The Last Garden in England(86)

Yet she hadn’t been able to rid herself of the guilt that had split her in two at the sound of his crying.

“We have to get to the church, Bobby. Remember, Miss Pedley is getting married today, and you’re invited just like a big boy,” she said.

He looked up from under a flop of hair she could never get to lay down quite right. “I like Miss Pedley,” he said softly.

“Me, too,” said Stella.

He held his arms out for his jacket.

Stella blew out a slow, steady breath and slipped the sleeves over his arms and shoulders. Then she gave it another good once-over with the clothing brush.

“That’s you done, then,” she said, picking up her handbag. “Let’s go see Beth married.”



* * *



Stella found a spot in the third pew from the front. The wedding had all come together so quickly, she didn’t know who had been invited. She nodded a hello to Mrs. Penworthy and several of the land girls. Two nurses sat on Beth’s side, too, with two others for Graeme, as he’d told Stella to call him. The pair of nurses not in attendance were back at the hospital tending to the patients who were too sick or unable to make the short walk to the village church for the ceremony. Even Mrs. George was there with her little band of minions—a relief, because Stella hated to leave the kitchen defenseless while the woman was around.

She stole a glance at the front of the church where Graeme stood in his uniform. Her friend had caught a handsome one, Stella would give her that.

She felt a little tug on her arm, Bobby pulling the sleeve of her pale yellow dress.

“Can I sit with Robin?” the little boy asked.

“Robin is sitting with his mother today,” she said just as the boy in question turned around from his spot in the first pew to stick his tongue out at Bobby.

Bobby broke out into a laugh that turned several heads. Fortunately, everyone who caught Stella’s eye looked like an understanding sort.

“He wants me to sit with him.” Bobby shifted in his seat. “He does!”

“There will be plenty of time to play after the ceremony,” she said. There would be no stopping him because, although she was a guest, she’d also made the wedding breakfast her present to the couple. It would be the very best that rations could offer—some donated by Mrs. George and the convalescent hospital—with the crowning achievement a two-tiered cake, made with real eggs and butter. She just hoped that it would be enough to give everyone a little slice.

Bobby settled into his seat with his arms crossed over his chest, but he didn’t fight her anymore. She was, she’d found, impervious to a pouted lip and could ride out a temper tantrum with the best of them.

“Bride or groom?”

Stella turned to the woman who’d asked the question, taking in her fiery-red hair and meticulously tailored dress.

“Bride,” she replied.

“I am as well.” The woman gave a carefree laugh. “How do you know Beth?”

“We met when she began making deliveries to Highbury House.”

“Those deliveries…” the other woman muttered before shaking her head.

“Beth also comes up to sketch in the gardens.”

“And visit her captain, I’m sure. Who knew she would be the smart one, taking on deliveries.”

A light coating of bitterness coated the words. “And you?” Stella asked, trying to steer the conversation onto safer ground.

“I’m also in digs at Temple Fosse Farm.”

So this was Ruth. Now that Stella could put the face to Beth’s stories, the affected boredom made sense.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said.

“I still can’t believe they were able to get this all arranged so quickly,” said Ruth.

“It’s my understanding that Mrs. Symonds made the arrangements, and the vicar was happy to help a couple who are both doing their part,” said Stella with a note of censure in her voice.

“I do my part,” Ruth said tartly. “What do you do?”

“I was declared medically unfit to serve by the ATS, the WRNS, and the WAAFs. The Women’s Land Army wouldn’t take me, either, so I couldn’t have done what you’re doing now.” The back of her neck grew hot, so she added, “I volunteered with a Civil Defense unit, but then I became my nephew’s guardian a few months ago.”

The other woman’s mouth snapped shut as the organ began to boom from the opposite end of the room. Stella let out a sigh of relief.

The scrape of shoe leather against stone resounded as the guests all stood. Outlined against the sunlight was Beth in a navy-blue dress. She wore a hat with a white net—a little bridal nod when clothing rationing made wedding dresses impossible. Stella touched the spot above her heart when she saw Mr. Penworthy holding Beth’s arm, looking proud as punch.

Stella glanced up at the altar, where Graeme stood beaming. As soon as Beth reached the top of the aisle, she looked down at her bouquet of flowers, a blush pinking her cheeks.

Father Bilson adjusted his glasses, smiled, and began to speak. “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you.”

“And also with you,” echoed everyone in the church.

After the sermon and the readings, Mrs. Symonds stepped forward to take Beth’s bouquet when it came time to exchange the rings, and Stella frowned, still in awe of how her polite friend had managed to establish such ease with the imperious Mrs. Symonds.