A Christmas Wedding in the Cotswolds

by Lucy Coleman

  As I lower myself down next to him, Gray clasps my hand in his, and stares deep into my eyes as if he’s apologising to me. ‘Immi, don’t be cross with me, but I changed my name by deed poll. I know we didn’t really discuss it properly, but it was something I’ve given a lot of thought to, and it felt right at the time.’

  Uh, oh. My mind goes into overdrive. Do you, Immi Tolliman take Elvis Adams to be your lawfully wedded husband? He wouldn’t, would he? Oh, Gray, there are times when that weird and wonderful mind of yours isn’t quite in touch with reality. I compose myself, fearing the worst.

  ‘Okay. Who am I marrying?’

  He licks his lips nervously. ‘Gray Tolliman-Adams.’

  I throw myself at him, my tears wetting the shoulder of his shirt. ‘Oh, I love it! And Tollie will be so touched. I would gladly have taken your name as it was,’ I sob, ‘but this means so much to me. Gray, you are my rock, my hero.’

  As Gray settles back to watch the remainder of the film, I grab my notebook and a pen. This time last year I wrote a heartfelt letter to Santa, after what had been a rather difficult year. There was only one thing that I wanted – to celebrate Christmas with the man I love, Gray, by my side. I can look back now and laugh, because I did get what I wanted, plus a few surprises I wasn’t expecting.

  This year will be different.

  Dear Santa,

  If ever I had any doubts that you could deliver, the events of last year made them all disappear. You gave me exactly what I asked for and more. It wasn’t the most romantic of Christmases, it’s true, but it was the best fun ever.

  This year is the last time I will write to you and send my letter in wisps of smoke up the chimney. It’s not that I’ve stopped believing, but my life feels complete in a way it never did before. And I’ve come to the realisation that the magic of Christmas is a gift that exists within us all if we choose to use it.

  So, as Aysbury’s chief elf, I will continue the tradition and inspire children to believe. I know that sometimes the impossible can happen because of the people who understand that giving is the most precious gift of all. And that, Santa, is down to you.

  With much love,

  Immi

  ‘What are you burning?’ Gray calls over to me.

  ‘My letter to Santa.’

  ‘Oh dear, am I in trouble? I thought we weren’t giving each other gifts this year?’

  ‘We’re not. This is a goodbye letter.’

  Gray’s face drops. ‘What? You’re hanging up your elf suit?’

  ‘No. Never. But this is one tradition I’ve carried on, simply because I couldn’t let go of the past. But now it’s time to move on.’

  Gray gets up and pops in a CD, and as Christmas carols fill the air he reaches out for my hand and waltzes me over to the Christmas tree.

  ‘And you didn’t even ask for snow?’ He checks, stopping for a moment to look down into my eyes, teasingly.

  ‘I most definitely did not ask for snow. The last thing we want now is for our guests to get stranded on their way here.’

  ‘And, I’m just checking, but we definitely aren’t buying presents for each other?’

  ‘Correct. I do have a wedding gift for you, but that’s not the same thing.’

  He peers at me, screwing up his face. ‘Ah ha! I knew it! Luckily, I have something for you, too.’

  ‘You do? What is it?’

  ‘It’s a surprise.’

  ‘Along with the wedding arrangements…’ I muse.

  ‘You agreed to leave those in my capable hands. It’s too late to change your mind now. Besides, my partners in crime did their best to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground.’

  I sink into him, and Gray wraps his arms around me as if he’s never going to let me go. The night before the wedding he’s going to stay with Rona, who is inviting Fisher and Val around for the evening. Sarah is coming here and we plan to watch back-to-back feel-good films, in between applying face packs and doing our nails. We decided against hen and stag dos at the very beginning and, given all the excitement lately, it was so the right decision to make.

  When you find your soulmate, everything falls into place and it fills you with a sense of peace. That was the one thing that was missing from my life and now I’ve finally found it.

  30

  Here Comes the Bride

  When the doorbell sounds and I hear Sarah greeting Rona and Val, the hairdresser is still fussing with my French veil.

  I’ve chosen a clip decorated with rhinestones, which secures a small veil that covers my eyes and hangs down over one cheek. Having curled my hair and pinned it back at the sides to allow a single ringlet to hang either side of my face, she’s finding it tricky positioning it. I’m about to ask her to give up when she mutters a triumphant, ‘Yes!’

  ‘Thank goodness. I was about to suggest we give it a miss. Thank you so much, Claire, for your patience.’

  ‘My pleasure. You and Sarah look lovely. Do you want me to help you on with your dress before I go?’

  ‘No. It’s fine, thank you. I’m going to need to calm my nerves a little first.’

  ‘It’s very pretty,’ she comments, gazing at the hangers hooked over the wardrobe doors. ‘It’s classic, simple, but elegant. Anyway, have a fabulous time, Immi. I’ll see myself out.’

  ‘Would you ladies like a coffee, or a tea?’ Sarah calls up from downstairs.

  ‘Claire is just going and I’m good, thanks!’

  After seeing Claire out, I sit back down and stare at myself in the mirror. The moment I tried on the second dress I knew it was the one, although it’s a lot more bridal looking than I’d initially envisaged. But it’s good to step outside your comfort zone occasionally and I smile back at myself, feeling content. There’s a gentle tap on the door and it opens an inch or two.

  ‘Should I close my eyes?’ Mum asks before stepping inside.

  ‘No. It’s fine, come on in.’

  ‘Oh, Immi, your hair and make-up is lovely. What an enchanting little veil – it really suits you!’

  ‘Thanks. It took Claire about twenty minutes of fiddling around to get it in place, but I think it was worth the hassle.’

  ‘There’s no “I think” about it, it’s perfect. Are you ready to put on your dress?’

  ‘Almost. I just need a couple of minutes to compose myself.’ Her face instantly falls a little. ‘Could you pop back in five minutes?’

  ‘Of course. Shout when you’re ready.’

  As soon as the door closes, I open the top drawer of the dressing table and pull out one of the old photo albums. Carefully turning the pages, I find a photo of Dad, Grandma and me, sitting around the table one Christmas. I was seven, maybe even eight years old. It was taken here, in Lock Keeper’s Cottage. Dad is reading the jokes from the Christmas crackers and Grandma and I are laughing, while I’m playing with what looks like one of those plastic games with a tiny metal ball in it.

  As I browse through the photographs, I realise how lucky I am. I had a wonderful childhood, and Dad and Grandma would love the idea of a Christmas wedding.

  ‘It’s not a day to start feeling nostalgic, Immi,’ I say aloud by way of a reprimand. ‘But that doesn’t stop me from wishing you were both here. Mum is with me today and I thought you’d like to know that.’ Running my fingers over the photograph, with my other hand I blow them both a kiss.

  ‘Mum, I’m ready,’ I call out and seconds later she appears. I wonder if she was standing outside on the landing and whether she heard what I said, but she’s giving nothing away.

  ‘Okay,’ she says brightly. ‘We need you to step into this dress so that we don’t mess up your hair.’

  Even in my wildest dreams I could never have envisioned myself slipping into a V-neck taffeta tea dress and feeling able to carry off the look with confidence. It has no decoration at all, but the cut and the fit make me feel tall and elegant. There’s a hint of glamour to its simplicity and I can’t wait to see Gray’s reaction.

 
‘Your waist is tiny, Immi. You look stunning,’ Mum comments.

  ‘I know I’ve lost a bit of weight recently, but it just accentuates my stomach. At least the folds hide that, or I’d look pregnant.’ I laugh.

  Mum smiles. ‘Now isn’t that a thought? Here, hold onto my arm while you slip on your shoes. They’re so pretty.’

  They’re a kitten heel, Audrey Hepburn style, in a slightly darker shade of grey and with a single line of rhinestones running along the side. I turn around to open the little jewellery box, a present from Rona and Mum. I put in single pearl earrings, fastening them at the back.

  ‘A touch of perfume and then it’s time to go downstairs,’ I declare.

  ‘Shall I bring your jacket?’ Mum offers and I step forward to put my arms around her.

  ‘Yes, please. And thank you, Mum. Having you here means everything.’

  She sniffs, and sucks in her cheeks.

  ‘Right, deep breath,’ she replies, determined to hold it together. ‘We mustn’t keep everyone waiting.’

  As I step out onto the landing, I hear Tollie’s voice and the sounds of laughter. Negotiating the stairs one at a time, my legs are shaking.

  ‘Hold onto the rail and take a few slow, deep breaths as you go, Immi,’ Mum says softly. At the bottom, we stand side by side for a moment and she gives me an affirming nod. ‘It’s time.’

  As I walk into the kitchen and through into the sitting area the sound of my heels on the floor announces my arrival and everyone stops talking as they all turn around.

  ‘My goodness, you all look so lovely. Anyone would think we were going to a wedding!’ I exclaim.

  ‘Beautiful, just beautiful,’ Rona remarks, glassy-eyed.

  ‘It’s perfect, Immi, it really is,’ Sarah adds.

  Daphne is all smiles. ‘You’re glowing, Immi. Gray is going to be overwhelmed.’

  Tollie is speechless as our eyes meet.

  ‘No tears,’ Mum states adamantly. ‘We don’t want to ruin Immi’s make-up before the groom has seen her in all her glory.’

  Tollie takes a deep breath, then walks towards me, smiling.

  ‘This is a proud day for me, m’dear. Not just because you look amazin’ in that dress, but because it’s obvious how happy you are.’ He looks distinguished in a new, pale grey suit, white shirt and heather-coloured tie.

  I think he’s about to lean in and hug me, but Mum steps between us. ‘Mind the gown,’ she fusses. ‘Right, is the car here?’

  Tollie walks over to the patio doors to check. ‘Ready and waiting.’

  ‘I’m not late, am I?’

  ‘Five, maybe ten minutes, that’s all. You don’t want to appear too eager. Make him sweat,’ Tollie replies, laughing.

  ‘Oh, the flowers,’ Sarah calls out, rushing off to the utility room to retrieve the box that one of the florists from the Lockside Nurseries dropped in first thing this morning.

  It takes at least five minutes to get everyone sorted and then Mum helps me into my fitted, waist-length heather-coloured jacket. The wool blend is a fine weave and, being lined and with long sleeves, it’s cosy. When I pull up the little collar it stands nicely against my neck and will stop any draughts.

  The bouquet is a simple hand-tied cluster of heather-coloured roses with fronds of eucalyptus leaves. As we leave the cottage and I step out into what is a cold but bright afternoon, I don’t know why I was stressed about today. The fun part is here at last and I’m going to enjoy every single moment.

  A friend of Fisher’s has a white Jaguar SJL and he kindly offered to be chauffeur for the day. I didn’t like to refuse such a generous offer, but, in all honesty, I would have been equally happy jumping into Tollie’s runaround. I stare out of the window, thinking how surreal this feels.

  It’s a smooth ride and when we pull into the car park of St James’s church, which is just the other side of the marina, I couldn’t be happier. Gray made the right choice because this church is very special to me. We always attended the evening Christmas carol services here when Grandma was alive.

  ‘This is perfect, but we could have walked,’ I comment, laughing.

  ‘Brides don’t walk, well, not along a canal.’

  There’s a luxury minibus already parked up, so Gray’s friends have obviously arrived safely, and there are a variety of cars belonging to our other guests.

  Rona parks on the other side of us, and I watch as Sarah, Daphne and Mum follow her into the church.

  ‘Right, are you ready?’ Tollie asks as I wait for my wonderful chauffeur to open the door.

  ‘I am.’ I turn in my seat to swing my legs out and stand up as our driver, Jeff, catches my hand.

  ‘My goodness, Gray is one lucky man,’ he comments, and I feel myself blushing. ‘You’d better get used to the compliments, Immi, because you’re going to get a lot of them!’

  Tollie comes to my rescue, but not before I plant a kiss on Jeff’s cheek. ‘Thank you. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a comfortable ride.’

  Tollie links arms with me. ‘Come on, there’s fashionably late and there’s late late. We’d best walk a bit quick.’ Grandma would have found that comment hilarious.

  The birds are singing in the trees, happy to bask in the sunshine, even though it’s only warm enough to melt this morning’s frost and the temperatures are icy. I’m glowing from head to toe and if we don’t slow down a little, I’m in danger of breaking out into a sweat. Tollie eases up, seeing that I’m taking two steps to his one stride as I tread carefully in my new shoes. Thank goodness I didn’t choose a long dress.

  Fisher is standing just outside the church door and he waves, hurrying across to us.

  ‘Everything all right? You’re a sight for sore eyes, my darling girl. Rona and Val are inside, and Sarah is waiting in the vestibule. I’ll warn you now, Gray is mightily nervous and emotional.’

  ‘Oh, no! Poor Gray. Sorry we’re late – there’s no one to blame but me. I should have walked, it would have been quicker,’ I half whisper, hoping Jeff is out of earshot.

  Once inside, it’s time to take a breath, unbutton my jacket and compose myself. Sarah comes over to turn down the collar and position it so that it falls perfectly. The smile she gives me is one of reassurance and I feel blessed to have such a wonderful friend.

  Sarah looks amazing in her dress, complemented by the unusual cut of her jacket, but she does look a little chilly.

  ‘Why don’t you stand next to the radiator to warm up a bit?’ I suggest as I move over to stand in the draught from the partially opened door, to cool down.

  Tollie, on the other hand, looks flushed as Fisher comes over, lifting up my hand to place a kiss on the back of it before he heads inside. This is it. Sarah follows him to the double doors, peeping through to await the signal.

  ‘Right, m’dear. There’s no point askin’ if you’re sure, because I know the answer and I wouldn’t be walkin’ you down the aisle if I didn’t think Gray was the man for you. But are you ready?’

  ‘I am.’ With that, Tollie plants a kiss very gently on my temple.

  Sarah gives Fisher a discreet wave and seconds later the music begins. To my delight it’s a piece I recognise. Gray wrote it for me a couple of months after we first met, but it’s being played by string instruments and as we’re walking down the aisle I realise the music is live. Off to one side, near the altar of this small parish church, are five musicians seated in a semicircle and the sound is heavenly. Each note touches my heart. Gray was so excited when he played it for me that first time and he said that it was the music he heard in his head whenever he was around me.

  With almost forty guests in total, only the back two rows are empty, and I smile and nod, trying to remember to turn from side to side to catch as many people as I can. Rona’s cheeks are rosy, and she looks so happy, it’s wonderful to see.

  Then my eyes are front and centre. I come to a halt alongside Gray and he turns around as I hand my bouquet to Sarah. Tears instantly fill his eyes and second
s later I’m looking at him and he’s struggling to focus, too. It’s like swimming under water and we start laughing, which makes it worse, because the tears start to overflow as his eyes crinkle up.

  ‘Don’t,’ I half whisper. ‘I sat still for nearly forty-five minutes having this make-up applied and I can’t burst into tears!’

  Churches have amazing acoustics, it seems, and a little ripple of laughter runs through the small gathering of relatives and friends.

  Fisher hands Gray a tissue and he swipes it across his eyes. He looks so devastatingly handsome I just want to kiss him now. Standing there in his light grey suit, white shirt, and heather-coloured tie, which is slightly askew, that’s my Gray. As I pull myself together, we turn to face the front.

  When it’s time to say our vows, the vicar begins. ‘Repeat after me. I, Gray Tolliman-Adams, take you, Imogen Tolliman, to be my lawfully wedded wife.’

  In the second or two it takes Gray to draw in a breath and begin speaking, I turn my head to look across at Tollie, who is standing next to Daphne. He gives me a huge smile, surreptitiously wiping his eyes. Then I turn back to look at Gray as he stumbles over the words and decides to start all over again. These are the moments I will remember in the years to come that will make me smile, not what I’m wearing, or how much money we spent on the wedding. These are the precious memories that will never fade.

  31

  Mr and Mrs Tolliman-Adams

  ‘I know it was all change at the eleventh hour, but Val and I felt sure you’d regret having a civil ceremony. Did I do the right thing?’ Gray enquires anxiously, the moment Jeff swings shut the door of the Jaguar. Having taken a countless number of photographs inside the church and a few in the grounds, we’re all feeling the cold and conscious that our guests will be hungry.