by Anna Bell
‘We just do the ceremonies here, but we have a choice of three hotels to have a reception in, if you want one. If you’ve only got a small number attending, there’s bound to be something free,’ says the receptionist helpfully.
‘Yes, perhaps we can just have a small dinner. No first dance. Or photo booth, or big thing.’
‘Exactly,’ says Danny nodding as if we’re completely on the same wavelength.
‘Great, that’s entirely doable. We have private dining at our hotels. Ah, here’s Grace, she can tell you more about it,’ says the receptionist as another woman walks over. She has the biggest smile on her face.
‘Hello. I hear you want to get married quickly?’ She ushers us out of the reception and into a hallway that has some chairs outside, and she sits down for a chat.
Danny and I smile. ‘Yes, we do. I’m going to drop the paperwork in to the registrar on Friday, so twenty-nine days from then.’
‘Yes, at least. So let’s look at this. That brings us to Saturday the second. Hmm,’ she says wincing as she flicks through her book. ‘What sort of numbers are you talking?’ She looks up at our blank faces.
‘We just know we want small,’ I say shrugging.
‘How many people other than you are coming? Just family or close friends as well?’
Danny and I look at each other.
‘I guess there’s our mums and dads,’ says Danny.
‘Yes, and Frances, Dad’s wife. And Kerry and Jim and Olivia.’
‘Stuart and his wife, their two kids.’
‘I’ll have to invite my best friend Lucy and she’ll probably bring her fiancé Ed.’
‘And Gaz and his wife Victoria.’
We look away from each other and back at Grace.
‘So you’re looking at around twenty people, then? If a few of them are children, then we can just about squeeze you into one of the private dining areas of our main hotel, if you wanted something quite small and intimate. That’s more of a dinner than a reception. If you wanted something with dancing, then we could do one of our bigger reception suites.’ She whistles through her teeth as she looks at the availability. ‘But we probably couldn’t do that at a weekend for a while, but mid-week might be an option.’
‘No, a private dining area would be fine.’
‘OK, I can show you that after I’ve shown you the venue, if you like. You’ve got two options size wise – our more traditional room is the most popular and it has two time slots available.’
‘Great,’ I say, my head spinning at the thought that I’m shopping for wedding venues.
This time last week I was excited about shopping for mini toiletries for my holiday. How times have changed.
‘Well, I think I should show you around now, as there’s a wedding in an hour and guests will be arriving soon, and then we can go round to the hotel and I can talk you through the prices. Then I can give you your forms and make sure you’re happy filling them out. And with your wedding being so soon, you’ll probably have to pay the full balance. Is that going to be OK?’
I go a bit pale. I’ve got some savings, but I hadn’t really budgeted for a wedding.
‘That’s fine,’ says Danny, as if she’s just asked him to pick up a round of drinks.
‘Is it?’ I whisper, looking at Danny, and he squeezes my hand and nods.
‘Great. Come on, then,’ says Grace.
She clip-clops along in her heels and I think how cool her job must be. It must be lovely seeing so many people in love. I have to admit that I get the warm and fuzzy feeling in the pit of my belly when we’re running a work party and two work colleagues hook up when they’re drunk. I like to think I can tell the difference between those who will regret it the next day and those who have been staring longingly at the other over the photocopier for a long time.
‘You two are adorable,’ she says turning her head and catching us mid-swoon at each other. I’ve found we do that a lot. ‘Have you been together long?’
I look at Danny and raise an eyebrow.
‘Five days,’ he says, completely dead pan.
I see the look of horror creep over Grace’s face.
‘Five days?’ she says slowly, as if he’s made a mistake.
‘But, when you know, you know, right?’ says Danny.
‘Besides, we’ve known each other since we were about six months old. We practically grew up together,’ I say. ‘He’s like a brother to me.’
Grace is looking even more horrified.
‘But not like that. I mean, I don’t think of him as a brother. I wouldn’t fancy my brother, not that I have a brother.’
‘She just means that we’ve known each other for a long time,’ says Danny, rescuing me.
‘Right, well, I’ve seen it all here. Really. I’ve seen couples that get married after thirty years of being together, and ones like you that have been together days or weeks. Marriage is a bit of a gamble and who’s to say which one’s more likely to succeed?’
‘Or end in divorce,’ says Danny, quite unhelpfully.
‘Er, yes,’ says Grace, awkwardly. ‘That too. So on that happy note, here’s the room.’
‘Oh, wow,’ I say gasping. It’s not how I imagined it at all. It’s definitely got an ‘olde worlde’ feel to it. It’s really old fashioned and everything’s crooked: the ceiling, the whitewashed walls, the black timber beams. It’s got horse brasses and bellows and a massive bit of wood in the centre, with two chairs either side.
‘So this is where most couples get married. It’s been a venue for marriages since 1784. You can feel the romance in the room, can’t you?’
I look over at Danny who’s grinning back at me and I wish we still lived in the 1780s. I know the sanitation and the bathing wouldn’t have been so good, and, of course, there’d be no telly, but at least I’d be able to marry him right here, right now. There’d be none of this twenty-nine days malarkey and I’m sure they didn’t have to provide birth certificates and utility bills.
‘I love it,’ I say honestly.
Grace beams at me.
‘The ceremony itself takes around fifteen minutes, although maybe a little more if you have some readings or songs or anything special. So we tend to allow for an hour for the room. People often arrive half an hour or so beforehand and then it gives you time to be late and for people to take photos afterwards.’
‘Right,’ I say, trying to take it all in.
‘So, let’s walk over to the hotel and I can show you the dining options, and then I can answer any questions.’
‘Perfect,’ says Danny. ‘You OK?’ he asks, whispering in my ear.
‘Fine,’ I say, nodding.
‘You sure this is what you want to do?’
‘One hundred per cent,’ I say. ‘Twenty-nine bloody days from Friday can’t come soon enough.’
He kisses me on the lips and pats my bum affectionately before we hurry out of the room to catch up with Grace.
*
‘What do you want to do now, then?’ says Danny as we get back into the car after finishing our meeting with Grace.
‘I don’t know. What do you do when you’ve just booked your wedding?’
I still can’t believe that we’ve done it.
I lean over and kiss Danny. It’s all so simple and so right. Nothing has ever clicked like this.
‘So, do you fancy grabbing dinner on the way home, or getting a takeaway back at my house?’
‘In the Lake District?’ I say.
‘That’s where I live.’
‘Uh-huh, and that’s where your mum lives.’
There’s been a sort of magic in our relationship that it’s just been about us. It feels weird for us to go back to his house and to our everyday lives where we’re going to have to tell people about us.
‘Yes, but she lives in Hawkshead and I live in Ambleside. She doesn’t have to see us.’
‘OK,’ I say nodding.
‘Are you nervous about telling people?’ he says, putti
ng the keys into the ignition.
‘Are you not?’
He turns and looks at me. ‘Not really. I think everyone’s going to be really happy for us.’
‘Are they? I hope so,’ I say. I’ve got a rumbly feeling in my belly.
‘Let’s just go to my house and we’ll take it one step at a time, OK?’
‘OK,’ I say nodding, letting my breathing even out. ‘So what’s your house like, then?’
‘Don’t you mean what’s our house like?’
I feel a bit faint all of a sudden. I hadn’t thought of it like that. I’ve agreed to live somewhere that I haven’t seen. What if I hate it?
‘I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like,’ I say, ‘I never had you down for a cottage. I imagined you living somewhere super swanky. Sort of penthouse. Shiny wooden floors. Steel kitchen. Awesome view of the water.’
Danny laughs.
‘What, am I close?’
‘You were. That’s the type of flat I had in New York. Couldn’t swing a cat in it, but it was swanky.’
‘So this is a bit more rustic?’
‘Not rustic,’ he says, his brow furrowed, as if he’s searching for the right words. ‘I love it and I hope you will too. I mean if it’s got to compete with the flat you’re living in now. That sounded pretty amazing in your letters.’
‘Hmm,’ I say, glancing out the window. Somehow I don’t think my tiny studio flat in my sister’s basement is going to rival a cosy cottage in the Lakes. I may have over exaggerated it slightly.
We start to drive towards the motorway to a house I’m going to be living in very soon.
I try and push away the fear and instead concentrate on us, taking one step at a time.
Chapter Thirteen
I saw your mum at the weekend – I bloody love that woman. She really is mad as a box of frogs and I love the fact that she never changes. She said that you’re getting all American. Come on, Whittaker, let me remind you that an ass is a donkey not an arse, there is no may in tomato and dressing is never to be taken on the side. Seriously, though, sounds like you’re having the time of your life . . .
Email; Lydia to Danny, February 2015
The last time I came to the Lakes I was blown away by their beauty, and this time, as we drive down the little lanes that annoy Danny so much during the tourist season, it’s no different. It might be a blustery, wet winter’s day, but somehow this place suits that type of weather, with the grass all different shades of green and the little stone walls dotted across the fells.
I get all excited as Danny drives us through Windermere, giving me a bit of a tour. I love the fact that the Christmas lights are still up, which give everything a warm glow as it gets dark. I marvel at the restaurants and shops and I feel as if I could get lost for hours here.
I love how busy it is and the chaotic nature of it all. There’s a busload of Chinese tourists that have stopped not far from the centre and it’s causing chaos as the passengers are ambling across the road, seemingly unaware of the drivers fighting to get down the packed high street.
Once we’re out of the town we start driving around Lake Windermere and I can’t believe the size of it.
‘You can get a ferry from here to my mum’s over in Hawkshead. I say ferry, it’s a small boat that takes a few minutes. Handy in the summer when the roads are bunged up.’
‘So where’s your place in relation to your parents’?’
‘About halfway between them and Windermere, if you drive round.’
I nod. I love the changing scenery as the road winds around. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of the lake and of the hills that surround it. It’s stunning.
Danny points out Ambleside as we drive through. It’s obviously not as touristy as Windermere, but it has a charm about it. It seems to have functional shops and a few cafés, and I’m looking forward to exploring.
We pull up into the courtyard of a large building that’s covered with a myriad of grey slate and stone. For a second I’m overwhelmed. Is Danny super rich? Was he being a bit coy about his little house? It makes me feel even more pathetic that I live in my sister’s basement. I try to calm myself down and look at it properly. I spot a number of doors dotted along it and I realise that it’s not one great building but a number of properties and suddenly it’s not so intimidating.
Danny gets out of the car and stretches as he walks over to the front door. It’s been a long day.
‘So, this is where you live?’ I ask excitedly, as he approaches a cream-coloured front door with a panel of opaque glass divided into quarters.
‘It is indeed. This is my little cottage. Wait,’ he says, blocking the doorway with his arm. ‘Am I supposed to carry you over the threshold?’
‘No, you idiot,’ I say, bashing his arm away and walking straight in. ‘That’s for when we’re married.’
‘Oh, good. I’ve got four weeks to pump my arms up a bit at the gym, then.’
‘Are you saying that I’m heavy?’ I ask indignantly, wondering if all that tapas is starting to show.
‘Well, you did eat all that food last night.’
I give him a playful shove as he starts laughing. I know he’s only joking.
I walk into the cream hallway, which has a light grey marl-tiled floor. I slip my shoes off, despite Danny’s protestations, and I expect the tiles to be cold underfoot, but they’re surprisingly warm.
‘Underfloor heating,’ says Danny, as he taps his phone. ‘I set it to come on when we were in Gretna.’
‘It’s lovely,’ I say. ‘Makes it nice and toasty.’
I’m looking at the coat hooks and the framed photos on the wall. There’s Danny and a mixed group of friends, all dressed in thick jumpers with beers in their hands, smiling for the camera. Then in the next photo they’re all in salopettes and bulky ski jackets, their goggles perched on their heads. The final one is of Danny and another guy, their arms around each other’s shoulders.
‘There’s Gaz,’ says Danny, walking up behind me. ‘We went to Val d’Isère the year before last. Great trip.’
I look over at the other faces. All of a sudden it seems funny that he has a whole life that I don’t know about. Friends. New family members – a sister-in-law I’ve only met in passing, a niece, a nephew. It didn’t seem weird when we were in Spain. We talked of our lives back home, but only in an abstract way, as if they didn’t really exist. But here we are home, or at least in Danny’s home – his world – and it’s as if I’m getting to know him for the first time.
‘Do you want a tour? I bet you’re itching to have a nosey round.’
I nod, suddenly apprehensive. What if I don’t like it?
He opens a door off the hallway and reveals a bedroom. It’s a typical man’s bedroom. The duvet is dark grey, the walls off white and there’s not a decorative cushion in sight. It’s pretty though. There’s a warm-looking fluffy cream carpet on the floor and heavy cream curtains at the window. There’s also a wooden blind to give an element of privacy.
‘This is nice,’ I say, nodding around. He takes my hand and leads me to the next floor, which hosts a lovely pale wooden kitchen with black granite worktops, a family bathroom with an old-fashioned roll-top bath, a shower that looks as if it’s big enough for two, and a tiny box room bedroom that Danny uses as an office.
‘Now this,’ says Danny, as we climb the final staircase to the third floor, ‘is my favourite room.’
He opens the door and there at the top of the house is a beautiful lounge. It’s spacious enough, but it slopes into the roof, which gives it a cosy feel. There’s a large L-shaped fabric sofa that looks as if you could snuggle comfortably into it, and a huge TV mounted on the wall.
‘It’s a shame it’s dark,’ he says, ‘as the views are cracking.’
He goes over to the log burner, and loads it with logs before lighting it.
‘So, what do you think?’
I finish looking around the room and I grin at him.
‘It�
��s lovely, it really is. It’s not what I would have expected of you, but it actually suits you.’
Danny’s laughs. ‘Thank you. But will it suit you?’
I look over at the sofa where I imagine Danny and I curled up together.
‘Yes, I think it will.’
He pulls out his phone and after a few clicks music fills the room. The unmistakeable sound of The XX fills the room and it sets the mood perfectly.
‘Do you have an app for everything?’
‘Pretty much.’
He leans down and gives me a kiss, and at first I think it’s going to be a quick peck, but he soon reaches his hand around my neck and I know that it’s going to be more.
‘You know, we’ve gone almost a whole day without me jumping on you.’
‘Really?’ I say, thinking about how long the day has been. He’s right though. We left the apartment at ten this morning in a taxi and there was no time for any funny business before.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Well, we’ll have to do something about that,’ I say, gently kissing him back. Suddenly, the bedroom seems a very long way away.
I slip off his tie first, before slowly unbuttoning his shirt, all the while keeping my eyes firmly on his. He slips my mini dress off over my head and before I know it my bra is off and he’s bent down to remove my tights.
He rolls them down and lifts my legs as he pulls them off, before he kisses around my thighs and I start to lose myself as I watch the flames dance in the wood burner. He’s teasing me, getting ever closer to my lace knickers, and I’m starting to stroke his head, trying to guide him so that he puts me out of my misery.
He reaches round and is pulling at the lace of my thong when the door to the room flies open.
‘Cooey!’ shouts a voice.
Both of us freeze as if we’re playing a game of musical statues. I daren’t look round at the woman who’s just walked in.
‘Shit, shit, shit,’ whispers Danny as he tries to leap up, only his hands are tangled in my knickers and he sort of pulls me along with him.
