A Good Catch Part 12

'She won, though,' said Jesse loyally.

'Yeah, but only because the bleddy teachers didn't understand it either. They only gave her first prize 'cos they couldn't face her mother complaining.'

''Er mum's all right, really,' Jesse said.

'Yeah. Course she is,' Loveday added quickly. She hadn't meant to be so mean about her friend. She blamed it on the whisky and being made to wear a dress that looked horrid.

'No ... it's just that, well, that's my new family we're laughing about.'

They sat in silence, absorbing this reality.

Loveday moved to stand up. 'Well, I only came to see if you were all right, that's all, and you look fine to me.'

Jesse put his hand up and stopped her. 'Don't go. I like you being here.'

Loveday touched his blond hair and stroked it. 'Do you?'

'Yes.'

Loveday sat down slowly. 'How nervous are you about tomorrow?'

Jesse stretched up, leaned back and blew a long breath out of his mouth. 'To be honest, I'm s.h.i.+t scared. Am I doing the right thing, Loveday?'

'Course you are, Jesse.' She gave him a rea.s.suring smile. 'You're marrying Greer. How can that be wrong? You're going to be part of a new company. You'll make money and drive a flash car and have holidays in Spain. Of course you're doing the right thing.'

'Then why does it feel so wrong?'

'What are you talking about?'

'It feels wrong. I'm only twenty-one and I'm not sure if I want to marry anyone ... not just Greer. It's not her fault.' He stuck the heels of his hands over his eyes and almost soundlessly said, 'The truth is I'm scared.'

Loveday came off her chair and knelt in front of Jesse. 'Scared of what, darlin'?'

'Just plain scared.'

She hesitated, then put her arms round him and rocked him soothingly. 'It's all right, darlin'. I'm here. What you're feeling is normal for a bloke. Getting married is a big day, but that's all it is. A big day, then everything gets back to normal. You'll go on your honeymoon and when you get back we'll all still be here. Just the same. Nothing changed.'

'That's what makes it so frightening. Nothing will have changed and nothing will change till the day I die. Trevay, the boats, my family, you and Mickey. All the same. I'm stuck.'

'What nonsense is this? You're not stuck. You'll have money to go anywhere in the world, do anything you want.'

'With Greer and her money.'

'With your wife and your money.'

He took his hands from his eyes and looked desperately at Loveday. 'I've made a mistake. I'm ... I'm marrying the wrong person.'

Loveday let go of him and sat back on her heels. The wind had picked up again and the sound of the wires on the masts of the boats in the harbour travelled up the lane, past St Peter's, and now swirled through the crack in the door of the Behenna shed. 'What are you talking about?'

'I should never have let Dad persuade me.' He looked at her in desperation. 'It's you, Loveday.'

He had crossed the Rubicon. The words were spoken. The truth was told. Loveday's heart was hammering in her chest. She felt faint and a bit sick.

'Me?'

He nodded.

Outside the first flurry of snow twisted in the wind.

Inside she leant forward and kissed him.

'What are we going to do?' Loveday was lying on the makes.h.i.+ft blanket of Jesse's parka.

'We could do it again.' He traced the soft dough of her stomach from her belly b.u.t.ton to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She shut her eyes to enjoy the pleasure of him squeezing her nipples and taking each in turn into his mouth and sucking gently on them.

'I mean about Mickey and Greer.'

He took his lips from her sweet breast and moved up her body to look into her eyes.

'I don't know.'

'I don't want to hurt Mickey.'

'Kiss me.'

'I don't want to hurt Greer.'

'Kiss me.'

His kiss was gentle and she couldn't help but kiss him back. Gently they made love again.

Outside the wind caught hold of something and the bang woke Loveday.

'Oh my G.o.d. Look at the time.' Loveday was holding her watch. 'We've been here for ages.'

Jesse, curled round her hips and thighs, woke groggily. 's.h.i.+t.'

The almost empty bottle of whisky, regarding them from the top of the dusty metal desk, stood as the sole witness to their crime.

They dressed in near silence, pa.s.sing each other a stray sock or lost shoe.

Together they left the shed. It had been snowing and a small drift had built along the bottom edge of the door. Jesse struggled to push the door shut, leaning his full weight against it to fit the padlock in the hasp and lock it.

Finally it was done and, putting their arms around each other, they walked out of the yard, down the lane, past the church and on to their homes and their beds.

Watching them go, bivouacked between the hulls of two clinker boats, was Grant. He'd followed Loveday when she had slipped out of her house after Mickey had dropped her off. He had had ideas of his own about what he and she could get up to that night. When she'd headed towards the sheds it had seemed to him almost as if she wanted him to follow her. Then he'd seen that the door was already unlocked and that his s.h.i.+tty little brother, the golden son, was already there. He'd watched them then and he watched them now. This was a little treasure h.o.a.rd that had fallen into his lap. He'd spend it wisely.

11.

'It's still snowing.' Jesse's mother clattered the wooden curtain rings into each other as she ruthlessly ripped open his curtains. 'Rise and s.h.i.+ne, young man. You're getting married today.'

Jesse clenched his eyes tightly as the blistering daylight lasered its way around his childhood bedroom.

'There's a cup of tea by your bed. By the smell in here you'll need it. Your brother's fault, I suppose.'

The memory of Loveday's softly yielding body erupted in his mind. What had Grant got to do with last night?

'Why ever did you both stay out so late?' He could picture his mother standing with her hands on her hips, frowning down at him. He gingerly lifted one eyelid and saw that he was right. 'You're a b.l.o.o.d.y idiot, Jesse. You'll look terrible in the photos, and what's Greer and your new in-laws going to think about a groom stinking of booze?' Jan sat down on the edge of the bed and the bounce made him feel sick. She put a cool hand on his forehead. 'You need a fry-up and some aspirin and you'll be fine.' She stood up, and again the movement of the mattress brought on nausea. 'This is the most important day of your life, Jesse, and I'm not going to let you let yourself down. Get showered and I'll put some sausages on.'

Greer sat up in her four-poster bed and looked around her beautiful bedroom. This was the last morning she'd ever wake up as a single woman. She closed her eyes and imagined, for the millionth time, the look on Jesse's face as he turned from the altar and watched her walking up the aisle, towards him. She was going to be the most beautiful bride Cornwall had ever seen. She looked to her left, at the oyster satin bag draped on a softly padded and pearl-beaded hanger on the door of her French armoire. Inside was the perfect dress. Not the flouncy meringue so many of her friends had chosen for their weddings. Hers was a chic column of finest silk satin, cut on the bias so that it fell narrowly at her ankles and then puddled into the perfect train. She sighed with pleasure and wriggled back under her lavender-scented sheets. It was only seven thirty and she had plenty of time to enjoy the most special day of her life.

There was a soft knock at the door. 'Come in,' she called.

Her mother nudged the door open with an elbow and came in carrying a breakfast tray with orange juice, coffee and a croissant. She'd put confetti on the tray.

As soon as she saw Greer, tears sprang from her eyes. 'Oh, my darling daughter. I can't believe this is your wedding day.' She put the tray on the blanket box at the foot of the bed and helped Greer to sit up whilst plumping her pillows for her. 'Comfortable?'

'Thanks, Mum.'

With the tray settled securely on Greer's lap, her mother went to the window. 'There's a little bit of magic to add to the day, my darling.' She pulled the cord and the curtains swept open, like in an Odeon cinema, to reveal the scene behind. Greer was expecting to see the familiar view of Trevay and its harbour, with maybe a wedding helicopter on the front lawn. But it was better than that. Trevay had transformed itself into a snow-covered fairy kingdom.

'I ordered it, just for you,' said her mother.

Mickey Chandler had been up with the lark and was polis.h.i.+ng his best brown shoes on the kitchen table.

'How's your speech?' asked his mother. She skirted awkwardly round his pulled-out chair as she negotiated the small room from larder to oven.

'I think it's all right.' He spat on a toecap and rubbed vigorously with a balding yellow duster.

'What does Loveday think?'

'She laughed in all the right places.'

Mrs Chandler cracked an egg into her gnarled frying pan. 'Well, that's a good sign, innit? Two eggs or three?'

Mickey thought for a moment. 'Three. I'll need something to drink on later. Is there any bacon?'

'Of course. Can't 'ave egg without it.'

'Cheers, Ma.' He leant back in his chair and puckered his lips for a kiss. She wiped her eggy fingers on her ap.r.o.n and obliged. 'You're a good lad.'

Mr Chandler ducked his head as he came through the low doorway from upstairs. 'Mornin', son. 'Ow's the best man today?'

'Bit nervous,' said Mickey as he picked up his second shoe and spat on that one as well.

'Nervous? What the 'ell have you got to be nervous for? 'Tis bleddy Jesse who should be nervous. Marrying that girl and that family. His dad has sold him down the river.'

Mrs Chandler clunked two old blue and white china plates down in front of Mickey and her husband. 'Now stop saying stuff like that. Jesse ain't no fool and he knows which side his bread is b.u.t.tered. He'll be a very wealthy man. Two eggs or three?'

'Three.' Mr Chandler gave Mickey an astute look. 'You got the better girl and no mistake, son. I'd have Loveday Carter over Greer Clovelly any day.'

Loveday looked in her dressing-table mirror and groaned. On the side of her face, in the dip between her nose and her cheeks, was the largest spot she'd ever had. There was no head yet but it was hot and hard and she knew that as soon as she entered the church it would force its way to the surface of her skin in all its pus and glory, ready to take centre stage in the photographs. Greer would be furious.

'f.u.c.k.' She put her head in her hands. It was the least of her problems. Greer was going to be furious anyway. As soon as Jesse told her what happened last night, there would be no photographs.

The memory of Jesse's loving words washed away the horror of the spot and filled her with a dreadful happiness. Greer and Mickey would be hurt, that was only to be expected, but they'd come round in time, hopefully. They were old friends. They would understand that it would have been a big mistake for Jesse and Greer to marry. It was always going to be Jesse and Loveday.

She looked at her bedside clock. She wondered if Jesse was awake yet. Had he been able to sleep? She'd slept for no more than a couple of hours. The combination of whisky and wonderment had kept her thoughts racing. She hoped he'd still be sleeping. He needed all the sleep he could get. Today of all days. He'd have to go round to see Greer. Explain before it got too late to let the guests know there wasn't going to be a wedding. Then he'd phone her; or maybe come and see her. Either way, she couldn't wait to be with him again.

'Whatever did you get Jesse drunk for?' Jan looked at her elder son with frustration and latent anger. 'You knew he had to get home early and get some sleep. Where did you two go?'

Grant looked at Jesse sitting at the other end of the table. He didn't look good. Grant had heard him throwing up under the sound of the running shower. Jesse had thought no one would hear him if he kept the shower running, but Grant had heard him. Grant knew all Jesse's sordid little secrets.

'Don't know what you're talking about, Mum. Jesse left the Hind before I did.'

Jesse looked up from his dry toast and Grant was pleased to see panic in his eyes. 'Where did you get to, little brother?'

Jesse looked at his mother and then pleadingly back at Grant, who toyed with him like a cat with a vole. 'Shall I tell our mummy what you were up to last night?'

If it were possible, Jesse grew a shade paler. His mind was in overdrive. Grant couldn't know that he had been at the sheds with Loveday. Could he? No. It wasn't possible. His hungover brain tried to think of an answer that would satisfy his mother's curiosity. 'I ... I was wi-'

'It's all right, little bro.' Grant spoke over him. 'I'll explain.' Grant turned to his mother. 'He was up the sheds, drinking Dad's whisky with ...' Grant threw a glance at Jesse's petrified face. '... With me. I'm sorry. I led him astray. I confess.'

Jan folded her arms and looked at her two sons as if they were no more than eight year-olds. 'I knew it. You're a pair of idiots. Grant, I can understand, but you, Jesse, I thought you had more sense. Neither of you have the brains you were born with ... Where're you off to, Jesse Behenna?' Jesse felt the room reeling, the rancid whisky making its way up his throat. He dashed for the bathroom and made it just in time.

What the h.e.l.l was he going to do? He rinsed his face and cleaned his teeth, then began the arduous task of shaving. His hands weren't his own. They belonged to someone who had the shakes. He nicked the bit of skin under his nose and it started to bleed and sting. He tore off a bit of loo paper and, spitting on it, stuck it on the cut. Greer wouldn't like that. She wanted him tall and strong and handsome. No blemishes or shaving nicks. He'd have to tell her. He'd phone her now. He heard the front door open and his auntie Gwen's voice calling out to his mum. The phone was there. By the front door. Everyone would hear him tell Greer that he was very sorry but he wasn't marrying her after all. He couldn't ring her. He'd have to walk up the hill and tell her. Like a man. In front of her mum and dad. How do you say something like that? 'I'm so sorry, Mr and Mrs Clovelly, but I can't marry Greer. I slept with Loveday last night. Up at the sheds.'

That was the truth, but he couldn't put it like that. How about, 'Greer, you're a wonderful girl and I've always liked you, but I can't marry you because I don't love you.'