Thirteen Weddings

by Paige Toon

  ‘That’s a wicked idea,’ Russ enthuses.

  ‘I’d be up for that,’ Lachie chips in.

  ‘I’m free,’ Lisa says.

  ‘I can’t,’ Esther tells us with disappointment. ‘It’s my dad’s fiftieth.’

  Tim can’t either, and Pete thinks his fiancée, Sylvie, might have already made plans for them. Alex has said nothing, but I know that the answer will be no, anyway.

  ‘Alex?’ Bridget asks him directly. ‘What about you?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  I glance at him with surprise. ‘Zara’s away,’ he explains. ‘So I don’t see why not.’

  ‘She goes away a lot, your missus, doesn’t she?’ Russ says.

  ‘A fair bit,’ Alex agrees.

  ‘So what do you reckon?’ Bridget asks and I snap to attention when I realise her question is directed at me. ‘We’ll gate-crash your wedding. Just kidding,’ she says when she sees my face. ‘You can do your bit in the daytime and we’ll help you celebrate at night. Yeah?’

  ‘We’ll probably be done by eight-ish,’ I tell her thoughtfully.

  Her face lights up. ‘In that case, perfect! We can go up Friday night, straight from work, celebrate Saturday night, and play on Sunday before heading back in time for work on Monday. What do you think?’ she asks the table.

  ‘I think it’s a brilliant plan,’ Maria speaks for everyone.

  Chapter 11

  I call Polly on Sunday and I’m relieved when she answers. I thought she was avoiding my calls. She tells me she’s going to see Grant’s parents the following weekend, so she can’t come to the Lake District. Bridget mentioned inviting them as well, but it’s probably a good thing they can’t come if Polly’s trying to stay off the drink. I tell her I’ve been worried about her, but she brushes me off in her usual manner, accusing me of overreacting and claiming that what Maria and I saw was just a slip-up. I reiterate that I’m here for her if she needs me and leave it at that.

  The following Friday night, a group of us congregate at the office to drive up to the Lake District for my fourth wedding – and my thirtieth birthday celebrations.

  Rachel is taking Maria, Russ and Lisa, and Alex, who is the only other one of us who actually has a car, is taking Bridget, Lachie and me.

  We’re going to try and hook up at a motorway service station for a bite to eat and drive the rest of the way in convoy.

  ‘Thanks for giving me a lift, bro,’ Lachie says to Alex.

  ‘No problem,’ he responds, although he seemed less than thrilled to be taking my new buddy. He tried to persuade Russ to travel with him, but he was keen to travel with Maria. The pair of them seemed to hit it off at the pub last week – so much so that Maria played less with Lachie’s hair and more with Russ’s as the evening wore on.

  ‘I don’t know if that will fit in the boot.’ Alex nods at Lachie’s guitar as we walk through the dingy underground car park to his blue Alfa Romeo Brera.

  ‘If not, it can come in the back with me,’ he replies.

  ‘One of my bags can come in the back with me, too,’ Bridget says. So she’s sitting next to Lachie, hey? Not that I mind sitting in the front with Alex.

  Lachie has a backpack slung over his shoulder. Alex’s bag and tent are already in the boot. He’s borrowed a second tent from his sister and her husband, who I met at the hen night.

  That seems like a lifetime ago.

  Rachel, Maria and I already had a B&B booked, but the others are staying at Bridget’s aunt’s place tonight, then tomorrow they have to move to a campsite across the lake because a new weekly rental is coming in. Russ and Lisa are also bringing tents and Maria and I are playing things by ear. We might crash in a tent if there’s room, otherwise we’ll go back to our B&B with Rachel, who has shown no interest at all in sleeping on the ground when there’s a perfectly good bed waiting and already paid for. She’s promised to join us for drinks around the campfire after the wedding, though.

  ‘Are you planning on playing that much?’ Alex nods at Lachie’s guitar as he pops open the boot to see if it will squeeze inside. It won’t.

  ‘We’re gonna have a campfire, dude. Gotta have songs around a campfire.’

  Alex frowns and takes my bags from me, kit bag included. He manages to find room for them somehow.

  ‘Your friend is a little uptight,’ Lachie mutters, his breath in my ear as he climbs with his guitar into the passenger seat behind me.

  ‘Ooh, it’s a bit squashy,’ Bridget says as she joins Lachie in the back.

  ‘Snuggle in close, Bridgie,’ Lachie replies. Such a typical Aussie man, dishing out nicknames. ‘You can rest your pretty little head on my shoulder.’

  Alex flashes me a look and I mirror him, both of us knowing that Bridget will be only too happy to oblige. He navigates us out of the car park and straight into London at rush hour. Lachie starts to sing along to the radio, Alex turns the sound up and I smile to myself and let him concentrate on driving.

  Two hours into our journey, Lachie and Bridget are both fast asleep; Lachie’s head is tilted back on his headrest and Bridget’s head is on one of his broad shoulders. I twist to face Alex.

  ‘So Zara didn’t mind you coming away this weekend?’ I ask him. He glances in his rear-view mirror and turns the radio back down, satisfied that Lachie won’t be singing along in the near future.

  ‘No, why would she?’

  I shrug. ‘I don’t know. That’s good, though,’ I add awkwardly.

  ‘What’s the deal with him?’ Alex frowns, jerking his head towards the back seat.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I ask.

  ‘What’s he doing here?’

  ‘I told you, I met him a couple of weeks ago at a wedding in Scotland.’

  ‘And he just came to London and hunted you out?’

  ‘I obviously made an impression on him. He’s found a job in a pub in Camden.’

  ‘It’s a little obsessive, don’t you think?’

  I laugh. ‘He’s just being friendly, you dork, cut a girl some slack. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like he’s in love with me,’ I add in a self-deprecating voice.

  ‘I don’t know. He seems pretty used to women falling at his feet.’

  ‘Who cares what he’s used to?’ I reply. ‘I’ll do what I want. And anyway, I’m single, he’s single, what does it matter?’ His jaw twitches as he stares straight ahead out of the windscreen. ‘What’s your problem with him?’ I ask, not getting a reply. ‘You just need to get to know him better,’ I decide.

  ‘How well do you know him?’ He glances across at me, and I can hear the accusation in his tone.

  ‘What are you asking me?’ I reply, a chill spreading inside me as he looks back at the road. As if he has a right to ask me anything.

  He glances at me again. ‘Have you slept with him?’

  Wow. I didn’t expect him to be so upfront. Thankfully irritation overcomes my surprise.

  ‘What’s it to you if I had?’ I bite back.

  ‘Nothing. It’s none of my business,’ he says blandly, indicating to overtake a lorry. ‘You can sleep with whoever you want.’

  I stare at him with shock and anger. ‘Is that what you think I do?’ I ask coldly. ‘Go around having one-night stands with people?’

  He shrugs. ‘Forget it.’

  I glare at him for a moment longer, before instinctively turning around to look at the back seat. When I do, Lachie’s half-open eyes are staring right back at me. He closes them again, leaving me to wonder if I’d just imagined him eavesdropping on our conversation.

  Chapter 12

  ‘I couldn’t believe it when I woke up this morning. Wayne said to me, not this morning, obviously, because you’re not allowed to see each other on the morning of the big day, but he’s said to me in the past, he’s said, “The weather is shit in the Lake District. Shit!” he said, but he’s wrong. Look at it! Look out there!’

  ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ Maria says warmly, while Rachel snaps away.r />
  ‘Absolutely stunning,’ Becky, our excessively chatty bride continues. ‘And to think he wanted to get married in London. London! Boring old London instead of here? I’m so glad I stuck to my guns. So glad.’

  ‘Just hold still for a moment,’ Maria says gently.

  ‘I’ll head off to the register office,’ I whisper to Rachel. She nods with amusement.

  Wayne agreed to marry Becky because she told him it was now or never, that’s what we’ve been hearing. Both in their late thirties, the couple have been together for twelve years with no sign of a proposal. She wants children; he wants an easy life. She decided it was time to make his life difficult or call it quits.

  I still have no idea why she’d bother.

  Wayne and I appear to share the same sentiment.

  ‘What’s with all the flowers? I told her to keep it simple,’ I overhear him complaining to his mother, who looks like she’s gone to a real effort, judging by the size of her hat and her matching lilac silk suit.

  ‘It’s her big day,’ Wayne’s mother says reasonably. ‘She’s waited a long time for this.’

  ‘It’s ridiculous. We don’t need to get married to be together.’

  Can’t say I don’t think he has a point. But it’s a little late to be trying to convince anyone else on that matter... Wayne is still looking cranky and I don’t want to shoot him with a black look on his face.

  ‘Doesn’t your mother look lovely, Wayne?’ I prompt, hoping he’ll glance at her and smile.

  But instead he shocks me by saying, ‘I don’t want any photos. Get that thing out of my face!’

  ‘Wayne!’ His mother gasps, looking horrified. But he storms off.

  Oh dear. We’ve got a tricky one here.

  I do what I can, shooting him from afar with a zoom, but I barely get a single shot of him not scowling.

  Thank goodness for the flowers, I say. They give me something to focus on. Masses of pinky-purple hellebores, blue delphiniums, muscari and cornflowers are attached to the gilded aisle chairs with purple ribbons, and huge displays adorn every other surface. I think they look stunning.

  When Becky arrives, she’s like a beaming ray of sunshine. I hope some of her happiness rubs off on her husband-to-be. I thought she might have gone for something a little more understated, seeing as they’re getting married in a register office, but to my surprise she has opted for a full meringue. She’s not slim, but she hasn’t made the strapless mistake. Her gown has a flattering V-neck, structured bodice with decent-sized shoulder straps, and there are crystal and pearl beads scattered attractively around her waistline just above a billowing white skirt. Her auburn hair is up in a bun and she’s wearing diamanté drop earrings.

  Rachel gives me a delighted thumbs-up.

  ‘I love it when they go for the big dresses,’ she says, making to move past me. ‘How’s everything here?’

  ‘Er, okay,’ I say.

  ‘What is it?’ She looks concerned.

  ‘I think we’ve got a bit of a reluctant groom.’

  We both look over at Wayne to see him checking his watch. He’s wearing a nice enough suit, but it’s nothing special. Not in comparison to the effort Becky has made.

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll get some good shots later,’ Rachel assures me.

  I’ve set her up at the front, so all she has to do is start shooting. The Princess Bride’s ‘Once Upon A Time... Storybook Love’ begins to play out of a small stereo and I bite my lip. It makes a nice change from ‘The Bridal March’, that’s for sure.

  Becky begins to walk down the aisle and I ready myself to capture Wayne’s reaction. But he’s not turning around; his eyes are trained on the registrar. The guests coo and gasp as Becky passes them and then the curiosity must get to Wayne because he starts to swivel. Snap. His mouth falls open with shock. No smile. He stares at his bride-to-be in disbelief. He obviously had no idea she was going for a big dress. He pulls himself together and readjusts his face, but my heart sinks on her behalf.

  To my surprise, Becky doesn’t seem particularly fazed about her reluctant groom as the day proceeds. She’s having the time of her life. Rachel and I drive along a scenic, winding road to the reception venue. The lake is on our right, visible above a grey stone wall dotted with splats of greeny-brown moss. To our left are tall, leafy trees, and beneath them the forest floor is covered with green grass and feathery ferns unfurling upwards into the sparse sunlight.

  Waterfall slivers cut through the mountains like scars, and the mountains themselves are impressive, their colours smudged with greens, mauves, browns and greys. Scraggy gorse bushes cling to the slopes, bursting with yellow flowers. The rhododendron flowers are vibrant in colour: bright orange, pink, red and yellow.

  When we arrive, we decide to make the most of the gorgeous weather by shooting the group shots in the garden. But when we’re setting everyone up, we realise there’s no groom. I find him around the back of the hotel, talking on his phone.

  ‘I don’t want to be in any photographs,’ he snaps as soon as he sees me.

  ‘But we’re doing the group shots,’ I plead.

  He ignores me. ‘Yeah, thanks,’ he says into the receiver in a downhearted voice. ‘Got me ball and chain now, never mind.’

  Rachel and I are relieved when we finally get a break.

  There’s a stone bench under the trees by the lake so we take time to have a breather. The evening air is mild, but the bench is cold underneath us. Through the trees I see four familiar-looking people walking along the path on the other side of the lake. One of the guys is blond and wearing a black beanie, the other is dark-haired, and there are two girls.

  ‘Is that the others?’ I say aloud, jumping up and moving out from under the trees. I wave and the guy who I’m assuming is Lachie waves back. ‘Do we have time to go and say hi?’ I call to Rachel.

  ‘Go for it,’ she replies, firmly rooted to the bench. ‘We’ve probably got half an hour. I’m going to chill here for a bit.’

  ‘Okay, no worries.’ I hurry along the path, my kit bag heavy on my shoulder and my camera clonking against my stomach until the faraway faces become more and more distinct. I grin at Lachie as he runs the last twenty metres towards me. The last thing I expect is for him to pick me up and swing me around so I squeal when he does.

  ‘Put me down!’ My head is spinning by the time my feet are planted on the pathway, my camera smacking against my gut. ‘Oof!’

  ‘How’s it going?’ he asks, laughing and blocking me as I try to hit him. He’s wearing a white, slightly holey T-shirt and a beanie which is completely unnecessary in this weather.

  ‘Urgh, it’s all a bit shit, actually.’

  ‘What’s up?’ Alex asks with a frown as he, Bridget and Lisa reach us.

  ‘The groom is a total tosspot,’ I reply to everyone’s amusement. ‘What are you guys doing here?’

  ‘That’s the campsite there,’ Lachie says, twisting around to point behind him.

  ‘That’s so close. The reception is just across the lake.’ I jerk my head to my right, indicating a distant whitewashed building. ‘I could practically walk here later.’

  ‘It’ll be too dark.’ Alex shakes his head authoritatively. ‘I’ll come and pick you up in the car.’

  ‘Or I could walk you,’ Lachie interjects.

  ‘It’s okay, Rachel’s driving,’ I tell them with a smile, turning to Bridget. ‘How’s your tent?’ I ask her. She’s just had her hair cut into a stylish blunt bob and she looks fantastic.

  ‘You want my honest answer?’ That sounds ominous.

  ‘Yes?’ I reply tentatively.

  ‘I can’t believe I ever suggested this.’

  I laugh. ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t think I’m a camping sort of girl. The tent is so small!’ She pulls a disgusted face. ‘And my bed is so hard!’

  ‘Have you never been camping before?’ Lachie asks, looking down at her with amusement.

  ‘No.’

  ‘No?�
� I ask, perplexed. But she was so keen on the idea! ‘Then why did you suggest it?’

  ‘I didn’t know my aunt was going to be booked out,’ she grumbles.

  ‘Have my bed at the B&B if you like. I’m happy to camp.’

  Her mood visibly improves. ‘Really?’

  ‘Sure.’ I scan the meadow behind them. ‘Where are Maria and Russ?’

  ‘They’re up at the tents,’ Lisa reveals with a mischievous look.

  ‘Did you know they got it on together last week?’ Bridget questions me with narrowed eyes. ‘After the pub?’

  ‘Did they?’ I reply with surprise. ‘Wow.’ I wonder why Maria didn’t mention it. Felt a little self-conscious, I imagine. I look for Rachel under the cluster of trees in the distance. ‘I need to get back.’

  ‘We’ll walk with you,’ Alex says. He and I fall into step with each other. The warm sun beats down on my neck and shoulders. I’m wearing smart black trousers and a navy-blue shirt and my light-brown hair is up in a ponytail.

  ‘You want me to carry that for you?’ Alex asks, nodding at my heavy kit bag.

  ‘I’m alright,’ I brush him off.

  ‘Go on.’

  I comply, sliding it off my shoulder and into his proffered hand. ‘Thanks.’

  He nods at my camera. ‘Can I see some of your shots?’

  ‘Sure.’ I turn my camera on and scroll down as we walk. We pause on a small grey stone bridge curving over a bubbling brook and I tilt the screen his way.

  ‘There’s a fish!’ Lisa cries, while Bridget takes off one of her shoes and complains about a blister.

  Alex moves his head closer to mine. I return my attention to my shots, breathing in his scent as I do so. ‘I messed up the exposure on these ones,’ I remember as I skip through the signing of the register.