‘Mind the dog poo!’ says Maureen, steering me to one side and manoeuvring me through the garden gate at Tregavara House. My skirt brushes against the gate posts as I feel my way forward with Maureen hanging onto my arm.

She insisted I close my eyes when we reached the house so there’s no risk of me getting an early glimpse of what’s been organised for our reception.

‘Keep them closed,’ she orders, leading me through the front garden and around the side of the building. The grass feels springy under my feet and I can smell honeysuckle mingling with the fresh tang of the sea.

We stop, and Maureen lets go of my arm. ‘Here we are. Open your eyes!’

The scene in front of me takes my breath away. It’s glorious. Trestle tables are groaning under the weight of Cornish pasties, sausage rolls, bowls of brightly coloured salads and platters of cooked meats. Behind them are towering stands of iced cupcakes and, at the very back, a fabulous three-tiered wedding cake that’s dripping with strawberries.

‘It’s chocolate sponge with chocolate chips and chocolate buttercream,’ says Maureen, laughing at my delight when I spot her creation. ‘Jennifer told me how much you’re addicted to the stuff.’

Oops, my daily Twix fix has not gone unnoticed.

Our guests are already seated on a variety of chairs – from dining room chairs and fold-up wooden seats to white plastic chairs plundered from villagers’ gardens. Cream paper cloths have been Sellotaped to the tables and there are balloons and tiny vases of flowers everywhere. A white canopy has been erected over the top table in case of rain, soft music is wafting from a CD player, and dozens of glasses from the pub are lined up and sparkling in the sunshine.

‘Wow. I’m speechless. I don’t know what to say.’ I swing round to Josh, who was led into the back garden just behind me.

‘It’s wonderful,’ he splutters, as lost for words as I am.

‘Can we eat now?’ yells Roger, who’s sitting as far away from Jennifer and Jacques as possible.

I was thinking we’d do speeches first – from Josh, Ollie and Barry, who’ll probably take the opportunity to sing his wedding song. But who cares? There are no rules at our wedding – all that matters is that Josh and I are celebrating with people we care about in a house that we love. What a wonderful way to say goodbye to my beloved Salt Bay.

When I give Roger the nod, people fall on the spread like vultures and forego the seats to sit on the grass with their picnics. There’s a glimpse of blue sea around the corner of Tregavara House and I can hear the whoosh of waves on wet sand. The cliffs behind me are casting shadows and seagulls are swooping overhead. It’s an eclectic reception that wouldn’t pass muster with my sophisticated London friends. But I wouldn’t swap it for anything – not even a swanky do at The Ritz.

I wish Maura had been able to come – she’s so heavily pregnant now she has to pee every two minutes and couldn’t face a car or train journey. But Lesley and Gayle are here from work and Pippa and Charlie with adorable baby Henry, whose fists are the size of walnuts.

Amanda and her children have helped themselves to plates of food and are sitting with Storm near the azaleas that Alice planted after Tregavara House was flooded and the garden was swamped.

Amanda catches my eye a few times and comes over while I’m on my second dessert. My appetite disappeared just before the wedding but now it’s back with a vengeance and Mary’s home-made profiteroles are so good.

‘The girls and I will have to head off in a minute or Simon will be wondering where we are, but could I have a quick word first?’

‘Of course.’ My dress rustles when I get to my feet and is definitely more snug in the waist area following my post-nuptial pig-out. Holding in my stomach, I swoosh my way to the sitting room and close the door behind me and Amanda.

She stands by the window, tapping her fingernails on the stone sill. ‘Thank you so much for inviting me to your wedding and I wish you and your handsome new husband every happiness.’

Which is very nice and all that but nothing she couldn’t have said to me in the garden. As I suspected, Amanda isn’t finished. She clears her throat.

‘You think I’m a terrible mother, don’t you?’

Whoah! That came out of nowhere. When I don’t respond, she ploughs on.

‘I couldn’t stay with Barry. You’ve seen what he’s like – a nice enough man but a total dreamer. It was exciting at first when we were going from gig to gig and always on the brink of the big time. But after a few years it was just tedious and then I met Simon and he offered something different – stability and more than a hand-to-mouth existence. I wanted a change and I needed a change, but I didn’t realise that I would have to change quite so much.’

She stares at the brightly coloured boats marooned on sand by the low tide before turning back to me.

‘Simon didn’t see Storm as part of the package. She could be prickly and difficult even back then. I could have insisted she came with me, I suppose, but I was desperate for a different life, and then there was Barry. He was devastated when I told him I was leaving and begged me not to take Storm away from him too. So I walked away from both of them and I’m not proud of it but I still think it was the right thing to do.’

She leans against the wall, ready for condemnation but I had quite enough of being judged as a child. There were always people who thought they knew best and looked down on me for being a council house kid with a ‘mental’ mother.

I give a small sigh. ‘I think you did what you thought was best at the time. But I know Storm misses you.’

Amanda nibbles her plump bottom lip. ‘She’s not the easiest of daughters which is possibly mostly my fault, but I miss her too.’

‘Then maybe you shouldn’t cancel her visits at the last minute because your au pair has come home unexpectedly.’ I say it gently, but it sounds like the accusation it is.

‘Fair enough. Simon thought it would be too much having Storm and Pia in the house together, but I should have insisted. I will insist in future.’ She gazes into the distance for a moment, lost in thought, and then shakes her head. ‘But you must get back to your reception. I’m sorry to drag you away but I didn’t know when I might next have the chance to speak to you and say thank you.’

‘For what?’

‘For letting Storm be your bridesmaid. For giving her a home. For loving her and being like a mother to her when I can’t be.’

Her face collapses in grief and she turns away when the door is flung open.

‘There you are,’ says Storm, bowling in with a paper plate of crisps in her hand. ‘Barry reckons he’s going to make a speech and you need to tell him not to ’cos he’ll just make a total tit of himself.’ She glances between me and her mother. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘Everything’s fine.’ Amanda has regained her composure and steps forward. ‘I was just wishing Annie all the best because the girls and I have to leave in a minute.’

‘Yeah, I thought you’d soon be off.’

‘We have to go but before I do let’s sort out when you can visit us for a few days. Perhaps at half term? There’s a punk exhibition at the V&A that Simon’s not keen on going to but I thought maybe you could come with me?’

‘Sounds interesting,’ says Storm slowly. ‘But won’t your au pair be around?’

‘I’m sure she can sort out a put-you-up in the girls’ room for a few nights.’

‘Simon won’t approve.’

‘Probably not but he’ll have to put up with it for once. And before I leave I also want to tell you how proud I am of you.’

‘Because I’m finally wearing a dress and looking’ – Storm puts the next word in ironic air quotes – ‘pretty?’

‘No, because you’re doing well at school and holding down a Saturday job and making a wonderful new life here in Salt Bay. Though, I must admit, it is good to see you out of those damned Doc Martens.’

Storm’s face breaks into a slow smile. ‘Yeah, well I might not stay in Salt Bay forever.’

‘I don’t suppose you will. I expect you’ll go on to even bigger and better things.’

Storm walks forward as though she might hug her mother but side-steps her when Barry barges in.

‘I wondered where you’d all gone. You’re not in here slagging me off, are you?’

He eyes me suspiciously, but I shake my head and laugh. ‘There’s been no slagging off, Barry, and I hear you’re about to make a speech.’

‘That is so lame,’ says Storm with a dramatic sigh. ‘Come on then. Let’s get it over with.’

‘You can stay in here if you don’t want to hear it.’

‘Nope. You’re marginally less likely to say something horribly embarrassing about me if I’m actually listening so I have no choice.’

After they’ve all trooped out, I gather up my skirt in both hands and rush upstairs for a quick loo break. Though doing anything too quickly in metres of silk is impossible unless you want to risk tripping or ripping the fabric or accidentally weeing on your wedding dress.

But if I don’t soon get back to the garden, they’ll be starting the speeches without me. Dress intact, I scurry downstairs and fling open the kitchen door but my way into the garden is blocked by Roger and Jacques, who appear to be squaring up around the kitchen table. Damn! I so should have used the front door.

‘Are you two coming into the garden for the speeches?’

‘We’ve got to sort this out first,’ scowls Roger, who’s looking dapper in a black suit and crisp white shirt with only minimal food staining.

Jacques groans. ‘Sort out what exactly? Why have you trapped me in this room? Congratulations, by the way, Annie, on your marriage. I wish you and Josh much happiness.’

‘Thank you. Roger, can you tell me why you’ve trapped Jacques in the kitchen on my wedding day?’

I say those last three words extra loudly in the hope they’ll shame Roger into not being such an idiot. But they fall on deaf ears.

‘I want to know his intentions regarding Jennifer.’

‘Really, Roger?’ I position myself directly in Roger’s eyeline so he gets the full effect of the fabulous dress I’m wearing. ‘You choose today of all days to have it out with Jacques?’

‘Sorry, Annie, but this has been building up and has to be said. I need a word with you, Jacques, about how you’re treating Jennifer, who’s a very good friend of mine.’

‘Not that it’s any of your business but I’ve invited Jenny to live in Paris so she can pursue the singing career she deserves.’

‘To live with you?’ says Roger, his body language screaming defeat. ‘Like your sexual plaything?’

Among the terms I never thought I’d hear Roger utter, ‘sexual plaything’ is way up there. And now my mind is filled with images of Jennifer in basque and fishnets, stretched out languorously on a chaise longue while she waits for Jacques to service her. And while I’ve nothing against older women getting their rocks off, it’s not what you want to be picturing on your wedding day.

Jacques is shaking his head, a slight smile on his lips. ‘Not to live with me but you English men are so repressed.’

‘I’ll show you repressed, mate,’ bellows Roger, tearing off his jacket and rolling up his shirtsleeves.

Jacques’ jacket comes off too and they start strutting round the kitchen table, chests out, jaws clenched and eyes narrowed.

When the strutting goes on for a while, I’m tempted to leave them to it. But Roger’s panting, his face is lobster-pink and he’ll go down like a sack of potatoes with one left hook.

‘Come on, fellas, let’s work this out in a civilised manner so we can go and hear the speeches.’

‘Work what out?’ Jennifer is framed in the back doorway, drink in one hand and Mrs Thatcher bag in the other. ‘Are you two arguing? What on earth is going on?’

‘Nothing,’ mumble Roger and Jacques like naughty schoolboys.

‘Hopefully I can get some sense out of you, Annie. Tell me exactly what’s going on in here.’

I take a deep breath. ‘Jacques is upset that Roger’s asking about his intentions regarding you. Roger’s upset that you might move to Paris and is worried Jacques will use you for sex. Roger doesn’t want you to leave Salt Bay because he likes you a lot. He’s trying to impress you which is why he’s on a diet and looking generally spruced up though you haven’t noticed.’

Jennifer, Jacques and Roger are all staring at me with their mouths open. But I’m through with secrets and half-truths and pussyfooting about. Tell it like it is, have it out and sort it out. That’s my mantra from now on.

‘I see.’ Jennifer closes the back door very quietly, but her hands are shaking. ‘Frankly, I don’t appreciate being fought over like a piece of meat. Roger, my living arrangements in Paris are absolutely none of your business and it’s outrageous that the two of you are arguing on Annie’s wedding day.’

Yes! Thank you, Jennifer.

‘But I have come to a decision,’ she continues, ‘and I may as well tell you now as later. Jacques, I’ve enjoyed seeing you again but tell me the truth, is all that you’re offering – the singing opportunities and help with securing accommodation in Paris – fuelled by guilt?’

He shrugs. ‘Not completely, because I care about you, Jenny. But I do feel guilty about the way I behaved when we were young and what you lost because of it. It’s bothered me for years and I want to make amends.’

When Jennifer smiles, her pale blue eyes twinkle and the years fall away. ‘What happened was a long time ago, Jacques, and you don’t need to carry that guilt with you. I may have lost a great deal but I’ve gained in other ways. Salt Bay seems small and inconsequential to you but it’s my home and I’m happy here because I love it and the people are’ – she glances at Roger, who’s staring at the table – ‘loyal and caring and very dear to me. It’s rather too late for me to change course.’

‘So you’re not leaving?’ mutters Roger.

‘No, I’m not, though it’s none of your business. Jacques, would it help if I told you that I forgive you?’

‘It would help a great deal.’ Jacques raises Jennifer’s hand to his lips and kisses it gently. ‘Thank you. I hope we can stay in touch now we’re friends again.’

‘Christmas cards and birthday cards. That kind of thing?’

‘Yes, that kind of thing.’

Jennifer smiles at the man who broke her heart forty years ago and pulls her hand away. She’s decided which path to take and, unlike mine, it won’t take her away from Salt Bay.

‘If that’s all done, we’d better get back into the garden for the speeches. Oh, and Roger,’ she says quietly when she passes him at the table, ‘I did notice.’