here,’ Jackson told the chauffeur, scrambling out of the car. ‘Dan! Come back. Come back.’
But Dan was running fast, darting in and out of the traffic which had started to move again. He reached the other side of the road and vanished down an alley. Jackson raced after him as fast as he could, nearly being hit by a car. But when he reached the street it was empty.
‘Dan!’ he yelled. ‘You can’t do this. Please!’
There was no answer.
‘Where are you?’ he cried. ‘Don’t hide from me. Let’s talk.’
He tore along the road, searching everywhere but without result.
‘I didn’t mean it!’ he shouted. ‘Not the way it came out. I spoke without thinking but I never meant— Don’t do this.’
He ran up and down for a few more minutes before facing facts.
‘Oh, no!’ he groaned. ‘This can’t be happening. But it is, and I’m to blame. It’ll be my fault if— Oh, what have I done? What have I done?’
Windows were opening above him. He made a hasty exit, returning to the car and throwing himself into the back seat. ‘Go on to the church,’ he growled.
At last the building came in sight, and he groaned again as he saw the excited crowds and the cameras.
‘Not here,’ he said hastily. ‘Go around the back.’
He slid down low, hoping not to be seen, and didn’t sit up again until they reached the back of the church. He paid the chauffeur, adding a generous tip and putting his finger over his lips. Then he hurried through a rear door as fast as he could.
In seven years of making documentaries Jackson had many times had to screw up his courage. He’d faced lions, swum in dangerously deep water, and talked into cameras from great heights. But none of those things had made his stomach churn as much as the thought of the next few minutes.
He tried to tell himself that Freya would cope well. She was a trained nurse and a strong, efficient, determined young woman, not a wilting violet. But a voice in his mind wouldn’t let him get away with that.
You’re just telling yourself what you want to believe. This is going to devastate her, and it’s your fault, so stop trying to make it easy on yourself.
As he slipped quietly into the main body of the church he saw the family gathered in the front pews. Travis looked up and gestured for him to approach.
‘What’s up?’ he asked as Jackson neared. ‘Where’s the groom?’
‘He’s not coming. He changed his mind at the last minute and dashed out of the car. I tried to follow but I lost sight of him.’
‘What do you mean?’ demanded Janine. ‘He can’t just dump my daughter with the wedding about to start.’
‘I’m afraid that’s what he’s done. It seems he’s always had doubts and suddenly they crushed him.’
Before anyone could say more the organ burst into the melody of ‘Here Comes The Bride.’
‘Oh, no!’ Jackson groaned.
‘There they are,’ said Darius. ‘Oh, heavens. What a disaster!’
Everyone stared to the end of the aisle, where Amos could clearly be seen with Freya on his arm. Jackson cursed himself for his clumsiness. He should have waited outside for the car and told them the truth there. Then Freya could have returned home at once, without having to make the humiliating trip down the aisle.
He thought of hurrying forward, approaching her now before she came any closer, but she was already in the spotlight. Or at least Amos was. People recognised him. Some waved to him. Some slipped into the aisle to greet him. Jackson had no choice but to wait, suffering agonies of impatience, his eyes fixed on Freya.
For a moment he almost believed that this was somebody else. The strong, sensible young woman who lived in his mind had vanished, replaced by a girl in a glamorous white satin dress. Her fair hair, normally straight, had been curled into an exotic creation and covered by a lace veil that trailed down almost to the floor.
There was a glow about her that he’d never seen before. She was smiling as though fate had brought her to a blissful destination. It made her look exactly as a happy bride ought to look, and Jackson closed his eyes, sickened by what was about to happen.
As they neared him and saw that Jackson was alone, Amos began to frown.
‘Where’s the groom?’ he rasped. ‘Why isn’t he with you?’
‘Shh!’ Freya silenced him with a finger over her lips. ‘He must have slipped away to the Gents. He’ll be here in a moment.’ She gave Jackson a teasing smile. ‘I expect he had a bit too much to drink last night, didn’t he?’
Her good nature was almost too much for him to bear. How could Dan not have wanted to marry this sweet creature?
‘I’m afraid there’s been a problem,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Dan isn’t here. He’s—he’s not coming.’
‘What do you mean?’ Freya asked. ‘Is he ill? Oh, heavens, I must go to him.’
‘No, he’s not ill,’ Jackson said. ‘I’m sorry, Freya, but he changed his mind at the last minute. He got out of the car and ran. I don’t even know where he is now.’
‘He ran?’ Freya whispered. ‘To get away from me? Oh, no!’ She withdrew her hand from Amos’s arm and faced Jackson. ‘But why?’
‘He lost his nerve,’ Jackson said uneasily.
The words seemed to swirl in Freya’s head, meaningless yet full of monstrous meaning.
‘What—what do you mean—lost his nerve?’ she stammered. ‘It doesn’t take nerve to—to—’
To marry someone you love. The words were on the tip of her tongue, yet some power stopped her from saying them.
Jackson understood and struggled for an answer.
‘It’s a big occasion,’ he managed. ‘Some men can’t cope.’
But Dan was used to big occasions, and they both knew it. Freya’s look of disbelief told Jackson he’d have to do better than that.
‘Why?’ she said fiercely. ‘What really happened?’
‘He just—couldn’t cope suddenly.’
Freya swung away from him, trying to cope with the feelings that stormed through her. Pain, disbelief, disillusion, humiliation all fought for supremacy. Humiliation won.
Dan had charmed her, filled her grey world with light and made her feel special—the kind of woman that other women envied. Now he was knocking her down in the eyes of the world. She clenched her hands into fists, holding them up against her eyes and emitting a soft groan.
Behind
