A Winter's Wedding

by Sharon Owens

  ‘I think I’ll begin with clearing the back wall,’ Emily said, after a while spent flicking through her magazines. ‘And then I’ll put some summery tea dresses and straw hats up.’

  ‘Sounds fine,’ Dylan agreed. ‘Tell me if you need the ladder.’

  ‘Shall I put my wedding dress in the window?’ Emily asked Dylan suddenly. ‘It is the height of summer, after all. We might attract the attention of a passing bride-to-be. You never know.’

  ‘Look, are you sure you want to do this?’ Dylan asked gently. ‘We could always give it all to another charity shop, so you don’t have to look at it.’

  ‘No, I’m ready. I think it would be lovely if my dress had a happy ending. You know, to restore some good karma to the whole thing? And if you price the gown and all the accessories very reasonably, you’ll get some much-needed money for the shop too. I know I paid thousands for it, but Sylvia needs all the funds she can get – what with the poor starving ponies and everything.’

  ‘You’re being infuriatingly practical again.’

  ‘I know. But that’s no bad thing. We have animals to feed.’

  ‘Well, do you want me to move anything out of the window for you? We don’t have any nice mannequins or anything, though. Sylvia thought of buying a couple, but you wouldn’t believe the price of them.’

  ‘Um, good point … I know, there’s a nice little wardrobe in the storeroom, isn’t there? That pretty, painted one? I think Sylvia brought it in from her house, to keep the spare stock in. But it’s far too pretty for mere storage. Could we maybe set that in the window, towards one side so it doesn’t block out the light too much? And then I’ll just iron the dress, slip it on a hanger and hang it on the wardrobe door? It’ll look lovely there, I think. It’ll look as if it’s hanging on the wardrobe door ready for the bride to put it on and step straight into the wedding car.’

  ‘Okay. Listen, I’ll fetch the wardrobe and you can start ironing. But, Emily … if you change your mind about selling the dress in here, will you please tell me? I can’t imagine what you must have gone through that day. I know you said you were over Alex, but you don’t have to put on a brave face with me – honestly. I know how important weddings are to girls. I never thought weddings were just about the frills and the flowers.’

  ‘Yes, you’re very perceptive for a bloke, aren’t you?’

  ‘I try to be. When I want to be; but I don’t always get it right.’

  ‘Ah, you’re doing all right so far. I admit, I did think I’d lose my sanity before that day was over. My thoughts were racing for hours, and I felt panicky and weird. As the minutes crawled by, it was like an out-of-body experience.’

  ‘No wonder.’

  ‘And yes, I did cry until my face looked like a crumpled-up crisp packet. If it weren’t for Arabella, I might have jacked in my job altogether and gone on antidepressants.’

  ‘But you didn’t.’

  ‘No, I didn’t. Because eventually I realized that Alex wasn’t the right man for me. We had nothing at all in common. Alex was ultra-ambitious – he was into extreme sports, and his idea of romance was asking his secretary to send me flowers on my birthday.’

  ‘What an idiot.’

  ‘I was crazy to think we were going to live happily ever after – together for fifty years. He didn’t even want to live in London. And I must have told him a hundred times I was never going to settle down in Belfast. I think that he thought I’d just come home like a good girl when the wedding was over.’

  ‘But you must have loved him to agree to marry him?’ Dylan said gently. ‘You must have loved him a bit?’

  ‘I did love him, yes. But I loved the memory of Alex when he was a nineteen-year-old; when he was fun and always making me laugh and playing practical jokes on everyone. I was in love with our student days and that lovely, light feeling you get with your first love. Snogging in the park beside the ice-cream vans, and running all the way home in the pouring rain … But by the time Alex was thirty-three, all of those nice things had been replaced by an all-consuming desire to make money.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Yes. He was a completely different person, Dylan. All he ever talked about was his career path, and the expensive cars and houses he liked, and who he ought to be playing golf with. He was an insufferable bore, if I’m honest about it. If I’d met him for the first time when he was thirty-three, I would have thought he was an annoying little social climber. I wouldn’t have given him the time of day. And he was terribly ashamed of my parents. I mean, I was ashamed of them too. Well, I’ve a right to be ashamed of them. But they were no reflection on him, surely? No, I was just as guilty as he was. It was me who should’ve put the brakes on it all.’

  ‘You mustn’t blame yourself, Emily.’

  ‘I know. But we’re all responsible for how we deal with life’s little setbacks, aren’t we? I shouldn’t have let myself get blinded by all the trappings.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘But it was my fault, Dylan. I should have known better. I don’t like it when people refuse to accept any blame for their own troubles. That’s the one thing that really, really frustrates me about my mother, you know? She blames everyone but herself for her alcoholism.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Dylan said, carrying the small wardrobe carefully out of the storeroom and setting it down in the space that Emily had just made by the window.

  ‘She says it isn’t her fault that alcohol is so addictive and so cheap, and the government should have more rehab facilities. And the school she went to was useless and gave her no preparation for the world of work. And my father should have done better for himself, and should have given her a nicer lifestyle. He should have been a more romantic husband, and he should have made her happier. And then I held her back from entering the job market properly, and that’s why she drank so much – because she was so bored of sitting at home with me all the time.’

  ‘Did she not think of leaving you in a nursery, if she was all that unhappy?’

  ‘I think nurseries are a relatively new phenomenon back home. She was only earning buttons, anyway. Would you listen to me rambling on again? I hope I’m not boring the pants off you. Let’s not talk about my parents any more today, or Alex. That’s supposed to be the point of all my de-cluttering. I’m trying to stop thinking about all the times I messed up.’

  ‘You didn’t mess up.’

  ‘Okay, all the times when life let me down.’

  ‘Fair enough, let’s change the subject.’

  Dylan put his hands up in a gesture of surrender and went off to boil the kettle.

  Then Emily fetched her wedding gown from under the counter and gave it a careful pressing on the wonky old ironing board. She hung it carefully on the inside of the wardrobe door, which she left standing wide open. Then she draped her lace veil over the padded hanger too, and set her satin shoes on the floor beside her pink beaded posy. The bridesmaid dresses she hung inside the wardrobe. Luckily they were made of crushed silk and didn’t need to be ironed. There was a pretty ribbon garter, which she tucked into the bodice of the dress; it would make a nice little surprise for whoever eventually decided to buy it.

  ‘I had four pairs of the sweetest pink patent pumps to go with these dresses, but I think the girls forgot to give them back to me,’ she said.

  ‘Never mind; it’s a lovely display, Emily,’ Dylan said, hugging her tightly. ‘There’s the kettle boiled now, so I’ll brew up.’

  ‘Okay, and I’ll vacuum the carpet. There are beads from the posy scattered all over it.’

  But before they had even finished their tea, an excited young woman with bright red hair came teetering across the road in blue platform slingbacks and almost ran straight through the door of the shop without opening it first.

  ‘Watch yourself there,’ Dylan said, springing to his feet as the door crashed open with an almighty wobble.

  ‘Sorry, sorry. But I really want the wedding dress. I’ll take everythin
g in the window,’ she said breathlessly. ‘It is a Vera Wang, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ Emily said, amazed at what was happening.

  ‘How much do you want for everything in the window, and the posy too? I just love it all.’

  ‘Don’t you need to know the dress sizes?’ Emily said, struggling to overcome her shock at such a swift expression of interest.

  ‘Oh yes. Please tell me the sizes – but they look just right to me.’

  ‘The wedding dress is a size 12, regular. The shoes are a nine. And the bridesmaid dresses are all a size 10.’

  ‘Perfect … except for the bridal shoes,’ the woman said, picking up Emily’s satin shoes, making a disappointed face and then setting them back down again on the pale blue carpet. ‘I’m a six, so there’s no point in taking these shoes. What a shame … they are utterly gorgeous. And two of my bridesmaids are size 8, but I can take their dresses in. I’m pretty handy with a sewing machine. Yes, okay, I’ll have the lot, please … except for the bridal shoes. They’d only fit a bride with feet the size of boats, wouldn’t they?’

  Dylan and Emily exchanged mischievous glances, and Emily had to bite her bottom lip to stop from laughing out loud. They hadn’t had time to put individual price tags on Emily’s wedding things, so Dylan suggested an overall price and the woman readily agreed. She set her handbag on the counter, and delved inside it for her chequebook.

  ‘I can’t believe my luck,’ she said, giddy with happiness. ‘We’re getting married on a shoestring budget,’ she explained. ‘We’re trying to do everything for two thousand pounds, including the buffet and the honeymoon. It’s a new trend; I’m sure you’ve heard of it? Debt-free weddings; it’s all the rage. I mean, why line the pockets of those rotten greedy banks when you can have a perfectly nice wedding without spending a fortune?’

  ‘Why indeed,’ Dylan said dryly.

  ‘Yes, I’ve heard of that trend,’ Emily said, sighing with regret. She’d borrowed thousands of pounds to pay for her wedding – she’d be paying off the debt for years. And all because she’d been trying to impress Alex’s posh parents. She wondered if they ever thought of her nowadays.

  ‘I’ll see what we’ve got by way of a box,’ Dylan said.

  He hoped Emily wouldn’t collapse in a puddle of tears when she realized what she was doing.

  ‘I must tell my fiancé,’ the woman said, taking out her mobile phone and sending a quick text.

  Emily began to fold up the dresses, amazed that her lovely display had only lasted for fifteen minutes altogether. Dylan managed to find a large, clean cardboard box and lined it with some crisp sheets of white tissue paper. Then Emily folded in the yards and yards of immaculate white tulle and crushed pink silk, and laid her lace veil and small posy lovingly on the top. The woman handed over her cheque and showed her ID card to reassure them she was genuine, and within seconds she was gone. The last Emily saw of her precious wedding gown was the delighted woman hailing a taxi at the end of the street, tightly clutching the large cardboard box to her chest.

  ‘I can’t believe what just happened here,’ Dylan said, placing the cheque gently in the cash register. ‘Can you believe we just made five hundred pounds in one sale? It’s not a fraction of what you paid, I know, but Sylvia will be absolutely delighted. That should cover the rest of the vet’s bill this month. Are you feeling okay, Emily? You look a bit flushed.’

  ‘What? Oh yes, don’t worry about me. I’m not going to have another panic attack. Not over Alex, anyway – he’s so not worth it. It’s a huge relief, to be honest. I feel a great wave of sheer relief washing over me. It’s only a dress, isn’t it? Letting go of it doesn’t mean anything significant, not any more.’

  ‘You can buy an even nicer dress for the next time,’ Dylan said. And then he realised how dismissive that sounded. ‘I didn’t mean that in a casual way,’ he said quickly.

  ‘I know you didn’t,’ she smiled.

  ‘I mean, the next time you are getting married – to somebody who is actually worthy of you – you can buy the dress of your dreams.’

  ‘No, I don’t want a big white wedding, thanks,’ Emily said, picking up the satin shoes and setting them underneath the counter. ‘I’m done with making grand statements. And like the girl said, why line the pockets of the banks just to feed and entertain a lot of people you haven’t seen in years, and won’t be seeing again in a hurry? No offence about banks, by the way.’

  ‘And none taken. Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘Big weddings are a form of madness, when you think about it. All that stress for one day. Arabella’s got friends who spent even more than I did. One of them fainted on her way up the aisle. And another one had to get married in a hospital ward, because the groom broke his leg on the stag weekend.’

  ‘Why didn’t they wait until his leg got better?’

  ‘They wanted to get married before they went on the honeymoon. And the honeymoon was a six-week cruise that cost over ten thousand pounds, so they couldn’t afford to miss it.’

  ‘Okay, a six-week cruise sounds very nice.’

  ‘Yes. Now, speaking of cruises, let’s keep my boat-shoes safe in case our transvestite friend comes back,’ Emily said. ‘And if he does come back, you can tell him you’ve got something he might be interested in. Maybe he’ll get married himself some day – in these very shoes? Wouldn’t that be a lovely thought?’

  ‘You’re a very special girl, Emily,’ Dylan said, hugging her again. ‘If any of my sisters had been stood up like that, they’d have committed murder. And I wouldn’t have blamed them.’

  ‘Do you know, I feel different now? I feel sort of free,’ Emily said, snuggling in to Dylan and closing her eyes. ‘I thought I’d cry my heart out when that dress finally went out of my life. I loved it so much; it was my fairy-tale dress. But I don’t feel sad any more. And I hope that girl looks lovely in it. I really do. I loved her red hair, didn’t you? Very Florence and the Machine, wasn’t she?’

  ‘Yeah, she was. So did you mean it when you said you never wanted to get married?’

  ‘I’m not sure about never getting married. But if I do get married, it’ll be a very small, very intimate and very private affair. No vanishing parents, no obligatory relations, no coterie of bridesmaids, no overpriced flowers, no showy cars, no hassle with bank loans …’

  ‘Right, I get it. What sort of a wedding would you like?’

  ‘I’d like a five-minute service at my local registry office with just two witnesses, and then we’d go straight to the nearest airport for a lovely holiday somewhere really peaceful.’

  ‘Sun or snow, do you think?’ Dylan asked.

  ‘I don’t mind – as long as it’s not too crowded. Maybe it’d be nice to have a lovely winter wedding and then a really sunny honeymoon on the other side of the globe, to get the best of both worlds?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘That is not a hint, by the way,’ she said, going through to the storeroom to heat her tea up in the microwave.

  ‘I know it isn’t,’ Dylan smiled, but he looked very happy.

  ‘We might as well put something new in the window now,’ Emily said briskly. ‘Seeing as you went to all the trouble of putting that cute wardrobe there. Shall I have a look at the stock and see if anything jumps out? And I’ll put the display of summer dresses out too, now that I’ve got the ironing board up.’

  ‘Okay, and thanks, Emily. You’ve been a great help to the shop.’

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ she smiled. ‘It feels good to know I’m doing something useful with my day off.’

  And the mood was light and blissfully relaxed for the rest of the afternoon.

  That night Dylan stayed over at Emily’s flat, and they shared an Indian curry and a bottle of red wine. Then they kissed for a long time on the teacup-embroidered cushions.

  Dylan didn’t ask if he could stay the night, because he felt that Emily mightn’t be in the mood after seeing another woman make off with her wedding
finery.

  And Emily didn’t like to ask Dylan if he wanted to stay over, because she felt that she’d appear overly dismissive of her cancelled wedding.

  In the end they both fell asleep on the sofa, arms entwined, as the candles burned down to a tiny blob of melted wax and then softly went out, one by one.

  11. Sins of the Father

  October came, the weather turned colder, and Emily still hadn’t heard from her parents much since the previous Christmas. She’d tried to call them countless times, but their house phone was rarely answered and they didn’t have mobiles. Emily had therefore assumed they were simply sulking over her decision to stay in London for Christmas, and were just trying to avoid her. Her parents had no real sense of the time passing, so ten months would mean nothing to them. But, although she tried hard not to, she couldn’t help thinking about them. She imagined all sorts of awful things involving illegal vodka, pantomime-villain loan sharks and chip-pan fires. She could almost hear an ambulance in the background every time the phone rang.

  She didn’t like to say anything to Arabella about her parents, because Arabella wasn’t always feeling very well herself these days. Her hair and make-up were as impeccable as ever, but Emily could see beyond that to the loneliness and hurt in her eyes. And she didn’t like to mention it to Dylan, because they were having such a lovely time together. Their days had fallen into a smooth routine where they’d work hard all week and then spend their weekends in bed together. Occasionally they’d venture out to see a show, or have a nice meal, but their favourite way to while away the time was simply to make love, sleep, talk for hours, and drink wine or tea by candlelight.