The Long and the Short of it.

by Jan Ruth

  But then, when the wedding day came around the weekend before Christmas, it wasn’t just curiosity which led Victoria away from the shops in Conwy and into the grounds of St. Mary’s Parish Church. It was bordering on dusk by then, and the orange glow of a December sky streaked across Snowdonia. Bitterly cold, but romantic, for a winter wedding, and Victoria felt an uncomfortable weight of emotion settle in her chest. What was it; hope, envy, or regret? Probably just a weird middle-aged nostalgia for the years already gone.

  She was not alone. There were many hundreds of people, waving frantically as they recognised faces from the past, some with more enthusiasm than others. Victoria stood away from the melee, telling herself she’d stay for a glimpse of the bride and groom, just long enough to see how they’d aged, what they were wearing, all the usual sort of thing. Then she could go home and forget all about it. At that moment Linda Williams caught her eye, and they became swept along with the massive congregation. The ushers had mostly given up trying to segregate bride or groom relations, and settled for keeping the crowd orderly. Inside, there was a buzz of anticipation, as if it were a theatre production.

  The 12th century church didn’t disappoint as a venue. It was beautifully atmospheric from a spiritual point of view, and maybe even from the point of view of a staunch atheist. The fusion of brand new Christmas decorations and wedding flowers, together with the gravitas of the dark ancient wood, stained glass windows and stone floors was, to Victoria at least, perfect.

  Someone lit the huge candles on the pulpit, and the scene was set.

  It was the same church in which she and Max had said their vows.

  Forsaking all others...

  Victoria studied the order of service, then turned and smiled at Linda, hoping it disguised her melting pot of feelings. They were both squashed in the middle of a row, but close enough to the front to witness any flaws, faltering or false claims. Surrounded by old school faces, it reminded Victoria of standing in morning assembly and Linda was just as talkative, just as likely to be chastised, but Victoria found she rather enjoyed the running commentary; mostly about everyone’s love affairs.

  ‘Do you think Danny’s still as hot as he used to be?’ Linda said, removing her shoes and rubbing her feet. ‘Talked to Tina loads, but I haven’t seen Dan in ages. I used to really fancy him, do you remember?’

  ‘You and half the school. Just remember he’s forty now. And the way Dan and Tina were he’s probably fat, bald with a collapsed lung and a gasping liver.’

  Linda shot her a little frown. ‘You could be right. Well at least he’s solvent.’

  Victoria knew this from the newspaper article. Daniel had apparently purchased Crafnant Hall; a dilapidated hotel situated several miles down the valley, surrounded by mountains and woods and a boating lake. It was isolated, and no one had made much of a success of it, being crippled eventually with loans, mortgages and all the on-going repairs. For the previous two years it had been reduced to something of a white elephant, a local landmark with sad, haunted problems.

  ‘To be honest, I can’t believe Dan and Tina are both still together,’ Victoria prompted.

  ‘They agreed that if they were still unattached by the time they hit forty, they’d marry each other and settle for what they’ve got.’

  ‘Which is?’ Victoria said, still not knowing if she found the idea funny or sad, certainly not romantic, but not unexpected.

  ‘About twenty-four years of on-off love-hate.’

  They both laughed a bit, then Victoria said, ‘Bit sad though isn’t it?’

  Linda, newly separated, shrugged and put her shoes back on.

  Their attention was taken by the vicar, holding up his hands for quiet. There was a lot of loud expectant shuffling and throat clearing, mobiles silenced, children hushed.

  ‘P’nawn da! Good afternoon and welcome everybody,’ he said, astonished or mildly embarrassed it was hard to say, at the crowds. ‘Goodness; what a popular couple! I’m afraid we’re running awfully late now. Does anyone have any idea where the bride and groom might be?’

  Much laughter, groans and general hubbub at this, even some obscenities were shouted, but then the church doors swung open and on cue the groom and best man fell into the aisle. There was a collective intake of breath. Both men made their way to the front, Daniel nodding with recognition at some faces, obviously not too happy about a few of them and clearly bewildered at the volume of people.

  Linda had a good look then nudged Victoria.

  ‘He’s not fat or bald. Love the hat.’

  ‘Yes, love the hat,’ she said carefully. Some of the congregation were laughing. The groom was not traditionally attired. A dirty white shirt, torn denims covered in plaster with some pliers in the back pocket and a pair of building site style boots. The only touch of glamour, was a glittery white pork pie hat.

  ‘Sorry, sorry,’ the best man said breathlessly to the vicar, ‘Been in an accident. Both here now.’ He looked awfully young, and his face was bone white, to the extent that he might keel over, or be sick.

  ‘That’s Troy. Their son,’ Linda whispered with a nod, ‘Dan and Tina’s.’

  The vicar did his best not to stare. Eventually he dragged his eyes away and nodded at the organist. The wedding march began and the atmosphere became charged. When nothing happened, the organist started again. After much longer than anyone else might have dared leave it, Tina made an entrance. Something of a Marilyn Monroe lookalike, she could play the slightly vamp bride to good effect. She even had the same white blonde hair and ice blue eyes. The procession was slightly spoiled by her entourage. Her father, shuffling and grey in a suit that hung off his lanky frame, was in much poorer condition and his progress was only made possible because Tina was more or less holding him up.

  ‘Has he had a stroke?’ Victoria whispered.

  Linda shook her head and made a gesture of knocking back drinks, ‘Alcoholic.’

  Following behind were Tina’s two sisters, in matching black and white. It was quite clever really, in that the larger of the two wore a black jacket and a white skirt, and the older, thinner sister had the same outfit only in reverse. Both wore matching hats and shoes with dark pink accessories.

  Someone shouted, ‘Come in for milking have you love?’

  Tina came to a regal halt at the front of the church and turned to look at her groom. There was a moment of spectacular quiet as she took in his dusty appearance. Daniel only got one heartfelt ‘sorry’ in before everyone’s attention was taken by the best man falling face first into the eight-foot Christmas tree by the pulpit.

  It went down as if it had been felled by an axe, the top of which landed just short of a magnificent candelabra, festooned with huge flickering candles and artistically placed festive blooms. The girth of it though was huge and ungainly, and about two hundred silver and white baubles scattered everywhere, mostly under the pews.

  The best man, seemingly unhurt but still very pale, climbed out of the foliage holding his bloodied nose. He staggered to his seat, managing to resist someone’s suggestion of forcing his head back, before Daniel’s mother - miraculously keeping the blood away from her linen suit and white fur stole - made the correct diagnosis and forced his head down, then stuffed his nose full of tissues.

  Several male guests came to the rescue of the tree. Within minutes it was upright and back on its stand. Linda said the instructions sounded like someone trying to reverse a transit van into a small space. During this interlude, Tina took the opportunity to start a spat with Daniel, mostly concerning his attire, and the monochrome Maids of Honour also told Daniel exactly what they thought of him. The vicar, anxious to get on before the congregation became ugly, clapped his hands together for quiet, and somehow the service began.

  It was mostly traditional, and the singing was loud and enthusiastic, with one especially strong lead male vocal, something which cheered the vicar, but put a shadow of fear on Daniel’s face. Then when it came
to that part of the service where the vicar asked if anyone knew of any lawful impediment etc. There was another tense silence, broken by a single voice, ‘Yeah! She’s up the duff!’

  Daniel spun round and scanned the congregation; but the vicar, keeping his eyes on the Welsh gold nestling in the spine of his open bible, remained stoic and continued regardless.

  ‘Who said that?’ Victoria whispered.

  ‘Barney Rubble we used to call him, remember? Big lad with some kind of death wish? Got Dan in a headlock once in double science and set fire to his tie with a Bunsen burner. He had the strength of two men, even then.’

  Victoria remembered. Voice of an angel, spawned by the devil, that’s what everyone said. All those years ago, and yet some memories never went away. She looked across the cold church, and her eyes lingered on Tina and Daniel. He kept glancing apologetically at his bride but Tina was clearly still miffed about the builder’s outfit. The young man with the nosebleed looked to have recovered enough to dispense with his fistful of tissues, but no one knew what to do with them.

  On the same pew was a girl holding a Chihuahua. Victoria instantly recognised her from the back pages of Alright! magazine. Bluebell Woods. Small time model and singer, big time drug addict.

  Linda followed her gaze. ‘His daughter.’

  The service ended with a Christmas carol, and the atmosphere lightened. There was a crush to get out of the church, and someone showered the happy couple with rice. Linda reckoned it was leftover egg fried, rather than proper good luck rice. In the graveyard, Tina finally let rip about the photographs, and Daniel’s missing wedding suit.

  Daniel looked cold, and slightly desperate. ‘What if I stand at the back?’

  Tina looked up at the sky and practically snarled.

  ‘No? Look, I can’t do anything about it now! An oak beam and a load of plaster fell on me; look at my leg if you don’t believe me. If I’d stopped to get the suit I would have been over an hour late! Why can’t we do the pictures another day?’

  ‘What? The wedding’s now, Daniel. And what about all the relatives?’

  ‘What about them? You’ll only end up cutting them all out anyway!’

  Everyone watched as Tina tore all the heads off a lot of dark pink roses and flung them in Daniel’s direction, then marched past the waiting photographer and into the wedding car. It pulled away and there was a sudden, almost tangible sense of disappointment.

  ‘And they said it wouldn’t last,’ Linda said, stubbing her cigarette on the bottom of her shoe. The photographer was hijacked by Tina’s sisters. It looked like they were on a glamour shoot, draping themselves unattractively over ivy covered pillars and ancient tombstones. There was another man with a camera, but he looked more like press, running after Bluebell, shouting at her to turn around but Daniel shoved him backwards into some recycling bins. He should have left it at that, but Daniel couldn’t help himself, grabbed the front of the guy’s jacket and almost managed to shove him head first into a wheelie bin, before Daniel’s mother intervened.

  ‘Daniel, stop it!’

  Presently, Daniel and his mother, the best man and Bluebell squeezed into a white Porsche, and the guests began to run to their cars as the first flakes of watery snow began to fall. Barney Rubble had an old bashed up BMW. It had endured a bad respray and the rear windows were blacked out. It backfired then roared after Daniel’s car in a haze of oily smoke, followed by the local paparazzi on a motorbike.

  End of act one.

  Victoria pulled her fur coat round her and pulled on a matching hat. She could go now.

  ‘I should go,’ she said, although Max wouldn’t miss her, he was at a charity dinner and they went on forever.

  ‘You can’t go now! We’ve got full invites,’ Linda said, waving a white card.

  ‘I haven’t,’ Victoria said, ‘I haven’t been formally invited.’

  ‘Small technicality. My invite says Mrs Linda Williams and Mr Michael Williams. Thing is, Mr Michael Williams is not available. He was big friends with Dan, remember? Seems no one is good enough for him now.’

  ‘I’m sorry about Mike.’

  ‘Yes, well... me too... so, you coming with me? I could do with a good meal and a night out. Be a shame to waste it.’

  ‘I’m not really dressed for it,’ she said.

  ‘Neither is Daniel!’

  They travelled to the hotel in Victoria’s car. Well it was Max’s car really, the silver Lexus. Victoria hated it. It was too big and ostentatious, and a nightmare to park. Max fretted about its welfare more than their children’s. Victoria preferred her little sports car but her daughter had borrowed it, yet again.

  Linda slid into the dark leather interior of the car.

  ‘Wow, recession not hit Max then?’

  ‘No, he knows how to play the game.’

  It wasn’t the only game Max knew how to play, but that could wait. He could wait.

  Outwardly, everything in Victoria’s life was pretty good, but her comfortable life was flawed, so flawed. She stole a quick sideways look at Linda, and felt nostalgic for something she’d lost along the way, something honest and ordinary. And it made no sense that Linda actually only lived a couple of miles away, and yet only a wave across the supermarket car park had passed between them for years, separated by their social strata. Did that make her a snob like her mother? Is that how people saw her?

  The wedding reception was at Coast, the most prestigious venue in Llandudno. Like most of the buildings along the curved seafront it was Victorian and finished in a pastel shade the colour of vanilla ice cream. Fairy lights swung furiously in the keen sea breeze and a few couples were bent double along the promenade.

  The mothers were on meet and greet duty. They learnt that Daniel had gone to get showered and changed. Tina wasn’t mentioned. Daniel’s mother, polite and impassive, made a little smile and a nod of recognition at Victoria and handed out flutes of champagne. Tina’s mother, already over-emotional and overdressed, in something floaty with a lot of feathers and a large hat; was a lot more theatrical and flung her arms round both Victoria and Linda. Everything was late, thanks to the church service, and everyone was waved along into the dining room. Victoria found herself between Linda, and Tina’s cousin Bethan.

  ‘Sorry, I know I should be a man,’ Victoria said to Bethan’s blank face. ‘You were expecting Mike?’

  ‘Don’t talk to me about that idiot.’

  The bride and groom eventually made a subdued appearance to a discreet show of applause and there was a tangible atmosphere of relief.

  ‘At last,’ Bethan grumbled. ‘I’m starving.’

  Daniel looked more the part in a dark grey suit, a wilting pink rose in his lapel. The shellfish starters arrived but Victoria was allergic to them so she slipped off to the powder room. It was opulent but not showy, nice touches of flowers and hand lotion, but when she looked at herself in the huge backlit mirrors Victoria was suddenly filled with sadness. She didn’t belong to this wedding. She didn’t really feel as if she belonged to anyone, or anywhere.

  Her appearance would never suggest there was anything wrong. She’d always been slender, classic styles always looked good on her and Max was generous with her clothing allowance. She had wardrobes bursting with bespoke pieces, although the wool trousers she’d chosen for shopping were too warm now. Her hair was still dark, not needing any help yet. She looked pale though, her complexion like parchment, and her hazel eyes dull.

  Victoria looked exactly what she was - the well-off idle wife of an accountant. Idle, because both their children were at university and Max would never let her work. They even had a cleaner and a gardener. She did dinner that was all; and then formal dinner parties for her husband’s friends and business associates. Yet she was so tired; why was that when she never did anything productive? Her days were filled with shopping, lunching, horse-riding and the gym, and idle chatter. They had ski holidays, sun holidays, golf holidays (mostl
y Max) and city break holidays.

  She took a deep breath and reapplied her neutral lipstick. Her hands shook ever so slightly; although they were beautifully French manicured and bore the gifts of twenty-two years of marriage to Max. She needed to get a grip on these negative thoughts. She’d recently taken to the internet in a big way, searching for... what exactly?

  Victoria took her seat again. Someone had eaten her starter. The main course was butterflied chicken in an artful tower with the obligatory jus, crispy potatoes and honey-roasted vegetables. It tasted quite nice and she ate most of it. Then they had a meringue concoction, the speeches, thanks, and cake cutting; all the usual traditional expectations. The best man did quite a funny speech about Tina and Daniel, during which Bluebell fed the Chihuahua leftover chicken. Daniel’s mother, Marian, did her best to keep Tina’s father focused and seated. Throughout all of this, Daniel was sober and articulate, quietly contemplative of the growing swell of alcohol fuelled relatives.

  They moved onto the next stage. Another delay while Dan and Tina made up for the missing photographs. On their return, Tina had changed into a black dress. She still turned heads; she had that ability to wear almost anything. Although with her tiny waist, big bust and wide mouth, Tina tended to make everything look slightly tarty, a fact which never worked against her but ensured she had constant male attention. She was quite different to her sisters, soft-hearted and pretty, a real life Cinderella.

  The DJ played their songs by U2, One, and Beautiful Day. Daniel and Tina did that strange sort of ‘shuffling together at a wedding’ dance, because they wanted to hang on to each other; and as they kissed, everyone clapped, and the party commenced.