As Luck Would Have It

by Zoe May

  I Googled wedding pictures before we left the hotel, while Will was in the shower. Far too many of them feature couples walking down the steps of a church while ecstatic friends and relatives throw confetti over them. I mean talk about setting the bar high. Fortunately, I found another style of shot which is equally charming, almost more romantic in fact, which I reckon Will and I can fake. It’s the walking through a garden, holding hands, gazing into each other’s eyes shot. Or if not gazing, whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ear. Basically, you just have to look like you’re having a private moment, oblivious to the world (apart from the photographer snapping away, obviously). Will and I have decided that our fake wedding had a boho vibe, not because either of us is particularly into the boho vibe, but because the closest thing I’ve packed to a wedding dress is an embroidered white lace flowing maxi dress that just about passes as a boho wedding gown. And at least with a boho vibe, I can wear my hair down and to complete the look, all I need is a bunch of flowers. Will happened to pack a white shirt and smart trousers to wear in case we were going to any fancy restaurants, and we figure with a few tweaks on Photoshop, we might just be able to get away with it.

  ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this,’ Will comments as we weave through the souk. ‘Obviously, we can’t take the pictures in a well-known garden because Medhi and Amira might recognise it. We need to find somewhere they probably won’t know about. Somewhere private or really non-descript.’

  Will looks into the distance as though the perfect park might present itself, but we’re deep in the souk and it’s just rugs and spices and pots as far as the eye can see. I nod.

  ‘Good point. But where?’ I ask, in case Will might know somewhere from his last trip here, even though I don’t think he spent much time during that trip in gardens.

  ‘Let’s just wander around until we find a park. Somewhere that might work,’ Will suggests, as we make our way through the bustling crowds.

  We wander through the souk, trying to find a street that might lead to a park, but it’s a maze of shops with each stall-lined street seemingly leading on to another. Eventually, we stumble upon a market, which seems to be aimed more at locals selling household supplies rather than tourist souvenirs. One of the vendors is selling rolls of fabric. I spot some embroidered white lace and Will and I both agree that it would make a good veil. We buy a couple of metres from the vendor. I figure I can pin it to my head with bobby pins and with a few artful tweaks on Photoshop, it should look just about passable.

  We stop at a bakery and buy a selection of ridiculously cheap pastries. For the cost of one pain au chocolat and a loaf of bread at a London bakery, we manage to buy a couple of dozen bite-sized pastries and two bottles of water. We’re so busy exploring the market that I almost forget about what we actually set out to do: find a park to take wedding pictures. We resolve to stop shopping and concentrate on our mission, wandering further away from the market. Eventually, we emerge into a less bustling chaotic part of Marrakech. It’s more suburban, with homes interspersed with banks, pharmacies and mosques. We keep a lookout for a park, walking street after street. I’m beginning to get tired, and I’m about to suggest that we just give up on this whole silly idea when we stop by some railings to get our bottles of water from my bag. I peer through the railings and spot a boring-looking park. There are no exotic plants, no palm trees, no unique features. It could easily pass as a park in England and it’s pretty much empty, too. It even has a public toilet where we can get changed. It’s perfect.

  ‘Will, what about this place?’ I ask.

  Will looks up from unscrewing the cap on his water bottle and peers through the railings.

  ‘It’s so boring!’ he says, his eyes lighting up. ‘It’s ideal.’

  ‘I know!’ I grin, clapping my hands together.

  ‘So, erm, who are we going to get to take the pictures?’ I ask.

  ‘You don’t have a tripod?’ Will gawps.

  ‘No! I only have my phone, Will!’ I say, waving my iPhone at him.

  Will slumps against the railings. ‘So not only do we have to dress up and pretend to have just got married, but we have to do so in front of another human being?’ he groans.

  ‘Umm … yes?’ I venture in a tiny voice, smiling awkwardly. ‘It’ll be fine! We’ll just ask someone.’ I smile optimistically, determined to make these shots work. Once we’ve got Medhi and Amira off our back, we can start to relax.

  ‘Okay …’ Will relents.

  We head into the park. It’s really not the nicest place. A bin in the corner is overflowing with rubbish. The park is teeming with pigeons and the pathway where I imagined Will and I taking our shots is covered in pigeon shit. I pull a face at Will, who looks equally uncomfortable. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a few rats under the bushes. The whole place feels a bit wild and abandoned and I can immediately see why there are absolutely no locals relaxing on the park benches. All I can think as we head to the cobwebby toilets is, thank God for Photoshop. Lauren’s an absolute pro at it. I get her to do bits and pieces for my clients from time to time. I’ll send her the pictures this afternoon and I bet with a few clicks, she’ll probably be able to make this crummy old park look like a palace garden. I’m sure she’ll be up for helping, she does kind of owe me a favour with all the freelance work I’ve sent her way over the years.

  I venture tentatively into the disused bathroom and change into my wedding dress, or more accurately, my River Island lacey maxi dress. I brought some silver sandals with me that I’d planned to wear by the pool, and they just about pass as wedding shoes. I did my make-up and curled my hair back at the hotel, but I add a bit of blusher for good measure, apply a slick of lipstick and preen my locks a bit. I check out my reflection: nice, but not quite bridal. I add my makeshift veil and end up looking like a child dressing up for a school play. It’s a far cry from the kind of thing I imagined I’d wear at my wedding to Leroy. I picked out my perfect dress for that wedding. I spent ages flicking through bridal magazines trying to find one, but they were all either too sparkly or puffy or whimsical or tapered or chic. I couldn’t find something that felt me, then finally I landed upon this dress that had a sort of asymmetrical fishtail style and it was just so cool and striking and different that I knew it was the one. I started saving for it since I knew Leroy wouldn’t be able to help with the cost and the dress didn’t exactly come cheap. When our wedding fell through, I ended up putting all the money into my deposit savings account. I guess houses make better investments then dresses anyway.

  I come out of the loo, and find Wil, already standing, leaning by the wall in his suit, gazing off into the distance, people-watching passers-by on the street beyond the park railings. I pluck a few tulips from a nearby flowerbed to use as my wedding bouquet.

  ‘Natalie!’ Will says, taking me in, his eyes lighting up. ‘You look …’ He pauses, searching for the right word. He smiles, a little awkwardly. ‘You look really g- g- good. Gorgeous. You look gorgeous.’

  I raise an eyebrow. ‘Not good?’

  ‘I was going to say good but what I meant was gorgeous. I just wasn’t sure if I should say that. Is that appropriate?’ Will asks, smiling almost shyly. What is this?

  ‘Gorgeous is much better than good, Will. Thank you,’ I comment, laughing casually, even though I can’t help feeling a little twinge of something. What is it? Attraction? Flirtation? Hope?

  ‘You like the veil?’ I ask, fingering its edges.

  ‘Yeah, I love it! It suits you!’ Will remarks, smiling affectionately.

  I laugh. I’ll never get my head around what men find attractive. I take in Will’s attire. He’s wearing his black trousers and white shirt. He’s even added a red tie. He looks incredible. The last time I saw Will in a suit, he was being interviewed about politics on Sky. He looked good then and he looks even better now. He looks so tall and dapper, his broad shoulders and fine form accentuated by the sharp tailoring and neatness of his outfit.

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sp; ‘You look good too. Gorgeous,’ I add, genuinely meaning it.

  A moment passes between us, when we’re just gazing at one another, taking each other in. Will is seriously handsome. Obviously, I knew that already, but seeing him now, it really hits home. He was always attractive, but he’s masculine now in a way he wasn’t back at school. His body’s strong and imposing, and he has an air of suaveness and authority in his smart clothes that he never had back when he was trying to be a skater boy. He’s hot now. A head-turner. A bird chirps in the tree overhead, interrupting my thoughts and bringing me back to the task at hand.

  ‘Okay, umm, I’m just going to go and, umm, find a photographer,’ I say, scurrying off, hoping my face hasn’t revealed the adoration I’ve been feeling. I can’t help wondering what Will was thinking as he looked at me. His eyes had a faraway look about them. I wonder what he thinks of me now compared to the 16-year-old girl I used to be.

  Feeling a little flustered, I walk out of the garden towards the street. People immediately start pointing and staring. I smile weakly and walk towards a pair of tourists looking a little lost. They’re a middle-aged couple and they appear fairly ordinary and approachable.

  ‘Hi!’ I beam. ‘I’m Natalie. How are you? I just wondered if you might be able to take my picture?’ I ask. A reasonable request. Tourists ask people to take their picture all the time.

  ‘Umm, sure,’ the woman replies in an American accent, lifting her sunglasses to get a better look at my dress. She looks me up and down, taking in my veil and my white lacey dress, her face a picture of confusion. Her husband appears equally perplexed.

  ‘Is that … a veil?’ he asks.

  ‘Umm, yes!’ I reply brightly, pleased that my makeshift veil looks convincing.

  Will appears by my side and introduces himself. It turns out the couple are called Susan and Geoff. They’re from Ohio, and they’re on a trip across Europe but they thought they’d make a detour to Marrakech.

  ‘So, why are you wearing a veil? Are you getting married?’ Susan asks.

  A reasonable question.

  Will gives me a pointed look as he awaits my response. I can tell he isn’t going to step in and save me this time. Not that I’d want him to. He’d probably make up some awful excuse about how I’m wearing this get-up because I got the shits in my regular clothes or something.

  ‘We, umm, it’s just our thing, really,’ I say.

  Will raises an eyebrow.

  ‘Your thing?’ Geoff echoes.

  ‘Yeah, we, umm, go around the world and take pictures in wedding gear. Bit different, eh?’ I laugh.

  The man and woman look at me like I’m completely insane and I’m almost worried they’re going to do a runner. I need to make this sound less crazy.

  ‘Why would you do that though?’ the woman asks.

  ‘It’s um, it’s a project. About love and travelling. We’re Instagrammers and you know how competitive it is on there,’ I tell them, getting into my stride. ‘We basically travel the world, taking pictures at sites all over the place, but we make it different by wearing a suit and gown. It makes us stand out. You need a USP on there.’

  ‘Ah, I see …’ Susan nods, as though it’s all making sense.

  Even Will’s nodding. In fact, he looks quite impressed. Ha!

  ‘What’s it called?’ Susan asks. ‘Your Instagram account.’

  ‘Oh, umm …’ Shit. Shit. Think of something. I gaze across the road for inspiration and spot a billboard for a brand of toothpaste featuring a crest of a wave in the arctic and a slogan about the toothpaste being ‘ice cool’.

  ‘It’s called Groom and Bride, Cross the Tide,’ I tell her.

  ‘Awesome!’ Her face lights up. ‘I love that.’

  Geoff nods, impressed. ‘Nice.’

  Even Will is smiling, although I think he’s just trying not to laugh.

  ‘I’m going to look it up,’ Susan says, reaching into the pocket of her trousers for her phone.

  ‘Oh, could you take our picture first?’ I urge her, my voice a little desperate. The last thing I need is for her to go on Instagram and realise Will and I are complete frauds. ‘We’re just in a bit of a hurry,’ I add.

  ‘Of course! No problem,’ she says, shrugging off the thought. I feel a palpable wave of relief.

  We all head into the garden.

  ‘You could have just told her your veil was a headscarf!’ Will whispers as we walk along the path.

  Damn it. He’s absolutely right. I could have just passed it off as a cultural thing, but no, I had to go and make up an entire Instagram backstory.

  ‘Oh God …’ I grumble.

  ‘It’s okay! We can do this!’ Will reassures me.

  ‘So why this garden?’ Susan pipes up, her lip curling in disgust as she takes it in.

  ‘We just thought it was a nice spot,’ Will says, in an authoritative tone.

  Susan and Geoff exchange a perplexed look, that Will and I choose to ignore.

  I hand Susan my phone.

  ‘We’re just going to walk down this pathway,’ I tell her. ‘If you could take a few pictures, that would be great.’

  ‘Sounds good.’ Susan smiles, holding up the camera.

  Will and I get into position, standing on the pigeon shit-spattered path.

  ‘Act like you’re whispering something to me,’ I tell him.

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘To make it look intimate. Obviously.’ I roll my eyes.

  ‘Okay.’ Will sighs.

  ‘Ready?’ Susan says, looking at us through the camera screen on my phone.

  ‘Yes! We really appreciate this,’ I say.

  ‘No problem,’ Susan replies, gearing up to take the first few pictures.

  Will and I start walking. I pretend to laugh at something he’s said. He smirks. Then I poke him in the side.

  ‘Um …’ Susan utters. ‘These aren’t coming out that romantic. Is that okay?’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ I hiss at Will.

  Susan looks up from the camera, a worried expression on her face.

  ‘Sorry Susan. I was telling Will off.’

  Will’s still smirking.

  ‘How about you kiss?’ Geoff suggests, glancing between Susan and me and Will with a helpful expression. ‘That would look romantic.’

  Kiss?

  ‘Um …’ Oh God, I can’t think of an excuse as to why we wouldn’t kiss. We’re meant to be bride and groom Instagrammers for goodness’ sake, of course we would kiss.

  ‘We could,’ Will says, catching my eye.

  What’s got into him? One minute, he’s making up embarrassing stories about how I’ve got the shits and the next minute he’s calling me gorgeous and wanting to kiss me.

  I eye him. He really does look good in his suit. It’s no wonder he was invited on TV all the time back when he was a journalist, he’s just so easy on the eye. You wouldn’t change the channel away from him in a hurry. But beneath all that, he’s still Will – the teenager I fell for so many years ago with his gorgeous jade and amber eyes and his endearing sweet nature.

  ‘Okay, let’s kiss,’ I say. ‘In the interest of authenticity,’ I add under my breath so that only Will can hear.

  ‘Exactly,’ Will agrees, with a firm nod. ‘In the interest of authenticity.’

  ‘Okay, whenever you’re ready,’ Susan says, holding the camera up, poised to take a shot.

  Will takes a step closer to me and places his hands on my waist. I look up at him, feeling nervous as I rest my hands on his hips. He’s so close. His lips are only inches away from mine. He gazes into my eyes, smiling gently. An affectionate smile, full of warmth. God, he’s a good actor. Or he actually wants to be doing this. I can’t tell. I smile tentatively back and let my gaze wander down to his lips – thin, masculine, lightly pink, inviting, before looking back into his eyes. Will’s hand moves across my back and he pulls me closer, closing his eyes as his lips meet mine. I close my eyes and kiss him. His lips are cool and soft, but th
e moment our lips meet, something happens. It’s like we’re two magnets snapping together and neither of us wants to let go. Will kisses me properly, moving his lips against mine and before I know it, I’m enthusiastically kissing him back, our tongues are intertwining, his hand cups my face, drawing me even closer. I feel his warm hard body under his shirt. It’s the most delicious passionate kiss. Far less clumsy than our kisses back at school. Will’s confident now. An assured and skilled kisser.

  ‘I think I have some decent shots,’ Susan says, interrupting, coughing awkwardly.

  Bloody Susan. Totally ruining the moment. Will pulls away, his eyes still on mine. They look tender even though Susan’s no longer taking pictures. She may have put an end to the kiss, but it doesn’t quite feel like the spell has been broken.

  ‘Thanks Susan,’ Will says, turning to her with a sheepish smile.

  ‘No problem!’ Susan replies, a little too brightly. She’s acting like she’s just seen a live sex show when it was only a kiss. Although it was a passionate one. I feel hot and flustered.

  ‘Do you need any more pictures or is that it?’ Susan asks.

  Will and I flick through the shots. Our embrace looks spectacular. Eyes closed, lips locked.

  Will looks incredibly handsome. I look pretty nice too. We do look good together. The picture really does look like a wedding day snap of two totally loved up newlyweds unable to keep their hands off each other, their love and excitement evident to all. It rivals Amira and Medhi’s with its passion and romance. Aside from the pigeon droppings, this is the kind of wedding photo that I used to dream about as a little girl. A happily ever after type shot. It’s beautiful. Pinterest, eat your heart out!

  ‘These are perfect. Thanks so much!’ I gush.

  ‘No problem at all,’ Susan says. ‘I’ll look up your account later.’

  Will smiles, his face strained. ‘Brilliant!’ he says.

  ‘Yes, great!’ I add.

  We thank Susan again and she and Geoff set off down the road back towards the centre of Marrakech.

  ‘The poor woman’s going to be completely confused when she can’t find our account later,’ I mutter as we watch them retreat into the distance.