by Dani Atkins
‘I know this must seem like a bolt from the blue,’ Will said, his eyes suddenly serious. ‘But for me this has been coming for a very long time. Almost from that first day on The Hybrid, if I’m being completely honest.’
‘It has?’ My squeak could have rivalled Minnie Mouse. ‘I always thought our connection was because of what we’d been through together. I thought that was why we were friends. I never thought that… I didn’t realise…’ My ability to finish a sentence was severely compromised. I was blushing a vivid tomato red. ‘I didn’t know that was how you felt. Given what’s happened to me, I didn’t think anyone would ever look at me that way again.’
Will shook his head as though I’d just said something incredibly stupid.
‘Bella.’ His voice was low and soft, like a confession in a church. ‘If you could see you the way I see you… you’d be dazzled.’
My vision was no longer sharp; his words, and the sincerity in them, had blurred it. ‘But you never said anything, not once. You never gave any hint of it.’
He reached for my hand, gently linking his fingers through mine. ‘I couldn’t. It wasn’t the right time. To begin with there was Aaron, and I would never have tried to get between you. And then, when you broke up, I could see how much you still cared about him. The last thing you needed right then was some poor love-struck idiot declaring his feelings and confusing you even more. I decided I should wait until I was sure you were completely over him.’
There was a long pause. The longest one yet in our conversation. ‘I’m still waiting.’
This was the moment I was meant to deny that anything was left of my feelings for the man I had loved for two years. Will’s eyes were holding mine steadily, so that even blinking felt impossible. ‘But I don’t think it’s happened yet, has it?’
I swallowed noisily in the sudden silence of my room. He’d been brave enough to bare his soul. I owed him the same honesty in my reply. ‘I’m getting there, but it’s been a lot to deal with.’
Will nodded, as though my answer wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it wasn’t exactly a surprise.
‘There’s no hurry, Bella. There’s no pressure, and there never will be. Getting well is all you need to worry about. But I had to let you know how I felt. I hated Aaron for walking away and yet I’ve spent so much time being grateful that he was too big a fool to realise what he was leaving behind.’
Will raised our joined hands to his mouth and gently grazed my knuckles with his lips. ‘I won’t ever do that.’
My smile was gentle but the look in his eyes was burning too brightly. It was like trying to stare directly at the sun. I wasn’t ready. For distraction I glanced down at the pages of his book, littering the floor of my room. ‘So Emilia falls in love with Sam, the driver of the car who hit her. How crazy is that?’
Will gave a shrug, and allowed himself to be diverted. ‘Sixty-eight per cent of single people involved in a serious accident get married within a year. Sam and Emilia prove it.’
For a moment his eyes grew serious as the banter was discarded. ‘Nothing has to change between you and me,’ Will assured me gently. ‘Not unless you want it to. I just want you to remember that if and when you do feel ready—’
The buzz of my phone was like an insistent hornet, cutting off his words. It was a catastrophic moment for an interruption. I glared down at my mobile, lying face up on the bed beside me. The screen was filled with a WhatsApp message, which I knew Will was close enough to read as easily as I could. I gasped softly as I read and then reread the words.
Bella, I’ve been such an idiot. A total fool. How can it have taken me this long to realise I don’t ever want to be without you? Please call me, let me explain. I’ve changed, I really have. I love you, babe – I always have and always will. Aaron. xx
19
Six Months Later
They were like new parents, each wanting to push the pram. Except it wasn’t a pram, it was a wheelchair, and I was perfectly capable of powering myself through the shop doorway. Sasha gave Wayne a ‘now-look-what-you’ve-done’ glare, which he pretended not to notice. Not for the first time I wondered if asking them both to accompany me today had been a huge mistake.
The thick pile carpet sucked at the wheels of my chair like quicksand, bringing me to a stop just inside the threshold of Fleurs Wedding Gowns. I glanced over my shoulder, fearful I’d see two black tramline stains from my wheels on the pale grey carpet. Thankfully, there were none.
The owner of the establishment was seated at an antique desk positioned to one side of the shop. She rose in a single fluid movement, like a black lily pushing up through the soil. Her dress was couture, I’d have bet Doggy Divas’ last month’s takings on it. I glanced nervously left to right at the wall-to-wall rails of wedding gowns. This was the bridal shop where Sasha and her mother had bought her own dress, and she’d been adamant that the search for my gown should begin here. ‘It’s the best place in town,’ she’d extolled, which was probably true, but it still didn’t feel very ‘me’.
Gwendoline Flowers, the owner of Fleurs, seemed to glide across the room to greet us, rather than walk. She extended an elegant, slim-fingered hand to me. The nails were long and painted the same blood-red shade as her lipstick. They were the only splashes of colour in her otherwise black ensemble. I liked the way she automatically readjusted her line of sight to look me in the face as we shook hands. Not everyone did that. Many people found it difficult to make eye contact with someone in a wheelchair. Worse, some people seemed to confuse an inability to walk with a lack of intellect. Mostly I just found it funny when people spoke slower and louder, as though severe hearing loss was the reason I was in this chair.
‘You must be my bride, Bella.’ I only just managed not to smile at her greeting, which made it sound as though I was about to get hitched to Gwendoline rather than the man I loved. ‘And of course Sasha I already know.’ I could see my old friend unconsciously standing a little taller as she greeted the older woman. Gwendoline was the kind of person who made you regret that you’d given up trying to walk with a heavy book balanced on your head. Instinctively I found myself sitting up a little straighter in my chair.
The shop owner’s eyes were gimlet sharp, like a raven’s, and they slid over Sasha and me before settling on Wayne, who was flanking the other side of my chair. ‘And is this our groom?’
All three of us laughed in that high, vaguely unnatural way people have a habit of doing when they’re nervous.
‘Noooo,’ said Wayne, playing up the camp in case Gwendoline needed further clarification. ‘I’m a very good friend of Bella’s. She’s asked me to come along today for my fashion sense.’
Gwendoline’s eyes swept over him, travelling down in a single blink from his mousse-ruffled hair to his burgundy pointy-toed shoes. ‘But of course,’ she said smoothly. My lips were twitching as she ushered us towards a velvet-covered chaise longue. Despite my initial misgivings and her air of hauteur, I’d already decided that I really rather liked this woman.
‘So tell me a little about your wedding. When is it to be, and how do you envisage looking on your big day?’
My fingers went to the exquisite princess-cut diamond on my left hand. It had sat on my finger for a little over two months, and I still couldn’t look at it without grinning. At uncomfortable moments – usually those in hospital consulting rooms – it gave me strength and courage. Which were definitely needed now, as I spoke the words every bridal shop owner must dread hearing.
‘That’s what might be a problem. The wedding is very soon.’
A single swallow, and the warmth in her expression dropped infinitesimally as she asked, ‘How soon exactly are we talking about?’
‘Six weeks.’ Strange how something I was so incredibly excited about suddenly sounded like an apology.
Sasha, as loyal as a Labrador and just as lovable, was quick to explain. ‘Bella has another operation scheduled for the end of the summer, so they’ve had to bring the w
edding forward.’
I flashed my friend a grateful smile. Not to be outdone, Wayne chipped in with the answer to Gwendoline’s second question. ‘And the way she wants to look, is beautiful.’ He dropped me an enormous wink. ‘Although frankly you could probably dress her in a bin bag and she’d still manage to do that.’
I had the best friends in the world, I truly did. They might squabble like siblings, but there were no two people on the planet who were better suited to accompanying me today. For just a moment I felt a knife-like stab of sadness for the loss of the woman who should also have been here with me. I missed Mum constantly, but most of the time it was with a low, dull, manageable ache. Today the pain was sharper, more acute. This was a mother and daughter thing, and as great as my friends were, there was a Mum-shaped hole in my day that no one could ever fill.
‘My budget is rather low,’ I said, thinking I might as well hit the consultant with all the negatives in one go. I named a figure, and I’m pretty sure her porcelain-white skin blanched a little. ‘That’s as much as I want to spend. We’ve had a lot of expenses modifying our new home to make it accessible, and I don’t want to touch my compensation money for the wedding.’
Gwendoline smiled, and to be fair the expression on her face was more inspired than fazed. ‘So we’re tasked with finding a gown that fits your time frame, your budget, and works for someone in a wheelchair.’
A look flashed like a secret message between me and my friends. The shop owner’s eyebrows rose expectantly.
‘It also has to work when I’m walking,’ I said nervously. Looking down, I noticed that I’d superstitiously crossed my fingers. ‘I’m hoping to walk the twelve steps down the aisle.’
‘Eleven,’ corrected Sasha. ‘I paced them again the other day. There are only eleven.’
‘That’s still six more than I can currently achieve,’ I said worriedly.
‘Plenty of time. Loads,’ declared Wayne confidently.
Not for the first time, I was so glad I’d let my two friends in on my plan. Aside from my dad and my physical therapist, no one else knew. I fell asleep at night in the arms of the man I loved, dreaming of the expression on his face when I got out of the chair and walked up the aisle towards him.
‘Well, it looks like we all have challenges to meet,’ declared the owner of Fleurs gamely. Leaving Sasha and Wayne waiting on the chaise, I propelled my chair in Gwendoline’s wake as we headed for the changing room. Once the door was closed behind us, she stood statue still for a long moment, running her eye appraisingly over me.
‘Do you need to measure me or something? I can stand up for a minute if you do.’
Gwendoline shook her head. ‘I know exactly what size you are and what will suit you. In fact, there is a particular dress I have in mind…’ For a moment there was a flicker of indecision in her eyes; it was an emotion I was sure she rarely felt. ‘It’s from a cancelled order.’
‘The bride changed her mind about the dress?’
‘No. She changed her mind about the groom.’
‘Oh,’ I said, slightly shocked. ‘Well, I definitely won’t be doing that.’
Gwendoline gave a slow nod. ‘As long as you’re not superstitious and feel it might be bad luck to wear a dress with that history.’
I gave a rueful shrug and looked down at my legs. ‘I’m pretty sure I’ve already had my share of bad luck. It’s time for the good variety now.’
I’d wriggled myself out of my button-through dress by the time she returned with a satin garment bag draped over the crook of her arm. Suddenly and unexpectedly, I was so excited I could scarcely sit still. For the first time I understood why they made television programmes about this experience. It was actually tremendous fun.
Gwendoline teased down the zip on the garment bag and with each revealing centimetre I grew more and more certain that I was looking at the dress I was going to get married in. Perhaps, before the accident, I would have wanted a ball gown, a big poufy-skirted affair that made me look like a Disney princess. But those dreams were happily exchanged as Gwendoline shook the gown free from the bag and held it up for me.
‘It’s gorgeous,’ I breathed, my fingers reaching out and gently tracing the fine silver-threaded embroidery. Under the artificial light, the gemstones scattered across the bodice twinkled invitingly.
‘Are you ready to try on your wedding dress?’
‘It might not even fit me.’
Gwendoline’s eyebrows were extremely eloquent. They told me I was talking nonsense, and they were absolutely right. The dress could have been made for me. The unfortunate bride who’d ordered the gown and then cancelled her wedding could have been my body double.
I stood before the bank of mirrors in the changing room, one hand braced against the wall, the other supported in Gwendoline’s firm grip. The bride staring back at me looked like she’d just stepped out of the pages of a magazine. Thanks to the cinched-in bodice, my waist appeared half its usual size and my boobs considerably larger. I looked down at a cleavage I swear I’d never seen before rising from the sweetheart neckline and shook my head in disbelief.
Almost afraid to ask, I turned to the bridal shop owner. ‘Can I afford this? Is it within my budget?’
The moment of hesitation told me what I had already suspected. Beneath the ebony-covered exterior, this woman had the softest of hearts. ‘It is,’ she declared. We both knew she was lying.
*
Sasha cried. Wayne did too, which he made absolutely no apology for.
‘You look like an angel,’ he said, crossing over to my wheelchair, which I’d now returned to, and enveloping me in an enormous hug. ‘If that man of yours changes his mind about marrying you, I’ll do it myself.’
I smiled over his shoulder and winked at Sasha, who was working her way through her third tissue. ‘No one is changing their mind about anything. This wedding is definitely happening.’
20
The church doors opened.
Everyone around me was nervous. I could feel their anxiety pulsing like waves, filtering through the air and mixing with the smell of the flowers in my hair, my bouquet and from the garlands looped along the pews. My dad was the worst. Three tiny nicks on his neck proved that even shaving had been a challenge that morning. I’d had to spend most of the fifteen-minute car journey to the church reassuring him that everything would be all right, which I’m sure was a strange reversal of roles.
‘Do you know how amazed I am by you today, Bella?’ he’d asked, his voice unusually gruff as the church spire came into view, silhouetted against a cloudless cerulean sky. If we’d dialled up the weather, we couldn’t have asked for a better day. ‘You are the bravest, most loving and caring daughter any parent could wish for. Your mum and I couldn’t be any prouder of you.’
Behind the gossamer veil, I was suddenly in danger of ruining all of Sasha’s best efforts with my make-up. The sun was streaming through the windows and while there might only be two shadows cast on the soft leather upholstery, it suddenly felt like a third presence was in the car with us.
‘I’m really proud of you too, Dad,’ I said, looking down at our joined hands; his work-worn and old, mine still waiting for time to leave their mark upon them. Life was full of changes, they were inevitable, but the closeness my father and I shared would endure. We’d make sure of it. And so too would the man who was about to become my husband. I smiled. It was something I’d been doing a lot of in the months since I’d left hospital; since the day I’d learnt what I meant to him.
How was it possible that everything you thought you knew and understood about someone could change so completely? His smile could alter my day. His kiss had the power to lift a mood from bleak to euphoric. I liked the ‘me’ I was with him; she was the best version of Bella I’d ever met.
The vintage Bentley purred up to the kerb and Sasha immediately emerged from the vestibule, looking amazing in a floor-length champagne silk dress. My bridal party was small and unconventional: a Bri
desmaid-of-Honour and a Chief Bridesman. Frankly, Sasha and Wayne could have chosen whatever bizarre titles they wanted; all that mattered to me was that they were part of this special day.
The driver unloaded my wheelchair from the boot and Sasha positioned it beside the open car door. Decorated with gardenias and white ribbons, my friends had transformed the NHS-issue chair to a flower-covered throne. It looked beautiful, but I was still hoping to abandon it at the church doors. Eleven steps. My heart tripped and quickened as I glanced through the lychgate. To date, the most I had managed to achieve was nine.
Dad pushed my chair across the uneven grass of the churchyard. I’m sure there must have been places close by with easier access, but this was the church where my parents had been married. We’d never considered looking anywhere else. Out of sight of our waiting guests, Sasha swept into action, straightening, smoothing and twitching my dress and veil in place. When she set the bouquet in my hands, I noticed her own were trembling.
‘Remember, I’m going to be right behind you,’ she whispered in my ear. ‘If it gets too much, I’ll be there with the chair, just in case—’
‘Bella won’t fall,’ said my dad, with the confidence of someone who hadn’t seen my latest efforts.
Sasha squeezed my hand one last time and then nodded to someone waiting just inside the entrance to the church. Seconds later, the opening strains of the song we’d chosen filtered out into the churchyard.
Every head turned as we moved from the shadowy vestibule into the church. But the only one I saw was his. I knew he’d look handsome in that dark suit and tie, but what overwhelmed me was the look on his face. It was joy, it was love, it was a promise that almost made the vows we were about to exchange redundant. No other man would ever look at me like he did, love me like he did. And I would never love anyone more than him if I lived to be a hundred.
Dad pushed my chair over the raised flagstone we knew we’d have to negotiate and then stepped out from behind it and into the aisle beside me. I lifted my bouquet and passed it over my shoulder to Sasha. Smoothly, just as we’d rehearsed, a figure rose from his seat at the end of the last pew in the church. The music was still playing as loudly as ever, but above it I could hear a ripple of hushed and curious whispers.
