considered the arrangements gauche and lacking in refinement. Clearly, she had not attended the wedding willingly, and she considered her husband’s relatives coarse and vulgar.
It wasn’t true, of course. The Lawfords were a friendly crowd, and during the eight months Darrell had lived in Sedgeley, she had grown very fond of these down-to-earth northern people. But she, like everyone else, had had to learn to accept them for what they were and not try to change them. They had no time for artifice or pretension, whereas Celine no doubt was used to the bland sophistication of city life.
Matthew Lawford was different. Darrell had had to admit that to herself. He had fitted back into his surroundings with the ease of a chameleon, swallowing beers in the pub before the wedding with his father and four younger brothers as if he was used to doing this every day of his life. The Lawfords were a large family, Susan had two older married sisters as well as the younger one who had been bridesmaid, but it was Matthew who appeared to be the family favourite, and to be charitable Darrell had at first thought that Celine was jealous. She might well be, but it wasn’t just that. Whatever feelings she had for her husband, she cared nothing for his family, and Darrell had hoped that her attitude wouldn’t spoil Susan’s day. It hadn’t. The Lawford clan was too closeknit for that.
“Having problems?”
The attractive unfamiliar voice brought Darrell’s head up with a jerk to find the subject of her thoughts standing right in front of her, regarding her steadily. “Oh – not really,” she demurred, with a rueful smile. “It’s my fault for coming out here.”
Matthew’s eyes travelled down to the toes of her shoes emerging from the hem of her gown. “It was pretty humid in there, though, wasn’t it?” he commented, looking into her eyes again. He had a disturbingly direct stare that disconcerted her. “You’re Miss Anderson, aren’t you? Susan’s nursing friend?”
“Darrell Anderson,” supplied Darrell, nodding. “It’s a pity it’s been such a miserable day.”
“Do you believe in omens, Miss Anderson?” he enquired, and she thought he was teasing her.
“Not really.”
“Nor do I.” He smiled. “Would you believe I got married in a heatwave?”
Darrell found herself smiling, but she couldn’t help it, even though his remark had been outrageous. “I – are you going back to London tonight, Mr. Lawford?”
“You know who I am, then?”
Darrell looked up at him in surprise, and in spite of her five feet six inches she had to look up at him, holding her boater on to the back of her head. “Of course. You’re Susan’s brother.”
“And do you call all her brothers Mr. Lawford?”
Darrell shook her head, and he nodded. “So – the name’s Matthew, or Matt, if you’d rather. That’s what the family call me. And no, I’m not driving back to London tonight.”
Darrell could feel her hair working loose from the coronet she had secured on top of her head, and red-gold tendrils were tumbling about her ears. Dropping the hem of her skirt, she gave herself up to securing her hair, taking off her hat and sighing resignedly.
“I think I’m fighting a losing battle, don’t you?” she asked lightly, and then pointed into the marquee behind them. “Oh, look! Susan and Frank are leaving.”
The bride and groom left in a shower of confetti, the crowd surging after them to wave them off, and Darrell felt Matthew’s hand close round her wrist for a moment to prevent her from being swept along with them. For a moment she was close against him, his chest hard against the softness of her full breasts. Then he had set her free again and was saying apologetically: “Sorry about that, but people get carried away here – literally!” He smiled. “I understand my mother has invited you to join us at the house this evening. They don’t allow the excuse for a freak-out to go unchallenged around here. Perhaps you’ve noticed. Not that they’d call it a freak-out,” he amended wryly. “A knees-up, perhaps.” He paused. “Anyway, if you’d like to go home and change first, my car’s at your disposal.”
Darrell didn’t know what to say. She, who was usually so cool and collected with men, felt as nervous as a schoolgirl on her first date, and the feeling was unfamiliar and not altogether pleasant. She didn’t even know why she was feeling this way. Matthew Lawford had been amusing and polite, but nothing more. He was no doubt used to making small talk with his wife’s friends, and it meant no more to him than that. But a few moments ago, when his fingers had fastened round her wrist, she had experienced a terrifying new sensation that bore little resemblance to casual acquaintanceship.
“I – er – I came with Doctor Morrison and his wife – from the hospital,” she explained awkwardly. “I expect I’ll go home with them. I can always get a bus back later.” She glanced at her watch as though to confirm this. “After all, it’s only half past four.”
Matthew Lawford inclined his head. “If that’s what you prefer.”
Darrell felt terrible. It wasn’t what she preferred at all, but something, some inner sense warned her that further association with this man would be dangerous for her. She glanced round and saw to her relief that people were coming back again. The bride and groom had left for the bride’s home in Windsor Street to get changed. Pretty soon, the reception would break up and only the family and close friends would gather later on at the house. She felt vaguely relieved when another of Susan’s brothers came to join them.
Jeff Lawford was twenty-two, a year younger than Darrell, and a welder at a local steel works. For the past three months, he had been trying to persuade Darrell to go out with him, and he smiled at her now, flicking a speculative glance towards his older brother.
“Well?” he commented. “It went off very well, didn’t it? In spite of the lousy weather!”
“Susan looked beautiful,” exclaimed Darrell enthusiastically and Jeff gave her an old-fashioned look.
“Susan could never look beautiful!” he asserted with brotherly candour. “But she did look nice.” He surveyed Darrell thoroughly and with evident approval. “Now, if you had been the bride …”
Darrell coloured. “Oh, Jeff!”
“What’s wrong? With that red hair, you’d be a sensation!”
“It’s not red,” she retorted. “It’s darker than that.”
“If you say so.” Jeff grinned, and then slapped Matthew on the shoulder. “Fancy a beer, Matt?”
Matthew flexed his shoulder muscles. “I wouldn’t say no,” he conceded, glancing at Darrell. “Will you excuse us?”
“Of course.”
Darrell managed a smile in return, and then breathed a sigh almost of relief as they moved away. A small, motherly little woman was approaching her, and she turned to greet Susan’s mother with real warmth.
“Oh, Darrell,” said Mrs. Lawford, patting her arm. “I haven’t had a minute to talk to you since this morning. How did it go? Did you enjoy yourself? Did everyone have enough to eat and drink, do you think?”
Darrell relaxed. “Oh, of course they did. The meal was delicious. And everything went off perfectly.
