Carla Burgess - Meet Me at Willow Hall - A perfectly charming romance for 2019!

I drew in a sharp breath as pain sliced through me. My mind shied away from the thought of him being with someone else. I couldn’t deal with it. A year might have passed, but my feelings for Anthony Bascombe were still very much in existence. His letter telling me it was over had come as a massive shock, as had visiting him at the hospital and being turned away by the nurses. His lovely mother, Cath, had kept me updated on his progress for a few weeks afterwards, but then contact had dried up and I’d seen and heard nothing of him since. I’d sent him one letter, wishing him well, but had received nothing in return.

So, I’d let him go. And I’d been hurting ever since.

The lane widened out and we entered a chocolate-box-pretty village, with stone cottages lining each side of the street. Daffodils waved cheerfully from the grass verges and pink and white blossom decorated the trees. The village seemed quiet. A dog tied up outside the post office, and an old man sitting on a bench outside the quaint-looking pub, were the only signs of life. A large church stood at the end of the high street, its spire reaching up towards the clear blue sky and its neatly tended churchyard filled with daisies and cowslips.

‘Wow, this is pretty!’ Elena leaned forward over her steering wheel to peer through the windscreen.

‘Mmm, it is,’ I agreed. ‘Quiet, though! I hope we’ve got the right day. I thought there would be more people around than this. Willow Hall should be on the left, just before the church, according to the brochure.’

Elena shrugged. ‘We’ve definitely got the right date. Maybe everyone’s up at the hall.’ She flicked her indicator as we passed the last of the stone cottages and a gated entrance appeared signposted Willow Hall. A rhododendron framed the green sign, its bright-red flowers bobbing in the breeze. Willow Hall was printed in large gold lettering, with ‘Civil Ceremonies, Wedding Receptions and Events’ in smaller white print underneath.

‘The sign looks very new,’ Elena said as she drove in through the tall, wrought-iron gates. A stone lion stood on each gatepost and trees rose up on either side of the driveway, forming a green, leafy archway through which the hot, midday sun glinted, bathing the inside of the car with dappled green light. ‘I wonder if they’ve done any weddings yet.’

‘I don’t think so. Their website didn’t have any wedding photographs on it, so I think they must be just starting out.’

The drive snaked through the trees until the woodland gave way to gently sloping sheep-grazed meadowland. Ahead of us, the wide Georgian façade of Willow Hall appeared, its soft red brick glowing warm pink in the hot midday sun.

‘Wow!’ Elena said in surprise.

It took me a moment to speak. I gazed open-mouthed at the huge house with its neatly manicured gardens and parkland. ‘I didn’t expect it to be quite so big!’ I said, stupidly.

‘Well, you knew it was a mansion.’

‘Yes, I know but… it’s a huge stately home.’ I blinked in disbelief. I didn’t know what I’d been expecting really. Certainly nothing as beautiful and grand as this. Built over two storeys, it had eleven bays on each floor and an arched entrance with wide stone steps leading up to it. The photographs were pretty impressive, but Anthony’s hatred of the place had made me think it couldn’t be quite as grand as they’d made it look. He’d seemed embarrassed by it, in fact, like it was some kind of guilty secret. I’d only found out about it by accident, through something his mum had said when she came up to visit, and that had been towards the end of our relationship. When I’d asked to see it, he’d refused to bring me, saying he hated the place and never went there willingly. He’d led me to believe it was some kind of rundown relic, but this was beautiful.

‘I can’t believe we know – knew – someone who grew up in a big mansion like this. It’s unbelievable!’ Elena followed the driveway round to the side of the house. Her tyres crunched on the gravel and dust clouded up behind us as we entered a large square car park, already half-full of cars shimmering in the heat.

‘I know. I mean, I’ve seen pictures, obviously, but they didn’t prepare me for this.’ Gathering up my handbag, I climbed out of Elena’s car and gazed up at Willow Hall. The air was full of birdsong and butterflies. It was hard to imagine why Anthony hated this house so much when it was so lovely.

‘Imagine getting married somewhere like this,’ Elena said wistfully as she locked the car. ‘It would be a perfect venue. Just imagine sweeping up the drive towards this big house. Daniel and I could never have afforded anything like this, though.’

We took the path leading around the front of the house, following the signs directing us to the wedding fair at the back. I was very aware of the crunch of my footsteps on the gravel path and the volume of Elena’s voice as we passed by the ground-floor windows of the house. I had a sudden urge to tiptoe and, as we walked past the front entrance, I realised I was holding my breath.

What if Anthony was here? What if he was just behind that door or window, and just happened to look out as we passed by? My heart thumped at the thought and I gave myself a mental shake. There was no way he would be here. And even if he was, so what? I didn’t have to speak to him. From the number of cars in the car park, it looked like there were loads of people here. Avoiding him would be easy.

Elena tucked her arm through mine as we rounded the side of the house, taking a path bordered by pink, flowering rhododendrons. Music and laughter floated on the spring breeze, and we found a large white marquee standing in the middle of a green-striped lawn. People were standing around, sipping champagne and laughing, while besuited waiters circulated with trays of champagne and orange juice.

‘Ooh, this is lovely!’ Elena said enthusiastically as we walked towards the entrance of the marquee. I gave a tight smile, my heart bungee jumping to my toes and back up again as I spotted Anthony’s brother, Julian, talking to a group of people to the side of the marquee. Why was he here? Surely he still lived in Scotland? Readjusting my sunglasses, I turned my face away and hoped he wouldn’t notice me.

‘Are you okay?’ Elena asked as we accepted a glass of orange juice from a passing waiter.

‘Yes, of course.’ I smiled brightly and did my best to blend in with the groups of people sipping champagne around us. Everyone seemed to be dressed in pastel shades. Even Elena was wearing a pale-blue maxi dress instead of her habitual black jeans. What was I thinking, wearing red? I stood out like a sore thumb!

Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and attempted to pull myself together. It wouldn’t be so bad if Julian saw me. He’d always been lovely and I had every right to be here. I wasn’t snooping. Not really. No, not at all.

There were lots of dewy young brides-to-be, eyes bright with love and excitement, holding hands with their fiancés or else with their mothers or friends. But there was also a contingent of tweedy local types who’d obviously just come for some free booze and a nosy.

‘They’ll never make a go of this,’ I heard a severe-looking lady say to her friend. Her iron-grey hair was tightly curled and she had a bristling border terrier on the end of a long leash that kept yapping loudly at passersby. Pausing next to her, I pretended to check the heel of my shoe so I could listen to what she was saying.

‘Oh, I don’t know. It all looks very professional,’ her friend replied, obviously impressed by the large marquee and decent number of visitors.

‘Hmph! They’ll sell it before the year’s out,’ she said, darkly. ‘Those no-good sons of Cath’s will be off before she knows it. They never could stick around.’