A Winter Wedding at Mistletoe Gate Farm by Helen J Rolfe

Chapter Four

 

 

 

Benjamin had his work cut out for him at the pub. Henry had been off sick with a cold, Marnie burned her thumb and forefinger on the lid of a casserole pot, which meant she slowed down so as not to do any more damage, and in the weeks leading up to Christmas it was always a busy time for The Copper Plough, this year being no exception.

When Tilly came into the pub late afternoon with Melissa and Tracy her presence gave Benjamin the lift he needed to work through the final hour before his shift finished. He delivered the two portions of chunky chips with aioli and sweet chilli sauce in miniature bowls on the side and picked up on the theme of their meeting: weddings. Had to be, he supposed, with it getting so close to the big day. Melissa looked as though she was stressing – she gave it away because she’d looked the same way when she’d first come back to the Cove after an absence of five years, worried about what people might think of her.

Tilly came over to the bar as Benjamin was finishing his shift and, one arm cradling a plastic container filled with leftover herby lamb cobbler to take home, he lifted up the hatch to make his escape. Tilly had just waved goodbye to Tracy and to Melissa, who was meeting Harvey at the Little Waffle Shack for their supper and so they could make a start on writing out wedding invitations with the details of the now-decided change of venue. Not many couples would write their invitations in a food outlet, Benjamin thought, chuckling to himself. But if he knew Melissa and Harvey, it was all a part of their togetherness, which made it so much easier for them to manage this major change they were facing.

‘How are their plans going?’

‘Hectic,’ Tilly replied as he lowered the hatch to the bar once more. ‘But Tracy and I have had our final fittings for our bridesmaid dresses so that’s one more thing crossed off Melissa’s list, at least.’

‘And what about the all-important venue?’

Tilly pulled on her woolly hat. ‘It’ll be at Tumbleweed House – not ideal, but they haven’t come up with anything else. They’re enquiring about marquee hire.’

‘Sounds stressful.’

She looked about to agree but instead squinted at him. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, you look wiped out.’

‘Er, thanks.’

‘Sorry, that didn’t sound very nice, did it?’ She pulled a face. He loved it when she scrunched up her nose and cheeks realising she might have said something inappropriate.

‘It’s all right. If I’d felt on top of the world then what you said would’ve been a real insult, but as it is, I am knackered.’ He was tired – tired from work, the farm, trying to work out what was going on between his mum and dad despite their protestations that nothing was up.

He tilted his head in the direction of the door and they left the warmth of the pub, emerged into the biting cold of winter, and Benjamin stood for a moment and took a breath. His jacket was still undone but man it felt good to escape the confines of the kitchen. He went on to tell Tilly his woes, the staff issues today, how busy it was.

‘You probably could’ve done without bringing us chunky chips,’ she said.

‘Always happy to be of service.’ As he adjusted the container to get a better grip he noticed Lucy coming towards them along The Street. ‘What have you got there?’ She had a box in her arms and by the way she was holding it, it had to be heavy.

She rested it on her drawn-up knee for a moment, using her other hand to tug a wisp of blonde hair away from her mouth and behind her ear. The box in both arms again, she told Benjamin that she was on her way over to his place with it. ‘It’s for Heather – well, actually, ordered by her for Jared, who works for you guys. I assume it’s a Christmas gift.’

As if by mutual agreement, Tilly took the container Benjamin had hold of and Benjamin took the heavy box from Lucy.

‘My knight in shining armour.’ Lucy, dressed in her work dungarees with dust all down the front, had her coat open and gave her arms a good shake.

‘What’s inside?’ Without a free hand he couldn’t peek into the box.

‘It’s a set of two cast-iron skillets to use for cooking, keep the food sizzling at the table.’

‘Ah, that makes sense. Jared was talking to me the other day at the farm about his foray into Mexican cooking – he wanted some top tips for making fajitas. I told him the first thing to do was get a skillet so you can serve them up properly. Mum overheard our conversation and told me she was going to try to get him some for his Christmas gift, she just hoped he didn’t manage to get to the shops first.’ Although he doubted it. Jared was a hard worker and did long hours at the farm so this should be a timely gift, ready for his long break over Christmas and New Year.

‘You should’ve driven it up there,’ said Tilly, peering over to see inside the box. She nodded her approval before looking at Lucy. ‘Do your coat up, you’re making me feel cold.’

‘It gets really hot in the workshop,’ Lucy laughed. ‘I thought I’d get some fresh air – hence the walk – but I didn’t realise how heavy the box would get once I’d carried it all the way along The Street.’

‘I can take it from here,’ said Benjamin.

And as Tilly still had hold of the container of leftovers, just like that he got to spend more time with her and sent up a silent thank you that Lucy had chosen that moment to head over to the farm.

Lucy said her goodbyes while Benjamin and Tilly set off in the direction of Mistletoe Gate Farm.

‘You’ve gone quiet,’ Tilly noticed as they passed the florist and turned down the lane. ‘It must be very heavy.’

‘Swap?’

‘You’re joking, no chance.’ Her laughter echoed in the night air.

‘We’ll drop this off and I’ll walk you back home. Stay for a mulled wine first, though.’

‘I won’t say no to that.’ Tilly did the honours and undid the pedestrian gate, the one surrounded by mistletoe on either side and above to form a canopy.

‘I made some last night as it’s always nice to have at home. I swear at this time of the year I have it flowing through my veins.’

‘You and me both, I love it.’

It was so dark as they walked that he couldn’t see whether she was smiling but he sensed she was as he told her to tread carefully. She didn’t have her wellies on and he hoped there weren’t any potholes of mud that would mess up her footwear.

When they reached the veranda he set the box down. ‘Jared owes me some home-cooked fajitas for carrying these,’ he said, quietly in case Jared might still be around. Customers weren’t here at this time but there was still a bit of noise coming from the fields as Danny and other workers milled about finishing up jobs for the day, chopping down any trees that had been tagged and needed delivery, putting away the equipment and closing up the sheds.

‘You’ll have to write out a recipe for him and pop it in with your mum’s gift.’

‘That’s a great idea.’

‘Happy to help.’ Her eyes shone in the moonlight as she looked back at him.

He fished out his keys; his parents had locked up with them still working. It was one of the reasons it was actually easy enough to be here at his age – none of them were in the house together long enough to really annoy one another.

The kitchen was quiet when they stepped inside and he flipped on the lights that illuminated the room and the work surfaces beneath the dark wooden cabinets. As well as a hint of spices from the mulled wine waiting in the pot on the stove, a faint smell of dough from the bread machine Heather used regularly hung in the air with the timer showing another fresh loaf would be ready in less than an hour. Benjamin retrieved the heavy box from where he’d left it on the porch and, back inside, pushed it onto the Welsh dresser before he took the container of leftovers from Tilly and slotted it into the fridge.

Time to heat up the pot of mulled wine. He took off the lid to check what was left and by his estimations, there was enough for a couple of glasses each if Tilly wanted to stay a while.

Tilly was already over beside the eight-foot Fraser fir in the corner of the room. ‘This is beautiful.’ She moved around inspecting the ornaments.

‘You know, it doesn’t matter how many trees are out there,’ he said tilting his head in the direction of the fields that lay beyond the house, ‘and it doesn’t matter that all of us are surrounded by them all day, every day, there’s still something special about selecting one and bringing it inside the house.’ He checked himself. ‘Where are my manners? Let me take your coat.’

She unbuttoned the burnt-orange garment and he slipped it from her shoulders. He hung it over the back of one of the dining chairs and although they didn’t touch, it seemed intimate, a scent of her perfume on the item he’d taken from her. He watched her adjust the sleeves of her dress back down to her wrists. ‘Harvey and Melissa came to choose a tree a few days ago,’ he told her as he went back to stirring the mulled wine to get the spices circulating. Already they’d multiplied in their scent since the heat went on beneath the pot.

‘Barney did, too,’ she smiled. ‘I’m surprised he hasn’t started getting his tree in November – he threatens to every year.’

‘He was a December 1st customer,’ Benjamin grinned.

Tilly shook her head, back to walking around the tree to admire all the decorations. ‘He’ll be making it up here earlier every year, I reckon. I wonder if Harvey and Melissa might get married beside their tree.’

‘Maybe.’ He kind of liked that idea, too. ‘And they’re happy with Tumbleweed House?’

‘Content is probably more the word.’ She came over to peep into the pot and nodded her approval at the smell unleashed from the wine. ‘The outside will have enough space for a marquee but it’s a squash with all the elderberry bushes.’

‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

‘Can’t be helped,’ she shrugged. ‘And at least with some sort of marquee everyone will be gathered together to watch them say their vows. I think that’s what they really want, everyone together – it’s why the barn worked so well for them; it wasn’t just that it was special.’

He cut a few slices from an orange taken from the fruit bowl before he took out a couple of glasses with handles and an etched swirly pattern on the side of each from the Welsh dresser ready to serve the mulled wine.

Tilly came over and crouched down to pick up a piece of paper. ‘You knocked this off.’

‘Clumsy,’ he told her as he set down the glasses to take it from her but he paused when he saw a look of bewilderment pass over her face. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing…I mean, none of my business.’ Without looking at it again, she passed him the piece of paper as though it might burn her fingers if she held onto it any longer.

It wasn’t until he’d moved the glasses over to the kitchen benchtop near the pan of warming wine and looked at the paper for himself that he realised why.

‘Benjamin…’ Tilly’s voice penetrated his thoughts and he wasn’t sure how long he’d zoned out for.

She wouldn’t have needed to study the piece of paper hard. The black, boldface title gave the game away. Application for a Divorce would’ve screamed out to her as much as it did to him. What she might not have noticed was that the form had actually been filled in.

He slumped down on a kitchen chair. ‘Well, at least now I know why I’ve felt like there’s something off between my parents.’ He rested his forearms on his knees, the form still in his hands. ‘It wasn’t all in my imagination.’

Tilly stirred the mixture on the stove and turned off the gas so it didn’t spoil. She ladled out two generous servings and brought them both over to the table. ‘Here, I think you need this.’ She handed him a glass and sat down.

The odd creak from the house as it started to wind down for the day and the rattle of the back door that had a penguin draft excluder lying at the foot of it to stop the cold winter wind were the only sounds apart from the soft blowing from Tilly’s lips as she tried to cool her drink. He closed his eyes and attempted to make sense of what he’d seen. His parents, divorcing – it was unbelievable. It felt unreal. And yet, it was one hundred per cent happening. It was all there in black and white, the form to set the wheels in motion. He left the table and put the form back where it had come from on top of the Welsh dresser.

‘I’m sorry, Benjamin.’ Tilly braved speaking before he did.

All he could do was give a small smile in acknowledgement of her sympathy before he sat down again and sagged back against his chair. His parents had bickered over the years – what couple didn’t? ‘I should’ve known.’

‘How could you?’

He caught sight of their wedding photograph still in its Wedgwood frame on the wall at the far side of the room. He didn’t need to get any closer to picture his mum’s head against his dad’s chest, his dad’s chin resting on top of her head, both of them looking as though they were in a dream, they couldn’t believe their luck.

Benjamin sipped the mulled wine that would’ve tasted better had he not seen that piece of paper. ‘I wonder when they were going to tell me and Charlotte.’ He raked a hand through his hair. Sometimes he forgot it was short now, it didn’t tangle like it used to – it wasn’t nearly as satisfying for taking out your frustration. ‘And now I sound like a big baby.’

Tilly reached out and covered his hand with hers, the move making them both look up. ‘You’re not a baby, you’re their child and always will be. I’d say it’s a perfectly normal reaction and this clearly came out of the blue.’

Her sympathy was helping to cushion the blow and he found it hard not to turn his palm face up and hold her hand properly. Would that be too bold a move? ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ he told her instead.

‘Me too.’ But she took her hand away and went over to the wall to look at one of the other photographs up there. It wasn’t the traditional wedding shot but a more relaxed one of his parents with all their guests. Wine in hand, Tilly peered closer and then turned to Benjamin. ‘Was this picture taken here at the farm?’

He joined her, his wine glass warming his palm that was wrapped around it. ‘It sure was. Mum said it wasn’t the official photographer who took that one, though, it was a friend, but they had it framed because it’s so natural. Look at the way everyone’s smiling.’

‘It’s lovely. It reminds me of those pictures in Barney’s barn.’

The jointly appreciated moment between them made Benjamin realise how close he’d grown to Tilly. Heritage Cove’s annual wedding dress ball raised money for charity and Barney always put up a picture of the event on the wall of the barn so guests the year after could take in the importance of the occasion not only to raise money but to bring the community together. This summer Benjamin had danced with Tilly. It was only briefly and he’d danced with others, too, but his dance with her was the one he remembered. He’d never forget what it felt like to hold her close and wished he could do it right now, but her next comment jolted him back to reality rather than dreaming of what could be.

‘Did your parents ever think of holding weddings here?’

He nodded. ‘They did for a time, but I guess they never got around to developing a plan.’ And it didn’t look like they ever would, either. Benjamin frowned as a thought reared its ugly head again. ‘I wonder if the business is in trouble. Dad said it wasn’t when I asked him, but I wonder whether he’d even tell me if it was. I mean, divorce doesn’t come out of nowhere, does it? Maybe they’ve had arguments about money, or lack of it. Perhaps I’m not around enough to have heard any disagreements.’ He was clutching at straws but it was nicer to think that something had happened to cause a marriage breakdown than the alternative, which was simply that they’d fallen out of love with each other.

When he looked at Tilly she was still taking in the scene in the photograph but her lips were slightly twisted as though she was thinking about something very hard. ‘You’re frowning.’

She stopped doing it and told him, ‘I’m thinking, that’s all.’

‘Out with it.’ Her company at least numbed the shock of finding out about his parents.

‘I’m thinking you could offer to hold Harvey and Melissa’s wedding here.’ Her eyes danced.

‘You really are taking your bridesmaid duties seriously,’ he said.

But she wouldn’t be deterred. ‘Think about it. It’s such a romantic setting. I couldn’t imagine anywhere more suited to holding a wedding – the smell of pine trees in the air, the lights strung across those closest to the house, and in this picture…’ She looked closer. ‘…that’s the veranda your parents and their guests are gathering on, isn’t it?’

‘It sure is.’ Tilly was standing so close to him now that he felt almost overwhelmed by her exquisite feminine perfume, the scent taking him back to that dance in the barn in the summer, their bodies pressed close. He cleared his throat and tried to focus. You would think the shock of finding out about his parents’ marital issues might dampen his feelings for Tilly, at least for a moment, but he was finding them increasingly hard to ignore. ‘Dad said it was a beautiful day when they got married. They’d had the ceremony on the veranda and guests had either watched from there or the grass area beyond.’ He began to laugh. ‘Apparently the guests dispersed after the nuptials and most were happily chatting near the trees and drinking their champagne when they got caught out as the heavens opened. Heritage Cove hadn’t seen rain for almost a fortnight but that day, according to Dad, Mother Nature made up for it.’

Tilly looked even closer at the picture. ‘I didn’t notice before, I think the smiles were all I saw, but you’re right, some of the guests have wet hair, look!’

He’d forgotten about it too, having seen the picture so many times before that it had become a taken-for-granted part of their home. His parents had exchanged their vows right here at Mistletoe Gate Farm, the place they’d once described as their Forever Home. What would happen to the farm if they divorced? Would they sell it? What if someone bought it and demolished the business, turned it into an identikit housing estate?

‘I don’t think Mum and Dad will go for it,’ he concluded miserably. He’d love to help his friends out, but with Danny and Heather planning a divorce, the last thing they would want was young love thrown in their face.

Tilly didn’t say anything for a while, but then she came over to the table and rather than sitting opposite Benjamin as before, she sat next to him. ‘If they are having financial difficulties then perhaps Melissa and Harvey’s wedding could be the start of something new for them. If your parents considered holding weddings here in the past but never got around to it, what better way to show them that it could work? It could mean that form never gets posted in, the divorce doesn’t happen.’

‘I appreciate the optimism.’ It would be easy to get carried away with it, too.

‘Come on, stay positive. Mistletoe Gate Farm is stunning in the winter and this wedding really could turn things around. Isn’t it worth a try?’

‘So, if it was you, would you get married here?’ he ventured.

‘If I was lucky enough to fall in love, yes.’ She didn’t meet his gaze this time.

‘And you wouldn’t mind the mud?’

She harrumphed. ‘Of course not. I’d tell all the guests to come in boots – way more comfy than wedding shoes, in my opinion.’

Benjamin admired her outlook and the hopeful spin but if whatever was going on between his parents had gone as far as filling out forms to file for divorce, it was going to take a lot more than a village wedding to save the day. Or perhaps they could double up and have not just a wedding but a divorce party at the same time. Cynical, but practical, wasn’t it?

His scepticism was overshadowed by Tilly’s optimism as she floated ideas about how many could comfortably fit on the veranda, where the groom could stand and wait for his bride, how they could decorate the space and how guests could spill onto the grass amidst the magic of the farm. She talked catering, how they could serve canapés and simple finger foods rather than anything too formal with a sit-down meal, she thought about the signing of a register, car parking for guests.

‘Were you a wedding planner in your former life?’ he laughed, the mulled wine calming him down, at least. He ladled out a second serving for each of them.

‘Nope, just a romantic.’

Had anyone else had the idea Benjamin would’ve never said a word to either of his parents. But because it was Tilly, when Danny came in through the door, after a little nudge and prompt from Tilly, he blurted the whole idea out to his dad.

 

Benjamin had to admit it felt good heading out with Tilly again and not because they both now had a couple of glasses of mulled wine inside them.

‘Come on,’ she urged, ‘the waffle shack will be closed if we don’t hurry up, and I don’t want Harvey and Melissa to write those invitations without listening to our proposal.’

He was glad it had been Tilly with him when he found that form. She’d certainly not let him wallow – not yet, anyway. They’d told Danny the idea and then when Heather came home fifteen minutes ago, they told her too. She’d come into the house and the first thing she said was that she’d seen Melissa and Harvey, who both looked to have the weight of the world on their shoulders. The barn was so perfect, Heather had said. The House is practical but it’s going to take a bit of decorating to really make it magical. And that was when Tilly leapt in and blurted out their idea. She’d looked at Benjamin as though she might get in trouble for taking the lead but he’d just nodded to give his go-ahead. Neither of his parents had dismissed the idea at all and Danny in particular had been all ears. Would it be too much for Benjamin to hope that his father wanted to do anything he could to save the marriage and that was why he was so on board?

Benjamin and Tilly passed the village tree and field, walking at a pace that almost had them both breathless. And once they reached the Little Waffle Shack, bypassing customers coming out, they found Melissa and Harvey inside, pen poised ready to write another invitation.

‘Stop!’ Tilly alerted not only them but everyone else in the shack. ‘Sorry.’ She cringed, looking around and aiming her apology at Daniel as well as his customers. ‘I meant Harvey and Melissa. Everyone else, carry on.’

‘And why do we need to stop?’ Harvey asked, although happily putting down his pen. There was a small stack of what Benjamin assumed were already-written invitations tucked into their envelopes and another, much bigger, pile of envelopes with cards sitting beneath the flaps, waiting to be written.

Tilly and Benjamin sat down with their friends and Tilly waited for Benjamin to take it from here. It felt odd enthusing about a wedding at the farm when what was once a family home might, in the not-too-distant future, be sold off to someone else to make happy memories there. But Benjamin ran the idea past their friends, conveying the magic they could both see already. He talked about his parents’ wedding – what little he knew of the details – and explained how Harvey and Melissa could have their ceremony under cover, that the veranda was so enormous they could crowd all the guests onto it if the weather was that bad. And he was sure his mum would let people spill into the kitchen if they really had to, although he and everyone else knew the real allure would be in the outdoor location surrounded by Christmas trees.

‘I don’t know, it’s a huge ask,’ said Harvey.

Benjamin recapped how his parents had thought about hosting weddings years ago but had never got around to investigating it further. ‘You could be the trial run, so it would be doing them a favour in a way. They were both really enthusiastic about the idea. Honestly. Talk to them – they said to tell you to go up there for a chat or call them as soon as you like.’

Harvey and Melissa looked at each other and seemed to be on board until Melissa hesitated. ‘I don’t want to put anyone out. I already feel terrible that Barney feels so awful about the barn being unusable; I don’t want anyone else to be under unnecessary pressure.’

‘It’ll either convince them weddings at the farm are a possibility or put them off for life,’ Harvey concluded.

Benjamin hated to tell them that although their own nuptials had been held there, Danny and Heather Doyle were heading for divorce.

‘You don’t need to decide now,’ he said, pushing that thought from his head. ‘Sleep on it, go over in the morning.’

Melissa and Harvey nodded their agreement and Benjamin and Tilly left them to it. It was colder outside the waffle shack than it had been when they’d headed up this way, anxious to catch Harvey and Melissa and tell them about the new idea. ‘I’ll walk you home,’ Benjamin offered, getting a smile of agreement in return.

‘It’ll be so much better than Tumbleweed House,’ Tilly declared as they set off towards her cottage, ‘and if this helps your parents see that the farm could have other ways to generate income off-season then it can only help, right?’

‘It can’t do much more harm.’

‘That’s the spirit.’

‘Thanks, Tilly.’

‘I only made the suggestion,’ she shrugged, as though it was nothing.

‘Doesn’t matter, having your friendship and support means a lot.’

She didn’t answer straight away but then from wherever her thoughts had gone, just for a second, she brought them back to the matter in hand. ‘I’m busy with the shop but never too busy to help out with a wedding, especially for two such special people. So, anything that needs doing, let your parents know I’ll pitch in. I can talk decorations, help set up for the day, whatever is necessary.’ They paused before crossing over the road that would take them to her cottage.

And as he walked her all the way to her front door it was on the tip of his tongue to ask her out. But this time, what held him back wasn’t the fact it hadn’t even been a year since his breakup with Zoe, it wasn’t because he worried Tilly would say no, it was because the only couple in his mind right now were his parents.

The couple he’d thought would be together forever.