Marge was still sitting on the steps by the cemetery when Ethel Turner arrived. Her face was strained, her grey hair dishevelled, and it was clear she’d been crying.
‘Have you seen her?’ Ethel panted when she reached the top of the stairs.
‘Wilf’s with her.’
Ethel’s lips tightened. ‘Reenie’s been hurt enough,’ she said. ‘He’s the last person she needs to see!’ She strode past her, and Marge leapt to her feet.
‘Wait! Let them talk. Maybe he can help.’
‘Wilf Perkins has a lot to answer for!’ she snapped. ‘And I don’t want him makin’ things worse! Bloody men! I swear if I had Jimmy Castle in front of me right now, I’d strangle him with me bare hands!’ She made her hands into claws and squeezed as she hurried on up the hill.
‘And I’d help you,’ Marge said, falling into step beside her.
‘Did you know?’ Ethel asked suddenly. ‘About Jimmy and Colin? Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy he’s alive, but this . . . Oh, my poor, poor girl.’ She wrung her hands in distress.
Marge sighed. ‘D’you think if I’d had even an inkling I’d have let her go through with this farce?’
‘What about Marianne?’ she asked shrewdly. ‘She’s his sister, she must’ve known. Reenie said she didn’t seem too keen. But by God, if she knew . . .’
‘You’re blaming the wrong person. Marianne and Jim have always been close. She was caught between the two of them.’
‘It’s downright cruelty!’ Ethel cried.
Marge put her arm around the woman’s skinny shoulders. In her heart she agreed with her, but Marianne was her friend, and she could understand the dilemma she’d found herself in.
Just then Wilf’s tall figure appeared at the top of the hill, shoulders hunched and head down. When he looked up and saw them, Marge was gratified to see that his usual inscrutable expression had gone; instead he looked devastated.
‘You better not have hurt that girl any more?’ Ethel hissed at him as he approached.
‘I would never—’
‘Of course you bloody would! And you did! And if you knew anything about this, then I don’t think I can ever forgive you.’
Wilf flushed and looked at his feet. ‘I’m truly sorry for any hurt I’ve caused.’
Ethel snorted and brushed past him.
‘So?’ Marge asked.
He shook his head.
‘What exactly did you expect? That she’d fall into your arms in gratitude?’
Wilf shook his head again and pushed past her.
When they reached the hut, Ethel shoved open the door, and in the dim light they could see Reenie sitting in the ruined wedding dress, her forehead resting on her knees, which were hugged tightly to her chest.
With a cry, Ethel rushed forward and dropped down beside her. Pulling her into her arms, she rocked her gently as Reenie sobbed against her shoulder. ‘Oh, my poor little girl. You cry all you need. Me and Marge are here for you.’ Marge sat down on the other side of her friend and rested her hand on Reenie’s back.
‘Oh, love,’ she said softly. ‘You mustn’t blame yourself for any of this.’
‘How could I have been so stupid as to believe a man like that could ever truly love me! And then Wilf . . .’ She gulped. ‘Wilf said—’ She started to sob again.
‘What did he say?’ Ethel said sharply.
Reenie just shook her head and Ethel shot an anxious look at Marge.
Marge sighed. ‘Wilf loves you, though,’ she said.
‘I don’t care!’ Reenie wailed. ‘It’s too late, and I don’t believe him. And I’m married to Jim!’
‘Did you love him?’ Marge asked softly. ‘Truly?’
Reenie sat up and stared at her through tear-drenched eyes. ‘Of course I loved him. Why else would I have agreed to marry him?’
‘Maybe you just thought you did,’ Marge replied.
‘That’s enough, Marge!’ Ethel snapped. ‘Come on, Reenie, love, up you get and we’ll get you home.’
Obediently, Reenie stood, and Ethel gaped at her ruined wedding gown.
‘I’m sorry, Aunt Ethel,’ Reenie said, looking down at the mud-stained satin.
‘Fiddlesticks,’ her aunt said stoutly. ‘I never could walk in the damn thing. Near tripped up the aisle in it. And it strangled the life out of me. I wanted to rip the neck off all through the weddin’.’
Reenie started to laugh. ‘Then why did you make me wear it?’ she gasped.
‘Cos when I looked in the mirror, it made me feel like a goddess. An’ I wanted you to feel it too.’
Reenie collapsed on her shoulder again. ‘But I didn’t. And I don’t. I never will.’
Marge went to the other side of her, and between them, they half carried Reenie back to the shop, hustled her through the back door and up the stairs.
‘You help her out of those rags, Marge, I’ll run the bath. And it’ll be more than four inches!’
In the bedroom, Marge gently pulled the dress over Reenie’s head, then sat her down on the bed and unrolled her stockings. The sobs had stopped now, and instead Reenie sat in silence, staring into the distance.
‘Tell me honestly, Reenie. How do you feel?’
‘Sick,’ Reenie said immediately. ‘And stupid. And like I want to die.’
‘That sounds like humiliation to me. Embarrassment. Do you feel any . . . relief?’
‘Relief that I’ve been left at my wedding? Relief that a man I thought loved me, actually loved another man? No, Marge, funnily enough I don’t feel any bloody relief!’
‘Not like that. Relief that you and Jimmy won’t be tied together for the rest of your life.’
Reenie grabbed her dressing gown and shrugged it on, glaring at Marge. ‘Go to hell!’ she said, before stalking out of the room.
Marge blew out a long breath and sat back on her heels. Well, that told her. But she hadn’t failed to notice that Reenie hadn’t mentioned she felt heartbroken.