The Bells of Scotland Road Read Online Free PDF Page B

fear in her face. Yes, he must attend the wedding. His stepmother-to-be
would be needing friends, he felt sure.
    She could scarcely meet his gaze. What on earth must he think of her? Here she was, a usurper from another country trying to fill his mother’s shoes. Perhaps this young man thought she was
after Sam Bell’s money. ‘I’m Bridget – usually Bridie.’ In, out, said her inner voice. Just breathe slowly, don’t panic, don’t let the fear spill out into
the street.
    Thomas Murphy cleared his throat. ‘Anthony’s brother will officiate at the wedding.’
    Bridie gave her father a brilliant smile. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘Isn’t it great to have a priest in the family?’
    An expression of shock and disappointment paid a brief visit to Thomas Murphy’s face. She ought to have been perplexed, should have been unhappy to realize that her husband-to-be had a
grown-up family. But she was so cool, as if she had known all along that Sam Bell was middle-aged. ‘Right,’ he mumbled. ‘Off we go, then.’
    Bridie took her father’s arm, suppressed a shudder that tried to invade her body. This wedding would be done properly, right down to the last tiny detail. Fiercely, she clung to the words
she had read some weeks earlier. Only once had Sam Bell communicated with his intended bride. ‘I will not trouble you much except to have you help in the business . . .’ He had made no
mention of a bedridden mother and twin sons of thirty years.
    For a split second, she lent the false smile to Anthony. ‘Would you bring the children, please?’ she asked the young man.
    Anthony took the hands of Cathy and Shauna. ‘Off we go,’ he told them, ‘into the prettiest church in Liverpool.’

Two
    It was a beautiful church. Despite her misery and bewilderment, Bridie noticed how lovely it was. Perhaps the interest in her surroundings was a defence mechanism, a way of
ignoring the panic beating in her breast.
    Narrow windows in stained glass alternated with stations of the cross along the walls. The pews were old, some with little doors leading in from the middle aisle, every piece of moulding
polished to perfection. Three altars were spread with fine linen, the central and main table displaying the purple of Advent. There would be no high mass, as this arranged marriage was taking place
with special permission during a forbidden time. Bridie shivered slightly as she stood on the threshold of a new life and in the doorway of an unfamiliar place of worship. Lent and Advent weddings
brought bad luck, didn’t they?
    The organ struck a dissonant chord the second she appeared on her father’s arm. Bridie had not expected music, partly because of the church calendar and partly because music needed paying
for. But the celebrant priest was the bridegroom’s son, so the organist was probably playing for free. The hymns would not be joyful, not during Advent, but perhaps the music would serve to
muffle the loud beating of the bride’s heart.
    Anthony Bell and his two young charges sat yards ahead on her side of the church, while everyone else was positioned to the right. A large man rose as soon as the organist played the first bar
of ‘Faith of our Fathers’. Bridie removed her gaze from a particularly ornate carving of Veronica wiping the face of Jesus, and gave a corner of her attention to the occasion in hand.
No wedding march, of course, not during Advent. The chunky fellow seemed to be best man; a smaller figure rose and stood with him. The short man coughed noisily and fiddled with a handkerchief. Sam
Bell, she supposed.
    ‘Are you ready for this?’ whispered Thomas Murphy.
    Bridie stopped mid-stride and wondered whether she had heard correctly. ‘What?’ she murmured.
    ‘Are you sure?’
    ‘Is this the right time for such a question? They’re ready to start the second verse.’ She could feel the heat of embarrassment settling in her cheeks. Heads were swivelling in
the direction of bride and