by C F Dunn
“Yup – OK,” I called back, half-listening and, when no one was watching, stole through the door and out into the courtyard and the fine drizzle that dampened it.
An oddly familiar noise came from the garage block – tchink, tchink – short and sharp like metal on metal. I edged towards the wide swing doors standing partially open. Tchink. I craned my neck, but a beam obscured my view and all I could see were two pairs of legs – one long and strong, the other short and thin, moving in an odd circular dance around the centre of the garage floor.
Tchink. Tchink, tchink.
“Good!” I heard Matthew exclaim. “Keep your head up, that’s it, but stay on guard and don’t let it drop. Well done, now parry… and again.”
Parry – they were fencing?
I left them to it. Later, Matthew said that Alex found it hard to compete for attention with his sister and younger brother, with two overworked parents, so he wanted to give him some dedicated time and a chance to be himself.
So simple, so obvious, I thought. “Genius,” I declared.
“Hardly,” he grinned, shaking his head at my admiration. “It’s what comes of living through three generations of children. Even then, I don’t always get it right. Far from it,” he murmured as an afterthought.
“Maggie has to want to be helped, Matthew. It seems she’s determined to dislike me come what may. I think the best we can expect is a truce.”
“A truce is only ever good for as long as it lasts and I’m not willing to accept her antagonism towards you, especially now when she has no excuse other than her sheer pig-headedness. If she rejects you, she rejects me. There can be no half-measures.”
That was not what I wanted to hear. His family meant everything to him – all of them – and I never wanted to come between them. But it appeared that she was as resolute as he seemed determined and so it would remain until some compromise was found, or one of them yielded.
“Now,” he said, pulling me towards him, “tomorrow is our day – your day – and nothing can spoil that.”
“Only me forgetting my lines,” I said ruefully, “or tripping on my dress.”
He laughed. “You won’t and even if you did it wouldn’t matter because a bride can never be wrong. Look, the weather will be fine on our wedding day.” The setting sun had broken free of cloud and burned the horizon. Matthew’s face glowed, but the light came from within and, as we watched the last of the light fade from the evening sky, his eyes took on the heat of the sun.
CHAPTER
18
Wedding Day
It had been so long in coming.
Dawn broke and I woke to see the sun defeat the night. I had spent the previous precious evening with my sister and my friend, the pair of them swapping innuendos as they painted my nails, until I begged them to change the subject and Beth started telling Elena as many tales of our childhood as she could muster to embarrass me instead.
Now alone as I watched the long shadows gradually shorten, it was my mother who pierced the silence in which I wrapped myself. “It’s strange, isn’t it,” she said, giving me a fright as she sat on the window seat beside me and put her hand companionably on mine, “that you think the day is never going to arrive and then, when it does, it takes you by surprise. Nervous?”
“A little,” I admitted.
“No second thoughts?”
I smiled. “None.” We watched the growing day together for a few minutes until a snuffling cry from the children’s room alerted us to a waking Archie. We went through to find he had kicked himself free of his blankets. The twins slept on. I tucked the soft cotton sheet around him and he wriggled contentedly in his confinement.
Mum reduced her voice. “This is a lovely house. It was so kind of Henry to arrange to let us have it – such a beautiful area.” She took in the full-figured land smothered in trees, and the mountains I loved so much.
“I think Henry said his friend’s in Saudi for a year and he’s happy for it to be used. It certainly beats being in a hotel, doesn’t it?”
She didn’t answer and I waited for her to tell me what was on her mind. “Matthew’s parents are super, aren’t they? They seem very fond of you, and I know your father gets on with Henry – although I expect Henry gets on with most people. They were very supportive during the trial, weren’t they? And Matthew seems to have a wonderful relationship with them – very close.” She paused long enough for me to glance at her, but she wasn’t waiting for a reply. “Emma, I know that this might be a strange thing to say, but I can’t help feeling that the family revolves around Matthew.”
“He’s getting married; he’s bound to be the centre of attention for a bit.” Archie grizzled and Mum stroked his cheek until his eyelids drooped.
“I don’t think it has anything to do with him getting married. It’s the way he behaves and how his family treat him…”
“There’s nothing wrong with the way he behaves,” I said, a little too quickly.
Mum hushed me with a darted look at the children. “Darling, I didn’t say there was,” she said calmly, “but I watched him the other day at the picnic and he was very much, well, in control, one might say. Don’t you notice? He calls Henry ‘Dad’, but he doesn’t treat him like one. When he says something everyone listens – including his parents.” The baby moved in his sleep. His eyelids fluttered open, then closed again and his thumb found his mouth.
If I sounded cross it was only because I didn’t know how to respond. “Are you saying he’s spoilt or something?”
“I’m not saying anything of the sort, so you needn’t be so defensive. I’m just saying that I think Matthew is… singular, but I couldn’t tell you why.”
She wasn’t the first to have said so and, no doubt, she wouldn’t be the last. There was a chasm between thinking him different and identifying what made him so, and then a huge leap between that and knowing who he was. It wasn’t the sort of thing you’d stumble across: “Ooo, you’re not quite the same, are you? That’s odd, you must be four hundred years old.” So why did a random comment like Mum’s send insidious unease creeping through me? Why, instead, could I not laugh it off and tell her not to be so daft? Why indeed. Perhaps because I had no answer for her.
“Yes,” I acknowledged, after a moment’s consideration when I could find nothing more to say than how I felt. “He is different. He is everything I want and admire, and I love him more than my life.”
She smiled at my earnestness. “Well, my darling, that’s good to hear since you’re marrying him today. For what it’s worth, he might be different, but the world would be a better place with a few more like him in it, so don’t be so jumpy or I might think you’re hiding something from me.”
I grimaced sheepishly and made a note to myself not to be so woefully reactive. “Sorry, I’m a bit nervy I suppose.” We left the three children sleeping soundly and made our way back to my room.
“That’s not surprising. You’ve come a long way and waited many years for this.”
Yes, I had, but in this instance neither of us was referring to the States, or to the wedding, now only hours away. “Guy was a long time ago – a long time ago and irrelevant.”
“It was a long time ago, darling, but he’s far from irrelevant. Does Matthew know about him?”
“Yes.”
“Does he mind?”
“Mind? Why should he?”
“Some men don’t like the thought that their wife has been in a previous relationship. Does he know how serious you were?”
“Mum, as far as I’m concerned, Guy didn’t exist. He has nothing to do with now, and now is all that I care about. Today, now, and the future. Guy doesn’t figure.”
“Darling, of course he doesn’t, but you know as well as I do that our secrets are ghosts that come back to haunt us unless they’re dealt with, and you don’t want to start your marriage with any of those now, do you?”
I couldn’t tell her that I suspected Guy would become a ghost sooner rather
than later if Matthew had his way. “There are no secrets between us, Mum. He’s aware of everything there is to know.”
“And do you know everything about him? It works both ways, you realize.”
Didn’t I just. “I think so – all the important stuff anyway.”
“Including his first wife?”
“Yes, including her. There are no skeletons there.” Not any more.
She hugged me. “I’m so glad; that always worried me a little. At least he’s a widower and didn’t turn out to be still married like Guy. I don’t think I could have coped with all that again.”
I smiled feebly. “No, there’s no fear of that now.” I stood up and stretched. “I’d better get started if I’m to have a chance of disguising these freckles in time.”
Years dissolved with her smile. “My darling, do you know I have always loved those freckles; they suit you. Don’t try to hide them, just be yourself.”
I stared at the woman in front of me, her eyes wide and bright with anticipation, skin flushed over high cheekbones. I took in the upturned mouth eager to smile – and I didn’t recognize her.
“Do you not like it?” Elena asked anxiously, the make-up brush hovering in her hand.
“Come on, Em, say something!” Beth enjoined.
I shook my head. “What have you done? What have you both done to me?”
They exchanged looks. “If you don’t like it…” Elena began.
“Like it?” I burst out. “You great ninny! You’re miracle-workers – you should both be canonized.” I turned to look at my rear reflection. “Oh, and just look at that train! Beth… Elena, I just… oh…” And I ran out of words to describe how I felt.
“Don’t you cry,” Elena warned. “Your mascara will run.”
“And don’t hug us, for goodness sake!” Beth added, backing away. “You’ll crease your dress and your hair will unravel. Golly though, Em, you do look something.”
I hadn’t exaggerated; in the weeks in which she had to make my dress, Beth surpassed all my hopes. She had taken my sketchy designs and photos of portraits and turned them into the dress I had longed for since teenage daydreams of being a bride.
“It’s perfect, Beth.” The wide neckline revealed my collar bone, sculpting into a tight bodice that ran into a long, slender panel down the front of the dress and into a “V” below my waist. Embroidered in delicate shades of cream, seed pearls formed the heart of each Jacobean flower flowing in sinuous form down the panel.
“They were from Granny’s necklace – you remember the one we broke donkey’s years ago when we were dressing up? Mum thought you would like them.”
I did. The same tiny pearls sprinkled across the wide sleeves, which faded into long, tight-buttoned cuffs. Where the rich oyster silk rose smoothly over my hips, it gathered in many layers into a short train, leaving my silk pumps just visible beneath. It was beautiful – it made me feel beautiful – and it was a style Matthew would recall from his childhood in a secret reference between the two of us.
Beth stood back to admire her handiwork. “What about jewellery?”
“I’m wearing Nanna’s veil for something old, and my sapphire earrings for something blue.”
Elena looked mischievous. “Yes, and I know what you’re wearing underneath that is borrowed, but what about something new? How about a necklace; you look naked without one.” She and Beth giggled. They both enjoyed a similar lewd sense of humour which they had plied liberally at my expense ever since they met.
I felt the empty space where my cross had been. “No, I don’t think so, and anyway, my dress is new.”
Ellie came in with Archie tottering beside her, clasping her hand. “Look at Archie, isn’t he clever! And doesn’t he look adorable? Your father wants to know if you’re all ready. The cars are waiting outside and the twins are getting restless. Oh!” she said, looking at me for the first time. “Wow!”
“Thanks,” I smiled, “and you all look gorgeous, and Arch here is going to steal the show.”
As I watched the cars disappear from view, a soft hurrumph sounded behind me. I turned to find Dad standing looking very formal in his dark morning suit, the waistcoat buttons straining a little.
“Dad, you look very dapper.”
He took in my dress, my hair, my glowing face. “Is it really nine years since Beth’s wedding? And now my little girl is getting married.”
His hands trembled slightly. I tried to lighten the mood before I became sucked in. “Rid of me at last, hey?”
“Don’t say that, Emma. Whatever differences we might have had, you have always been my little girl. How ironic that now we seem to have sorted things out you move overseas. It can’t be helped, but we’ll miss you. I’ll miss you.”
“As you said to Mum, we’re only a plane flight away, and I think that perhaps now we’ll be closer than we’ve ever been, even than when living in the same house.”
He laughed his gruff laugh. “How true, how true. Now, we had better make a move before Matthew sends out a search party. Before we go, I have something for you.” He put a long, slender box in my hands. “Open it now; you won’t have time later.” Inside, on a double-link chain, was a small, plain gold cross. “It’s as close to the one you lost at the trial as I could find, and the chain’s much stronger, so no one can take it from you this time. I know how much it means to you and I wanted you to have something… I want you to remember how much…” His colour deepened, but he held my gaze. “If I don’t have time to tell you later, I want you to know that I have always been very proud of you, Emma – always.” He leaned forwards and carefully placed a kiss on my forehead. “I love you, my darling. I wish you every happiness.”
I didn’t care about my make-up; it had taken twenty-nine years for him to tell me, but only seconds for me to respond. “I love you, Daddy,” and I clung to him as I had always dreamt I would, and he held me close, surrounding me in his scent of aftershave and humbugs.
The pretty, white-spired church sat on a knoll overlooking a broad lake on the outskirts of town, and new lime-green leaves hustled the silvered papery bark of slender trunks surrounding it. My bridesmaids waited in the sunshine, each lovely in their striking individuality, while to one side, Alex darted among the taller grasses trying to catch grasshoppers. A gentle wind lifted the edge of Nanna’s veil, and nervous butterflies fluttered in my tummy as I caught the first strains of music from the open door.
“You look beautiful,” Dad said, lifting the veil over my head. Offering his arm, together we went into the light-filled church and down the aisle flanked by familiar faces blurred by my nerves. They evaporated like mist when I saw Matthew waiting; my heart sang, my breath catching in my throat, and then it was just us in that moment of time between worlds. And when I said “I will” in a clear voice ringing with certainty, and the priest pronounced us man and wife, Matthew broke into a delighted grin, swinging me high in an arc before kissing me to a chorus of whoops and applause.
“My bride, my wife,” he glowed amidst the general euphoria, but I was too full of our happiness to reply, too enchanted by the moment and by our promises to each other before God and our families to do anything but bathe in his elation. Holding hands, we led the procession as I all but danced back down the aisle, the children containing themselves no longer and dashing ahead of us, bursting out into the sun under the wide velvet sky.
By the time we arrived back at the house – my house, my home – Mum and Pat had long-since dried their eyes and were in full bustle mode organizing staff. Matthew and I stood at the doorway to our new life and greeted our guests – not many – just our closest friends and colleagues from college, and only those who had known the family for the span of the last decade.
Pat had transformed the house: garlands of green ferns and ivy studded with fragrant cream blooms hung in swags from the galleried landing and swathed the banisters. Simple vases as tall as Archie bore extravagant displays – not tight and formal, but loose and airy with a de
liciously zesty scent that made me want to bury my face in the lax, wayward fronds, and inhale. No wonder I hadn’t been allowed to see it all before the wedding – one look and I would never have wanted to leave.
I left Matthew’s side and caught up with Pat in a brief lull and thanked her so profusely I managed to make her blush. “Why, that’s my pleasure. I haven’t had so much fun since… well, since I don’t know when. I have to thank your mom for letting me make the arrangements. I’m not sure I would have been so accommodating.” Mum hovered nearby, so she heard the comment as had been intended and now Pat softened her voice. “I’ve given Matthew strict instructions to make sure you have plenty to eat.”
I laughed. “Rumbled. You know me too well!”
“I think I’m getting to,” she agreed. “Now, have you seen the dining room yet?”
I hadn’t, but before I had a chance, excited voices distracted us. “Photos!” Beth called, echoed by the twins – high-pitched and overexcited. Pat’s face fell as she looked towards Matthew, talking by the staircase.
“Photos! Photos!” the children clamoured, bumping into one another in their eagerness to grab my hands and drag me outside. Laughing, I started to follow them.
“Emma…” I looked around; Matthew hadn’t moved.
Dad’s voice rose above the rest of the hubbub as our guests flowed towards the door. “I thought we were missing something; where’s the photographer? Emma, come on…”
“Wait, Dad.” Like flotsam on a beach, Matthew and his family held back, waiting as the house emptied around us. He appeared worried. “Is there a problem?”
“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, but I can’t be in the photographs. I can’t risk it.”
Beth flurried back in. “Emma, Matthew, c’mon, everybody’s waiting.”
“In a minute,” I called, and more quietly to the family so I couldn’t be overheard, “it hadn’t occurred to me. What can we do? It’s something people expect at weddings. If we don’t, our guests will take some – there’re enough cameras between them to fill albums and that would be worse because they’d be beyond our control.”
