by Erin Green
‘Nina.’ I turn on receiving a small tap on my shoulder, to see Bram, suited and booted, sitting behind us.
‘Oh, Bram, don’t you scrub up well?’ I giggle on seeing my friend. I smile a warm greeting to Selena, looking as elegant and polished as ever by his side, in a pale blue coat dress. Zach told me they’ve been getting serious of late, and I wish them well.
‘Bruno,’ says Bram, giving a sharp nod, instantly returned by Bruno.
‘Abraham.’
The fellas are cautious around each other. They make an effort for my benefit but I doubt they will ever develop a fondness for each other. I feel an underlying vibe will always exist, in relation to the other. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so honest, after all. I try to smooth the tension but, male egos being what they are, both are content with their polite interaction, nothing more. Zach is a different story. Bruno genuinely likes him, and frequently invites him to the cottage to watch the big match with a beer or two. Bruno turns to face the front, eyeing the pergola and registrar, while I scan the guests, seeking out my friends.
Zach walks the aisle alone, looking for a seat on our side.
‘Zach!’ I call and wave, to aid his task. A broad smile addresses his face as he settles at the end of our row beside Bruno.
‘Nina,’ says Zach, bending to give me a peck on the cheek. ‘Bruno.’ A swift handshake and back slap occurs between him and Bruno. A genuine gesture of friendship, which warms my heart.
‘Haven’t you brought a plus one?’ I ask Zach, leaning about Bruno to speak.
‘Shhhh! She’s running a little late…’ is his simple reply. I beam with delight. I know he’s been seeing someone in recent weeks – I just hope she flipped his stomach, igniting his interest. Zach knows what he wants and is prepared to wait for her arrival.
‘Oh, my God, I thought I was going to be late!’ Shazza interrupts our conversation to squeeze in beside Zach. Her left hand interlocks with his; Zach’s smile reaches ear to ear.
‘Shazza?’ I say, trying to gain her attention. Her face is half obscured by a large tilted hat.
‘Oh, Nina, you look lovely,’ she coos, smiling at Bruno.
My eyes glisten as I mouth, ‘Wow!’ to Shazza.
‘I know,’ she silently mouths, her face beaming.
The string quartet switches music and the assembled guests stand to receive the bride. My eyes instantly fill with tears. I want to watch Kitty walk down the aisle, but my heightened emotions are going to get the better of me. I cling to Bruno’s arm before turning to view Kitty’s grand entrance.
She stands proud, her arm interlinked with her father’s; her flowing white gown billows gently in the spring breeze, the backdrop of Christmas trees framing the image. Kitty’s face is flushed beneath a white veil, her twinkling blue eyes fixed upon her groom-to-be at the top of the aisle. As she begins to walk, the image blurs and my tears steadily flow. Bruno hands me his pocket handkerchief.
*
Holly
‘Ah,’ escapes from my mouth as I grab Alfie’s hand, and we watch Kitty begin her bridal walk along the aisle towards a smiling Connor. I can’t believe that in the next ten minutes they’ll be man and wife through the vows they pledge to each other.
How amazing is that?
Alfie squeezes my hand, as I frantically dab a tissue to my eyes, knowing that my mascara is running towards my chin. My first proper wedding attending as an invited guest and I cry like a baby. I hoped to portray the sophistication that Nina achieves on the arm of Bruno, but I fail miserably. Maybe that’s what comes with maturity. I’m simply thrilled at the prospect of smiling brightly on the photographs given that my train-track braces were removed last week.
Life is slowly changing for the better. Right now Alfie and I are juggling GCSE study, with parents who constantly think we’re up to no good behind their backs.
My parents are forever checking up on our relationship, asking if we’re using protection and being careful. Ironic, given their recent baby news bomb. I wish they would stop worrying and be more like Nick and Angie. I suppose, like everything, only time will tell. I keep reminding my parents that Alfie makes my stomach flip and until that fades I don’t wish to be with anyone else.
We bore the brunt of last Christmas as a duo. We’ve both made some good friends here at the farm, having been granted continued weekend work thanks to our honesty as regards the fire. We had much fun at New Year helping to distribute the Presents for Heaven donations. Alfie’s mum managed to organise a huge trailer truck and driver from her boss at ASAP Parcel Delivery to assist with the project. Boss Fielding is hoping she’ll repeat the offer this year, when the scheme is marketed throughout the Christmas season. Demi has finally forgiven me for naming her, but the mean girls are less forgiving – they continue to hamper my final school days. But what do I care? I’m happy with my lot and enjoying my time with Alfie. Come September we’ll all go our separate ways based on our GCSE grades – I doubt I’ll see the mean girls after that.
Kitty gently glides along the aisle, the jewelled detailing at her waist twinkling in the sunlight as the flowing skirt flicks forward with each step, passing our standing position, and automatically we turn to face the front, where Connor awaits her arrival.
*
Angie
I pull into the farm’s car park and wait amidst the darkness of their sales yard. It looks empty and bare compared to our last visit when every inch was covered in heavy snow, pallets of emerald spruce and holly wreath sales. We sit back and wait, our eyes searching the darkness for the outline of two teenagers, no doubt intoxicated but pretending not to be.
‘I hope they’re on time as they promised, unlike the night of Isabella’s wedding when they snuck off for some alone time,’ I say.
‘For teenage kicks.’ Nick laughs from the passenger seat.
I chuckle. Who’d have thought we’d happily be playing taxi to the young ones, ensuring Holly arrives home safely before midnight? We’re doing what we can, with Holly’s mum expecting again; Holly’s teenage life has been turned upside down at the prospect of a boy.
‘So much has changed, hasn’t it?’ I say, reaching for Nick’s hand.
‘Certainly has, Angie – I couldn’t imagine where we’d be if you hadn’t called last Christmas asking for a date night.’
‘I didn’t ask… I suggested,’ I correct him, though in my head the rerun stills sounds like a beg amidst his silent pondering.
Nick’s right. My rental apartment is a distant memory. My belongings were returned to our family home by mid-February – I jumped at Nick’s suggestion after we’d enjoyed such a fabulous family Christmas. Isabella’s wedding didn’t produce the picture-perfect memories I’d hoped for, thanks to Fabio and co.’s surprise appearance, but it certainly brought us Woodwards back together. Not as the old Angie and Nick but as the new improved version of who we once were – our divorce really was a blessing as regards our renewed relationship.
‘Alfie’s adjusted well, given his initial reaction,’ I say.
‘I think so. It’ll take time but he’s more accepting of the situation than he was.’
‘Mmmm, I’m glad… for all our sakes,’ I mutter, unsure how I’d have coped if he hadn’t mellowed. ‘Did I tell you that Jilly from work reckons her daughter’s been working here for years and yet I never knew?’
‘Seriously?’
‘The girl with the freckles and mousy-brown hair, the helpful one who’s always present when we visit each year… you know the one.’
‘She’s hardly a girl, Angie,’ he says, adding, ‘She’s as strong as an ox.’
‘I know. Well, Jilly’s been in touch asking her if they can meet up… reconnect, as such.’
I suggested she takes it slowly and leaves the decisions up to her daughter. Our Alfie has taught me as much this year: he’s no longer a child; he has his own mind. I have to respect his decisions from here on, which is much like Jilly and her Nina.
‘Here they are.
’ Nick points into the distance as two shadowy figures loom through the nearest gate and cross the yard.
The car’s rear door opens wide.
‘Hi, Dad, Mum,’ calls Alfie as he bounces along the back seat.
‘Hi,’ calls Holly, following suit and slamming the rear door.
‘Have you had a nice day?’ I ask, eager for wedding details.
‘Great. The party is still in full swing but we’re ready to go. It’s been a long and tiring day,’ explains Alfie, tugging at his seat belt.
‘That’s weddings for you.’ I laugh.
‘Though the effects can last a lifetime,’ adds Nick, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it.
*
Nina
‘Are you happy?’ ask Bram as he gently leads me about the dance floor amidst coloured lights and the blare from the DJ.
‘Do I look happy?’ I ask, unable to comprehend his question knowing that Selena is watching us as she politely dances with Bruno a short distance away.
Bram leans back, observes my face and nods.
‘Actually yes, you light up at the sight of that guy, which is why I bloody despise him.’ Bram laughs.
‘Ah, Bram… I can’t help it – the heart wants what the heart wants.’
‘Excuse me, may I?’
I turn to see Zach standing tall, tapping Bram on the shoulder.
‘Seriously, little bro… you’ve come to interrupt us?’
‘I have. I believe Selena would like a dance. As polite as Bruno is… she’s not happy.’
We three sneak a peek towards Selena and my Bruno. He looks reasonably content; she is staring in our direction.
‘Whoops, you’re in someone’s bad books,’ I jibe, releasing Bram and switching my stance towards Zach.
‘Selena, baby…’ Bram hastily leaves to reclaim her smiles.
‘So, how are we?’ asks Zach as we move around the floor, bumping into other couples as we go.
‘Fine, all fine.’
He gives me a knowing look.
‘What?’
‘I know you better than that,’ he says. ‘You’re over the bloody moon to be with him, admit it.’
I blush, grateful that the coloured lights will hide my complexion.
‘Is it that obvious?’
‘Nina, anyone with eyes in their bloody head can see how loved up you are… but, hey, you deserve it. I wouldn’t wish you anything but the best.’
‘Oh, Zach!’ I can’t speak for the lump at my throat. I swallow frantically, until I’m able to speak. ‘And you?’
He looks across to Shazza, who is busy chattering away to Jackie at the far end.
‘Shazza’s fun, she’s endearing… and, yeah, we’re taking it slow, but I’m happy.’
I nod; that is good to hear.
‘Excuse me.’ I don’t need to turn about to know who this interruption is. Zach releases me without question into Bruno’s strong arms. ‘Thank you, Zach.’
‘Ah, Selena gave you up freely, did she?’ I jibe as I nestle into his chest.
‘Something like that, or I could say she lost interest when she saw that my young lady was dancing with her fella. I couldn’t abide the pouting, so I made my excuses,’ he explains. ‘Anyway, let’s take a quick walk.’
He grabs my hand and hastily leads me from the dance floor, the elaborate marquee and out into the moonlight along the gravel path towards the lake.
*
I can feel my kitten heels squelching into the softened ground as we near the lapping water. My body finally comes to a standstill, having been half dragged in a running-cum-pacey-walking speed, thanks to Bruno’s extended hand.
I stare out across the dark waters, where a cascade of moonlight dances upon the gentle ripples. Right here, right now feels special, as if he has something planned or something to say. I stare across the water towards the far embankment where the Fraser firs grow, suddenly too nervous to look at Bruno, to witness his expression for fear of misreading the moment, misreading his expression and being, well, disappointed and ruining what is a beautiful night.
Bruno says nothing. Glancing to my left, I can see he is also staring out across the dark lake, though why he’s suddenly interested in the embankment of Fraser firs escapes me.
‘When you were little did you ever make decisions based on outcomes?’ he asks, suddenly peering down at me.
‘Er, yeah.’
‘Such as?’
‘Such as if I managed to walk to the shop and back without losing count of my steps I would…’ I stop as he laughs.
‘Counting steps?’
‘Hey, don’t laugh.’
‘Sorry, forgive me… anything else?’
I stare up at him. His olive skin looks darker, suggesting a brooding expression to his warm features.
‘You?’ I ask, unsure that I want to revisit my childhood and possibly misplace the current moment.
‘I used to tell myself that if I scored a goal at football I could spend my pocket money on more trainers, or accessories for my bike.’
Boys are weird, if that’s their equivalent to buying chocolate.
‘So, here goes.’
I watch as Bruno bends, picks up a flat stone from the water’s edge and skims it across the lake.
‘One, two, three, four and five,’ he mutters, counting each bounce. He shakes his head as the stone sinks beneath the lake.
‘Is that the best you can do?’ I ask, pulling a bemused face.
‘Oh, is that a challenge? Are you some sort of expert, then?’
‘Stand back… I’ll show you how it’s done.’ I walk about the edge and search for my perfect stone. It feels smooth to the touch, flattish on both sides with a slight rise and depth towards one edge. This will fly.
I near the water’s edge, stand side on and roll my shoulder. Bruno watches my every move.
‘What are you going for?’ he asks, breaking the silence.
A six? Go for it, girl.
‘Maybe a six,’ I say, nonchalantly raising my arm to launch my stone.
Bruno nods in a knowing manner.
I lower my arm.
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
‘No. What’s with the nod.’
‘Well, as I said… if the outcome’s right I’ll continue with my plan. Please carry on.’
‘Your plan?’
Bruno looks out across the lake and nods towards the water.
‘Please… continue.’
I watch him, carefully. What’s going on?
‘Seriously, go ahead,’ he says, his eyes cast upon the water.
I raise my arm, sweep back and… throw sidewards.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
And seven.
I jump for joy, my excitement clearly apparent.
Bruno is silent behind me.
I turn from the water’s edge and freeze.
In the darkness, at the water’s edge, he is down on bended knee – one hand outstretched, his palm open and raised.
‘Now, seriously, Nina, if you skim this rock in the same manner as that one – I will make you enter the lake and retrieve it… you understand?’
I can’t speak. My eyes are fixed upon the tiny square box sitting in his open palm.
‘Nina Salloway… with this rock, will you marry me?’
I’m sure my yell of ‘yes’ is heard clearly across fifty-five acres of Christmas Tree Farm. Within seconds I am jumping up and down on the spot like a child who’s successfully skimmed her stone across the farm’s tranquil lake.
We stand at the water’s edge as Bruno gently pushes the diamond solitaire onto my third finger left hand.
‘Bruno.’
‘Mmmm.’
‘What was your outcome plan? Did I have to achieve six bounces to secure a proposal?’
He slowly shakes his head and smiles.
‘No.
You just had to be the girl brave enough to act and respond to a stranger flipping your stomach… Following your instinct and being brave in life, even if it fails, is good enough for me.’
As Bruno’s gentle kiss finds my upturned mouth, my tears overspill my lashes, and my stomach flips.
High above the lake, perching on a Blue spruce bough, sits a fat robin redbreast, its head twitching and its inquisitive beady eye watching the proceedings below, taking in the magic of Christmas Tree Farm.
Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there; I did not die.
Mary Elizabeth Frye
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Acknowledgements
Thank you to Sarah Ritherdon and her team for working their magic on my manuscript. Without their dedication, my story would remain untold and unloved as a document upon a shelf.
Unreserved thanks to David Headley and his dedicated team at D H H Literary Agency – I couldn’t ask for a more experienced and professional team to support my career.
