long, happy life before slipping away peacefully one night in his sleep. Keen for his daughter to have security in these volatile times, Bill had left Cher enough of an inheritance so that with Sonny’s savings, and some money that she had also put by, they could buy the pub. Originally built in 1706 as a coaching inn, it had all the charm and whimsy of a traditional English pub with Tudor beams and a large Inglenook fireplace where a real log fire crackled away during the winter months, radiating a cosy glow through the mullioned windows. ‘Such a shame he had to go. I always thought he was invincible.’
‘I know, darling,’ Sonny soothed as he kissed her cheek and rubbed the palm of his hand up and down her arm, ‘he was a good’un.’
‘I guess I should be over it by now, but I do miss him so much. I went to call him earlier to tell him a joke that I overheard in the pub last night. You know how he loved a good joke. It’s daft really, that I sometimes totally forget he isn’t here ….’
‘No, love, it’s not daft at all,’ Sonny cut in, ‘your dad was an amazing man, larger than life. You’re bound to miss him ….’ He reached down to the grass to retrieve her mug before handing it to her. ‘And you can still talk to him, you know. He’s all around us. I bet he’s even earwigging right now.’ He laughed, shaking his head.
‘Thanks,’ she took the mug and drank the last of her tea. ‘And yes, you’re right. Dad always did love being nosey. People watching he called it,’ Cher smiled before tucking in to a slice of toast, licking her lips to savour the tangy sweet marmalade. ‘Fancy a slice?’ she offered the plate of toast to Sonny.
‘Oh, yes please. Can’t beat Kitty’s marmalade,’ he beamed, biting in to a slice, ‘which reminds me, I must pop over to the Spotted Pig Café and ask her to make two of her strawberry jam roly-polys for the lunchtime crowd. Sybil and her Tindledale Tappers are coming in for their monthly knit off meeting and you know how they love a wedge of roly-poly smothered in custard after they’ve knitted a mountain of those baby hats for the maternity unit at the hospital.’
‘Ah yes, we must make sure the knitters are kept amply fuelled with jam roly-poly,’ Cher laughed, thinking what a fantastic job her best friend, Sybs, did, not only running the haberdashery shop in the village, but all the knitting and sewing classes she organised too. And with toddler twins as well – and married to the local GP which seemed to involve her being routinely stopped in the village square by people keen to show her various injuries or discuss ailments ahead of their appointment with Dr Ben, she was a very busy woman indeed. ‘I’ll put it on the specials board in that case. We don’t want the prem babies going without their little woolly hats,’ she added, in between polishing off the last slice of toast.
‘Good idea,’ Sonny confirmed, then added, ‘so, what’s brought on the quiet mood this morning? You’ve not talked about your dad for a little while now, love.’
‘I’m not really sure, to be honest. I was feeling fairly peaceful about him not being here anymore … you know, that I could smile at the memories and chat to him in my head about the daft stuff we used to laugh about when I was growing up. I just wasn’t feeling as sad … in fact, I’d been feeling very upbeat and excited about our wedding. I know it’s going to be such a fantastic day, it’s just that …’ she left her voice tail off.
‘Oh, sweetheart, so that’s what has brought this on. It’s the wedding. Bound to be. It’s stirring things up for you, and understandably. It’s only a fortnight away … and not having your dad here on the best day of our lives,’ Sonny gave her a squeeze and another kiss on the cheek.
‘I guess so,’ Cher leaned her head on his shoulder. ‘And he would have loved it. A real knees-up, here in the pub, with your special seafood platters and all the fancy hors d’oeuvres you’re making. And the cupcake tower. Dad loved a cupcake.’
‘And don’t forget the actual wedding cake. Those three fruit cake tiers are brewing so nicely, I’ve been feeding them cups of sherry to keep them moist. I might start the icing soon too,’ Sonny said, enthusiastically.
‘Ah, I can’t wait to see your finished masterpiece, I’m so glad we went with family tradition and chose the same cake design as my parents had on their big day. It’s nice that they kept the figurines from the top of their cake and now we can use them too – it’s those little touches that are going to make our day so special.’
‘Yes, do you remember? Your Dad was over the moon when you told him you planned on doing this.’
‘Ah, he always was a big, sentimental, softy. Talking of which, do you remember how thrilled he was when you went all traditional and asked him if you could marry me?’ Cher smiled.
‘Sure do. He was properly made up. Did me an enormous favour too, when he produced your granny’s engagement ring, they don’t make Bobby Dazzlers like that these days. Saved me an arm and a leg your dad did. Very decent of him!’ And he lifted her left hand up and gave her a cheeky grin. Cher smiled at the tender memory of Sonny’s proposal on the village green. It was at the end of a glorious summer day, at the Tindledale Great Village Show. The sun was dipping down on the horizon, the waft of sweet candy floss still floating on the warm breeze and everyone had clapped, their friends all delighted for them when Sonny went down on one knee in the long grass by the disco marquee after asking the DJ to play “I Got You Babe”– their song. Cher glanced down at the beautifully cut square diamond on her ring finger, catching the sunlight as if Dad was twinkling at her and spurring her on to grab life with both hands, as he always had. And he had been a big fan of Cher, the singing superstar, even naming his only daughter after her, and so had been delighted when he heard the song that Sonny had thoughtfully organised for such a special moment. Then, on realising what Sonny was implying about not having to buy the ring himself, she playfully batted her hand into his chest.
‘Oi, cheapskate.’
‘Well, back then I was still trying to save so we could buy the pub, not to mention paying for the actual wedding – I was never going to let your dad foot the bill for that. No way. Asking for your hand in marriage is as traditional as I can go …. And good job one of us was on the ball as this wedding is ending up costing us a small fortune. We’ll have no money left at all at this rate. Who knew wedding dresses could cost so much, not to mention the grey and navy pinstripe number you want me to wear.’ He shook his head.
‘Oh, shush,’ Cher teased, gently. ‘You only get married once. Hopefully.’
‘Exactly! So why spend nearly all our budget on what you are wearing for just one day? It baffles me, love, as you could have a whole new wardrobe, that you could wear for years, for the same amount of money you’ve spent on your wedding dress.’
‘It’s not really the same though. Maybe I’m just being an old-fashioned, sentimental twit, but I love the idea of keeping my wedding dress for ever and maybe one day having a daughter that could wear it as well if she wants to.’
‘Hmm, good point. That would be nice, wouldn’t it,’ he said, seemingly mulling it all over. ‘So when will your wedding dress be ready?’
‘This week, hopefully. I’ve had the final fitting, the bridesmaids have too, and so the woman in the wedding dress shop in Market Briar is going to deliver the dresses any day now as soon as she’s made the final adjustments. She knows how busy it’s getting behind the bar. I’m rushed off my feet most days. We both are. Not that I’m complaining … it’s great that our lovely boozer is so popular, but it does make getting out to do other things a bit tricky sometimes … like collect my own wedding dress,’ she laughed.
‘Sure does. It’s kind of her to bring
