Pendruggan, 2018
‘Way-hay,’ shouted Rosemary as the bottle of house champagne went off with a loud pop. ‘You’re just in time!’
Sennen, arriving back at the table having tried to repair her face, put her shoulders back and decided to be the happiest of mums, for Ella’s’ sake.
‘Get me a glass,’ she ordered.
The other diners, couples old and young, families the same, watched and couldn’t help but be cheered by the obvious happiness emerging in front of them. Sennen took her filled glass and raised it to the room. ‘Please celebrate the engagement of my elder daughter, Ella Tallon to the handsome Kit …’ She realised she didn’t know his surname.
‘Beauchamp,’ Kit said helpfully.
Sennen inclined her head towards him in thanks. ‘Yes, Kit Beauchamp. He is to marry my daughter, and I couldn’t be more pleased. Would you be kind enough to raise your glasses …’ She acknowledged the beer and wine drinkers. ‘Your beakers …’ She smiled at the younger children. ‘And your cups …’ She winked at the older customers. ‘And now – to Ella and Kit!’
The room responded with a cheering, ‘Ella and Kit!’
‘Thank you.’ Sennen sat down. ‘Well, that’s got you two off to a good start I should say.’
Gradually the champagne bottle emptied and Sennen insisted on settling the bill. Finally, Kit and Ella said their grateful goodbyes, leaving Rosemary and Sennen among the debris of the table.
‘Cocktail?’ asked Rosemary after Sennen’s credit card had been returned.
‘Why not? I have had more to drink on my return to Trevay than I’ve had in sixteen years in India, and I like it.’
She couldn’t have told you what time she got back to White Water that night, other than that it was very late.
She peeled off her clothes and dropped them on the floor, then in the bathroom, held the sink unsteadily with one hand as she cleaned her teeth with the other. Her make-up she ignored. In bed, she pulled the duvet up to her chin and fell asleep immediately.
She dreamt of the day she had told Kafir the truth about herself.
She had got home after collecting Aali and Sabu from school, to find the multi-addressed envelope in the hall. Her heart plummeted when she saw the postmark: Cornwall.
It could only be bad news, she knew. Mum or Poppa must be ill?
In the dream, she relived the moment she had taken the letter into her bathroom and locked the door to read it. The torment of grief that overwhelmed her, reading of her parent’s deaths, hit her again. She saw Kafir’s beautiful face switch from love to betrayal as she told him the truth.
He had shaken his head, disbelieving her.
‘How could you deny the existence of your own children? To me?’
He had stood tall over her as she knelt at his feet in supplication.
‘I thought I knew you,’ he said, barely believing. ‘What else do you have in your box of lies?’
She grabbed his knees. ‘Nothing. I promise. Please, Kafir.’ But he had swiped her away as if she were nothing more than a fly. ‘Go home. To Cornwall. Make your peace. Apologise to your children and hope that they forgive you. But know that to find your past you may have lost your future.’ His words were like ice and he chilled her blood as he continued, ‘I must protect Aali and Sabu. I will tell them you have returned to England and we don’t know when you will return. Tonight you will leave this house. Stay in a hotel, if you must, but you must go.’
She had woken sweating and shouting, ‘No Kafir. No.’
She sat up in bed, alarmed, and tried to steady her breathing. She took a gulp of the water from the glass on her nightstand.
She knew what she had to do, and by God she would do it.
She was up early and made sure she was looking her best. Downstairs, she had the briefest of breakfasts before dialling Ella’s number.
‘Hello,’ answered Ella, sleepily.
‘Hi, darling. It’s Sennen – Mum.’
‘Hi. You’re up early.’
‘Early bird catches the worm and all that, so I wondered, if you were doing nothing else today …’ She took a deep breath to keep her resolve strong. ‘If you might like to go wedding dress shopping. With me?’
‘Oh.’ Ella sounded unsure.
‘If you’re busy, I quite understand,’ said Sennen, backing off.
‘No, that would be great. I haven’t even thought about it to be honest. We haven’t even set a date.’
Sennen heard Kit’s voice, drowsy and mumbling, ‘Who is it?’
Then Ella, speaking off the microphone, ‘It’s Mum.’
‘Is she okay?’
‘Yes, she wants to take me wedding dress shopping.’
‘Nice.’
Sennen came back louder again. ‘I’d love to, Mum.’
‘Any shops you can recommend?’
‘There’s a shop in Truro that someone told me about.’
‘Well then, let’s go to Truro. I can pick you up from your house?’
‘Okay.’ Ella reeled off the address. ‘Marguerite Cottage to the right of the church, down a little drive. Can you give me an hour to get ready?’
The next hour was sixty minutes of impatient agitation for Sennen. She walked to the newsagents, bought herself a paper, sat in a coffee shop, ordered a cappuccino and attempted the crossword. She checked her phone, strummed her fingers, paid the bill and was finally on her way to Pendruggan.
As she drove into the heart of the village she could see why Ella loved it. The village green was like something out of a children’s picture book. There was the large farmhouse with its barns and milking parlour, the village stores next to the church and a row of attractive cottages, maybe two hundred years old, with slate roofs, well-tended gardens and pastel-coloured front doors.
She found Marguerite Cottage and, as she parked, Ella came bounding out of the front door, her red curls streaming behind her. She jumped into the passenger seat. ‘This is so unexpected and all the more exciting for it,’ she exclaimed. ‘Thank you, Mum. I never thought this would happen. Me and you. Wedding dress shopping!’
Sennen began to reverse the car. She had butterflies in her stomach. This was something she had never allowed herself to imagine. She glanced at her beautiful, loving, kind and forgiving daughter as she shifted the car into first gear and set off.
‘Thank you, Ella, for allowing me this,’ she said softly.
Ella was putting her bag by her feet. ‘Who else would I do it with?’
‘If I hadn’t have come back, you could have asked anyone.’
Ella turned to Sennen. ‘But anyone wouldn’t have been you.’
‘You know what I mean. I am a stranger to you really. We hardly know each other, so, thank you.’
‘Mum?’
Sennen slowed the car as she approached the junction to the main Truro Road. ‘Yes?’
‘We may not have spent my childhood together, but I do know you, even though I don’t, if you know what I mean?’
Sennen stopped the car, waiting for a break in the fast traffic. She put her left hand out to Ella who held it tight. ‘I do love you,’ she said, her throat tightening with emotion, ‘and this is so special.’
A car arriving behind her beeped loudly. She waved into the rear-view mirror and mouthed ‘Sorry,’ to the agitated driver, then, kissing Ella’s hand, let it go and got on the road to Truro.
Parking in Truro took a little time, but once they’d got a space Ella quickly marched her to Truro Bridal Boutique. A petite young woman greeted them. ‘Do you have an appointment?’
Ella’s face dropped. ‘Should I have made one?’
‘It is recommended, but let me just check the book.’
Sennen held her crossed fingers in front of her face and Ella giggled. The assistant came back. ‘Yes, we have a spare hour right now. What sort of style are you looking for?’
Ella gave a little jump of joy. ‘It’s just like Say Yes to the Dress.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Sennen, catching her daughter’s joy but not understanding.
Ella explained.
‘Well, let’s do it!’
The assistant, who was called Erin, took them through the initial questions.
‘What sort of wedding are you having? Registrar’s office or church?’
‘Church,’ said Ella definitely.
‘And your budget for the dress?’
‘Oh. Erm … about …’ She hesitated, waiting for her mother to be shocked. ‘Seven hundred pounds?’
‘How much?’ said Sennen on cue. ‘I can make you one for a fraction of that.’
Ella went quiet. How could she tell her mother that she didn’t want a homemade dress?
Erin said diplomatically, ‘I think we can find something very beautiful for the bride within that budget.’
Sennen took the tacit rejection in her stride. She had lost the right, a long time ago, to give orders where Ella’s needs were concerned.
Erin whisked Ella away into a fitting room while Sennen found a tasselled and buttoned velvet chair and sat on it gingerly, testing its sturdiness under her weight. Gradually her confidence in its strength grew and she tried to make herself comfortable. She glanced around, taking in the ruffles and drapes, the deep pile carpet and the scented candle on the payment desk. There was a huge mirror on one wall with a circular platform in front of it. Presumably for the bride to stand on and admire herself in full rig.
In the mirror, she saw herself. Her father used to describe her as ‘rangy’. Tall, broad shoulders, narrow waist and hips, long legs. She stared into her own face and wondered where the young Sennen had gone. When had the smooth skin and unhooded eyes been lost among her sun-exposed skin? What would her mother have said to her right now? If things had been different Adela would have enjoyed this shopping trip. She would have loudly complained about expense and the over-commercialisation of two people getting married, but she would have been determined to share the fun. Sennen closed her eyes. Mum? Poppa? Look at me. I’m being Ella’s mum. Helping her to choose her wedding dress. I can hardly believe it and I expect you can’t either. So thank you. Thank you both for looking after her. She is perfect, and I know that that is down to you. Oh, I miss you. And I so wish you were here to see her …
The swish of the fitting room curtain interrupted her. She opened her eyes and gasped as Ella walked out in a confection of tulle, twinkles and hoops that swamped her perfect figure.
Sennen smiled nervously. ‘Wow!’ she managed.
‘It’s not me, is it?’ said Ella.
‘Um … I think you should try a few more before you decide.’ It was as honest as Sennen was prepared to go.
Ella was whisked away again and modelled three more dresses, each more disastrous than the first.
Ella’s spirits were sagging. ‘Mum, maybe this isn’t the shop.’
Erin, never known to lose a customer, sprang into action and tapped something into her iPad. ‘Hang on, there may be just the thing, in the stockroom. We occasionally get sample dresses from the big designers for a very affordable sum. We should have some that have just arrived in stock. She swiped her screen several times then picked up the phone on the desk. ‘I’ll check the stockroom … Hi, Moira, it’s me – has the Wang 2016 come in yet? Yes, I’ll hold.’ She covered the mouthpiece and said, ‘She’s just looking.’ There was a long and silent wait until, ‘Yes, I’m still here … a ten? Terrific!’ She winked at Ella whose eyes were wide and desperate. ‘Okay, thanks, Moira. Bring it up.’ She put the phone down. ‘Right, I’ve got a size ten Vera Wang 2016 – ticket price was two thousand pounds but we have it for seven hundred and fifty.’
Of course it fitted like a glove. A romantic, narrow fall of tulle which briefly hung on Ella’s shoulders then slid over her waist, hips and ankles before puddling at her feet. She stood nervously in front of her mother for the final verdict.
Sennen viewed her as she might an Old Master in the Tate. Her eyes narrowed, her head first on one side then the other. Finally, she said, ‘You look spectacular.’ She stood and put her arms around her elder daughter and held her tight. ‘So, so beautiful. And this is my treat.’
Ella flatly refused. ‘No, Mum. The gift you have given me is you being here.’
‘But I want to give you something special for your wedding day.’
Erin, starting to get tissue paper and dress bags from under the desk was listening and suggested, ‘Will you be wanting a veil?’
Ella looked at Sennen. ‘I would love a veil. But aren’t they very expensive?’
Sennen laughed. ‘Just like your Granny. But in this case I think she would tell you that it is never your extravagances you regret, it’s your economies.’ Then Sennen had an idea. ‘I could make you one. A proper gift from me to you. What do you think?’
‘Would you? Could you?’
‘I’ve earned my living as a seamstress all these years – why not?’
‘And so,’ Ella finished off, ‘I got the most gorgeous dress and then Mum bought the finest chiffon for my veil and that’s all I’m going to tell you.’ She put her hands around Kit’s neck and kissed him. ‘I am so, so, so lucky to have you, and Mum and Henry all here.’
Kit kissed her back. ‘Talking of Henry, I haven’t seen him since the meeting with Deborah.’
Ella smiled naughtily at him. ‘Don’t worry about him. He knows tons of people here who have a sofa to lend him. He’ll come back when he’s ready. But in the meantime, we do have the house to ourselves …’
Henry was spread across Deborah’s sofa, wearing one of her T-shirts and little else. In front of him lay the remains of a cheese and pickle sandwich and two empty cans of lager. He was watching the cricket on Sky. He didn’t take his eyes from the television as his phone rang. ‘Yes?’
‘Nice telephone manner,’ Ella said. ‘You’re alive, then?’
‘Yeah … Ooooh … Howzat!’
She sighed. ‘You’re watching the cricket.’
Sarcasm took over. ‘Oh, hello, Ella, and how can I help you?’
‘You can stop sulking for one thing.’
‘I am not sulking, I’m getting on with my life.’
‘Where? Are you back in London?’
‘Not at the moment.’
Ella was getting irritated. ‘I am not going to play twenty questions with you, just tell me: where the hell are you.’
‘In Trevay, with a friend.’
‘A lady friend?’
‘Not right at this moment, but she will be back later.’
‘I don’t need to know the details. When are you going to come back and face all this stuff with Mum? You have got to let all these feelings of entitlement go. We have Granny and Poppa’s furniture and art, and all our memories of them. She will never have those.’
Henry turned the sound down. He knew that Ella was right, but every time he thought of how his heartbroken grandparents were let down by his mother he was overwhelmed by a sense of injustice.
‘It’s just … oh, I don’t know. It’s just seeing her, here in Trevay. Trying to take over and make everything all right. Well, it isn’t all right. It never will be all right. She doesn’t know them better than us and Granny and Poppa would be spinning in their graves if they knew we were making it easy for her.’
‘No, they wouldn’t,’ Ella said patiently. ‘They loved her and would be glad that we have got her back.’
‘I don’t want her here. She can hop off back to her new lot, never to be seen again as far as I’m concerned.’
‘Actually, she’s staying on for a bit.’
‘Why?’
‘Kit and I are getting married.’
Henry couldn’t help but be happy. ‘Really? That’s great, Ells. Does the poor bloke know what he’s letting himself in for?’
‘Oh, ha ha ha. But Mum is staying for the wedding. She’s making my veil for me and she helped me to choose the dress.’
‘Mommie dearest doing her bit to get you on side?’
Ella sighed. ‘Please, Henry. She’s our mother, and the idea of the art school and everything is a good one and I hate it when you distance yourself from me. Please, could you just try to be a bit more accepting? See things from her point of view?’
‘You mean forgive her?’
‘Eventually.’
‘I’m not as nice as you.’
‘But could you just try? For me? Just until she goes back to India?’
Henry ran a hand over his stubbled chin. ‘For you, Ells Bells, I’ll try.’