Caroline Anderson - Mother of the Bride

‘Thank you,’ she said, and followed him up the magnificent old stone staircase to the landing above. He fell into step beside her, hanging back as they reached the room, and she wondered if he could hear her heart pounding with dread.

The door was standing open, and she went in and stopped in her tracks.

It was different. Lovely. The colours were soft and tranquil, muted blues and greens, pale cream, a touch of rose here and there to lift it. A great black iron bed was heaped with pillows and cushions and dressed with a pretty tartan throw so soft she wanted to bury her face in it and sigh with delight.

When had it been changed? And why? Not for her, of course. It would be a favourite guest room, with that gorgeous view out over the sea to the islands, and she realised in surprise it now had its own bathroom off it, in the little room that had been Jenni’s nursery.

Progress, she thought in astonishment.

‘It looks … ‘

‘Different?’ he murmured, and she turned and met his eyes.

‘Yes.’ Very different from the room she’d been installed in after Jenni had been born. That had been cold and forbidding, but this …

She ran her hand over the throw, fingering its softness. ‘This is lovely.’

‘It’s a pastel version of the Mackenzie tartan,’ he told her. ‘Jenni’s idea. There’s one in every room—mohair, to keep out the cold.’

‘It’s warm in here, though.’

‘Well, it is April. The heating works better now, but the wind still sneaks in in January.’

His smile was fleeting, and made her heart ache. She’d loved him so much …

‘And an en suite bathroom. That’s a bit luxurious,’ she said, turning away as if to study it, just to get away from those piercing eyes.

‘It was twenty years ago, Maisie,’ he reminded her gently, as if she needed reminding. ‘Things have changed. All sorts of things.’

Him? She said nothing, and after a moment she heard a quiet sigh. ‘I’ll see you downstairs. Come and find me when you’re done—I’ll be in my study.’

‘Where is it?’

‘Bottom of the stairs, turn left, follow the corridor round and it’s at the back, by the gun court. Just yell, I’ll find you.’

He went out, leaving her alone, and she closed her eyes and thought longingly of the bed. It looked so inviting. So soft and warm and welcoming. And she was shattered.

Later, she told herself. Shower first, then lunch, then talk to Jenni—and maybe later, before dinner, she’d snatch five minutes.

Anyway, her luggage was on the bed, waiting, and she’d have to deal with it before she could lie down.

‘Shower,’ she told herself sternly, and unzipping her case she pulled out her wash bag and headed for the bathroom.

She didn’t dawdle. Lunch was calling her, and she was more than ready for it by the time she’d tamed her hair, pulled on some clean clothes and tracked Rob down in his study overlooking the sea.

He was deep in thought, staring out of the window, feet propped up on his desk and his brow furrowed when she went in. He dropped his feet to the floor and swung round, greeting her with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Everything all right?’

‘Lovely, thank you. Much better,’ she said with real gratitude, and he got to his feet and ushered her through to the drawing room where his mother, Jenni and Alec were waiting.

He’d gone into the study deliberately, she realised then, to wait for her so she didn’t have to come in here alone and face them all. She could have laughed at that. If only he’d realised that he, of all of them, was the biggest stumbling block.

‘I’ll tell Mrs McCrae we’re all ready,’ he said, and left her with Jenni, striding down the corridor away from the scent of soap and shampoo and something else he recognised from long ago. Something that dragged him right back to the beginning, to the times when she would come to him smelling like that and he’d take her in his arms and hold her close and breath in the scent of her.

He went down to the kitchen, wishing he could escape, go out onto the hills where the fresh air could drive the scent from his nostrils and bring him peace. But he couldn’t, because he had things to do, things that only he could do. His daughter was getting married, and he had to hold it together until then. And dragging Maisie into his arms and breathing her in wasn’t an option, either.

‘We’re all here now,’ he said to Mrs McCrae. ‘Can I give you a hand?’

‘Aye, that would be kind, Robert. You can stir this while I put the bread out.’ And having trapped him so easily, in a trap he’d walked into with his eyes wide open, she then started on him in her oh, so unsubtle way.

‘She’s looking tired.’

‘She is tired. She’s been travelling all night. She looks better now she’s had a shower and changed into fresh clothes.’

‘She’d look better still if she’d come home and let me feed her up a bit,’ she said, wielding the bread knife like a weapon. ‘Poor wee thing.’

‘I’m sure Maisie’s perfectly capable of feeding herself,’ he said firmly, drawing the pot off the heat and closing the lid of the range. ‘And she has a home in Cambridge,’ he added, reminding himself as much as Mrs McCrae as he glanced at the bare table. He frowned. ‘Where are we eating?’

‘In the dining room,’ she said, her eyes flashing with indignation. ‘Robbie, she’s come back, wherever you say her home might be! She can’t be eating in the kitchen—not today.’

He opened his mouth to argue, shut it again and sighed softly in resignation. ‘I’ll carry this,’ he said, and followed her up the stairs.

‘Here we are, hen,’ she said, setting the bread down on the table as Maisie sat down. ‘And mind you eat plenty!’

She did. She was still starving, the half-eaten pastry just a memory now, and she had two bowls of the delicious hearty soup, a good chunk of cheese and two slices of the soft, warm oat bread that was Mrs McCrae’s forte. And while she ate, Jenni took the opportunity to fill her in on the wedding plans to date.

‘OK. I’ve had a few ideas,’ she said, making Alec splutter into his soup, which earned him a loving swat from his fiancée. ‘You’re not here for long, Mum, so I thought we should spend today planning and having a brainstorming session, and then tomorrow we’re going to Glasgow to look at dresses. I’ve made some appointments, and I’ve made sure they know that there’s only two months, but the places we’re going all have samples which they can sell us, so we won’t have to go through the business of ordering them, which takes ages. Now, they’ll probably need altering, so … ‘

Rob watched her in wry amusement. She’d been planning this for ages, he knew, and Alec’s proposal had been like a breath on a hair trigger. He just hoped that Maisie was ready for it.

‘SHE’S amazing. Is there anything she hasn’t thought of? She’s so organised—it’s like a military operation!’

Rob leant back against the ancient stone wall of the gun court, propped his elbows on it and chuckled, to her surprise. ‘Did you really expect anything else?’

Maisie shrugged, turning to stare out over the sea below. ‘I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it, but it never occurred to me she’d have it all down pat. What if it doesn’t work out? What if something can’t fit into her carefully orchestrated plan?’

‘Then she’ll have a little fit and learn the meaning of the word compromise,’ he said drily.

Maisie shook her head. ‘She’s got all these ideas so firmly fixed. How long’s she been planning it?’

His broad shoulders lifted in a casual shrug. ‘Months? Years, probably. Come on, ever since she knew the meaning of the word bride she’s been looking forward to this day. She just wants to be a princess. That’s why Alec didn’t ask her ages ago, he told me. He knew the second he said anything, she’d be off like a rat out of a trap, and so he had to wait until the time was right.’

‘But—two months?’ She winced just thinking about it, about all the plans that had to be put into action before the big day, but Rob seemed unperturbed.

‘She doesn’t need more than that, and he realised that if she had longer, she’d drive herself and everyone else round the bend. You know what she’s like. Single-minded, determined, knows what she wants and gets it. Now, who does that remind you of?’ he added drily, one brow arched in a mocking salute.

What? He thought she was like that? She nearly laughed out loud, because the one thing— the only thing—she’d ever really wanted was standing right there with her now, and she’d failed, lost the only thing she’d really, truly needed in her life.

The love of the man she adored, the man who had given her his child and then turned his back on her when she’d needed him the most.

‘I think you overestimate my powers,’ she murmured wryly.

‘Well, let’s hope not, because this wedding is all down to you now. I’ll do what I can, but I’m up to my eyes with the estate and the summer’s a nightmare with all the guests, so I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re here to do it all.’

‘But—Rob, I have a life, six hundred miles away! I can’t just be here and sort it! I have things to do!’

‘Can’t you work round them? You can go back for the weddings—heaven knows there can’t be that many, and your features you can write from here. You could do one on being a wedding planner.’

‘What, and get tax relief on the wedding as a research tool, I suppose?’

‘Well, it’s a thought,’ he said, his lips quirking. It drew her attention to them, to the clean, sculpted line of the top lip, the firm fullness of the lower. He’d kissed her with those lips, trailed them over her skin, driven her crazy with need with just the lightest touch—

Don’t go there! Keep focused on the wedding.

She stroked her fingers over the barrel of an ancient cannon, testing the rough surface with her fingertips, searching for compromise. ‘I have commitments, Rob. I can’t just walk away from my life at a moment’s notice.’

‘So you’ll need to commute. Go back for your weddings, if you’ve got commitments, and be here when you can. It’s not for long.’

‘It’ll cost a fortune!’ she said, horrified, but he just shrugged.

‘So? She’s your daughter. I’ll pay your train fares. Talking of which, you’ll need money for tomorrow. I’ll give you a card and my pin number so you’ve got plenty of cash.’

‘That won’t be necessary. I’m buying her dress.’

‘Ah. I wasn’t thinking of the dress, I was talking about the train fare and incidentals, but … um … there might be a problem with the dress.’

She tilted her head, searching his eyes. ‘A problem?’ she echoed, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

‘My mother wants to buy it for her.’

She felt herself recoil. ‘No! I’m sorry, Rob. You can do everything else your way, but this is for me to do. She’s my daughter. I’m buying her wedding dress. Tell your mother to give her something else.’

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