazing pudding-fest laid out in the castle kitchen.

It’s relaxed, it’s laid-back. But best of all, Pixie and Ewan look as if they’re having a truly wonderful time. Even as it’s happening, I know when I spin the day back in my head, it’s going to be like looking through a wedding album. By the time they cut Poppy’s prettiest cake of all time – four tiers with the palest lilac ombré buttercream covered in tiny pressed