Love at the Little Wedding Shop by the Sea - Jane Linfoot Page 0,66

us, snapping at the tangles of dried seaweed, and it really feels as if she’s up there gently pulling the strings as she reclines on one of those fluffy clouds.

I slow down to a gasping walk and shout to Captain Kirk. ‘Unless Ivy took a hearth rug out for a walk there could be a dog on his way to meet us.’ I bend down and call. ‘Mer-wyn!’

A moment later he hurtles at our legs and starts haring backwards and forwards, barking, jumping up at each of us in turn.

‘Hey, take it easy, mate.’ Nic puts a steadying hand on Merwyn’s head, which works for a nanosecond before he belts off again to meet Ivy.

Ivy’s got a beret pulled down over her ears and her blue fake fur collar pulled up against the horizontal gusts and she still looks like she came off a catwalk. Not in a stiff twig way like Phoebe, but in a vibrant, alive, beautiful way, like a dark Claudia Schiffer. Her face lights up as she greets us. ‘I thought we could walk the last bit together, it’s lovely coming in to the castle garden straight from the beach.’ Her face breaks into a grin. ‘Merwyn and I only came here full time in January, the novelty hasn’t worn off yet.’

I’m racking through my memory banks as we follow her up the sand and past some bushes. ‘I think I remember coming past here when we were children.’ Then suddenly it’s in front of us, and as we stare across a lawn to a wide building with end towers and battlements and light-grey stone walls, I’m gasping. ‘It’s like something out of a film, only better, because it’s real.’

Ivy’s looking shy. ‘Welcome to Cockle Shell. This is the higgledy side of the cosiest castle in the world.’ She nods at me. ‘Truly, if you think it’s amazing now you should see it in the moonlight. And it’s lovely because inside it’s even smaller than it looks from out here.’ She’s shaking out her keys, pointing towards a pergola. ‘That’s the terrace over there with the hot tub. Come around the side, and I’ll take you in through the main door.’

I can’t hold back my enthusiasm. ‘This is idyllic. I can just imagine the hens rushing out onto the beach to make sandcastles.’ I bet they’d love messing around in the rockpools too.

Our feet are scrunching on the gravel path as we go around the other side, then Ivy leads us out onto the lawn so we can see the front. ‘This is the garden side with the proper symmetrical façade. It would be so lovely for hens to have afternoon tea on the lawn here in the summer.’

I can barely hold back my excitement as I take in walls that have been punched through with small paned windows, with a square tower at each end. ‘Scones and jam and dainty cucumber sandwiches on vintage china plates in front of the castle … it couldn’t be any more perfect.’

Then she leads the way closer and pushes open the huge plank front door, and we follow her into the hall, with a huge chunky staircase and lovely flagstone floors and walls too. ‘I first came here in December, and we had the hugest tree here decorated with shells and miniature gin bottles.’

‘Who does Bill let it to usually?’

‘He set out to specialise in stag parties. I ended up here styling the place for a festive let for a big family group, but that was a one-off.’

I’m straight in there. ‘This will be fab for hens whatever the time of year.’ I send her a wink. ‘It’s totally wasted on stags.’

‘You could be right.’ She laughs and pushes through a really wide door to a spacious room with a huge stone fireplace. ‘It was quite spartan when I arrived, but we brought in more furniture to make it comfy over Christmas and it stayed.’

The room I’m staring around is huge. ‘Do you look after all this on your own?’

She raises her eyebrows. ‘Bill’s dad and his mates from the Silver Surfers Club help out. They’re not completely house-trained, but they’re enthusiastic.’ She stops for a moment by a steel console table. ‘One thing – due to the thick walls most of the castle is internet-free with no phone signal.’

I’m looking at Nic to check. ‘Is that okay?’

He’s doing his puzzled frown. ‘If I’ve had internet connection mid-Atlantic surely …’

I glare at him. ‘We’re on land, Nic, we’re talking