Summer at Tiffany's (52 page)

Henry looked back at her, emotions running over his face like dancing clouds on a spring day, but no words, no answer was forthcoming.

Cassie felt panic spike through her. She had left it too late, pushed him too far. He couldn't forgive her betrayal after all. This wasn't enough. Her, in a wedding dress, standing at the altar before him, wasn't enough.

Tears shone in her eyes. Was this it, then? Was this their end, in the place that was supposed to have been their beginning?

No. She swallowed hard, summoning her courage in one final, desperate burst.

‘Henry?' she asked, her voice soft but clear. ‘Will you marry me?'

His eyes roamed hers and she hoped he could see beyond the fear in them, to the love behind, that she was willing to do this, again, for him. She had realized it now – she didn't have to break, just bend.

His head turned, as though looking for someone to jump out from behind a pillar and shout, ‘Hoax!', but he took a step towards her, one hand reaching apologetically for her elbow, and she felt her breath hitch as she braced herself for the rejection. The flat ‘no'.

He blinked down at her, home in his eyes. ‘What do you think?' he smiled, bending down to kiss his bride.

Diaphanous pink clouds trailed across the melba sky, the cows in the field tearing at the grass with their powerful teeth and providing a backing soundtrack of sorts as they snorted and groaned, mooed and munched, and the black raven-like Cornish choughs barked their distinctive chirps from the trees.

Archie was asleep on his rug. He had just finished his first bottle of red for weeks – Suzy had relented just for the day – and it had gone to his head; Hattie and Edie were upstairs bathing Velvet; and Gem and the bridesmaids (well, Kelly and Nooks) were inside ‘preparing the bridal suite', which had made both Henry and Cassie very nervous. Cassie was quite sure she'd heard something about a collapsible pole Gem had picked up in Argos – she hadn't felt up to the service, but she had felt up to that. Suzy had last been seen on the drive trying to teach Rollo to roll over. Gem had given him to her as a twin ‘thank-you' and apology, and peace appeared to have genuinely broken out between them at last.

‘Laird's going to have a shock when he gets back to find not only that you're home but that we hijacked his wedding. He only went out for the day,' Cassie laughed softly, picking at the grass. She was still wearing her veil – Henry didn't want her to take it off; he didn't want anything of today to start ending – and it wafted lightly behind her in the breeze.

‘Forget Laird. I don't think
I'll
ever get over the shock of what you did today,' Henry said, looking up at her, his head in her lap.

‘Well, you've always proved your love. It was time for me to prove mine.' She took his hand and kissed it, right on the finger where his new wedding ring sat.

He grinned. ‘I'll bet Suzy loved it when you told her, didn't she?'

‘You could say that. She did a cartwheel.'

He laughed. ‘Actually a cartwheel?'

‘Actually a cartwheel. Almost wiped out your mum's Clarice Cliff crockery.'

He shook his head. ‘I just can't believe you pulled it together so quickly.'

‘Actually, it was sort of already done without us realizing. I mean, obviously I stole bits of Gem's wedding – the church flowers were already done, and your mum had brought our roses with her. Anouk ran – actually broke into a run, can you believe it?'

‘Not really.'

‘She ran down to tell the vicar we needed the wedding slot after all. But I'd already done the food –
my
menu. Bizarrely, I'd gone off plan for once – so that was pretty much ready just to pack into the baskets. I'd even tried on the dress when Gem was trying hers. All I had to do was pick up the phone to Paula and she sorted out the rest. She's really been amazing. And even Mum's here!' She shrugged. ‘It was serendipity, the whole thing.'

‘Serendipity?
That's
what you call the past twelve hours? I've been to hell and back,' he groaned, his hand automatically going to his face and pulling at his temples.

She reached for his hand again and pulled it away, forcing him to look at her. ‘Well, it brought us here, didn't it?' she whispered, leaning down to kiss him once more. His hands reached up, skimming her curves delightedly. They hadn't been alone since he'd come back this morning – the fight in the bedroom earlier did
not
count – and she had a feeling their wedding night was going to feel like their first time.

She laughed as he sat up, already excited by the feel of her, and beginning to nuzzle her neck again, his hands wandering up her back, marvelling at the tiny silk-covered buttons dotted up her spine. He pulled back suddenly, a devilish expression on his face. ‘Of course, there was one thing you overlooked.'

‘Oh really? And what's that?' She arched a hastily plucked eyebrow. (Anouk had taken charge of that domain.)

‘The bridal tradition of having something old, something new, something borrowed, something—'

‘Blue?' she finished for him with a sigh. ‘Tch, you really must think I'm some kind of amateur. I'll have you know I'm a pro at this gig. It's my second, you know.'

‘Hey!' He prodded her in the ribs with a finger and she laughed.

‘Well, if you must know . . .' She reached inside the top of the bodice of her dress and carefully pulled out the Tiffany locket that had been pinned on with a satin ribbon. She watched his disbelief as he realized what it was.

‘But . . . the key – we threw it away, didn't we?' he frowned, doubting himself.

She nodded, smiling but not offering any explanation.

‘So then how did you get it off?'

‘
I
didn't. Nooks did. They're clearing the bridges apparently and she couldn't bear to think of it being tossed away. She's got some sort of tool that jimmied it.' She wrinkled her nose. ‘I don't thinks Nooks is a jeweller at all. She's a cat burglar.'

He grinned. ‘So that's your something . . . ?'

‘Old.'

‘So what's new?'

She held up her hand, the wedding ring glinting in the red light. ‘Lucky for us that Nooks also carries a little inventory of basic pieces for sizing at consultations.'

He couldn't take his eyes off her as she smiled, admiring her wedding ring in the sunlight. It looked so right on her hand, and she knew that if she was to take it off, she would already feel stripped without it.

She indicated to the pearl earrings she was wearing. ‘My something borrowed, from your mum.'

He nodded, thoroughly amused. ‘And something blue?'

‘Ah, now actually, that's for you. It's my wedding present to you.'

She reached into the vintage beaded pink-and-white bag from Paula's personal collection, pulling out a small, old Tiffany's box. She took his hand, turning it over and placing the box in the palm.

He looked down at it for a moment with a baffled smile, so unused to being the one surprised. ‘Don't tell me you're proposing to me all over again?'

‘You should be so lucky,' she grinned.

‘Can I open it now?'

‘I insist. It's actually also the last thing I had to do on your list.'

He looked puzzled, his interest piqued as he grasped the lid of the box. ‘Last thing?'

‘You said I had to give a Cornish gift. Mum didn't need it anymore, so she gave it to me. I don't need it, so . . .'

He looked worried. ‘Is this the bit where you tell me you only married me to complete the list?'

She laughed, throwing back her head, and he couldn't resist kissing her neck again. ‘Not
quite.
'

He opened the box. Inside glinted her father's old cufflinks. ‘They're Elsa Peretti,' she said.

‘They're great,' he said, lifting one. ‘What are they?'

‘Coffee beans. Mum bought them for Dad the year they came out, when she was pregnant with me.'

‘Cute.'

She smiled as he rolled them in his palm, and waited, watched as the echo sounded somewhere in his memory.

‘Wait,
coffee bean
?' He looked back at her, prompted by her enigmatic smile, his eyes falling to her ripe breasts, which had almost felled Bas earlier, the other clues beginning to fall into place, too. ‘Are . . . are you saying . . . ?' he stammered.

Cassie leaned in to him with a radiant laugh, her happiness complete. ‘What do you think?'

‘Oh, Cass . . .' He kissed her, over and over, gazing into her eyes before clasping her face lovingly in his hands. ‘The things you'll do to be done with my lists,' he murmured.

‘I know,' she smiled as she saw the wetness in his eyes. ‘But I'm home free now, mister. Home free.'

It's been a joy revisiting the old gang with this story and I really hope you've enjoyed it. Henry's job as an explorer is such a fascinating one to write about and research, and it was in the course of my investigations into what modern explorers actually do, that I happened upon an expedition undertaken a few years ago which aimed to raise awareness of the amount of plastic floating in the oceans. A high-tech boat called the
Plastiki
was built – yes, from bottles – and successfully sailed from Sydney to San Francisco. It's a fascinating adventure to read about, if you're so inclined, but I would like to stress that although I have used the framework of that expedition for this book, none of my characters or any of the events in the plot are based on real life or true events.

As ever, I want to thank the hugely supportive and encouraging team behind me at Pan – my brilliant and very patient editors Caroline Hogg and Victoria Hughes-Williams, Natasha Harding, Wayne Brookes, Jeremy Trevathan, Katie James, Jodie Mullish, Anna Bond, Daniel Jenkins and Eloise Wood.

My copy editor, Laura Collins, deserves a medal, frankly, for unknotting and working out the timelines that elude me even now. And James Annal is the mastermind behind a cover that is so beautiful that I'm tempted to frame it and hang it on my wall. Thank you so, so much.

To my agent Amanda Preston, thank you for always being so positive and supportive. I can't imagine doing this job without you.

And my family: Mum and Dad, Vic and Lynne, it's only because of you that these books are ever delivered. Thank you so much for the endless tea and glasses of fizz at the end of those long, hard days. For Anders and our babes, I just love you. End of.