Last Summer in Louisbourg by Clare Mowat Page B

They’re probably filming this wedding today because it’s raining and they can’t work outside.”
    â€œI know that!” said Justine. “I was making a joke.”
    Christopher Grundy heard the buzz of conversation and squinted past the bright lights to see who it was. Andrea was silent immediately and her face turned pink with embarrassment. Only a minute earlier she had been admonishing the children to keep quiet and now she and Justine were the ones to be caught making a noise.
    â€œOh, it’s you.” He gave a slight wave. “Don’t go away. I want to talk to you.”
    Andrea and Justine exchanged an apprehensive look. Mr. Grundy continued talking to Penny until they had apparently resolved their problem. Then he spent another couple of minutes explaining something to the priest.
    â€œI’m going to re-name Mr. Grundy ‘Mr. Grumpy,’” Andrea announced quietly. “That guy never smiles.”
    â€œGrumpy Grundy,” echoed Justine with a smirk.
    Just then he turned and strode to the doorway where Andrea and Justine were surrounded by a huddle of children in damp capes. “The very girls I wanted to see,” he greeted them. “It appears we have another role for you in this film sometime soon. Are you interested?”
    Too surprised to speak, Andrea and Justine nodded their heads.
    â€œSplendid. Let’s see now…you are Anna and you…ah…are Christine,” he ventured.
    â€œAndrea,” corrected Andrea.
    â€œJustine,” corrected Justine.
    â€œYou’ll be hearing from us. Penny’s got your names written down somewhere,” he said, and promptly returned to the altar to have a few words with the restless bride.
    â€œGawd,” Deborah groaned loudly. “This damn dress is so uncomfortable. I can’t wait to get it off.”
    â€œNot till after the weddin’, Deborah dahlin’,” joked Calvin Jefferson Lee.
    â€œFrom the top!” shouted the director imperiously. Calvin and the rest of the crew stepped off to one side. The bride and groom took their places beside each other. The priest opened his prayer book and read something in Latin. The filming began.
    By the time the third take was completed, the youngest children were starting to shuffle their feet and whisper among themselves. Reluctantly, Andrea herded them all outdoors. It was better to leave now, before they were asked to leave. She was annoyed that Calvin hadn’t even noticed she had been there. However, she had seen him. What’s more, she was now going to play an additional role in the film. He wouldn’t have any choice but to notice her next time.
    â€œIsn’t it wild?” giggled Justine as they all hurried along the road in the dwindling rain. “Maybe they really are in love.”
    â€œOf course they’re not,” Andrea insisted.
    â€œCould be,” Justine persisted.
    â€œI happen to know that Brock Rutherford is already married to someone else. They’re just acting.”
    â€œActors get divorced any time they feel like it, and then they get married to somebody else. Everyone knows that,” Justine declared.
    â€œNot all of them. And I’ll tell you something, if I ever get married—and I’m not sure I’m going to—it will be for keeps,” Andrea said emphatically.
    â€œSame here,” echoed Justine. “But if I were Deborah Cluett, I wouldn’t want to marry that guy anyway. He’s much too old for her.”
    â€œYou want to marry Cory up at the store.”
    â€œOh shut up.”

Chapter Eight
    The following day was as bright as the previous one had been dreary. A brisk west wind banished the clouds and rain. A galaxy of waving wildflowers could be seen in the fields surrounding the walled town.
    On days like this the sea was the colour of sapphires, a fathomless, deep blue, broken only by the bursting white spray where distant