landlord,’ said Harry. ‘I’d forgotten all that. But you never know. Maybe he’s changed since he’s been away.’
‘I doubt it,’ said Josie. ‘He hasn’t stopped sulking since you asked him to be best man. Anyone would think you were committing suicide the way he goes on about the fact that you’re getting married.’
‘Well, to Ant, marriage is a form of suicide,’ said Harry, as he turned left out of their road and headed for the main road which led to the motorway. ‘I can’t see him ever getting hitched. He’ll be trying to pull birds when he’s old and grey.’
‘Birds,’ groaned Diana. ‘Does he really use the word birds?’
‘Afraid so,’ said Josie, ‘but it’s all right, he doesn’t bite, honest.’
‘To be fair to him,’ said Harry, ‘I think there was someone after uni he was quite serious about, and she ditched him. He’s always been really cagey about it, but I think she really hurt him.’
‘Well then, maybe it’s time he got over it,’ said Diana.
‘Perhaps you can help,’ said Josie slyly.
‘Don’t look at me,’ said Di firmly, ‘he really doesn’t sound like my type.’
Within half an hour they were on the motorway and heading down to Cornwall, to Josie’s parents, where Josie’s mum was indulging in a spot of pre-wedding hysteria. After much dithering, Harry and Josie had only recently fixed the date for next June. They’d talked vaguely about September when they first got engaged, but it turned out getting married was like planning a military operation and no one in their right minds would attempt to organise a wedding in such a short space of time. Harry, who’d been hoping for something small and quiet, was beginning to realise his wishes were unlikely to be met. Josie’s mum, Nicola, had firmly taken charge since Christmas, and now most of their spare time seemed to be taken up with wedding plans. Harry was beginning to find it a little wearing.
Nicola had insisted on having a long weekend with Josie, Harry, the best man (Ant, naturally) and bridesmaid (Diana, of course), to plan things. Quite why he and Ant were needed was a mystery to Harry. So far his input into preparations was to have been told things, like what he had to wear (morning suit, top hat, and pink ties – Josie was very insistent on the pink) – who he was inviting (‘we get twenty-five friends each and twenty-five family, or in my case, forty family and twenty friends, as I have more family’), and where the event was going to take place (‘St Cuthbert’s of course,’ Josie’s mum opined, ‘it’s where we got married, and Josie was christened, and Reverend Paul has known her since she was little, so it’s perfect’).
Just recently, the tone of the long phone conversations Josie was having with her mum seemed to have ratcheted up a notch. Having read in a magazine that it was all the rage to have live entertainment in the evening, Josie had got a bee in her bonnet about having not only fireworks, but possibly hiring jugglers and magicians for the night. Harry’s protests about the money had been ignored – he was beginning to appreciate his fiancée had a steely side of which he’d been hitherto unaware – ‘Dad won’t mind,’ Josie had assured him, which was true. Josie’s dad Peter doted on his daughter and would spend any amount of money to keep her happy.
But Harry minded. Peter was always polite to him, but he had the distinct impression that his future father-in-law was disappointed that his daughter had come home not with a City magnate, but a lowly paid journalist without much ambition. Harry would much rather have had a smaller affair, to which he and Josie could contribute financially, without him feeling so indebted to Josie’s parents. Harry still felt his career had time to get going. He’d always wanted to get into travel journalism, and had been planning to join Ant out in Australia when he met up with Josie again. Since then, everything had happened so fast that Harry had laid aside his ambitions to see something of the world. And when he’d tried to talk about it to Josie, she’d laughed and said, ‘There’ll be plenty of time for that later.’ But the further the wedding preparations went on, the more he could feel that particular ambition receding, particularly as he had the sneaking suspicion that Nicola was already laying plans for them to move down to the neighbouring village as soon as they were able. She was a very forceful woman, and sometimes, he worried what Josie might be like in middle age – whether behind that mild-mannered image was a female tiger, just waiting to pounce on him. Harry sighed; he was beginning to wonder if he’d rushed into this marriage thing. He felt he was on a roller coaster and couldn’t get off.
‘Why the heavy sigh?’ said Josie. ‘Is anything wrong?’
The lightness of her touch on his arm, and her quick and ready sympathy were enough to bring him to his senses. He was marrying Josie, who was gorgeous, and everything he wanted in a woman. Of course it would be all right.
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Nothing at all. In fact, nothing could be more right.’
Diana was regretting the amount of packing she’d done for a weekend away. But she was nervous. She’d only met Josie’s parents once or twice when they’d come up to London to see Josie and they were so posh, they’d turned her into a gibbering wreck. She wasn’t often ashamed of her council house upbringing, but a few days with Josie’s mum and dad had managed to make her feel inadequate. Josie hid her privileged upbringing well, and because she was so kind, went out of her way to put people at ease, so most people who met her in London would have had no idea of the luxury awaiting her at home. Of course, she took that for granted too, and was often puzzled when Diana mentioned that she couldn’t afford something, giving a delicate little frown and a perplexed smile. With anyone else, Diana might have felt envious, particularly since she’d bagged such a great prize in Harry, but Josie was such a joy to be around, envy just seemed like the wrong emotion.
Harry was the kind of man any girl would be happy to have. Lovely, solid dependable Harry – a bit dull maybe for her tastes, but Diana had a soft spot for him. He was always kind and welcoming to her; she could do worse than have a Harry of her own. But men like Harry never came Diana’s way, which was partly her own fault of course. Diana had had to fight to get where she was – opposing her parents’ plans for her to go into law, to take advantage of the opportunities they never had, and choosing travel as a career instead (and the way that was going at the moment, she was going to have to admit to her dad soon it might have been a big mistake) – and learning the hard way that people let you down, especially in love. Josie had never had those kinds of experiences. Things had a habit of going her way, and sometimes that was an annoying trait in a best friend. But Josie was the kind of person it was impossible not to love, so Diana put such thoughts behind her as unworthy. She was the unkind one, Josie was not, and didn’t deserve anyone to be bitter and nasty about her.
‘So where are we meeting this friend of yours?’ Diana said, from her uncomfortable position in the back of the car, squashed up as she was against her big suitcase. She knew taking it had been a mistake, but she’d wanted to make sure she had something to wear for any occasion.
‘There’s a service station not far from Honiton,’ said Josie, ‘we thought we’d catch up with him there.’
‘And how soon will we be there?’ said Diana, looking at her watch. They seemed to have been in the car for hours, and she felt hot, cramped and awkward. Diana didn’t drive herself. Although she’d miraculously passed her test, after having a car in the first few months she’d lived in London she’d decided the stress of driving the mean city streets was far too much to be going along with. Besides, after three prangs in as many weeks, she couldn’t afford the insurance any more. As a result, most of her travelling was done by train, and she really hadn’t a clue how long this journey would take.
‘Not
