by Maeve Binchy
‘None, Father, I told you over and over. Simon will make a speech, and that’s it. Henry may say a few words, thank you for giving me to him, and for the reception.’
‘Well, that’s not right, I mean you paid for the reception. …’
‘Yes, Father, but that’s not the point. Anyway, you gave me board and lodging here, and educated me and everything, so in a way any money I saved came because of you and that’s you paying for it indirectly, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose that’s right.’ Father was doubtful.
‘Of course it’s right.’ She straightened his tie. ‘How do I look Father, do you think I’ll do?’
He stood away from her and looked her up and down approvingly. ‘Oh yes, my dear, you look …’ He paused. Would he say she looked lovely, or beautiful, or neat? What kind of things had he said to Mother when she was all dressed up? ‘You look very … presentable,’ and he gave a little laugh to show that the word was a little joke.
She looked around the hall of Clarence Gardens and in the small mirror caught sight of herself in the cream wool dress and jacket, with the big orchid pinned to the lapel. She pulled the brim of her hat forward and fixed four hairpins in the ends of her hair so that they were guarded against the wind; the hair was meant to flick out not run wild, so she sprayed on a little lacquer. She would take them out when the car stopped at Caxton Hall. Henry was meeting her there with Simon. They had decided to go separately, to make it more formal in a way. And she wanted to have this last journey with Father so that he would realise that he was still special. He had been very silent about Harry coming to the wedding, so travelling to the ceremony with him alone might be some kind of gesture. Elizabeth gave herself a final check and had a last look at the house. In twenty years she had put very little of her own personality into it. It had always been Father’s house. She hoped that the flat in Battersea would be different. Already she and Henry had found furniture and rugs and knick-knacks. All her clothes were there in the old-fashioned wardrobe they had bought, and Henry had moved his things in too. He left his own flat officially today.
Superstitiously they decided not to spend a night there until they were married. It would make it more significant they agreed, and laughed at themselves and each other for their silliness.
In under an hour she would be Mrs Henry Mason. Did every woman who got married go through this sort of unreality bit just at the last moment? She thought of Henry’s face eager and expectant, and she smiled happily. After all the lonely times in this house, after all the upsets and uncertainties she was finally being rewarded. She was going to marry a man who was goodness itself. That was a phrase Aunt Eileen had used about people who were very kind. What a pity she hadn’t been able to come, and she had forgotten to ask what was actually wrong with her. They had had too many other things to talk about. Aisling was so strong about everything; most women would collapse if their husband had disappeared on the rampage in some strange city. But Aisling took everything in her stride.
‘My dear, I think we should … the taxi has been here for five minutes.’ Father hated waste even though Henry had paid for the taxi.
‘Right, come on, let’s go and get me married and off your hands.’
‘You were never any trouble to us. Your mother and I had no problems with you. Ever.’ He said it with his back to her as he was double locking the door. Possibly the only compliment he had ever given her. She couldn’t answer him because she was afraid she might start to cry, and anyway the people across the road, the rather prim and proper Kentons, were waving like anything. They had come out to see her go, and other neighbours had too. Elizabeth waved to them all, delighted, and Father smiled as they got into the taxi and went off to get her married.
It was much nicer and much more like a real wedding than Aisling had expected. The nuns had said that registry office weddings were mere formalities at the desk of a clerk or a lawyer – they had only been invented because British people had turned away from all religion, even their own. But this was very impressive, and the registrar was almost as good as a priest when he was asking them did they take each other for lawful wedded husband and wife. Aisling had thought that it was all a matter of mumbling and writings things down in a book.
Simon, the handsome best man, was utterly charming. In a different way to Johnny, he was flowery in his speech, he paid extravagant compliments and told her that her loveliness had not been conveyed in any adequate manner, although to be fair, attempts had been made. Aisling thought this was great fun.
‘You’re the smooth elegant colleague,’ she said triumphantly. ‘Have you met my husband, Tony Murray?’
‘I wish that you had met Tony Murray long after you had met me,’ he said over-gallantly, bowing and shaking hands with Tony who looked very pale and not at all able to cope with such flamboyance at this time of the morning.
The ceremony passed in a flash and as they came out, and Stefan and Harry and Johnny organised the confetti, there was another wedding party waiting to go in.
Henry was smiling so broadly that it looked as if his face would break. Donal was busy taking photographs. Elizabeth looked so lovely, Aisling was amazed. She had always thought that Elizabeth was gentle and pale and blonde and pretty in a pastel way, but today she looked different; even though her outfit was pale she looked colourful. Her face was strong, her lipstick was bright, her orchid was dark purple, her hair looked bouncy, not wispy, her eyes were sparkling. Thank God she’s having a nice day, thank God, after all the awful things that happened to her, Aisling felt. Who would ever have expected a day like this, with her stepfather cheering as well as her father, and Johnny Stone apparently delighted for her too? If anyone deserved a great wedding day it was Elizabeth.
Mrs Noble was waiting for them, a high-necked blouse, a cameo brooch; she almost made herself the unofficial hostess. In one minute she had decided that Harry and Johnny were her best allies and singled them out whenever anything needed to be done.
‘Mr Elton, might I ask you to move that little group near the door down here towards the main body of the room, they seem to be a little left out. …’
And Harry was off like a terrier dog. ‘Hallo. Might I introduce myself? I’m Harry Elton, on the bride’s side. …’
Jean and Derek were shy at gatherings and were delighted with Harry; he introduced them to Stefan and Anna and only when a conversation about old folding draught screens seemed under way did he leave them.
Mrs Noble was vigilant. ‘Mr Stone, can I suggest that you direct the waitress with the wine over there towards the rather sad-looking man?’
‘That’s the father of the bride, you couldn’t cheer him up,’ Johnny said.
‘Oh dear, I see.’ Mrs Noble felt she might have said the wrong thing.
‘He’s a widower, Mrs Noble. Now if you were unattached I’d say you might be able to cheer him up!’ Johnny winked at her. Mrs Noble was delighted.
‘You are dreadful, Mr Stone,’ she said, patting her hair.
Johnny got the message though. Elizabeth’s father did look like a wet week. Johnny went over to him and refilled his glass.
‘Elizabeth looks lovely,’ Johnny said.
‘Yes, yes.’
‘Very nice, this reception, very generous of you, Mr White.’
‘Yes, well, indirectly, only indirectly.’
In desperation Johnny looked for someone to rope in. Tony Murray was nearby. Johnny filled his glass. He was a handsome fellow, this husband of Aisling’s. ‘Have you met Aisling O’Connor’s husband, Mr White?’ They had, and obviously hadn’t found much to talk about then either. Johnny battled on, and filled Tony Murray’s glass again. With relief he saw that Mrs Noble was organising the food on the tables at the end of the room and he was able to direct them both towards it. Tony Murray said he had to slip downstairs to make a phone call. Fine-looking fellow, but a bit restless, Johnny thought.
Aisling had taken down Harry’s address and promised to visit him in Prest
on. She was stunned to find herself laughing so heartily with the terrible Mr Elton who had come to take Elizabeth’s mother away. After a while she even felt bold enough to tell him that.
‘I know.’ Harry was solemn for a moment. ‘I think Elizabeth sometimes feels the same. She’s such a good friend to me, but I think she stops now and then and puzzles over it all.’
‘No, she always talks of you with great love,’ Aisling said.
‘Does she now? That’s good to know, she’s a great lass, I think of her as my own daughter. She always loved being over in your place too, mind. She said it was the best time of her life.’
‘We are being polite to each other.’ Aisling looked around for Tony; she couldn’t see him, but he must be in that group which was moving to the food. ‘Elizabeth’s very happy today, she’s delighted with Henry and the whole thing. …’
‘Yes.’ Harry nodded, but his earlier enthusiasm didn’t seem so marked now. ‘Yes, I hope she made the right choice, she says she has, she says she has. I always thought she’d marry Johnny Stone.’
‘Yes, well they both took long enough to consider that one, and it didn’t work out at marrying each other did it?’
Harry laughed. Aisling was a great girl, he thought, a corker to look at too. ‘Yes, but you see Elizabeth’s her mother’s daughter, there’s a flash of Violet in her all the time. I hope this fellow will be enough for her.’
‘Well, if he’s not, let’s hope that history won’t repeat itself, and we won’t see another wicked Mr Elton coming to carry her off in the future.’ They moved towards the table and Aisling saw that Donal was having an animated chat with an attractive blonde, and she noticed with some relief that Tony had come in the door; he must have been to the toilet. He looked a bit better now, less pale and sickly.
Mrs Noble could whisper without even appearing to move her mouth. ‘Mr Elton, do you think we should discourage the waitress from passing any more wine to that rather stocky, well-built man near the door? An Irishman I think.’
‘Thank you,’ said Harry, ‘I’ll see she passes him no more.’
A little later: ‘Mr Stone, just before the speeches begin can I call your attention to that dark-haired Irishman? Over there.’
‘The Squire,’ Johnny smiled.
‘Well, I don’t want to say anything to Miss White, or indeed Mrs Mason as she must be called now, but he does seem to have a half bottle of spirits in his hip pocket. It may be unimportant but I felt you should know.’
Johnny stood behind Tony Murray for a while. Twice he saw the wine glass which had contained white wine until Harry had motioned the waitress away being refilled from a half bottle of vodka which now only had a third of the contents left. He did it very cleverly, with one hand, glass on the table, bottle out, cap off, filling down and bottle replaced in a moment; all the while Tony was looking innocently ahead of him, and with his other hand he was taking little puffs from his cigarette and waving across the room – but there was nobody returning his wave.
Simon was courteous, wordy, flowery, and urbane. Those were the words that Aisling thought she would have used to describe him. He didn’t say anything real about either Elizabeth or Henry, it was all little witticisms but people liked them – and indeed he said them very well.
The cake was cut, the champagne was produced, and toasts were drunk.
‘Are you going to make a speech?’ Aisling asked Elizabeth’s Father.
‘Oh heavens no, no, she promised, she said I didn’t have to.’ He looked worried.
‘Go on out of that, she’d love you to say a few words … just a word or two, it would mean a lot.’
‘I don’t think …’ He looked flustered.
‘Tell them she was a smashing daughter, and she’ll be a good wife and you’re glad that everyone is here enjoying themselves and it’s a happy occasion.’
‘Is that all I’d have to say?’
‘Certainly that’s all. Go on now, slay them, knock them sideways.’
Father cleared his throat. Elizabeth looked up, startled. It had all been going so well, Father wasn’t going to do anything absurd like saying it was over now? There were still five more bottles of champagne to be passed around.
‘I’d like to tell you all that I am not a good speaker, but I cannot let the moment pass without expressing my gratitude to you all for coming, my hope that you are enjoying the reception. …’ A lot of hear-hears at this. ‘And I would mainly like to say that I am very happy that my daughter, Elizabeth, is marrying such a splendid man as Henry Mason, I am sure he will make her very happy and I can tell him that if she is as good a wife as she has been a daughter, he will be a lucky man. Thank you very much.’ It was so simple and unflowery, after all Simon’s complicated and convoluted phrases, that it touched everyone. Glasses were raised again to the bride and Elizabeth had to concentrate very hard on the table cloth to stop the tears coming into her eyes. Fancy poor Father steeling himself to do that, he must have been practising it all the time. Who would ever have thought Father could have thought of just the right thing to say?
Harry had asked Mrs Noble if they could use the piano. She was most enthusiastic, so before Elizabeth was even aware that Harry was on the piano stool he had struck up, ‘For They Are Jolly Good Fellows’, and everyone in the room including Father was joining in. Harry was in his element, he got them singing ‘On Ilkley Moor Baht ‘at’, and to the cries of more, he had ‘My Old Man Said Follow The Van’.
He played ‘It’s A Long Way To Tipperary’, specially for the contingent from Ireland, and then that turned into ‘Pack up Your Troubles In Your Old Kit Bag’.
‘Another Irish song,’ Stefan called. The Irish have the best songs.’
‘I’ll sing one,’ Tony said.
‘Oh my God.’ Aisling turned round to see who could come to her aid. She saw Johnny not far away. ‘He doesn’t sing, stop him,’ she said desperately.
Tony said, ‘Do you know Kevin Barry?’
‘No,’ said Harry good-naturedly. ‘But you start and I’ll pick it up.’
‘In Mount Joy gaol one Monday morning,
High above the gallows tree
Kevin Barry gave his young life
For the cause of Liberty. …’
‘Please Johnny,’ Aisling begged.
‘Hey what about some song we all know?’ Johnny called out.
‘No, let me finish,’ Tony said.
‘Let him finish,’ Simon said. ‘Can’t cut a man off midsong.’
‘Just before he faced the hangman
In his lonely prison cell.
British soldiers tortured Kevin
Just because he would not tell…
The names of those …
The names of those …’
Tony looked around irritated. ‘What comes next? Come on, someone must know?’ Everyone looked blank.
‘The names of those …
His something comrades …
And other things they wished to know …
Tell us now or we will kill you …
Barry proudly answered no.
‘Ash you know the words, come on, you can hold the tune, join in.’
Aisling spoke clearly across the room. ‘I can’t remember them, I think you’ve skipped a verse, but, honestly, it’s not a song for a wedding. Hangmen, prison cells, can’t you sing something more cheerful and we’ll all join in …?’
‘It’s important that we finish it,’ Tony said doggedly. ‘There’s another verse:
‘Kevin Barry you must leave us,
On the gallows you must die,
Wept his broken-hearted mother
As she kissed her son goodbye. …’
Harry did a loud crescendo at that point, by way of ending, Johnny started to clap; so did a couple of others and then everyone joined in.
Tony was very obviously not finished, but Harry had a louder voice. ‘Right, we’ve had Ireland’s turn … anyone from Wales …? Come on, there must be someone from a
Welsh choir …? Or Scotland …?’ With the heaviest chords he introduced ‘I belong to Glasgow’, and Mrs Noble made sure that the remaining champagne was being poured among the guests.
Aisling said to Donal, ‘Get him out, Johnny Stone will help you.’
‘Aisling, I don’t know. …’
‘Right out of the room. If you want to do something to help I want him right out of here.’ She saw Donal talking to Johnny and Johnny walking over to Tony. Tony was pointing back at the piano; Johnny was making a sign with his hand of a person who had a glass in his hand – he was asking Tony out for a drink. Tony gesticulated towards the bottle of champagne which he could see circulating. Johnny was shaking his head. He was indicating the stairs. Mrs Noble was with them. Whatever they were saying Tony was going like a lamb.
Harry in his role as compère was saying that as the humble pianist he had been informed that the bride and groom would leave shortly so could everyone join in a chorus of ‘My Dear Old Dutch’? He had his arm tightly around Elizabeth’s shoulder and she was smiling at him, Stefan was patting Anna on the hand, and everyone was joining in because Harry had a way of roaming around and catching your eye if you didn’t sing.
Donal put his arm into Aisling’s, and they sang together as Harry swept them back to the beginning of the song again.
‘We’ve been together now for forty years
And it don’t seem a day too much. …’
Aisling looked at the door; Mrs Noble and Johnny were standing there singing too. There was no sign of Tony. The goodbyes were being shouted. Elizabeth came over and held on to Aisling.
‘Bless you for coming. It wouldn’t have been a wedding without you.’
Aisling said, ‘I remember saying the same thing to you in Kilgarret. Oh, Elizabeth I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’
‘What about?’ Elizabeth’s clear expression meant she didn’t know what Aisling was apologising for.
‘Tony. I’m so sorry, I don’t know how he got that drunk, I watched him like a hawk. I’m so sorry he stood up like that and disgraced himself and us. …’
