other than you, Adam,’ I add ardently. ‘Not any more.’
He kisses me again and I try to melt into the moment. But out of the corner of my eye I can see the silhouette of a figure walking away from the church, towards Holkham Hall, and – if I know Kieran – towards the stretch of beach beyond. I cling on to Adam like he’s the shore. And I tell myself that I am sure. About him.
For the first time in my life I am certain I have made the right decision.
Chapter 6
My car whips quickly through the Holkham estate, past the lake and down the oak-lined Lady Anne’s Drive, and I realise with grim irony that my driver is whistling what appears to be the Wedding March.
Maybe it’s in his contract to do this when he drives a newly married couple away. And judging by the nervous glances he’s throwing me in his rear-view mirror he hasn’t worked out what tune to replace it with when ferrying a runaway bride. I think about making some suggestions: Paul Simon’s ‘50 Ways To Leave Your Lover’ would work, as would ‘Another One Bites The Dust’.
As we pull up alongside The Victoria, the boutique hotel where I stayed last night and where Adam and I were meant to spend our first night as a married couple, I lean forward and tell the driver to pull over in the beach car park across the road ahead.
Holkham Bay is just visible through the trees. I need space to breathe, and there isn’t a better place than this unspoilt, expansive stretch of beach that, despite its enormity, I once knew like the back of my hand. I haven’t been back here for eight years. Not since Kieran left after that summer . . . I shake my head to try and dislodge him from my mind.
I think of Loni’s shambolic home, and the garden I still think of as Dad’s. I blink and swallow. Another unwelcome memory. I feel like I’m being haunted by the men who have left me, which seems ironic given my recent actions. I think of Adam standing in the church doorway, watching me drive away.
‘You going to be all right, love?’ the chauffeur says, glancing at me as he turns the ignition off and I open the car door. ‘You’re not exactly dressed for a beach amble . . .’
I glance down at my wedding dress. He’s right. But it’s too late now. I slip off my shoes and pick them up
‘I’ll be fine.’ I smile weakly.
‘Do you want me to wait here?’ he says gently.
‘It’s all right. I’ll be fine,’ I repeat. But my chin wobbles disobediently.
He looks at me for a moment and in that one glance I can tell that he is a father himself.
‘Reckon I’ll just wait here a while anyway, love. Might as well enjoy the glorious view.’ He smiles kindly at me and I feel tears swell, threatening to fall.
I walk away from the car and turn left through the pine trees and along a well-trodden track that I’ve taken many times with Loni and Cal. And Kieran, I think, but I push away those unwelcome memories again along with my tears.
I step off the boardwalk and onto the beach, inhaling the sea air. As I stand there time seems to collapse and it’s like I can picture my twenty-two-year-old self, roaming the endless dunes, sobbing as I tried to accept that Kieran had really gone.
I hitch up my dress now. The tide is in so there’s not much beach. I run across the sand, feeling the wind pierce my cheeks. Then I clamber up the dunes and gaze out at the glistening North Sea stretching out calmly and languorously before me. The sun’s golden rays are bouncing off the sand and throwing glitter over the ocean. I feel betrayed by the view. Where are the thrashing waves and pelting rain that would be a better backdrop to this moment?
Have some respect, Mother Nature! I feel like yelling. At least give me a clap of thunder! An angry wave? A cloud? I’ll take some drizzle! Anything!
But the bright spring sunshine just beams back teasingly and I notice how the sea lavender has created a misty purple halo around the angelic-looking bay. I remember how as a kid
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley