The Wedding Deception

Scott grinned. ‘The same thing happened to me a couple of months back, only in my case I’d simply forgotten to get it done. Come on in.’

He ushered the two of them through to a hall panelled in rich dark oak. An archway to the rear framed an oak staircase, while another to the side of it gave access to what appeared to be an inner hall. A faded, though still lovely carpet covered much of the polished wooden floor.

The huge vase of gladioli set on a table between the two arches created instant warmth and colour. A friendly house, Claire found herself thinking; a family house with a lived-in atmosphere which she found heartening.

Ross opened a door on the left and stood back to allow the two of them prior access. Jill hung back, reaching for Scott’s hand as if in search of Dutch courage, and giving Claire little choice but to go on ahead into the comfortably furnished sitting-room with its old stone fireplace filled with a further blaze of summer blooms.

Knowing about the stroke, it was still something of a shock to see Mr Laxton seated in a wheelchair. His face was gaunt, his left side obviously affected still, but there was nothing vague about the glance he turned her way, although he didn’t attempt to speak. Claire felt somewhat at a loss for words herself.

Looking every inch the lady in her cream skirt and matching silk shirt, Mrs Laxton rose from her chair. Her expression was guarded, but there were signs of strain in the fine blue eyes.

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