Reunited At The Altar. Kate Hardy

on visiting the churchyard that he hadn’t noticed it when he’d walked here before. So where would Abigail be today? Here, or at the café by the beach?

      Inside, there was a young girl serving; he didn’t recognise her.

      ‘Can I help you?’ she asked with a smile.

      ‘Um, I was wondering if I could have a quick word with Abigail, please?’

      ‘She’s not here, I’m afraid. Can I take a message?’

      ‘No, it’s fine.’ It looked as if he’d have to catch her at home.

      ‘Do I hear someone asking for our Abby?’ An older woman came out of the back of the shop and stared at him in surprise. ‘Oh. Brad. You’re back.’

      ‘Hello, Gill.’ He remembered her from the beach café, years back. ‘Yes, I’m back for Ruby’s wedding.’

      She eyed him warily. ‘I can get a message to Abby, if you like.’

      It was kind of nice that Abby’s staff were protective about her, he thought, not actually telling him where she was until they’d checked with her first. Though it didn’t help him.

      ‘I’m not going to fight with her,’ he said softly. ‘I just wanted a quick word with her about wedding stuff.’ That last bit wasn’t strictly true, or anywhere even vaguely near the truth, but the first bit was heartfelt.

      Gill frowned, and he thought she was going to stonewall him. But then she nodded. ‘OK. It’s Tuesday, so she’ll be at the beach café.’

      ‘Thank you, Gill.’

      ‘You’re welcome.’ Her gaze dropped to the flowers and the vase he was carrying, and this time there was more sympathy in her expression. ‘Going to see your dad?’

      ‘Yes.’ She didn’t need to know it was for the second time—or that these flowers were for Abby.

      ‘He was one of a kind, your dad. He’s still missed around here.’

      The words put a lump in his throat. ‘Thank you.’

      At the church, he sorted out the flowers he’d left at the grave earlier, pushing the spike into the earth and then filling the vase with water; then he headed for the beach café. He’d forgotten what a long walk it was from the harbour to the beach. It had always felt like seconds when he was a teenager, walking there hand in hand with Abby. Now, it seemed never-ending. And he couldn’t remember the seagulls being quite so irritating and screamy, either.

      Or maybe he was just out of sorts because of what he’d been doing that morning.

      As he neared the café, he saw that all the tables outside were full. Dogs were sitting next to their owners or lying half under the tables; it looked idyllic. The perfect English beachside scene.

      He was pretty sure that Gill would have called the café as soon as he left, so Abby would be expecting him. Hopefully she hadn’t decided to leave and avoid him, or he’d have to come up with a plan B. He took a deep breath and walked inside.

      She was nowhere to be seen in the café.

      ‘Excuse me, please,’ he said to the young man at the counter—someone else he didn’t recognise. ‘Would it be possible to have a word with Ms Scott, please?’

      The young man eyed the flowers curiously.

      And then it occurred to Brad that he might be causing problems for Abby if she had a new partner. A stranger bearing a bunch of roses wouldn’t go down well. Even if she explained that the stranger was her ex-husband, and he was simply trying to apologise for a fight they’d had and keep things on an even keel between them for the sake of his sister’s wedding.

      ‘I’ll go and get her,’ the assistant said.

      Abby came out from the back and he could see the second that she spotted him, because the welcome in her face turned to wariness. He sighed inwardly. It was his own fault. He’d done that with his behaviour last night.

      ‘I know you’re at work, and I don’t intend to hold you up or get in the way,’ he said, ‘but please can I talk to you for three minutes?’ And hopefully she’d realise he meant not in front of other people. He didn’t want any gossip. Gossip was the thing he’d hated most about growing up in a small town.

      She nodded. ‘Come into the office.’

      He followed her behind the counter, ignoring the curious looks from the people round them.

      She closed the door of her office behind them and gestured to a chair. ‘Have a seat.’

      ‘Thank you.’ He handed her the roses. ‘For you.’

      She frowned. ‘Why?’

      ‘A mixture of things,’ he said. ‘One, to say thank you for stocking my fridge.’

      She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. ‘Barely. It’s what I do for all the guests next door.’

      He ignored her protest. ‘Two, to say thank you for sorting out the water problem. Three, to say thank you for dinner last night.’ And here was the big one. ‘Four, to apologise for walking out on you last night when you tried to talk to me.’ He knew he owed her more than that. ‘Five, to ask if you’d let me take you to dinner tonight to apologise properly—that is, if it won’t cause a problem with your partner?’ Because he had to face it. A woman as warm and lovely as Abigail Scott wouldn’t be alone for long.

      ‘Will it cause a problem with your partner?’ she asked.

      Which didn’t tell him anything. Though he could hardly call her on answering a question with a question. ‘I don’t have a partner,’ he said.

      After a long, long pause, she said, ‘Ditto.’

      And why did that make the day feel as if the sun had suddenly come out? Crazy. He wanted Abigail to be happy. Rekindling their relationship wasn’t on the cards, because he couldn’t risk hurting her again. He ought to want her to have a partner instead of being alone. But a more selfish part of him was glad that she wasn’t involved with anyone else.