The Guardian Angel

by Liam Livings

  “Come here.” I hugged her. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Don’t worry.”

  She looked up at me through teary eyes, wiping her face with a white hanky she’d pulled from her sleeve. “I wanted it to be perfect when you brought him round. Sandra Next Door helped with the sandwiches. We cut all the crusts off specially. I’m using the best china, and the posh sugar cubes, not just a jar of granulated. And there I am, messing it all up with my big mouth, getting my words all wrong.”

  I squeezed her tight and kissed the top of her head. “We’re getting married in Islington registry office too.”

  “Are you?”

  I nodded.

  “Who wants to get wed in a church nowadays anyway? Dusty old places.” She crossed herself. “It’s not the wedding day, it’s the marriage afterwards. That’s what you want to concentrate on. That’s what Nan told me on my big day. She bought a new hat from Selfridges, specially. Cost more than her dress, she said.”

  “Let’s go back in, and we can tell you all about the plans. We’d love it if you could help us with things. Sky’s parents are far away and said we could do what we wanted, whatever, and they’d be happy. But I thought you might like to help.”

  “If it’s no trouble. Just a few little pointers.”

  We returned to the living room with a three-tiered cake stand full of fairy cakes and scones, with a pot of cream, jam, and butter.

  Mum took a deep breath, put her hanky back in her sleeve, and said, “No church, he tells me. But that town hall’s a lovely venue. That’s where me and his father got wed years ago. Did he tell you?”

  Sky took a cake from the stand. “That’s why we’ve booked it.”

  I nodded. “I said we could do with Mum’s help with a few things, couldn’t we?”

  Sky put his hand on my knee and squeezed it.

  A few days later, we met Mum at the Marble Arch end of Oxford Street. I’d gone through what decisions we still had to make about the wedding, and she’d jumped on the suits like a starving dog on its prey. “They had men’s suits on This Morning a few days ago. I’ve got some great ideas for themes, colours, stuff to match my outfit.”

  At the mention of ideas and themes, I knew we were in for a long ride, but knowing how much she’d enjoy it and how much it would mean to her, I told Sky to brace himself.

  We walked the length of Oxford Street, stopping in department stores, high street chains, independent shops, every shop that sold men’s suits.

  Mum kept referring to her notes and said, “The jacket doesn’t do up,” to Sky as he’d squeezed himself in the best a department store had to offer. Later, she said, “Do you have matching suits?” as we walked into Moss Bros.

  “We’re not twins, Mum.” I quickly shot as a warning across her bow before the shop assistant had left.

  “Something coordinated. Something that goes together. It’s got to look like it was picked deliberately, not like you’ve gone shopping separately and stumbled across the suits.” She turned to the shop assistant who had her hands on her hips and was chewing gum. “It’s their wedding. My son’s wedding. Have you got any wedding suits?”

  The shop assistant left with “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “I’ve got a feeling this is the place,” Mum said, feeling the sleeve of a powder-pink jacket with white lapels.

  Sky kicked me, and I mumbled we’d have to give it a go before dismissing it.

  The shop assistant returned with a jet-black suit over one arm and a shiny white one over the other.

  I knew as soon as I saw them that they’d make us look like extras from Saturday Night Fever, but out of politeness we exchanged a look, braced ourselves, and tried them on.

  Mum shook her head as we left the changing room. “Reminds me of that film from the seventies. It’s not the look you’re after, is it, boys?”

  We both shook our heads and returned, crestfallen, behind the curtains.

  At the other end of Oxford Street, with aching feet, weary boned, in Top Man we tried on some of their contemporary range of suits, which Sky couldn’t fit into as they were so skinny and fitted. Although they fitted me, I hadn’t been grabbed by any of the styles. Standing in a grey chalk striped suit, which was all right, but nothing to set the world alight, I said, “It’s fine. It fits fine. Let’s get me this one and go back to the department store for the large one that fitted him.” I nodded to Sky, who was bursting out of his skinny-fit suit.

  Sky shrugged. “I suppose it was all right, wasn’t it. I’m trying to remember what colour it was.”

  Mum put her hands in the air. “Sorry. This is your wedding day. Do you want fine and it’ll do for your wedding day? Or do you want something a bit special, something you’ll look back on and smile at?”

  At that point I just wanted to be talking about anything but suits. I knew the mention of themes would lead to this, but I couldn’t disagree with Mum’s argument. I looked at Sky.

  He shrugged back at us.

  Mum leant forward and cupped her hand around her ear. “I didn’t hear you. You asked me for help, and so I’m giving it. Lunch, then we’ll take stock and regroup.”

  Take stock and regroup? Where had that come from?

  She picked the notepad from her handbag, ticked off some notes, then reading out loud, said, “Take stock and regroup,” to herself, tapping the pencil on the notebook.

  Ah, right, that’s where it had come from.

  We went back to the department store, passing the other sites of our failed suit-buying, each one stabbing at my mind and heart as we passed. On the top floor of the department store, in their cafeteria, over hot food, we took stock and regrouped.

  Mum said, “Depends how much you want to spend, but we could go to Savile Row. It’s not cheap, but who wants cheap on their wedding day?”

  “I’m happy if you two are happy,” I said, leaving for the gents.

  I splashed my face in the sink. A tired, dark-circle-eyed man stared back at me in the mirror above. Another splash of water, and I returned to my reflection, hoping for a slightly refreshed reflection. Instead I saw Luke, leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed. “Can’t you do something to help? I’m dying here. I’m at my wits’ end.”

  Luke shook his head, put his index finger to his lips, and said, “Keep it down. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself, talking loudly on your own in the toilets. I just thought I’d drop in on you and see how things were going.”

  Quietly, I said, “Please, just a little nudge, something to help things along.”

  “You need patience. Patience, Richard. Your mum’s got it all under control. How’s Sky settling in?”

  “Well. Mum loves him. He’s very patient with all this lark, actually.”

  “Good. Looks like you’ve got it all under control.” And he was gone, disappearing in a cloud of green smoke that smelt of pine disinfectant.

  We walked into the first shop we saw on Savile Row.

  A man greeted us, offered us a drink, then returned with a tray with one gin and tonic and two beers. As I sipped the beer, Mum explained the situation to the man.

  Patience.

  The man appeared from the back room with a suit draped over each arm that matched Mum’s description and was exactly the colour I wanted, and I knew all would be well.

  Chapter 40

  Two days before the wedding day, I left work to pick up some samples of flowers for the tables from a florist round the corner.

  The woman handed me a bunch of bluey-purple roses. I signed a piece of paper, said I’d be in touch as soon as we’d decided, and answered my work phone to John, who wanted to know if I had time to rehearse the presentation we were doing tomorrow to a new client. I said of course, and I’d be back shortly. I listened to him giving me ideas about a sort of double act he wanted us to role-play with the presentation, all designed to entice them to invest with us, rather than any other bank. My mind wandered to thoughts of Mum meeting Sky’s parents and would they get
along? Had we let the whole day get out of hand? Should we have just kept it simple and small as we’d originally intended?

  With John’s voice still in my ear and thoughts about the wedding buzzing around my head, I stepped into the road with a handful of flowers and my work laptop slung over my shoulder. After a loud bang, a shower of roses, a cascade of laptop bursting from the bag and exploding onto the road, and a sudden wet feeling around my arm, there was blackness.

  Once again I woke in hospital and immediately thought, Fuck it, I’ve gone and done it again. Surely not. It had all been going so well, hadn’t it? I tried to move my right hand, but it refused. I looked to the right. My arm was covered in plaster from elbow to wrist. I shifted in bed and winced. From my right, a jabbing, aching pain coursed through my ribcage.

  Using my left hand, which seemed all right still, I looked in the hand mirror left on my bedside cabinet. My crumpled face stared back at me. Cuts and bruises covered my cheeks and eyes, but I still had two eyes, both intact, and my nose was not broken.

  A face appeared in the mirror to replace mine: a woman’s face. A familiar woman’s face.

  Kylie.

  She backcombed her hair for a few moments, then looked down at—I presumed—her nails, out of sight in the reflection. “Strewth, you look like you’ve been run over by a bloody bus.”

  “No thanks to you. What are you doing still here? I thought Luke was back.”

  “He was, doll, until he wasn’t. So now you got me again.”

  “No apologies for the accident?” I bit my cheek, winced, then stopped.

  “It wasn’t a bus by the way. Only a little moped courier bike. So I’m not completely useless.”

  “Marvellous.”

  “Whose fault was it for not looking when you crossed the road?”

  She had a point, but I didn’t want to concede this, not to her. I remembered how unutterably awful she had been and groaned. “How are you back?” Not this close to the wedding, please no.

  “Shortages. Needs must, eh?”

  I woke to a quiet sobbing noise to my side.

  Sky sat in the chair, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “What’s the feeling here” he pressed his hand on his stomach “I can’t eat. I don’t want to feel these tears on my skin. It’s not like swimming in the sea.” He brushed his eyes with a tissue.

  “Don’t suppose you have a direct line to the Higher Ones or the guardian angel who’s looking after me at the moment?”

  He looked up, taking a breath between sobs. “Why, do you?”

  “Course I don’t. It’s intermittent with the angel, like it’s always been, I suppose.”

  “I’m guessing they’ve got a temp in at the moment, from all this.” He gestured to me in my hospital bed.

  “You can’t only have the nice feelings when you’re a human, Sky. There’s sadness too, and worry. The tears prove you care about me. The feeling in your stomach, that’s worry about losing me. Although I don’t know why—it was only a bump from a moped. I’ll be up and home soon.”

  “You’ve been unconscious for two days. The bike threw you, the flowers, the laptop, everything up in the air, and you landed on your arm, that’s why it’s broken. If he’d been going much faster, you wouldn’t….” He turned away as his eyes began to water again. “They don’t stop coming, these bloody tears.” He wiped his eyes. “I didn’t know what to do about the wedding. It needs cancelling, but who’s going to tell everyone? I spoke to your mum, and she said wait until you woke up. She knew you’d wake. She said she’d prayed and prayed and was sure you’d be all right. I didn’t understand how she was certain, but she knew. She told me to pray for you. I didn’t understand what she meant, so I said what I wanted, out loud, that I loved you and couldn’t live without you, and I needed you to come back to me. Is that right?”

  “Not far off. Where is she?”

  “At home. She’s either here or at home, doing all this praying, she said. She refused to cancel anything; said it was admitting defeat. Shall I call her and tell her you’re awake?”

  I borrowed Sky’s phone as mine was broken. Mum answered on the first ring. “Any news, Sky love?”

  “It’s me, Mum.”

  “Took your time, didn’t you? Talk about cutting it fine. You’re too late to get your deposit back for the caterers, and the town hall don’t do refunds, full stop. I told him you’d come back to us. I knew it.” She paused, and I heard her quickly whispering the Lord’s Prayer under her breath. “I’m leaving now, don’t either of you move. We’ve got two days until the wedding, and I want to talk to the doctors about getting you out in time.”

  She was like a one-woman typhoon, arriving, summoning the consultant and nurse in charge, explaining the situation, saying it was a miracle and asking what needed to happen for them to let me out of hospital in two days.

  Before the doctor or nurse replied, Sky said, “If it’s not possible, that doesn’t matter. We can move it. We’re going to be together the rest of our lives. What’s another few weeks matter?”

  “Sorry, love, no offense, but you don’t know what you’re talking about.” She turned to the consultant. “Pay no attention to him.” She turned to Sky and me. “You want to get married, don’t you?”

  We both nodded.

  “It’s not perfect, fair enough. But when is life perfect? Something like this happening is a sign for you to look sharp and get on with your life. Once you’ve got children, nothing’s perfect, trust me.”

  I looked at Sky. “You want kids?”

  “Yep. Do you?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it. I didn’t think about it because we’re missing a womb between us.”

  “This is the twenty-first century, there’s lots of options. I’ve been looking on the Internet.” He turned to Mum. “And talking to Mum about it.”

  It was all so much to take in at once. I focused on the details, as it was all I could still get my head around. “The suit, it won’t fit with the plaster on my arm.” I waved my arm in the air for emphasis.

  Mum rolled her eyes. “Who cares about that? If we can get you up and about, will you go ahead?”

  I nodded, then looked at the doctor and nurse.

  “That’s sorted, then. You two, listen.” She turned to the consultant. “Right, what do we need to get him up and about in two days’ time?”

  The doctor shook his head and said, “It’s highly unconventional. Normally we’d recommend a week’s convalescence.”

  “Sorry, doctor, but we don’t want your unconventionals and your normallys. This whole situation is pretty unconventional and not very normal. If someone had told me a year ago I’d be discussing my son’s wedding to a man he was in love with, my son the permanent wanderer who never settled down, I’d have told you you were dreaming, but here we are.” She shrugged. “And the accident has made it even more important. I don’t care what you say, but I know it’s a message from him upstairs.” She looked skyward and crossed herself, then pulled her notepad and pencil from her handbag. “What do we need to do?”

  Mum’s one-woman typhoon continued unabated for the next two days as physiotherapists, nutritionists, occupational therapists, and many other “ists” in various-coloured uniforms fed, moved, taught, and scanned me to as near normal health as they could in the time available.

  “I’ve not confirmed which flowers we wanted,” I shouted to Sky in horror.

  “I couldn’t care less about the flowers. It’s you I’m marrying, not some roses. Everything since you woke up has been a bonus. I really thought I’d lost you… that after all we’d been through, I wasn’t going to be able to be with you after all.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  I kissed him as he knelt in front of my chair.

  He pulled back from the kiss. “Besides your one-woman wedding planner’s taken care of the flowers, so no worries there.”

  Chapter 41

  Amy walked me past the trees, up the steps, into
the white building with tall, thin black-framed windows, and through the wooden door with its carved stone crest across the top, into Islington Town Hall for our wedding. She stood next to me, in the glass-walled entrance hall, clutching a bunch of simple white flowers that contrasted to her maxi dress and enormous summer hat, both covered in bold flower prints. “Looks like I got what I was wishing for too.”

  “What was that?” I asked, fiddling with my tie and adjusting my suit trousers. They were a bit too snug around my bottom—at Sky’s insistence.

  “I just said that if my guardian angel had any time to spare, could she make sure you got a happy ending.” She giggled. “Not that sort of happy ending. You know what I mean. I didn’t want you back in that hospital again.”

  “Me neither.” I looked at her outfit and smiled. “How’s life at the hard-plastic science campus coalface?”

  “Wonderful. So much fun, I can’t believe they pay me for it.”

  “Yours didn’t do too badly, then, did she?”

  “My who?”

  “Your guardian angel. She must have had a hand in the new job stuff, I’d say.”

  She shrugged. “I suppose so. I never thought she’d done much for me, really.”

  “But she could only work with the material she has, so she’s done pretty well.”

  She blushed. “Today’s for you. You’re allowed to be the centre of attention. In fact, you’re meant to be the centre of attention.”

  Mum appeared from the ladies’ toilets, in a turquoise dress with matching feathery hat and feathery handbag. She did a twirl with her hands held out. “Not bad, got it all from Monsoon in the sale. What’s this about centre of attention?” She looked behind me. “I said those trousers were too snug round the back, but you wouldn’t listen, would you?”

  Sky appeared at the opposite door, his arm looped round his mum’s and his dad standing behind them. His mum wore a skirted suit and boxy jacket in canary yellow, and a feathery yellow hat. His dad was simple but smart in a grey double-breasted suit and white shirt. Their outfits perfectly matched their personalities. We’d visited them a while before in Romsey for afternoon tea in their waterside bungalow’s garden. “Call Me Miriam, Dear” had fussed around with tea cakes, sandwiches, and parasols all afternoon, hanging on our every word as we told them how we’d met on Brighton beach. “I was worried he’d never meet someone who was right for him,” she said, pouring more tea and adjusting her enormous bright green summer hat. “It’s the best surprise since I found out he was coming along all those years ago. We’d been told we could never have children, see.” She looked to the ground, then rubbed Sky’s hair.