Anything but Vanilla(62)

‘The dress is made, the marquee has been ordered, the caterers booked,’ she said. ‘There are presents piling up in the dining room, crates of champagne in the cellar.’ She turned to him then. ‘It takes courage to defy expectations and call it off.’

‘Would you have gone ahead with it?’

‘I hope not, but it’s a different world and Gran had defied her family to marry my grandfather.’

‘Had she? He’d have been something of catch, I’d have thought.’

‘Not for the granddaughter of the Earl of Melchester. She was a debutante, one of the “girls in pearls” destined for a title, or at least park gates. Great-grandpa Amery was trade.’

‘Ouch.’

‘As I said, it was a different world, but kicking over the traces is a bit of a family failing.’ Was... Her generation had fought it. ‘The choice was going home, admitting she was wrong and settling down with some chinless wonder, or going through with the wedding. Having made her stand, she chose to live with the consequences. There’s no doubt he was as unhappy as she was.’

‘With more reason. He had to live with his conscience. After what he’d done to Basil.’

‘I imagine we were his penance. He lived with my mother’s lifestyle choice, kept us under his roof, safe and cared for if not loved.’

He took another piece of pizza. ‘Tell me about your mother.’

It was her turn to be silent for a while as she sifted through the jumble of memories, both good and bad. ‘She refused to conform to anyone’s rules but her own. She was pregnant at seventeen—the result of a fling with a showman from the fair that comes to the village on the first weekend in June. It set a pattern.’ She glanced at him. ‘We all have birthdays within ten days of each other.’

The corner of his smile lifted in a wry smile. ‘She must have looked forward to summer.’

‘Oh, she didn’t lack interest during the rest of the year. She dyed her hair in brilliant streaks, wore amazing clothes and jewellery that she made herself and turned heads wherever she went.’ The men looking hopeful, the women disapproving.

He glanced at her. ‘But?’

She shook her head. The local women had no need to worry. ‘When she wanted another baby, she chose someone who was just passing through.’

‘A sperm donation? Only more fun than going to a clinic.’

‘She was big on fun,’ she said, then blushed.

He touched her cheek with his knuckles. ‘There’s nothing wrong with fun, Sorrel.’

‘No...’ She leaned against his hand for a moment. This wasn’t just fun, but that was for her to know... ‘She used to take us puddle-splashing in the rain,’ she said, ‘and when it snowed she’d take us up Badgers Hill and we’d all slide down on bin bags until we were worn out. Then we’d have tomato soup from a flask.’ Her eyes filled with tears even as she was smiling at the memory.

‘If if was so much fun, why are you crying?’ he said, wiping a thumb over her cheekbone, cradling her cheek.

‘Because I didn’t tell her.’ She looked up into those amazing blue eyes that seemed to see right through her. ‘I should have told her...’

‘You think she didn’t know?’

‘She sucked up every experience almost as if she knew she didn’t have much time.’ She swallowed down the lump in her throat. ‘She loved life, lived every minute of it, seized every moment and didn’t give a fig what anyone thought.’

‘I envy you, Sorrel.’

‘Well, that’s new. No one has ever envied me for being the daughter of Lavender Amery before. There were times, when I was old enough to realise how different she was, that I waited until everyone had gone before I’d come out of school. When I hated her for being so different...’ The words tumbled out. ‘I wanted a mother who didn’t stand out, who was part of the group at the school gate.’ Who wasn’t standing on her own. ‘Just an ordinary mum.’

It was the first time she’d ever admitted that. Even to herself.

Alexander took her into his arms, then, held her. ‘That’s natural, Sorrel. Part of growing up. She’d understand.’

‘I know she would. That only makes it worse.’

‘We all feel a lingering guilt when someone dies. It’s part of living.’

‘It’s hard to live down that kind of start in a small place like Longbourne.’