Page 78 of Watch For Me By Candlelight

‘Ah, yes! That would be her name.’ The cooper nodded.

‘Please.’ Will’s voice was desperate. ‘Hurry. I have to get there.’

* * *

Charles gave a nod to the curate who appeared out of nowhere and opened the door into the church. The organ began to play and she was on her way. Kate stepped into the nave and the congregation turned to catch sight of her; but there was only person she wanted to see: her groom.

A man was standing at the altar, dressed in a grey suit. He turned and their eyes met. Edward Mountfort smiled at her and she stopped dead in her tracks.

Charles clutched her arm tightly, fearing, Kate thought, that she was going to stumble or fall. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked in a low voice.

She nodded dumbly, but all she could think at that moment was this:

Thank God this isn’t my real life. I never actually wanted to get married to Chris. He would have probably had his mobile in his frock-coat pocket and have a honeymoon in Canada or somewhere that he could co-ordinate with a business meeting. His eyes would never have settled on her for very long; he’d be thinking of the next thing he had to do; quite possibly, even the next girl he could do.

And where would they have lived? Chiswick, she guessed. Being a girlfriend and living in Suffolk was one thing, but his wife? He would be under no obligation to move up here with her, she knew that, although he’d half-promised before the consultancy took off — but it would have been nice to think it had been a possibility. When they’d had children, perhaps, and wanted to do the whole ‘move to the country’ thing. But she hadn’t wanted to have children with Chris. Ever.

She felt quite sick.

‘It’s just a big commitment,’ she managed to whisper, ‘in the eyes of God and all that.’ It seemed a more appropriate comment.

Charles said nothing, he just squeezed her arm and she pasted a smile on her face.

She had to remember — this wasn’t her life. This was Cat’s life. Will was dead. Edward had apparently asked her to marry him. And she’d said yes.

However, she paused briefly; resisted the gentle tug of her brother.

Then she looked up at him: ‘D’you know, Charles, I don’t think I can do it.’

‘What?’ Charles’ eyes widened. He stopped and looked down at her, horrified. ‘Cat! What do you mean?’

‘He was . . . being . . . unfaithful.’ She blushed, trying to think of a suitable way of describing it. ‘He was in amorous congress with Maria’, was probably something he’d understand better — but it sounded a bit weird to her twenty-first century ears, and she didn’t think she could say it without giggling inappropriately anyway.

‘Unfaithful? Cat!’

‘Yes. He was — kissing — Maria.’ Oh, he was doing more than kissing her, but she couldn’t really tell Charles that.

‘Kissing Maria? Good Lord—’

‘Shhh! You can’t say that in a church! It’s like blasphemy or something.’

‘Well, really, Cat. Is that all they were doing?’

‘Actually no.’ She blushed. ‘There was . . . more than, uhm . . . kissing.’ Good grief! ‘They were in . . . convivial society.’

‘Cat!’

They were still just inside, quite close to the entrance porch and the congregation were becoming restless.

‘Is the bride quite well?’ Someone materialised at the side and Kate looked at them, without really seeing them.

‘Yes. Thank you. I’m just very nervous.’

‘Cat—’

Kate had to squash down the feeling of impending doom as she looked again at Edward. But this wasn’t her life. It was Cat’s life, and whatever she felt in the modern-day world had nothing to do with how Cat had felt — surely. She felt the sweat begin to prickle across her forehead and wondered if she could fall down in a supposed faint and play the terrified virgin bride to put it off a little longer.

She took a deep breath and steadied herself. ‘Charles — what should I do?’