36. St Mary’s, Allithwaite

Zelda made sure that all the important guests had a corsage of evergreen entwined with fresh flowers, courtesy of the convent’s greenhouse, to wear on Diana’s wedding day. Harry had paid Zelda good money to source a spray of white roses that would complement his future wife’s wedding outfit.

Wearing his smart blue RAF uniform, Harry arrived at Allithwaite’s pretty little church with his best man, in fact, the only man he knew in the area, Frank Arkwright. Farmer Arkwright, dressed up in his Sunday best, had driven both men to the church in his freshly cleaned-out farm cart, pulled by Captain, looking especially smart for the occasion in his recently polished harness.

It was usual on wedding days for the best man to ease the groom’s nerves, but on this occasion it was quite the other way around. Frank turned out to be nothing but a bag of nerves. Although he had repeatedly pressed his best suit to within an inch of its life and polished his shoes until he could see his reflection in them, Frank still felt awkward and uncomfortable.

‘Honestly, man,’ Harry said after Farmer Arkwright had dropped them off, then returned to Mary Vale to pick up the bride, ‘anyone would think it’s you that’s getting married.’

Frank fiddled with the buttonhole corsage that Zelda had so painstakingly made up for him.

‘I’ve never felt so nervous in mi life,’ he confessed. ‘Facing the enemy was a whole lot easier than this.’

‘Just so long as you’ve got the ring, that’s all I’m bothered about,’ Harry said with a cheerful smile.

For the hundredth time Frank groped for the ring, which was carefully stored in the top pocket of his jacket. Smiling with relief, he nodded at Harry, who was gazing at the pretty church nestled within the fold of the valley, surrounded by rolling fields that looked surprisingly green in the sharp winter sunshine.

‘Tomorrow,’ Harry thought. ‘Diana and I will leave here to start married life together.’

They had already made up two little beds in the back seat of his car: two cardboard boxes lined with blankets in which George and Teddy could sleep, with their mother in the middle keeping an eye on them throughout the long journey south. Harry had tried to calculate how long the journey from the north-west of England to the extreme east would take, but with the country at war there was no way of telling. It would depend on the state of the roads and how many diversions they came across. Even if they left early in the morning, he was quite sure they wouldn’t arrive in Cambridge until late evening. Though Harry knew Diana was happy, he was nevertheless anxious about how she would feel when it came to actually leaving the loyal friends who had supported her in her darkest hours. Of course, they had all been urged to visit them down south, but travelling long distances was hard and complicated in war time. Who knew when Diana would meet up with Zelda, Gracie and Ada next?

Harry’s wandering thoughts were brought back to the here and now by the sound of the church bells peeling out as the first of the wedding guests started to arrive.

‘Best get inside,’ Frank anxiously urged.

As the organist played out Widor’s Toccata, the church rapidly filled up and all eyes constantly turned to the door, eager for their first sight of the bride. The music changed to ‘Here Comes the Bride’ as radiant Diana processed slowly down the aisle with her bridesmaids, Gracie and Zelda, keeping in step behind her; behind them, smiling Ada pushed Zelda’s smart new pram in which George and Teddy lay peacefully sleeping. Though the babies were quiet for the moment, Ada knew full well that if they started screaming blue murder, she would immediately reverse the pram back down the aisle and wait for the newly-weds outside. As it turned out, George and Teddy were perfectly behaved. Apart from an indignant squeak when George grabbed Teddy’s nose, they lay still throughout the exchange of marriage vows. During the signing of the Register, when Harry and Diana disappeared into the registry, Ada and Dora sat side by side in a pew, each with a burbling baby on her lap. When the organist struck up the final hymn, the bride and groom progressed down the aisle, waving happily to their babies as they passed them by.

Once the ceremony was over and the wedding party was outside in the churchyard, home-made confetti was showered on the bride and groom, who clambered into Alf Arkwright’s farm cart. Waving and smiling, Diana and Harry were driven away by Alf, while the rest of the party followed on foot. When the newly married couple arrived back at Mary Vale, Harry gathered his bride into his arms. Blowing confetti from her silky blonde hair, he held her close.

‘Happy, my love?’

In answer Diana stood on her tiptoes in order to lace her fingers around the back of her husband’s head, which she pulled down to her level so she could kiss him full on the mouth.

‘Unquestionably the happiest day of my life,’ she replied with tears in her eyes.

By the time the guests arrived, Harry and Diana were on their second glass of sherry, kindly donated by the convent from their fine cellars. A mixture of friends, residents, staff and Sisters from the convent formed quite a crowd in the dining room, but eventually everybody found a seat and the wedding breakfast got under way. The meal so lovingly prepared by Sister Mary Paul and Sister Theresa was served by them too. If they ever needed thanks for the long hours they had spent in the kitchen, the grateful smiles on the guests’ faces said it all. Alf Arkwright was especially fulsome.

‘You’ve excelled yourself, Sister.’ He beamed at Mary Paul who was busy trying to eke out seconds of the succulent game pie.

The nun gave a modest smile. ‘Thanks are due to you, Farmer Arkwright, the game you brought was –’

Nervously pressing a secretive finger to his lips, Alf muttered, ‘Least said soonest mended, Sister.’

Quickly getting the drift of his message, the old nun went red in the face. ‘Quite so, Farmer Arkwright,’ she hurriedly agreed, as she loaded the last piece of pie on to his empty plate.

Seeing her flustered, Farmer Arkwright swiftly changed the subject and turned to his son, nodding in the direction of Zelda, who was seated next to Frank.

‘Zelda’s done grand with the veg,’ he boomed.

‘Oh, aye,’ Frank agreed. ‘There’s nobody grows spuds like Zelda does,’ he announced to the whole table.

Shy Zelda paled at his praise. ‘Shhh, Frank,’ she pleaded quietly.

Out of his one good eye Frank gave her a tender look. ‘You’re a wonder, lass,’ he said warmly, taking a gulp of beer from the glass in front of him. ‘You can set your hand to anything and make it come good – salves, tonics, herbs, babbies, gardening – where do your talents stop?’

Though she felt like sliding under the table with embarrassment, Zelda nevertheless held Frank’s gaze.

‘That’s kind of you,’ she replied. ‘But you shouldn’t forget how generous people have been to me – you, Alf, Ada, Mr Marsden. I have been very fortunate.’

Emboldened by the beer, Frank spoke his mind. ‘That’s because we all love ye, lass.’

At which point, if it hadn’t been for Constanza waking with a loud squawk, Zelda was quite certain Frank would have kissed her.

‘I’d better see to her,’ she muttered, as she lifted her daughter from the pram recently vacated by George and Teddy.

Leaving the dining room later for the privacy of the sitting room, Zelda sat in a cosy armchair by the crackling log fire with her head in a spin.

‘Frank Arkwright has just told me that he loves me,’ she told her daughter, as she settled her on the breast.

Admittedly, Zelda thought to herself, it had been a collective acknowledgement, a mark of people’s affection for her; nevertheless she had never thought to hear the word ‘love’ fall from Frank Arkwright’s lips. Gazing into her child’s big honey-brown eyes, Zelda considered her feelings for Frank. Over time, terror of the man had given way to deep affection and respect, which in turn had deepened into a relaxed and easy friendship. She actively looked forward to seeing Frank and spending time with him; she totally trusted him with Constanza, whom he had brought into the world, and she regularly turned to him for advice. But now she realized something was changing. Recalling the steady look Frank had given her, the warmth of his smile, his full lips and strong body, Zelda felt her insides turn to water, and with a shock she recognized what she was feeling. Desire. She no longer wanted Frank as a friend to rely on; she wanted him as a man she could love.

In the dining room, after the speeches had been said and the toasts made, much to everyone’s surprise Diana rose to her feet.

‘I know this might seem slightly unorthodox,’ she said, smiling at her guests. ‘It’s usually the father of the bride who would speak at this point, but he’s not here so I will instead. Tomorrow I’ll leave Mary Vale, where I’ve been so safe and so happy.’ With a catch in her voice she fought back tears. ‘I have made the best of friends in Mary Vale, darling Gracie, and Zelda.’ She nodded in the direction of Zelda, who had just re-entered the room with Constanza asleep in her arms. ‘How would I have survived these last few months without Ada, Dora, Sister Mary Paul, Sister Theresa and Father Ben? No words can ever express my gratitude to all of you for your guidance and prayers.’ Reaching out to Harry, she clasped his hand in hers. ‘I leave here with my wonderful husband and not one but two sons. Please, raise your glasses to Mary Vale!’

A loud chorus of ‘Mary Vale’ followed, as guests chinked their glasses and Diana’s friends rushed to give her a hug.

‘I can almost forgive Reg for getting me in the family way,’ cheeky Gracie joked. ‘If I hadn’t got pregnant, I’d never have met any of you.’

‘Oh, Gracie, you never change,’ giggled Ada. ‘Mary Vale will be a far quieter place without you.’

As the guests dwindled away and the table was cleared, Harry’s eyes sought out his wife’s dreamy blue ones and she immediately knew exactly what he was thinking.

‘When can we be alone?’

In answer she kissed him softly on the cheek. ‘I’ll see to the babies if you could finish the packing?’

‘And then will you know where to find me?’ he whispered.

‘I’ll know exactly where to find you, husband,’ Diana answered with a long, lingering smile.

The following day, just before their departure south, Harry decided to walk his boys by the sea.

‘Last time, lads,’ he announced to the babies, who had rolled on to their sides and, with their thumbs in their mouths, were drifting off to sleep.

With the tide rushing in, Harry wheeled the pram down the path that ran alongside the railway track. The glimpse of bright sunshine that had blessed their wedding day had given way to a dark stormy sky, where grey clouds loomed, threatening rain. Listening to the cry of the gulls on one side of him and the bleating of lambs in the fields on the other side, Harry passed hedgerows bright with snowdrops, aconites and crocuses pushing their way through the cold earth. A mistle thrush perched in a tall beech tree overhead sang his song, which Harry stopped to listen to; the bird repeated the song twice, as if it couldn’t quite believe it, then burst into a rapturous melody that filled the sky with a piercing sweetness. Harry smiled to himself as he continued walking his sons; it really was the perfect day on which to start the rest of his life with his new family.