A Little Love (34 page)

‘No, nothing like that. It’s just that there’s a bad weather front coming in over Salcombe, whole place will be covered in dark clouds and rain. And it’ll be very cold. Rainy and cold.’ She nodded.

Pru looked out of the window, swallowing her bacon and egg. ‘Really? But it looks beautiful out there.’

The bright blue sky was dotted with wisps of cloud and a heat haze shimmered above the water. Kids in shorts carrying multi-coloured buckets and crab lines were running along Fore Street to commandeer a good spot.

Liz nodded. ‘Yes, yes it does, but I’m afraid that’s what it’s like here! I tell you what, I have a few urgent chores to run in Kingsbridge this afternoon – why don’t you come with me and then I’ll take you for tea in Hope Cove?’

‘How far is it?’ Having only arrived the night before, Pru didn’t want to spend hours in a car.

‘Not far at all, couple of miles.’

‘Won’t the weather be rubbish there as well then?’ Pru was thinking a day on her bed with a box of chocolates and a good book might be preferable to wandering around in soggy linen.

Liz looked through the window and after the slightest hesitation said, ‘No. It’s on a different system.’

‘A different system of weather?’ Pru wrinkled her nose.

Liz nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right. A different system of weather. God, you townies, you don’t know anything, do you?’

Pru shook her head. Apparently not.

By late afternoon, the two women had investigated practically every retail outlet in Kingsbridge, filling Liz’s basket with all sorts of essentials, including hand-made birthday cards from the craft shop and a new sink plunger from the hardware shop. They hardly seemed to qualify as urgent chores and Pru wondered if Liz was simply being kind and getting her out of the bad weather.

‘Thanks for this, Liz. It’s lovely just to have a mooch – and to be out of London, if I’m being honest.’

‘Any time. Spot of tea?’ Liz looked at her watch. ‘Or perhaps that should be G and T, given the time.’

Pru was in holiday mood. ‘Why not?’

They jumped into Liz’s little car and headed for Hope Cove. Stopping at The Harbour Light, they found a table on the terrace, making the most of the early evening sunshine.

‘I can’t believe that the weather here can be so different when we’re only around the corner from Salcombe!’

‘I know.’ Liz nodded as she scrutinised the drinks menu. ‘It is unbelievable.’

The two sat and nattered like old friends, enjoying the last of the rays and the most refreshing glass of Pimm’s Pru had sampled in a long time. The sky was beginning to lose its blue.

‘Think I might go for another Pimm’s.’ Pru scanned the terrace for a waiter.

Liz looked at her watch. ‘No!’ she shouted.

‘Sorry?’ Pru was a little taken aback.

‘No more Pimm’s. There’s no time, they’re closing.’

Pru looked up as another two couples arrived and sat down at a nearby table. The waitress handed them menus and pointed at the specials board. ‘Really? It doesn’t look like they’re closing.’

‘They are, plus the weather system has done its thing and the rain has now moved on from Salcombe; in fact it’s probably heading over here. So we should go back and enjoy the sunset.’ She nodded again.

‘How can you tell that?’

Liz pointed at the clouds on the horizon. ‘I can tell by the cloud formation over there.’

Pru looked at the clouds and then at Liz; she wasn’t sure what to make of it all. But they paid their bill and left anyway.

As they drew into Salcombe, Liz parked the car near the harbour and killed the engine.

‘You look lovely, Pru.’

‘Thanks! I can’t see any puddles, in fact it looks very dry.’

‘Pru, forget about the weather. Have you got your lipstick on you?’

Pru nodded.

‘Might want to pop a bit on and give your hair a bit of a brush.’

‘But you just said I looked lovely?’

‘You do, but…’ Liz sighed, as if exhausted. ‘Just do it.’

Pru applied her gloss, ran her brush through her locks and touched her temples, as was her habit.

‘Thinning?’ Liz asked

Pru nodded. ‘Yep, every part of me is either thinning or sagging and if it ain’t thinning or sagging, it’s stopped working properly.’

‘Tell me about it!’ Liz chuckled.

Pru spritzed herself with her perfume.

‘Now you look lovely and ready to face the world.’

The two women trotted along Fore Street and approached the pub.

‘Thanks for today, Liz. It’s been really lovely, just what I needed. A day of girlie gossip. I won’t ever forget it.’ Pru couldn’t help sounding a little wistful, mindful of the wonderful hours she had spent with Christopher in the very same place.

Liz laughed. ‘I’m sure you won’t.’ Just outside the front door, she paused. ‘Have you got any plans this evening?’

Pru shook her head. ‘No. I think an early night after a hot bath and a chapter of my book.’

‘That sounds perfect. Before you go up, though, have you seen our terrace?’

‘I didn’t know you had a terrace. No, I haven’t seen it. I promise I’ll check it out tomorrow. I’m done in, Liz!’

‘Oh you must see it, it’s beautiful.’

She took Pru’s hand and led her to a side gate. Lifting the latch, Liz stepped back to allow her entry. Pru took two steps forward and placed her cupped palm over her mouth. It was beautiful. One of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

Sparkling white fairy lights had been strung in a canopy of stars around a tiny secluded arbour. Dark leaves of ivy and camellia had been wound into a bower and illuminated with tea lights suspended in glass pots. There was a single wooden bench beneath the arbour and beyond it a wooden door. It felt like a secret world.

She heard a cough from behind her. She turned her head slowly – and there was Christopher, waiting in the shadows.

‘Hello, Miss Plum.’ He stepped forward and took both of her hands into his. ‘You look beautiful. I’ve missed looking at you.’

‘I’ve missed looking at you too.’ She grimaced. ‘Although I did see you on the telly.’

‘Not yesterday you didn’t.’

‘Oh?’ Pru’s heart was racing so hard she thought she might collapse. What was he doing here? And where had Liz disappeared to?

‘Yesterday, Pru, I announced to the nation – on live TV, no less! – what a fool I’d been.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘But naturally you weren’t watching.’

‘I’m sorry, Christopher, I have no idea what you’re on about.’ She peered into the darkness, catching sight of a figure – a crowd of figures – skulking in the flickering candlelight, beyond the door. ‘What’s going on, is this another one of your set-ups? A bit more damage limitation? What are you planning? You’ve really got some nerve.’

Christopher winced and seemed to choke on his words. He clutched at her arm. ‘Pru, listen to me. I know I can never fully apologise for what I did. I was such an idiot and I panicked. I was so caught up in that ferocious, self-absorbed Westminster world. It made me blind to what’s really important. Blind to what you’d had to put yourself through, for all those years. God! What an ignorant tosser. I am so very, very sorry.’

Pru stared at him. He was practically on his knees at her feet. ‘Okay, Christopher,’ she said slowly, gulping down the lump in her throat. ‘I accept your apology. I know you’re not a bad man.’ She reached down to kiss his forehead. ‘You finally understand – thank you.’

Christopher cleared his throat and stood up straight. ‘I want you to reach into my top pocket.’

Pru did as she was asked. Stepping forward, she placed her two fingers inside the silk-lined square and pulled out three pieces of honey-coloured biscuit, with a smudge of icing.

‘It’s me!’ she whispered.

‘It’s you,’ he confirmed. ‘I will carry you in my pocket forever, no matter how broken.’ He took her hand. ‘Will you marry me, Pru Plum?’

‘I… I…’ She was in a state of confusion. ‘What?’ In her head she replayed snatches from her furious speech to Meg and Milly that horrible night.
‘Some people go through their whole life without loving or being loved.’
She bit her lip, nervous. She didn’t want to be one of them. A little love, that’s all she wanted. As her tears pooled, she looked up at Christopher. ‘It’s changed.’

His face dropped. ‘What has?’

‘My situation. You said that I should let you know if I ever found someone that I wanted to marry. And I have.’

His face lit up, radiating relief and happiness, and he pulled her close – before pushing her away almost immediately. ‘It is me, right?’ He placed his index finger on his chest.

‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘It’s you. It always was.’

‘In that case, Miss Plum, please walk this way.’ He took Pru by the hand and unlatched the door at the back of the arbour. For the second time that evening, Pru was struck speechless by the sight before her.

The door opened on to a bigger, more elaborate version of their little arbour. A tapestry of twinkling lights and glittering tea lights was woven through a vast awning of glossy dark green leaves. Flaming torches in aged sconces were set around the exposed brickwork walls. Beneath the woodland canopy stood a dozen round tables, each one dressed in stiff white linen and with a candelabra at its centre. Fat white candles dripped wax over the ivy and camellia leaves that decorated them.

Pru let her eyes sweep over the white china that sparkled and the pristine glasses that gleamed under the fairy lights. Glancing to her left she noticed a beautiful white cake, which looked very much like the one Guy had been working on for the gallery space. It was stunning. The whole thing was magnificent, breathtaking. What, she wondered, was the occasion?

Pru let her eyes wander from the decor to the people sitting in groups around the tables. Her breath snagged in her throat as she caught sight of Meg, holding baby Lucas. She pointed at her, but couldn’t quite voice the words. ‘Meg?’ she mouthed. ‘What… what are you doing here?’

Her eyes darted from table to table. Guy, Isabel, Milly, Liam, Rocky… Everyone was there, but how? Why?

‘What’s going on?’ she asked the faces as they all turned to smile at her.

Then she spied the wide willow arch at the side, beneath which hovered a rather nervous-looking lady vicar. And finally she twigged.

Christopher gathered her into his arms and held her close to him, kissing her gently on the mouth. Meg stood up and pressed a small bouquet of wild flowers into her palm, and the lady vicar walked over. Christopher held out his hand and they stood side by side, their heads bowed. As Pru took the hand of the man she loved, the chain fell away from her heart. The sadness disappeared from behind her eyes and her mouth filled with sweetness. She was no longer alone; she had her husband by her side.

As night fell, the terrace became even more magical. Milly cradled Lucas in her arms as Meg chatted to Guy. Pru surveyed her family and friends, watched them drinking and laughing under their canopy of stars. She couldn’t have felt more loved.

Milly had been in charge of the decor. She had been determined to give Pru her wedding fit for a woodland princess, the one she’d dreamed about since they were teens. Even if it was all very last minute and meant having to call every damn florist in the whole of Devon.

Guy had worked all through the previous night in the basement kitchen at Plum’s and then all afternoon with Liz’s team. He had pulled together the most amazing spread, not least of which was the magnificent cake, which he had made sure took pride of place on the terrace, so that everyone had to walk past it. Meg had been allowed to ice the middle tier and on the third attempt he had deemed it acceptable – progress indeed. Its flat surfaces were immaculate, blemish free and decorated with clusters of lily of the valley made from sugar paste in the palest ivory, clinging to pale green stems. The miniature bell-shaped flowers, with stamens a shade darker than the petals, lay in tiny sprigs in the top right-hand corner, as if thrown there; others hung down to the tier below, a waterfall of minute blooms. Each of the three square tiers was supported by four squat white pillars, which gave the cake form and depth without being overly grand. It was simple and perfect.

Guy tried to enjoy the party, but for him it was a busman’s holiday of sorts. He fluttered around, asking for feedback on the patisserie, giving out linen napkins and rearranging the buffet to show it off to its best advantage.

‘Guy, you have done the most amazing job! The food is wonderful and the cake looks absolutely magnificent!’ Christopher patted him on the back before walking away, leaving him flustered and blushing.

‘I like him,’ Guy said from the side of his mouth to Pru.

‘So do I!’ she countered.

‘Pru?’

‘Yes, love?’

‘I wanted to say that I think you are marvellous.’ He crossed his hands across his chest.

‘Well, I think you are pretty marvellous too.’

Guy shook his head. ‘No, I don’t just mean how we work. I mean because of your past and what you endured. You are a
source d’inspiration
for me. Even more so now I know all about you.’

Pru accepted his compliment, offered with sincerity. ‘Thank you, Guy.’ She was keen to get back to the party, but he wasn’t done.

‘Keeping secrets is not easy. It is a burden and I should know, because I too have something that I do not share, something that I would like to share with you today.’

Pru breathed in, bracing herself. ‘Oh?’

Guy gave a little cough and knitted his hands together. ‘I will never marry a woman.’

Pru stared at him a little confused. ‘I’m sorry?’

He wiped away the sweat that peppered his top lip, looking over his shoulder to check no one was within earshot. Then he reached for her hand, as if this physical reassurance might help with the shock. ‘Pru…’ He paused. ‘I am, in fact, a gay man.’

Pru blinked quickly. She felt her mouth moving silently as she tried to compose an appropriate response. It wasn’t often that she was speechless. What else was he going to reveal, that the Pope was Catholic, that bears prefer the forest floor to porcelain?

‘Well,’ she managed, ‘I am honoured that you feel you can share your secret with me. My lips are sealed.’ She leant forward and planted a kiss on his cheek, fuzzed with designer stubble.