Till Daph Do Us Part

by Phillipa Nefri Clark

  “But Lisa—”

  “No but anything. If you want this wedding to go ahead, send them away and find me the right ones. Oh. Hello.” Lisa spotted Daphne. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Daphne Jones, your wedding celebrant.”

  The change in Lisa was immediate. She smiled and hurried to shake Daphne’s hand. “As you can see, things are a mess. People don’t listen to instructions.”

  “I’m sure it will all come together.”

  Lisa’s mother stared into the box and Daphne’s heart sank. The older lady was crying. She found the spare clean handkerchief kept for such emergencies and skirted around more chairs, not brave enough to step on the purple carpet.

  “Hello, dear. I’m Daphne.” She used her calm and supportive voice as she held the handkerchief out. “Weddings are such emotional times.”

  “This is my mother, Margaret. She cries a lot.”

  Daphne hadn’t noticed Lisa follow her. The younger woman grabbed a handful of bows from the box.

  “Well, what do you think, Daphne? A girl can’t possibly use the same colours for consecutive weddings? Can she?”

  Great. Asking the opinion of the one person who had to be all things to all people on these occasions. Daphne considered her response. If she agreed with Margaret, who wasn’t her client, then the bride might have more of a meltdown. On the other hand, Lisa had already made her mother cry and in Daphne’s opinion, the mother of the bride should only cry happy tears on the day of the wedding. For that matter, how many weddings had there been already?

  The eyes of both women drilled into her. Tears dripped down Margaret’s cheeks. Lisa had a steely expression. There really was no way to win this one.

  “Sorry I’m late! The boys at work wanted to give me a send-off and I couldn’t say no.”

  Phew. Disaster averted.

  A young man wearing shorts and a sleeveless checked shirt ambled down the purple carpet. Saved by the groom…perhaps? He looked barely out of school.

  “What on earth are you wearing, Steve?”

  With a lopsided grin, Steve Tanning put an arm around Lisa and kissed her. She put both hands against his chest and pushed him away, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

  “How much have you had to drink?”

  “Couple of beers. Can’t blame a man for letting his mates buy him a drink the day before he gets hitched.” Steve wasn’t the least bit put out by his fiancée’s response and wiped his hand on his shorts before shoving it at Daphne. “I’m Steve and you must be the wedding photographer. Except where are your cameras?”

  “I told you we don’t need one! Don’t you listen either?”

  “Best not to let me loose with a camera,” Daphne said. “I’m Daphne Jones, your celebrant.”

  “Really? Thought you’d be younger.”

  Margaret gasped and covered her mouth with a hand. Bob’s head shot up with a glare that would frighten most people, and Lisa turned even redder than before. Bob’s father, who was weaving fine wire around two pieces of background, did nothing. Except grin to himself.

  Daphne lifted her chin. “We’re only as old as we feel.”

  Steve laughed. “Well, I feel twenty three and am twenty three so what does that say about me?”

  A few replies came to mind but none of them mattered. Forcing down a sudden urge to turn and walk away and not return, Daphne stared straight at Steve without a word. He shuffled his feet and looked away.

  The silence dragged until Daphne remembered she was here to help them get to their happiest day. Sometimes stress made people do and say things they normally wouldn’t. These were nice people underneath.

  “Shall we get started?”

  A Happy Marriage

  “Now, doll, you make yourself comfortable and I’ll pour you a nice glass of wine and let you relax a bit.” True to his word, John had laid out a picnic blanket close to the river and made several trips back and forth to Bluebell to bring their dinner over. He’d taken one look at Daphne’s set face when he’d picked her up from the Brooker house and decided to make her feel extra special tonight.

  Not that it was hard to spoil his wife. Since their days as high-school sweethearts, he’d loved Daphne with his whole heart. She made him smile, gave him her full support in any endeavour, and knew when he needed space. Daphne was one of those rare humans who truly did care about other people’s feelings and put their needs before her own.

  “I didn’t mean for you to do all the work.” John helped Daphne down onto the blanket. Some days her knees weren’t as good as they once were and she’d been on her feet all afternoon. “Thanks. This is a lovely spot.”

  John opened the cooler he’d carried across. Inside on a bed of ice was a bottle of wine, dessert, and glasses. He poured the wine and handed a glass to Daphne before raising his in a toast.

  “To Daphne Jones. Celebrant extraordinaire.”

  She touched her glass to his but didn’t take a sip and to his dismay, began blinking rapidly. Since she’d got into the car, she’d said little and when she had spoken, her voice was strained. He reached for her hand and squeezed it until she looked at him.

  “Tough day at the office?”

  Her lips were pressed tight against each other. John took both glasses and set them on the lid of the cooler, then held his arms open. In an instant she’d shuffled close enough to lean against his shoulder and he closed the hug.

  “I don’t want to cry.” Her words were muffled and he loosened his arms a little to better hear her. “Not worth crying over rude people.”

  “True. But sometimes a good cry makes you feel better.”

  They stayed like that for a few minutes until Daphne’s heart stopped pounding against his chest and was once again a normal beat. She hadn’t cried but the rims of her eyes were red when she straightened. He handed her back her glass and this time she took a sip.

  “Why don’t you fill me in while I serve dinner?”

  “Shall I help?”

  “Nope.” He opened the picnic basket and drew out a foil wrapped platter. “Went fishing in the river. Thought you’d like some of my world-famous fish tacos.”

  “You made all of this?” Daphne sniffed the air as he unwrapped the platter. “Why do you look after me so well?”

  “Hey. No tears now!” John leaned over and kissed Daphne’s cheek. “Tell me what happened.”

  “You know I don’t take offence easily but the groom was not pleasant. Nor the bride nor her father and even her grandfather. No lilac and past weddings and my age.” The words tumbled over each other.

  John shot her a look. “Your age? What has that got to do with anything. Or anyone?”

  “The groom said he didn’t expect me to be so old. That’s after he mistook me for the wedding photographer. And nobody told him off.”

  “Wait on, love. The groom said that?” His chest tightened. Why would anyone say such a thing?

  “He did. He’s so young, John. Twenty three but he acts a lot younger. Turned up after going to the pub with his mates. In shorts and old boots.”

  “Age is no excuse for rudeness. So, they’re a very young couple?”

  Daphne took a minute to answer, enjoying a mouthful of the white wine before shaking her head. “Lisa, the bride, is thirty two. Now I’m not one to judge, and that age difference might not matter when both people are sensible, but the way they behaved today was immature. Lisa yelled at her mother a few times over silly things like the wrong colour bows for the chairs.”

  After filling a plate for Daphne, he started piling food onto his. “Maybe you’ve been lucky so far. Every wedding has been wonderful and you’ve come away thrilled to bits. Do you think they’re just nervous?”

  “Him, I can understand although he didn’t even act as though tomorrow is his big day. But Lisa knows what to expect. This is her third wedding.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Only time I felt a bit sorry was when her mother told me she’d lost two husbands.” Dap
hne put down her wine glass and picked up her plate.

  John had it on the tip of his tongue to point out that if Lisa Brooker was really so unpleasant her previous husbands may have had reason to divorce her.

  “Nobody should be a widow so young.” Daphne lifted a taco. “You’re so clever, love. I’m starving.” She took a bite and closed her eyes with a moan and then a smile.

  Twice widowed and now about to marry again. John couldn’t imagine marrying three times in a few years. With a bit of luck the Tannings would enjoy a long life together. Lots of time for them to annoy each other rather than ganging up on his wife or any other unsuspecting folk.

  Sam, Shane and Steve

  A wonderful evening by the river, listening to the birds settle for the night, watching the sun set with the man she loved was enough to leave Daphne in a calm state of mind. Ready to begin again. She’d slept well after deciding not to work on the ceremony while upset. After breakfast and a nice cup of tea, Daphne had taken her notebook and gone for a walk where it was quiet beneath the willows.

  She spent an hour tinkering with the words and then rehearsed until everything clicked into place in her mind. Despite their behaviour, Lisa and Steve had helped her out by having their vows typed and ready. She’d had them practice a few times so the whole event wasn’t a complete shock, but whether Steve would remember was another thing. He’d definitely had a few beers and by the time they’d finished, he looked more interested in sprawling on the grass than standing in position.

  Her last job before dressing for the event was to transcribe her most important notes into the ceremony book. Here she kept every service she did and she loved the look and feel of the bound and engraved book. When she’d been little, her mother had a diary with her name engraved on the front. It was forbidden to touch, which made it all the more mysterious. Mind you, it had a combination lock so was quite safe from the prying eyes of small children.

  When John drove up the street to the Brooker house, Daphne’s stomach churned and her hands shook so she held them tight within each other on her lap. This wasn’t good, this feeling of dread in her gut.

  Marry them and leave. It is only an hour until the ceremony. You can do this.

  Daphne’s life growing up was tough and she’d learned to talk herself into a better mindset when the old feelings of anxiety emerged. One day she’d talk to someone professional but most of the time she could talk reason to herself.

  “Daph? You okay, love?” John stopped the car a short walk from the driveway, which overflowed with cars. “Would you like me to hang around?”

  Yes! Except, no.

  “You’re so sweet. But I’m fine. And in exactly,” she checked her watch, “two hours, I’ll be waiting here and there will be a newly married couple in town.”

  A kiss or two and a check in the mirror later and Daphne was forcing her feet forward. The sense of dread hadn’t lessened but at least she could concentrate on action rather than worrying.

  She decided to go around the house first and take a look at the final set up in the garden. Then she would find the bride and go over any last minute questions. People were mingling in the reception area. It was bright and beautiful with lots of lilac and white decorated tables and chairs. There was a spot for the band who were going to play for the afternoon and white aproned catering staff busied themselves unpacking plates and glasses.

  Half a dozen or so young men in suits took turns drinking champagne directly from a bottle. One of them was Steve. Daphne raised her eyebrows but kept going. It was none of her business.

  A handful of guests were already seated for the wedding. It was quiet here apart from soft piped music and hushed conversation. Daphne smiled at those who glanced at her and inspected the podium. The purple carpet was gone, replaced by one closer to lilac. Each chair was covered with white fabric decorated with lilac bows. Lisa had got her way. The podium itself had a couple of large vases of flowers. The backdrop of greenery was wound with lilac coloured artificial flowers, and although it looked ready to fall with a gust of wind, it did provide a pretty background. She stepped onto the podium and faced the audience. This was a nice sized area so no need for a microphone. Her voice would carry to the back.

  As more people trickled in through the gate, Daphne returned to the house.

  “Mrs Jones.” Margaret carried a tray of champagne glasses out of the kitchen. “Would you like a glass?”

  “Daphne. Thank you but no. Best I keep a clear head.”

  “Someone should. I apologise for everyone’s behaviour yesterday. You were spoken to quite rudely.”

  “Weddings sometimes put people on edge. No need to worry.”

  “The problem is Lisa’s choice of husbands.”

  Daphne didn’t know how to answer, so kept her mouth shut.

  Margaret handed the tray to someone going past and looked over her shoulder before continuing in a hushed tone. “Steve is nice enough, of course. But I keep thinking Lisa is trying to find someone just like her first husband. She loved him so much.”

  “How awful for her to lose two husbands. Is Steve like her first one, then?”

  “Like him? They were cousins. Same as her second husband. Lots of big families around here and all three men she’s chosen to marry were related to each other.”

  Daphne clambered for an appropriate response, but only came up with, “Did they both have a genetic disease? I mean, to die so young? And related.”

  Stop babbling, Daph.

  Margaret didn’t blink an eye. “No. Actually, they both had accidents. Sam was electrocuted and Shane fell off a ladder. Terrible accidents. Steve’s family won’t even attend the wedding because they somehow blame my Lisa.”

  “Oh goodness. What a shame. Best to keep Steve in bubble wrap!”

  Aware she was at risk of going from bad to worse with her words, Daphne excused herself and found a bathroom where she locked herself in and fanned her face. She grabbed her phone from her bag and dialled John.

  “Love? You okay?”

  She whispered. “Yes. But Steve is the third in his family to marry Lisa.”

  “Unusual.”

  “Sam, Shane, and now Steve. Electrocution and a bad fall.”

  “Must have been bad. I mean if the poor bloke died.”

  “Yes! Exactly. And his family don’t approve. Do you think she’s one of those black widows, John? What if Steve is next? Should I refuse to marry them?”

  Even as she said the words, Daphne knew she was overreacting. The upset from yesterday must have clouded her judgement. Good thing she’d not accepted the glass of champagne, although perhaps she should. It might calm her nerves a bit.

  “Daph? Take a deep breath and pull yourself together. It won’t be long and then I’ll be there to pick you up. What if we go into town for dinner tonight?”

  She gazed at her reflection. Her eyes were too wide open. Startled. John was right. Take a breath and stop seeing things that weren’t there.

  “Sounds lovely. Dinner with my husband.”

  “Are you feeling a bit happier?”

  “I am. Thank you, love.”

  “Only ever a call away. See you in a bit.”

  Daphne switched her phone to the silent setting and pushed it to the bottom of her bag. A glance at her watch made her heart jump. Time to check on the bride.

  “You can do this, Daph.” She smiled at her reflection. “Everyone is counting on you to make this a perfect ceremony and you can. You are special, and have a good heart.”

  With no further ado, Daphne opened the door and strode out.

  A Short Marriage

  Fifteen minutes past schedule, the bride emerged through the open gate and walked down the aisle. Lisa gripped her father’s arm and took care with her footing. If she’d had too much champagne then she was a good match for the groom. Short of doing a breathalyser test, Daphne couldn’t judge their exact state and decided if they couldn’t manage their vows then she’d call for a postponement. Pe
ople had to be of sound mind when taking such a big step and she was the one who had to make these moments flawless.

  Her job was to ensure their ceremony was perfect.

  As perfect as a wedding with only one side of the family present, plus the groom’s large group of semi-inebriated friends, and a demanding third time bride could be.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  Her concerns were unfounded and the ceremony, including the vows, went as planned.

  As the final words were spoken, Daphne crossed her fingers beneath the ceremony book. Lisa had made her declaration first, a mix of old and new they’d chosen themselves. Now, Steve finished his part of the vow.

  “Forever together, sick or well, rich or poor, until death do us part!” he finished with a flourish. And should have stopped there but as he slipped a wedding band onto Lisa’s finger, he leaned closer with a grin and in a loud whisper, “You before me, darl. Given the age difference.”

  Lisa stepped back and the colour drained from her face as she snatched her hand away.

  A stunned silence from the guests at the front was followed by queries of “What happened?” “What did he say?” from further back. Bob’s mouth had dropped open and the expression of fury on Margaret’s face was enough to scare anyone.

  This could turn ugly fast. Daphne closed her book with a loud, “I pronounce you husband and wife. Steve, you may kiss Lisa.”

  For a moment it was more likely Lisa would storm off the platform. Steve gave her a lopsided smile. “Sorry, darl. I’m so nervous. Love you to the moon and back.”

  The anger in Lisa’s eyes drained away and then she threw herself at Steve and they kissed.

  “Let me introduce the happy couple, Steve and Lisa Tanning!”

  Daphne raised her hands and the guests stood, clapping. And some whistling from Steve’s friends. The newlyweds stopped kissing and joined hands and moved into the audience, leaving Daphne alone on the platform to pack away her things.