Jo made her way to the front, looking nervously towards Bella’s side of the room, which was empty, except for one woman, who Jo could see instantly was Bella’s mother. She had suggested to Bella that maybe they should have a pre-wedding dinner, so that they could meet each other before the big day but Bella had curtly rebuffed the idea, saying they were not sociable people and would be quite happy to meet on the day. Now that she knew that only Bella’s mother would be attending, Jo could understand why Bella had been so reticent.
Bella’s mother looked up as Jo approached. She looked a little careworn and nervous but she still had enough of her beauty to confirm where Bella had inherited it from. She had shoulder-length, very dark brown hair, smattered with grey, and large brown, slightly hooded eyes. She shot Jo an uneasy smile and stood up. ‘Hello. You must be Ben’s mother …?’
‘Jo,’ Jo replied, reaching back to take Peter’s arm. ‘And this is my husband, Peter.’
Bella’s mother nodded knowingly. ‘Of course. I can see the resemblance! I’m Lynda.’
Peter shook her hand, before they shuffled into their seats beside Ben and Matt.
‘Who’s giving her away?’ Peter hissed as they sat down.
‘No one, apparently. Bella insisted that she didn’t belong to anyone and therefore she was perfectly capable of giving herself away.’
Peter raised an eyebrow. ‘That bodes well. Still, I suppose if the father’s not on the scene, then it makes some sort of sense.’ Bella had always shut down any conversation relating to her father and Ben had told them simply that he hadn’t been around since she was small.
Jo glanced again over to Bella’s side of the room and she felt a stab of guilt. Ben’s side was almost full. ‘Should we ask some of ours to move over?’ she whispered.
But before Peter could reply, the string quartet struck up with the wedding march and it was too late.
All eyes turned expectantly towards the back of the room, as Bella appeared, walking serenely and confidently down the centre of the aisle, clutching a simple bouquet of velvety white roses with both hands. Jo’s breath caught. She had never seen anyone look quite so exquisitely perfect, as Bella made her way up the aisle towards Ben. Her dress was a cleverly cut style, that clung to her slim figure, yet concealed any sign of a bump. Her long, dark hair shone in loose waves over her shoulders and her subtle make-up only emphasized the dramatic loveliness of her features.
Jo glanced at Ben, who was gazing at Bella adoringly. Their eyes were locked onto each other with such intensity that it felt almost intrusive to be watching. As she drew level with Ben, Bella reached out and took Ben’s hand, still holding his gaze.
Jo nodded to herself. Whatever she felt about Bella, there was no doubting the connection between her and Ben. They all needed to accept now that they were together and support them, instead of dwelling on ‘what ifs’ and unanswered questions.
After the short wedding service, they drove to the smart country restaurant where they were having the reception. It was an embarrassingly one-sided affair, with Bella’s mother the only representative of her family. Jo made a bee-line for Lynda and tried to engage her in conversation, to see if she could find out anything more about her new daughter-in-law, but Lynda was just as evasive on the subject of her background as Bella. ‘Is Bella’s father still alive?’ she ventured, hoping that she would learn something a bit more illuminating than the ‘he’s not on the scene’ that she got from Ben.
Lynda’s face remained impassive. ‘I believe so. We haven’t seen him since Bella was very young.’
Intrigued, Jo nodded encouragingly. ‘Oh, so you’re divorced?’
Lynda’s eyes slid away and she pointed to Ben and Bella, who were mingling with the guests as they waited for dinner to be served. ‘Don’t they make a lovely couple? Ben is a wonderful man.’
Jo acknowledged the pointed change of subject, before following Lynda’s gaze, feeling suffused with pride at hearing her son described in such glowing terms. ‘Thank you. And yes, they do make a lovely couple. Bella is certainly the most beautiful bride I think I’ve ever seen.’
Lynda smiled but Jo noticed that the smile didn’t reach her eyes. She had the same invisible barrier that Bella had, when discussing anything personal, and she sensed that they weren’t at all close.
After chatting for a while longer and getting nothing more than vague platitudes out of Lynda, Jo excused herself and headed over to Emma. ‘Hi, darling, I’ve just been speaking to Bella’s mum. I wanted to see if I could get any more out of her about Bella’s background but she’s even more of a closed book than Bella.’
Emma nodded. ‘I know. I tried to speak to her, too, but I got the impression Bella’s got her well-trained and she didn’t dare give anything away.’
Jo felt a niggle of discomfort and foreboding. Again, she wished that Ben had gone for someone who was a bit more open and a lot more friendly. Like Charlotte, she thought, before mentally scolding herself for such a treacherous wish.
‘It’s all a bit odd, isn’t it?’ Emma was saying, her eyes scanning the room. ‘I mean, she doesn’t seem to have any friends. Don’t you think that’s a bit … well, strange? For your mum to be the only guest from your side at your wedding? And even they don’t seem that close. Bella’s hardly spoken to her.’
Jo pursed her lips, watching as Bella and Ben mingled with all the guests from Ben’s side of the family, laughing and chatting easily, Bella clearly charming everyone she met. ‘You know, you could argue that there might be advantages to her not being close to her own family.’
Emma raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Really? How?’
Jo shrugged. ‘You know the old expression: “A son is a son ’til he marries a wife … a daughter’s a daughter for life”?’
Emma nodded.
‘Well,’ Jo continued, ‘that’s because the son usually gravitates towards his wife’s side of the family. As Bella doesn’t seem to have much of a family, she won’t be interested in taking him away from us, and we get the best of both worlds. So,’ she concluded, feeling more optimistic than she had all day, ‘there’s every possibility that we may have struck gold with Bella.’
Ben felt uncharacteristically nervous, as he carefully navigated the icy country lanes. It was Christmas Day and they were heading out to Suffolk for their annual gathering at his mum and dad’s house. The weather was clear and crisp, with the sun reflecting on the patchwork fields, making them look like they were wearing a twinkling coat of frost.
This time last year, he mused, as he steered to avoid the patches of black ice that greeted him at every turn, it was Charlotte sitting beside him and he was still expecting to propose to her in the New Year. Now it was Bella in the passenger seat, her hands carefully resting on her neat, football-shaped bump.
Ben almost laughed to himself as the thought left his head. She may not have been actually driving the car, but there was no way anyone could describe Bella as being in the passenger seat. She was the one steering their lives in whatever direction she wanted them to go, of that he was quite clear. Sometimes, very occasionally, he wanted to object. To say that he didn’t want to do this or that. That he would prefer to stay in on a Saturday night and watch TV, rather than going to the theatre, but he had very quickly learned that it wasn’t worth the grief it caused.
He thought back to the time, not long after their wedding, when he had invited Matt and Freya round for an impromptu meal one Friday night. He had casually mentioned it to Bella as they’d eaten breakfast in the kitchen of their flat that morning. ‘Oh, by the way, Matt and Freya are coming