Johnny did as he was told, and was almost ready when a car horn tooted down below. Dave looked out of the window and waved to let the driver know they were coming.
‘Ready?’ he asked, turning back to Johnny.
‘No.’ Johnny shook his head miserably.
‘Ah, you’ll be fine,’ Dave said, shoving his friend’s hands aside and doing his tie for him before straightening the blood-red carnation in his buttonhole. That done, he picked up his keys and cigarettes and patted his pocket to check that he had the rings before hustling Johnny out of the door.
Johnny felt as sick as a dog as he numbly followed Dave down to the car park. It was a freezing cold day, and a dark grey cloud hovered above them as they climbed into the back of the E-type Mercedes that Frankie had sent. Shivering, he hunched in the corner and felt sorry for himself. This was all happening too fast. He hadn’t had a chance to wake up properly yet, and he desperately needed a coffee. His head felt like it was stuffed with wet cotton wool, and he could barely remember his own name so he had no idea how he was going to remember what he was supposed to say when he got to the church.
‘Come on, mate, shake yourself out of it,’ Dave said with forced cheeriness. ‘Soon be done.’ He lit two cigarettes and passed one over.
‘Easy for you to say,’ Johnny grunted, winding the window down an inch. ‘And how come you’re so lively when I feel like shit?’
‘’Cos I paced myself last night,’ Dave told him, glancing at his watch. ‘Frankie warned me not to let you get in a state, so I had to keep a clear head.’
‘Didn’t do a very good job, did you?’ Johnny grumbled. ‘I can’t remember a fucking thing. What happened?’
‘Later,’ Dave said offhandedly. Then, to the driver, ‘Any time you’re ready, mate.’
They set off with a lurch, and Johnny swallowed down a mouthful of bile. Stomach churning all the way, he felt like his bowels were going to give when they reached the church and he saw his mates having a smoke on a pile of old flat gravestones round the side. Their women were already inside – no doubt fighting over the aisle seats, from where they could best see and bitch about the bride when she arrived.
If she arrived.
Please, God, don’t let her come.
‘Where’s Mikey and Andy?’ he asked. As the car came to a stop outside the gates he clocked that those two weren’t with the others.
‘I don’t think they’ll be coming,’ Dave told him quietly.
‘Why not?’
Dave cast a furtive glance at the driver and lowered his voice to say, ‘There was a bit of bother at the club last night and I haven’t heard from either of them since, so I’m guessing they might have got arrested.’
‘Why, what happened?’ Johnny demanded. ‘And what club?’
‘Not now,’ Dave whispered. ‘Just concentrate on what you’re doing. And don’t look so worried. That priest looked like a right little pisshead when we came for the rehearsal, so I’m betting he’ll race through the service like a bat out of hell so he can get to the bar.’
‘Hope so.’ Johnny ran a sweaty hand over his clammy face.
Frankie came out through the church door just then. Dave chuckled, and nudged Johnny.
‘Jeezus, cop a load of that. We must have took a wrong turn and ended up in Vegas.’
Johnny glanced out at his soon-to-be Elvis-in-law and groaned. Frankie’s face was practically orange, and there was so much gel in his slicked-back hair that it looked like he’d just stepped out of an oil shower. But his suit was surprisingly nice compared to the shit he’d got Johnny and Dave trussed up in. He’d taken them to a tailor and had them fitted out to make sure they looked the part, but the suits that had been delivered yesterday bore no resemblance to the ones Johnny and Dave had spent an hour describing to the tailor. They’d wanted chino-type pants and fitted jackets, but they’d ended up in suits that only a Teddy boy would rave about, with lapels like pieces of string and trousers to match.
‘Bastard,’ he muttered, guessing that Frankie had done it to punish him.
‘He don’t look too happy,’ Dave murmured as Frankie spotted the car and came striding towards them with a thunderous look on his face. ‘You’d best try and look a bit more enthusiastic, or he’ll think you’re having second thoughts.’
‘Try third, fourth and fifth,’ said Johnny.
Frankie yanked the car door open and glared in at them.
‘What fuckin’ time do you call this? Ruth got here ten minutes ago and I had to tell the driver to do another lap. Do you know how much shit I’m going to get off her mam when she finds out I had to send her away?’
‘Sorry,’ Johnny apologised, forcing his wobbly legs to carry him out of the car. ‘My stomach’s been a bit dodgy.’
Frankie snapped his glare onto Dave who was climbing out the other side. ‘He’d best not have a hangover! I warned you what’d happen if you let him get in a state.’
‘He hardly drank anything,’ Dave lied, peeling the crotch of his ultra-tight trousers away from his nuts. ‘He was as good as gold. Went home early, and everything.’
Frankie glowered at him, and then turned his attention back to Johnny. ‘Right, you – inside.’ He shoved him up the path. ‘And no fuck-ups. Just say what you’ve got to say, swap rings and kiss her, and then we can all get the fuck out of here.’ Casting a glance at the graves as they passed, he shuddered. ‘I fuckin’ hate churches.’
‘Me, too,’ Johnny murmured, wishing they could have just gone for the registry office instead. But, like everything else to do with this wedding, he’d had no say.
‘She’s back,’ one of the smokers hissed, pointing towards the gate.
Frankie glanced back and saw the nose of the Roller turning in. ‘Quick! Get in,’ he ordered, shoving Johnny so hard he stumbled over the step.
‘I need the loo,’ Johnny bleated.
‘Too late.’ Frankie pushed him on through the door.
It was packed to the rafters inside the church, and Johnny’s cheeks flamed when all eyes turned his way. He felt like turning and running, but Frankie propelled him up the aisle with a firm hand on his back and left him at the altar before rushing back outside to collect his daughter. Dave quickly caught up and tipped him a wink that was meant to be reassuring but only made him feel worse.
Johnny glanced back over his shoulder and swallowed loudly when his gaze met Rita’s in the pew immediately behind. He gave her a sick smile, but wasn’t surprised when she didn’t return it. She’d made it quite clear in the run-up to today that she didn’t think he was good enough for her daughter. But he didn’t give a toss what she thought. She was a miserable little pisshead with a face like a slapped arse, and he’d be keeping well away from her after today was over.
Somebody signalled to the organist from the door, and she stabbed her fingers down on the keys, flooding the church with music. A tremendous rustling went up behind Johnny as all the women in the congregation turned to watch the bride’s entrance. Johnny’s throat closed, and he ran a finger around the inside of his collar to loosen it. Squeezing his eyes shut, he made one last silent plea to God to make Ruth change her mind and stay in the car. Or, better still, drop dead. Something – anything – to stop her from making it up the aisle.
But Ruth had no intention of changing her mind. She’d wanted Johnny from the first moment she’d laid eyes on him, and there was no way she was letting him get away now. She walked slowly in and raised her chin as she glided up the aisle on her father’s arm, smiling proudly to herself beneath her veil as she glimpsed the envy in the eyes of every girl she passed.
Johnny’s eyes widened when Frankie handed her over, but he swallowed the shock and forced out a smile. He’d guessed from the way she’d gone on about the dress that it wouldn’t be as conservative as the stuff she wore on a day-to-day basis, but this was over the top to the max. Like something you’d expect to see on stage at a pantomime, it was full-on crinoline style, and the skirt was so wide th
at it touched both sets of pews at once. The snow-white satin underbody was topped with layer upon layer of frothy white lace, every visible inch of which was saturated with sequins and pearls, while the veil was held in place by a tiara of sparkling diamante.
At least, Johnny presumed it was diamante, but he wouldn’t have put it past Frankie to have splashed out on the real deal. Nothing like a flash wedding for your daughter to remind everyone how loaded you were, and all that.
In startling contrast, the bridesmaids were clad in shocking pink, and Johnny’s eyes hurt when he glanced at them. The little ones looked quite sweet, but the same couldn’t be said for Lisa, and he almost choked when he saw how low her neckline was. One wrong move and both of those babies would be coming out to play.
‘Johnny,’ Ruth hissed, nudging him with her elbow. ‘The Father’s talking to you.’
Snapping his gaze away from Lisa’s tits, Johnny looked up at the little priest.
‘Sorry?’
‘I asked if you’re ready?’ Father Dougherty arched a bushy white eyebrow.
Johnny nodded, his eyes drawn now to the man’s bulbous nose with its busy map of red lines criss-crossing it.
‘And are all of you lovely people ready?’ The priest gazed out over Johnny’s head and addressed the congregation. ‘No last-minute trips to the toilet needed, or arguments to settle?’ He looked directly down into Ruth’s eyes now, and added, ‘No risk of untimely arrivals?’
If looks could kill, the man would have fallen down stone dead under the weight of the poisonous glare that Rita aimed his way. But Frankie guffawed like he’d said something hilarious, and turned to look at the congregation as if to say what a joker, eh?
As Dave had predicted, once Father Dougherty got going the service raced along at a fair old pace, and before Johnny knew it he was being ordered to kiss his bride.
‘But no tongues now,’ the old priest cautioned with a leery grin. ‘Got to save something for the honeymoon, eh?’
Numbed by the pressure of the gold band that Ruth had crammed onto his finger, Johnny pecked her on the lips. Then he went into the vestry to sign his life away in ink, before heading back out into the chill daylight, with Ruth clutching possessively at his arm all the way.
‘Let’s have the family lined up on the steps for the photos,’ Frankie ordered, pushing and prodding everybody into place. ‘The rest of you over there.’ He gestured for non-family – namely, Johnny’s mates – to stand out of the way on the grass.
Lisa elbowed her way in on Johnny’s free side and pressed her breasts up against his arm, whispering, ‘Saw you looking back there. Like what you see, do you?’
Johnny blanched and looked the other way.
Ruth narrowed her eyes. She hadn’t heard what Lisa had said but she didn’t appreciate her standing so close to Johnny. He was her husband now, and no woman – family or not – had better try and muscle in on him.
‘Move,’ she hissed. ‘My mum and dad are supposed to stand there, not you.’
‘I can stand here if I want,’ Lisa replied, casually slipping her hand behind Johnny and pinching his bum.
‘I’m not going to tell you again,’ Ruth growled, fixing her with a fierce warning glare. ‘Move.’
‘Who d’ya think you’re talking to?’ spat Lisa, putting her hands on her hips.
‘It’s my wedding day.’
‘So? That doesn’t give you the right to treat me like shit in front of everyone.’
Before Ruth could reply to this, Dave rushed over. He didn’t know what was going on but it was obvious from the way the girls were glaring at each other that they were about to kick off, and Johnny was having a hard enough time today without having to deal with that.
‘You’re supposed to stand with the best man for the piccies,’ he said, taking Lisa’s arm and pulling her firmly down the steps. ‘And if you’re good, I might even let you have the first dance.’
‘As if I’d dance with you,’ she snorted, snatching her arm away and stomping over to stand with the other bridesmaids.
Johnny put on his best happy-groom smile and determinedly held it in place while the photographer snapped and snapped and snapped. What felt like an hour and ten thousand photos later, he smiled again when all of the men filed past and shook his hand and the women kissed his cheek. Done at last, he jumped gratefully into the back of the Rolls that had brought Ruth, looking forward to a few minutes of peace before they reached the hotel and he had to face them all again at the reception.
It took several minutes for Ruth to manoeuvre her massive dress through the door, but when she was finally in she tried to snuggle up to Johnny, only to find that the rigid hoops in her skirt prevented her from getting close. Reaching for his hand instead, she smiled.
‘Happy?’
‘Mmm.’
‘Me too.’ She sighed and raised her left hand to examine her rings in the light. ‘I can’t believe we’re really married. It feels like a dream. Is it like a dream for you?’
‘Mmm.’
‘God, I’m so glad it’s over,’ Ruth went on, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. ‘It’s been murder not being able to see you on our own. But no one can stop us now, can they?’ A gloating little smile curled her lips as she added, ‘Did you see Lisa’s face when I told her to move away from you just now on the steps? I knew she was going to be funny, ’cos she was a right bitch last night. She’s been weird ever since I told her we were getting married, actually, but she’s just jealous. She always has been – right from when we were kids. Whatever I had, she wanted it. But she’s got no chance of getting you, Mr Conroy, ’cos you’re all mine. Mine, mine, mine.’
Unable to contain the groan that bubbled up into his throat, Johnny flopped his head back and rubbed at his eyes.
‘What’s wrong?’ Ruth was instantly concerned. ‘You’re not feeling sick, are you? Do you want me to tell the driver to stop?’
‘I’m okay,’ he lied. ‘Probably just nerves.’
‘Ah, was my new husband nervous?’ she teased. Then, giggling, she said, ‘God, it feels so weird saying that. My husband. You say it. Say, my wife.’
‘Ruth, please . . .’
‘Aw, come on, I just want to hear what it’ll sound like to other people when you talk about me. It’s not that hard, is it? Please?’
‘My wife,’ Johnny said dully, figuring that it was easier just to do as she asked. ‘Now, can we have a bit of quiet while I try to shake this headache?’
‘Sorry,’ Ruth cooed, almost breaking her neck in an effort to lay her head on his shoulder. ‘I suppose I’d best get used to doing as I’m told, hadn’t I?’ she went on happily, instantly forgetting his plea for quiet. ‘I did promise to love, honour and obey you, after all. Not that I’ll be the kind of wife who lets herself get pushed around,’ she added quickly, as if to warn him that he’d better not even try it. ‘But it’s traditional for a wife to listen to her husband. And traditions are really important, aren’t they? That’s how I want to raise our children when we start a family – the old way.’
‘What do you mean, when we start?’ Johnny picked up on what she’d said and gazed down at her.
‘I mean when we start trying for the next one,’ Ruth corrected herself, cradling her stomach with her hand as if to reassure this baby that she wasn’t dismissing it. ‘You can’t just have one child and call yourself a family, can you?’
‘You’re an only child,’ he reminded her. ‘So am I, come to that.’
‘Yes, which is why I want us to have loads – because we both know how lonely it is to be the only one. You haven’t got a problem with that, have you?’
Johnny frowned. It had taken him ages to get used to the idea of having this one, and here she was planning the next God only knew how many.
‘What are you thinking?’ Ruth asked. Shaking his arm when he didn’t answer, she said, ‘Johnny, don’t ignore me. We’re nearly there, and my dad will wonder what’s wrong if you’re quiet.�
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Johnny rolled his eyes. He wished she would just shut the fuck up and leave him alone for two minutes. But she was right: Frankie would think something funny was going on if they turned up like this. So, smiling, he said, ‘I’m fine. Stop worrying about me and enjoy your day, eh?’
‘My day,’ Ruth repeated, sighing as she laid her head on his arm again. Mercifully, she stayed quiet for the rest of the journey.
The other guests had already made their way inside by the time they reached the hotel, but Frankie was pacing around at the foot of the steps and he rushed forward to open the door when the car stopped.
‘Thought you’d changed your minds and gone straight off on honeymoon,’ he joked, offering his hand to Ruth to help her out.
‘As if,’ she grunted, puffing for breath as she struggled to drag her skirts out behind her. She gave Johnny a disapproving look when he strolled around from the other side. ‘You should have helped me out. You’re my husband. It’s your job, not my dad’s.’
‘Well, that’s you told,’ chuckled Frankie, nudging Johnny with his elbow. ‘Lesson one – don’t argue with a Hynes woman, ’cos you’ll never win.’
‘I’m a Conroy now,’ Ruth reminded him.
‘Only in name,’ said Frankie, still smiling.
As Ruth gathered up her skirts and started hauling herself up the steps, Frankie clapped a hand down on Johnny’s shoulder.
‘I want to talk to you later, so don’t get too happy with the fizz.’
‘Don’t worry, he won’t,’ Ruth called back. ‘I’m not having my new husband too drunk to remember our wedding night.’ She glanced back over her shoulder now and flicked Johnny a conspiratorial little smile.
Grimacing, Frankie hurried inside and marched across the foyer to a set of double doors outside which a sign stood on an easel, directing people to the reception of ‘Mr and Mrs Johnny Conroy’.
Ruth bit her lip when she saw it and traced the embossed lettering with her fingertips. ‘That’s us,’ she told Johnny quietly. ‘Doesn’t it look beautiful?’ She reached for his hand now and squeezed it, whispering, ‘I think I’ll make my excuses after dinner and go up to the room to get changed. You can come with me.’
Lost Angel Page 6
