Warning: Episode may contain strong language, violence and sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

PREVIOUSLY ON GLENDALE…

• A burst waterpipe at The Oak & Vine threatened to ruin Ben and Emma’s wedding day.
• Emma was left shocked when her estranged father turned up on her wedding day.
• The Granger family shunned patriarch, Brian, after he viciously attacked and sexually assaulted his wife, Pamela.

AND NOW, THE STORY CONTINUES…

Acorn Cottage,
Glendale

Emma Blake looked at the man before her and froze. For one impossible second, she couldn’t understand what she was seeing. It had been years.

“Dad?” She said breathlessly, unable to comprehend the fact that her estranged father was standing on Queenie Baxter’s doorstep.

“Hello, Emily,” Martin Barlow said in the same deep voice she remembered as he looked her up and down, taking in the beautiful vision before him. “You look beautiful.”

Emma swallowed heavily. The compliment should’ve been meaningless, yet somehow it immediately penetrated her defences and pierced straight through her heart. She had spent years longing to have some sort of validation from her father, to hear him say something as kind as that. To actually hear it was something else. A small part of her hated that she still cared. Still needed his validation. His approval. Still needed his love.

For a moment, they both stood in silence. Years of unspoken animosity and trauma simmered between them. Hatred. Anger. Hurt. Sadness. Fear. Disappointment. Love.

Emma stared at Martin, her mind scrambling to process the million and one thoughts exploding at once.

Martin’s eyes moved to Queenie, and he gave the faintest of polite smiles as the elderly woman hovered behind his daughter, unsure whether to stay or go. Not wanting to intrude but not wanting to miss out on the gossip either.

“Well,” Queenie said, clearing her throat and understanding that Martin was silently requesting privacy, “I just remember’d that there’s somethin’ terribly important that I need to do in th’ kitchen.”

Emma glanced at her. “Queenie—”

“No, no, Doc.” Queenie waved away the protest. “Y’ two obviously got things ya gotta talk ‘bout.”

She looked Martin squarely in the eyes.

“Don’t ya be upsettin’ her now, y’hear! She’s ‘bout to be wed an’ she don’t need some long-lost dad comin’ in and messin’ up her makeup.”

Before Emma could stop her, Queenie hurried down the hallway to the kitchen and closed the door.

“It’s her dad!” She whispered a little louder than intended at a confused-looking Kate Spencer, beckoning her over.

The pair stood nose to nose, with their ears pressed to the door, straining to hear what was being said through the wood.

Emma looked at her father, deeply confused as to how he had found her and why he was there.  He hadn’t RSVP’d. Hadn’t called. Hadn’t spoken to her in over twenty-five years. Yet there he was. In his usual jeans and dark shirt, looking at her as if he had every right in the world to be standing on Queenie’s doorstep.

His hair was greyer and a bit thinner. There were deep lines around his mouth. He looked older, tired even. Yet at the same time he looked as if not a second had passed since she last stared into those hazel eyes that always seemed to show nothing but disappointment.

“What are you doing here?”

Emma hated that her voice trembled when she asked the question.

Martin took a breath. “I wanted to see you.”

Emma’s frown deepened. “How did you know I was here?”

“The invitation,” Martin replied with a simplicity that was almost insulting, instantly reminding Emma of how he could always be counted on to make her feel stupid.

“That you didn’t RSVP to.”

“No.” Martin moistened his lips and shifted on the spot.

It was the first time Emma had ever seen her father look uncomfortable, and it was deeply satisfying.

“I stopped at the pub, and this kind lady helped me,” Martin continued, motioning over his shoulder to Hilda Hollingsworth, who stood on the pavement, watching on, gathering every morsel of gossip to later spread about as she wished. “Bit odd but seems harmless.”

“Yes, thank you, Hilda!” Emma waved away her husband-to-be’s aunt.

“Just doing my Christian duty,” Hilda called back, craning her neck to get a better look at the wedding dress. “Is that your father or—”

Emma grabbed her father’s arm and pulled him inside before slamming the door and silencing Hilda’s questioning.

For years, there had been a wall between father and daughter. A wall built from accusations, addiction, shame, and silence.

Emma folded her arms. “Why are you here? Now? Today of all days?”

Martin’s jaw tightened. “Because I wanted to see you. To try and put things right.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed and she snuffed. “Put things right? After twenty-five years? You’ve got to be joking?”

“Emily—”

“It’s Emma.”

Martin swallowed.

“Emma,” he said, reluctantly accepting the correction although it sounded so foreign to say. “No matter what’s happened, what’s gone on between us, you’re still my little girl. You’ll always be my little girl.”

Emma snuffed again as a prickly, anxious wave of anger surged up from her feet. Her body tingled as if ants crawled beneath her skin. She felt sick. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to slap her father’s stupid face.

Instead, she felt the stinging beginning of tears and took a breath, trying to calm the unbearable tremble that had seemed to overtake her body.

“I also wanted to give you this.”

Martin reached into the pocket of his trousers and unfurled his hand to reveal a silver necklace with a sapphire pendant. There was no other word for it but exquisite.

“It was your grandmother’s. She wore it on her wedding day. She would want you to have it for your something old and something blue.”

Emma broke, and a mascara-stained tear rolled down her cheek. She held out her hand as her father gently placed the necklace in her palm. She looked at it, remembering her late grandmother wearing it for “special happenings”. Weddings. Fancy dinners. God, how she missed her.

“She adored you, y’know,” Martin said, watching Emma as she studied the necklace. “She was always so, so proud of you.”

That was all it took.

“Unlike you,” Emma replied coldly as she lifted her head and firmly met her father’s gaze.

They looked at each other for a long moment, defiant in their silence. Like father like daughter.

“Emma—”

“You think coming here and giving me this just fixes everything?” She said with an anger stirring in her tone, waving the necklace around. “Just wipes the slate clean? Makes me forget everything? Like the last twenty-something years didn’t exist?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Oh, fuck off!” Emma scoffed and looked to the heavens, shaking her head and smiling before letting out a heavy huff and returning her attention to her father. “What is there to understand, huh? I was scared and pregnant, and you just… tossed me out like I was garbage. Turned your back on me. Banished me. And for what? Why?”

Martin lowered his head. “Because I was ashamed. We were ashamed.”

There it was. Finally, after all these years, confirmation of her parents’ feelings. Although expected, it wasn’t any less of a gut punch.

Emma’s chin quivered and her eyes pooled with tears.

“I needed you. I needed you and Mum to…” She let out a deep exhale, and her shoulders slumped. Another tear fell. “I was scared and I just needed my mum and dad.”

Martin had no words. It was beyond obvious that he and Lorna had made the wrong decision all those years ago. But pride was a funny thing. It wouldn’t let him open up. To admit they were in the wrong.

Emma wiped away the tear and in turn smudged a black mark of mascara across her cheek.

“I just needed my mum and dad… and instead…”

Martin took a slow breath. “We were frightened, Emily.”

“So was I!”

“It was a different time. If I could go back—”

“Oh, fuck off,” Emma scoffed again. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to turn up unannounced on my wedding day and stand here playing the victim like you’re the one whose been wronged.”

She pulled her shoulders back and squared up for a fight.

“I was a mess, and you both just turned your backs on me. I needed your help. I needed your love and your guidance and your support, and instead, all I got was your disappointment and judgement. For years that has fucked me up. Do you have any idea about what I’ve been through? What I’ve faced? The torment and the torture? Judith? Julia? Do you know about Nick? About Alex? About David? About Luke?”

The names fired in quick succession did nothing but bamboozle Martin.

“Of course not!” Emma’s voice was rising by the syllable. “Because you weren’t there! You didn’t fucking care!”

“Emily—”

“It’s fucking Emma!”

The eruption of anger made Martin take a step back.

Emma closed her eyes and turned her face to God, managing to compose herself just enough.

“You punished me,” she said, opening her eyes as she took a calming breath. “And worse than that, you stopped being my father.”

Martin looked at his feet and contemplated his daughter’s words. “I thought if we made it clear how disappointed we were…”

“That what?” Emma’s stare narrowed. “That the shame would cure me?”

Martin didn’t need to reply; Emma already knew the answer was yes.

“Well, it didn’t. In fact, it made me hate myself more than I already did.”

Martin’s eyes closed. “I know that now.”

“You should have known it then!” Emma felt the unwelcome sting of tears returning. “I needed you.”

“I know.”

“I called you that night from James and Julia’s penthouse, do you remember? The night I went into labour with Nick.”

Martin looked at her. “I remember.”

“I was terrified.”

“I know.”

“I begged you for help. I begged you to come and get me. To come and help me.”

Martin’s mouth tightened. “I remember every word.”

Emma’s eyes looked sad at the memory. “And you said?”

Martin looked away. “I said I couldn’t.”

“No,” Emma corrected. “You said you wouldn’t.”

There was a beat of silence as Emma let the truth settle and the memories of that night stir.

“You said you wouldn’t because Mum said if you kept rescuing me, then I’d never learn.”

Martin sucked in his lips and nodded. “She did.”

“And you agreed.”

“Yes.”

Emma chewed the side of her cheek as yet another tear fell. “I was seventeen, Dad. Seventeen! Practically still a child.”

“I know.”

“I was scared.”

“I know.”

“And you two decided that that was the moment to stop being my parents.”

Martin looked at her, suddenly feeling the uncomfortable and unwelcome feeling of shame. The same one he had inflicted upon his own daughter all those years ago. “We thought we were protecting ourselves.”

Emma fell silent for a moment.

We thought we were protecting ourselves.

There it was. That was the truth, and the honesty shocked her. Her eyes fell to the necklace still in her hand, and she wondered whether her grandmother would’ve felt the same. Would she have turned her back on her? Or would she have been ashamed of how her daughter and son-in-law had behaved?

“That was wrong of us, Emi… Emma,” Martin said with a disarming sincerity that caught his daughter’s attention and made her look back at him. “I’m so sorry. We both are. Me and your mother.”

“And yet she isn’t here.”

“No.”

“Because she couldn’t face me?” Emma asked. She didn’t need an answer; the way Martin dropped his eyes to the floor told her everything she needed to know. “She’s so sorry, yet she couldn’t be bothered to come and see me…on my wedding day.”

“She wanted to.”

“She didn’t RSVP.”

“She was afraid.”

“Of?”

“Of what you might say.”

“Good.”

“Emily.” Martin pressed his lips together as a frown settled on his brow. Lorna was a lot of things, but she was genuinely remorseful about what had gone down all those years ago. “She loves you.”

“Then she should be here.” Emma’s face changed as she found her strength. “If she loves me or is as sorry as you say she is, then she would be here. But she’s not, Dad. And that tells me everything I need to know.”

Martin couldn’t argue. Instead, he simply gave a soft nod.

Emma closed her hand around the necklace and gave it a squeeze.

“I think you should go now,” she said, registering the look of disappointment that crossed her father’s face. “Thank you for the necklace. It means more than you know.”

For a moment, something akin to hope flickered across Martin’s face. “I can put it on you if you like?”

Emma hesitated, then nodded. She handed the antique necklace back to her father and turned around.

Martin unclasped the necklace, then stepped forward, bringing father and daughter closer than they had been in over a quarter of a century. He draped the necklace around her neck and fastened it before placing his hands on her shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze.

Emma almost crumbled at her father’s touch and pressed the tips of her fingers against the sapphire pendant that sat over her heart.

“Thank you,” she said softly, turning back around and looking her father firmly in the eyes.

Martin smiled softly and gave another nod before looking his daughter over one last time.

“You really do look beautiful,” he said, suddenly beaming with a pride he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

He turned and reached for the door. Grasping the doorknob, he hesitated before looking back over his shoulder. “And I do love you, Emily. More than you’ll ever know.”

Emma brushed the necklace as Martin opened the door. “Dad?”

Martin turned.

“Thank you,” she said, giving a smile her father had long missed. “And tell Mum I say hello.”

He nodded. “I will.”

With that, Martin stepped outside and closed the front door behind him, while Emma’s knees almost buckled beneath her as she remained in the entry, struggling to comprehend what had just happened.

Outside, Martin walked down the pavement toward his white Mercedes S-Class that was parked beneath a tree at the end of the street. He opened the passenger door and slipped inside.

Sitting behind the steering wheel, Lorna turned and looked at him. She had been there the whole time.

“She looks beautiful,” she said, looking back to Queenie’s cottage, where she had a perfect view of the front door.

Martin looked at her. “She does.”

Lorna’s lips twitched in a way that her husband knew was the beginning of an emotion she barely gave legitimacy to – sadness. “Does she still hate me?”

“She’ll come around.” Martin reached across and gave his wife’s hand a supportive squeeze. “It’s not too late.”

Lorna closed her eyes and let out a long, deep exhale as she weighed up her options.

“No,” she said, reopening her eyes and looking at Queenie’s cottage. “We shouldn’t intrude on her special day more than we already have. She has mum’s necklace. That’s the main thing.”

Lorna looked at Martin for reassurance, and he smiled.

“I just hope she knows that I love her,” she added with a slight sound of regret. “And maybe one day she’ll forgive us.”

“One day,” Martin replied with another squeeze of her hand. “One day.”

Glendale,
England

By midday, Glendale had learned three things.

One, the weather for Ben and Emma’s wedding day was going to be glorious.

Two, the reception was no longer happening at The Oak & Vine.

Three, the reason for the second thing was that the pub was currently taking on so much water it looked more like the final hour of Titanic.

Unwilling to allow Ben and Emma’s special day to end in disaster, Johnny and Tess Montgomery had made the decision to shift the wedding reception to the village hall. A call had gone out to the villagers for help, and now every man and their dog was carrying soggy decorations and wet centrepieces from the Oak & Vine the short distance down the road to the village hall as though they were evacuating a sinking ship. Which, in fairness, was not entirely inaccurate.

Tess held the doors to the pub open as a conga line of villagers carried out everything from cutlery and chairs to bread rolls and champagne. She couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Her first main event as the new landlady of The Oak & Vine had already ended in disaster long before it had even begun.

“So, do you want the good news or the bad news?” Johnny asked far too cheerfully as he came up behind his wife carrying the soggy wedding banner he’d rescued for being destroyed.

Tess looked at him, then the banner. Some of the colours in the fabric had run, and her heart sank. Everything was a disaster of epic proportions. “The good, obviously!”

“We’ve got enough chairs.”

Tess blinked. “Right? And the bad?”

“They’re all soggy and waterlogged.”

Tess closed her eyes, sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Johnny—”

“But it’s fine!” Her husband quickly interrupted, holding up his hands in surrender. “Yasmin’s bringing over all the hair dryers from the salon. So, I’m thinking that if everyone has hair dryers and one chair each, we should have them all pretty well dry by… I dunno, five o’clock?”

Tess wanted to cry.

“Emma’s going to hate this,” she said as Arthur Hollingsworth passed by carrying a soggy box of God knows what.

“Cheer up, Buttercup.” Johnny kissed the top of his wife’s head. “Don’t say that.”

“She planned everything.”

“I know.”

“She wanted the reception here.”

“I know.”

“And now she’s going to have it in the village hall with everything looking like she’s gone for a Little Mermaid theme!”

“Under da sea,” Johnny began singing and moving with the tune. “Under da sea. Darling, it’s better, down where it’s wetter—”

Tess’s face of thunder immediately silenced him. “She’ll be so disappointed.”

Johnny wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “And she’ll appreciate the effort you’re going to to still make it happen.” He kissed the top of her head again. “I promise.”

Before Tess had a chance to reply, Ted appeared carrying a folding table.

“You two plannin’ on standin’ there smoochin’ all day, or are ya going to actually lift a finger and help?” he asked, shooting his son and daughter-in-law an unimpressed look each.

“Tess is worried,” Johnny replied.

“About what?”

“Ben and Emma.”

Ted rolled his eyes. “They’re getting married, not invading Poland.”

“They’re not going to be happy,” Tess clarified as Leo Worchester passed by carrying another box of something that could be anything. She really had lost control of what was suddenly disappearing from inside her pub.

Ted frowned. “Why wouldn’t they be happy?”

“The wedding reception’s been moved.”

“Yeah.”

“To the village hall.”

“Yeah.”

“Because the pub’s flooded.”

“And?”

Tess frowned. What wasn’t he getting? “Ted, this was supposed to be where their wedding reception was. Here.” She looked up at the exterior of her business and home. “This is what they wanted. I promised them.”

“And now it’s going to be at the village hall,” Ted said with a dismissive shrug. “So what? At least there’s still going to be a wedding reception. That’s the main thing, kid.”

Tess pursed her lips together. That wasn’t the point.

“And look,” Ted motioned with his head toward the stream of villagers carrying everything but the kitchen sink, although he wouldn’t put it past someone to try, “the whole village is helpin’ out. That’s what’s going to make this wedding reception special, kid. That’s what’s going to make it a day no one will ever forget. And that’s because of you.”

For the first time in hours, Tess felt a smile cross her face. She watched the procession for a moment and then looked at her father-in-law and allowed herself to believe him that everything would turn out okay in the end.

“Even a soggy reception is better than no reception,” Ted added, rubbing Tess’s arm in a show of support. “And that’s what Emma is going to remember.”

~

At the front of the procession, a heavily pregnant Charlotte Harrington-Jones carried a box of champagne. It wasn’t a particularly large one or a particularly heavy one, but Betty Worchester noticed.

“Oh, Charlotte!”

Charlotte stopped. “Yes?”

Betty was standing to the side of the village hall doors with her daughter-in-law, Yasmin.

Trying to remain calm and mask how uncomfortable she was being in their presence, Charlotte looked from Betty to Yasmin, noticing the large box of hair dryers on the ground beside her, and cocked an eyebrow. She wasn’t sure if used hair dryers was the best wedding gift, but who was she to judge?

Betty pointed at the box. “What are ya doin’ with that?”

Charlotte looked down. “Carrying it.”

“I can see that.”

“Then we’re all caught up.”

Yasmin smirked. She liked Charlotte. There was a spunk about her that made Yasmin want to be her friend.

Betty was the complete opposite. She thought Princess Charlotte snooty and entitled. A typical Harrington-Jones. It also wasn’t lost on Betty that no one knew the identity of divorced Charlotte’s baby daddy. “You shouldn’t be carryin’ things in your condition.”

Charlotte shifted the box on her hip. “My condition?”

“Y’know what I mean.”

An unimpressed Charlotte arched her brow higher.

“Yer heavily pregnant.”

“So it seems.”

“Yer practically due any day.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“And yet yer carryin’ boxes down the road like a gypsy skippin’ town.”

Charlotte took in a long, irritated breath. “What’s your point, Betty?”

Betty looked at Yasmin with wide eyes, expecting her support and tapping her into the argument.

Yasmin reluctantly agreed. “We just think you should be careful.”

Charlotte looked to Yasmin and forced a smile. If only she knew. “I am careful.”

“It’s just—” Yasmin began.

“I’ve got it!”

Yasmin stopped, and Charlotte immediately regretted it. She knew Yasmin wasn’t being judgemental and was just speaking out of concern, but that was the problem. She didn’t deserve Yasmin’s concern. If circumstances were different, Charlotte knew she would appreciate Yasmin’s care and concern. Heck, they might even have become friends, but that wasn’t reality. Charlotte had had an affair with Yasmin’s husband, Gareth, and was now set to have his baby. The guilt consumed Charlotte, and she knew that if the truth ever came to light, it would completely destroy Yasmin’s world.

“Sorry,” Charlotte said. “I’m just a bit snappy and over everyone thinking I’m made of glass or something.”

Yasmin smiled. “I get it.”

Betty wasn’t finished. “Pregnant women shouldn’t be doin’ this sort of thing.”

Charlotte looked around. “Betty, the whole village is doing this sort of thing.”

“Exactly! Let them deal with it. Yer should be restin’.” Betty waved a finger in Charlotte’s direction. “Mark my words, if ya do any more today, you’ll be pushin’ out that little one before Match of the Day.”

“We can only hope!” Charlotte said with a chuckle.

Yasmin laughed.

Betty tried not to. “Just don’t overdo it is all I’m sayin’.”

“I won’t.”

“And if ya feel dizzy—”

“I’ll sit down.”

“And if ya get a pain—”

“I’ll tell someone.”

“And if—”

“Betty.”

“What?”

“I promise, you’ll be the first to know if anything happens.”

Betty nodded, satisfied. “Fine. Good.”

That was all she needed to hear. As long as she got the gossip before Hilda did, then all would be right in the world.

Acorn Cottage,
Glendale

Emma stood in front of the mirror in the sitting room, looking at her grandmother’s necklace as she touched it with two fingers. She tried to push the conversation with her father from her mind, but the hurt was still there.

Behind her, Queenie appeared in the doorway.

“There she is,” the old woman said with a warm smile. “The most beau’iful bride I ever did see.”

Emma smiled at her in the reflection and then turned to face her. “How do I look?”

“Terrible,” came the response, quick as a flash.

Emma laughed.

“That’s wot I want t’ see,” Queenie added, entering the room and holding Emma by the shoulders as she rubbed her thumbs against the fabric of her wedding dress. “A smile. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Emma touched the necklace. “It was my gran’s.”

“I know.”

“She wore it on her wedding day.”

Queenie smiled.

“I hope she’s here with me today.”

“‘Course she is.”

There was something in the way Queenie said it that made Emma’s eyes sting.

“No crying. Not t’day.”

“Agreed,” Emma said, blinking the tears away.

In the doorway, Kate appeared carrying Emma’s bouquet.

“Right, Missus,” she announced in her thick Welsh accent. “The car is ready, and we need to get you wed!”

“Okay,” Emma nodded with a bright smile. “I’m ready.”

Queenie held out her hand. “That’s me girl.”

All Saints Church,
Glendale

In the heat of the August afternoon, villagers and wedding guests descended on All Saints Church in a flutter of smart clothes, bright colours and joyous excitement.

The church bells chimed overhead as Johnny and Tess finally emerged from their waterlogged pub, while Hilda and Betty compared gossip collected throughout the morning.

In front of the lychgate, a vintage Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud pulled up, and the chatter of the gathering guests quietened slightly as Ben Granger and his younger brother, Hamish, climbed out.

For a moment, Ben simply stood there, looking at the church and taking in the moment. His grey wedding suit was immaculate and his silver tie perfectly straight.

“You ready?” Hamish asked, adjusting his jacket.

“Yeah,” Ben replied, looking at him and smiling. “I think so.”

Hamish clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

Ben took a calming breath and prepared to face the rest of his life with the woman he loved. “Come on, then.”

~

Charlotte was about to enter the church when someone called her name.

“Lottie?”

She stopped.

For a moment, she thought she’d imagined it. She looked around, trying to see who it could’ve possibly been.

The churchyard was crowded with wedding guests arriving, and she couldn’t catch sight of anyone it could have been.

With a shrug, she half-turned when she heard it again.

“Lottie, wait.”

It was then Charlotte saw him, and she suddenly forgot to breathe.

A tall man with dark hair waved casually as he strode down the path toward her, gravel crunching underfoot.

“Mark?”

Mark Sinclair smiled at his ex-wife. “I thought it was you.”

Charlotte stared at him. It had been nearly eighteen months since Mark had left the village following the breakdown of their marriage.

“What are you doing here?”

“Why do you think?” Mark chuckled, nodding toward the church.

Charlotte shook her head as if scolding herself. Of course. The wedding.

Mark opened his arms, and Charlotte walked straight into them. For several seconds they simply held one another in a hug. It felt so safe, so familiar.

“I can’t believe it,” Charlotte said as she pulled back enough to look him over. The time away in Southampton had clearly done him well. He looked refreshed and happy. There were a few more grey hairs and a new wrinkle or two, but it was still Mark. Her Mark. Or, at least, the man who had once been hers. “You look… great!”

Mark’s smile broadened.

“So do you,” he said, looking at her properly. Then his eyes dropped.

Charlotte saw it happen in slow motion.

His gaze moved from her face to her shoulders, then lower. It stopped on her stomach, and the smile on his face disappeared.

Charlotte’s heart lurched. There was no hiding the fact that she was heavily pregnant with a child they had long failed to conceive.

A look of realisation moved across Mark’s face. He looked back at her, then down again, before finally meeting her gaze. “Congratulations.”

Charlotte forced a smile she knew he would see straight through. After all, how could he not? He was the only person in the world who knew her better than she knew herself.

“Thank you.” She felt her cheeks flush. “It wasn’t planned or anything.” Her eyes bulged. “Not that I mean I’m not happy or anything!”

Mark too forced a smile he knew she would see straight through. “Lottie,” he began in that calm, strong voice she missed. “You don’t need to explain. I’m happy for you. Really.”

Charlotte smiled, and Mark’s eyes remained fixed on her as everything around them seemed to go silent.

~

Even though this was wedding number two, Ben had never been so nervous in his life.

He stood at the front of the church, occasionally glancing up at the stained-glass windows of Jesus, Mary and Joseph, trying very hard to look like a man who was completely at ease and in control.

He was failing.

Spectacularly.

Hamish stood beside him. He glanced across, noticing Ben giving his best Thumper impersonation as he tapped his foot.

“Nervous?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

Hamish smiled as Ben adjusted his cufflink. Again. For the fifteenth time.

“You could try breathing,” Hamish suggested, looking up at the beautiful windows as the two brothers stood with their backs to the guests.

“I am breathing.”

“Debatable.”

Ben gave him a look. “Real helpful, Hame.”

Hamish grinned that cheeky grin that irritated his brother but melted his mother’s heart and made the women swoon. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Behind them, the church was full, and every pew was full of family, friends and villagers who had all spent the last few hours rescuing the wedding reception.

Ben turned and looked back at the set of wooden doors at the end of the aisle. They were still closed.

“They’ll open,” Hamish said, noticing his brother’s unease. “Eventually.”

“Hamish!”

“Just saying.”

Ben took another breath. He looked down at his cufflinks and fixed them. Again.

Hamish leaned towards him. “You know, if you keep doing that, you’re going to wear the sleeves out.”

Ben stopped, like a child that had been told to sit still. His mouth felt dry and he had a weird fluttery feeling in his chest. Was he about to pass out? His tie suddenly felt very tight.

He turned and looked back at the doors again. Then his eyes swept around the church.

Tess and Johnny sat next to Lewis and Samantha Carter, while in front of them, Ed and Marion Atkins looked in opposite directions.

In front of them, Carol Kennedy sat beside Julia Harrington-Jones, who kept a close eye on Nick and Natalie.

Nearby, Betty was whispering something to Yasmin, who looked as if she were suffering through water torture, while next to her, Gareth kept glancing in Charlotte’s direction. Mark did too, and it was then he noticed Gareth looking at his ex-wife. Very quickly, the penny dropped.

Further along, Jack Campbell seemed to be smiling at Reverend Turner, while Hilda sat soaking it all in, keeping an eye out for anything untoward and ignoring whatever it was her husband, Arthur, was saying to her son, Stuart.

At the front, Pamela Granger sat proudly beside her daughter, Gemma, while Ben’s grandmother, Audrey, watched him, flashing him a broad smile as their eyes met.

Suddenly, the first notes of Édith Piaf’s Hymne à l’amour began to fill the church, and the doors began to open.

Ben felt his heart begin to pound in his chest as everyone rose to their feet.

“Here we go,” Hamish said with a wink and a nudge as the brothers turned in unison to face the doors as they opened fully and Emma appeared.

In an ivory lace dress, embroidered with fine floral detail, Emma was simply beautiful, and Ben stopped breathing entirely.

His eyes filled with tears as he watched his eight-year-old twins walk down the aisle – Oliver as ring bearer and Poppy as flower girl – while, behind them, Kate moved gracefully as bridesmaid. She smiled as she passed by Stuart, and Hilda immediately clocked the gesture. Behind them, Emma took a calming breath as she was walked down the aisle by a beaming and impossibly proud Queenie.

The whole way to the altar, Emma’s eyes never wavered from Ben. She smiled, and for that moment in time, it was just the two of them in the world.

Emma and Queenie approached slowly, one step at a time, and Ben watched them, soaking in every detail.

He had imagined this moment. Emma walking towards him. What she would look like. What he would say. He had even imagined himself being calm, although he had been wrong about that last part – he was shaking like a leaf!

His eyes filled with tears. Not because he was sad, but because she was coming. After everything they had been through, she was really coming.

As they reached the front, Queenie took Emma’s hand and placed it in Ben’s. She held them both for a moment, looking at them, and committing the moment to memory. She didn’t ever want to forget this.

“Treat each other well,” she whispered, her eyes glassy with tears.

Emma forced a smile. Only she knew the weight of what Queenie was saying. A final direction in her dying days. “We will.”

Queenie looked at Ben. “Look after me girl.”

Ben laughed through his tears.

“Of course, Queenie,” he said to his godmother before looking at Emma. “I will.”

“I know you will.” Queenie smiled and kissed them on their cheek and then took her seat beside Audrey. The two lifelong friends held hands as their families were united.

Ben looked at Emma. “Hi.”

Emma smiled. “Hi.”

“That’s all I’ve got.”

Emma chuckled. “I was hoping for something profound.”

“I had something profound.”

“What happened?”

“You walked in.”

Her cheeks went pink, and Reverend Turner stepped forward.

The room settled and the ceremony began. There was talk about love, commitment, and faithfulness. Of what it meant to be married. Of how, after everything, they had managed to find their way back to each other.

Ben could barely take his eyes off Emma through the whole ceremony. She was simply breathtaking.

Eventually Reverend Turner instructed the couple to turn to each other, take each other’s right hand, and repeat after him.

“I, Ben, take you, Emma, to be my wife.” He rubbed his thumb against her knuckles. “To have and to hold from this day forward. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death us do part, according to God’s holy law. In the presence of God, I make this vow.”

“I, Emma, take you, Ben, to be my husband.” She felt her heart flutter as she looked into his eyes. “To have and to hold from this day forward. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death us do part, according to God’s holy law. In the presence of God, I make this vow.”

Their hands trembled as they exchanged rings.

Audrey dabbed a tear from her eye, while Queenie felt a sense of pride burst inside.

Julia smiled. Despite everything, it warmed her heart to finally see Emma get her happily ever after. Then she thought about Michael and what could’ve been.

Reverend Turner looked at them both and smiled.

“Ben and Emma, you have made your vows to one another in the presence of your family and friends. You have promised to love, honour and support one another through whatever life may bring.”

He looked at the guests then back at Ben and then at Emma.

“And now, by the authority entrusted to me, I pronounce you husband and wife.”

He smiled.

“You may kiss.”

Ben and Emma turned to face each other. Her hand came up to his cheek, and he pulled her closer. Then, for the first time, their lips met in a sweet kiss as husband and wife.

The church erupted into cheers and applause. Someone whistled while someone else shouted, “ABOUT TIME!”

Ben and Emma broke apart and laughed. He rested his forehead against hers.

“We did it.”

Emma smiled at the happiest moment of her life. “We did it.”

Then, at the back of the church, the doors opened. Nobody noticed at first. The music started again, and everyone stood up as Ben and Emma turned to make their way down the aisle.

That was when they saw him, and all smiles vanished.

There, in the doorway, was Brian Granger.

NEXT TIME:

• Hilda makes a bloody discovery.