by Juliet Bell
He glanced at the clock in the hallway. ‘They’re not there yet?’
‘Course not. I wouldn’t be phoning if they were.’
Something cold washed over Edward’s whole body. For a second his fingertips seemed to tingle with the sense that something was very wrong. He ignored the feeling. There was bad weather. The traffic in Leeds on an evening could be awful. There was nothing to worry about. ‘Well, ring me again if they’re not there in half an hour.’
‘Fine.’
The house felt suddenly silent when she’d rung off. Edward walked slowly from room to room. Everything would be fine. Of course everything would be fine. In an hour or so his mother and father, his girlfriend and his sister would all bustle through the front door and the house would fill up with noise and movement again. Things felt strange in the meantime because he was alone and it was late at night and the snow falling outside the window was dulling the sounds of the town. There was no reason to think anything had happened to Mother or Father. There was no reason to think that the jigsaw on the table would remain for ever incomplete. There was no reason that he felt the urge to unfold the corner his father had turned down in his book and return the volume neatly to the shelf. But the feeling wouldn’t go. He was being silly. His parents were probably there by now. His father was the most careful of careful drivers. He wasn’t the sort to drive too fast or ignore the weather conditions. Visions of black ice and tanked-up boy racers hurtling towards his parents’ car settled in Edward’s imagination and refused to move away.
Thirty minutes later the phone rang again, but he didn’t talk to Cathy for long. He told Cathy to find somewhere indoors. He suggested a police station. She said they’d go back to the pub.
Two hours after that the doorbell rang. Edward opened the front door to a police sergeant, pink in the face from the cold, his face bearing a sympathetic expression.
Edward sat for a long time after the policeman had gone. He’d been offered family support. He’d been asked if there was anyone who needed to be contacted. He’d listened quietly as the sergeant talking into his radio and made arrangements for Cathy and Isabelle to be tracked down and brought home. And then he closed the door against the world outside. He’d sat down on the second-best armchair and he hadn’t moved.
Around two thirty in the morning he heard the sound of an engine and the crunch of footsteps on the gravel drive. The front door opened. Edward attempted to rouse himself. Isabelle would need his support. Cathy had already lost her own parents. He needed to move out of the chair and step up. He took a deep breath but couldn’t force his body to move.
Isabelle was in the room, throwing herself into him, wailing and crying, before he’d had chance to prepare for the onslaught. He patted his sister’s head as it pressed awkwardly into his shoulder. The strength of her emotion hit him like a wave, threatening to overwhelm him. Cathy stood silently in the doorway. He caught her eye. For a second he watched her watching his failure to comfort his sister, before she moved towards them. He felt Cathy’s hands brush against his chest as she put her arm around Isabelle.
‘Come on, Belle. Let’s get you to bed.’
He let Cathy lead his sister away and remained pinned to the chair in the quiet room. His parents’ things were everywhere. It looked for all the world as though they’d just popped out, but somehow even the house knew different. There was an emptiness that seemed to seep through the air.
‘She’s in bed.’
He looked up as Cathy came into the room. ‘Thank you.’
‘Do you want to talk or anything?’
Edward shook his head.
‘I’m sorry.’
He was confused. ‘What for?’
‘They were coming to pick us up.’
Edward felt his hand clench into a fist. ‘Because I didn’t insist on coming.’ Cathy was his girlfriend. She was his responsibility. He should have done better.
‘You should go to bed too.’
Edward shook his head again.
‘You probably don’t feel like sleeping.’
It wasn’t that. It was that going to bed was normal. In his room he might drift away into sleep as if everything was as it should be, and then in the morning everything would be freshly broken again.
Cathy slipped her fingers around his. He let her lead the way to his bedroom and he let her pull his top over his head and undo his belt so he could take off his jeans. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight to his chest, burying his face in her hair. ‘Cathy?’
She leaned back and stared into his face. ‘Yeah?’
The words he’d been looking for drifted away.
She ran her hand down his back. ‘I could stay with you tonight.’
Edward nodded.
Chapter Twenty-One
June, 1990
It was strange how quickly graves took on the appearance of being old.
Edward crouched down and brushed a spec of dirt off the white marble slab.
‘I know you didn’t really like her, Mother. But you were wrong. She changed after that night. She really did. If you could see the sort of person she’s become. You’d like her now. I know you would. She’s kind and loving. And she’s helped Isabelle so much. Me too. It was so hard after you died. I don’t know what we would have done without her. What I would have done without her.’
When he stopped speaking, silence settled once more on the churchyard. Slowly he got to his feet.
‘I hope we have your blessing,’ he said to the cold marble. ‘Yours too, Father. Cathy’s very young, but we love each other. That’s what matters.’
There was no answer.
Edward turned away from the graves and walked out of the churchyard. He slid back behind the wheel of the car and started the engine. He’d wanted Cathy to come with him today, but she’d refused. Weddings were supposed to be a happy time. She didn’t want to spend the day before her wedding in some graveyard. He was hurt, but she was probably right. And she said she had a lot to do too, although for the life of him, he didn’t know what. It seemed like she had done nothing but organise this wedding for months. The house had been littered with glossy bridal magazines, and shoes and flowers. Surely there couldn’t be anything left to do now?
But it didn’t matter. If that’s what it took to make Cathy happy, then that was good enough for him. Her happiness was what mattered. And after tomorrow she’d be his, properly. Everything would be settled then.
She was waiting for him when he got home, as were two suitcases and a pile of assorted bags and boxes.
‘What’s all this?’
‘Stuff to go up to the hotel,’ Cathy said. ‘I need you to load it into the car.’
‘You’re only there for one night. You can’t need all this.’
‘Some of it’s Isabelle’s,’ Cathy said, pouting. ‘And yes. I do need it all. You want me to look beautiful at the wedding, don’t you?’
‘You always look beautiful to me.’ Edward reached for her to pull her close and kiss her.
She kissed him back, but he could tell she was distracted.
‘All right.’ He picked up the first suitcase. He’d almost filled the boot and was turning back to the house for the last load, when Isabelle barred his way.
‘Oh no. We have to put the dresses in the car now,’ his sister said. ‘So, you can’t look. It’s bad luck if you see the dress before the wedding.’
‘All right.’ He was happy to oblige. It was good to see Isabelle looking happy. The years since their parents’ death had been hard for her. She’d done badly at school, and her A-levels had been pretty ordinary. She wasn’t going to university and had no idea what she was going to do with her future. Of course, she would always have a home with him and Cathy. The insurance after the accident at least meant he could provide a home for them both at Thrushcross.
There was a great rustling of fabric and bags and goodness only knew what sort of wedding stuff behind him, followed by the slamming of the car door.
‘It’s all right. You can turn around now,’ Isabelle told him. ‘We’re nearly ready to go.’
His heart lifted, as it always did, when Cathy reappeared. Despite the heat of the summer’s day, Cathy looked cool and so pretty. There were times he still couldn’t believe she had chosen him. But she had. She’d never really gone back to the Heights after the crash. She’d stayed with him and Isabelle. She’d seen how much he needed her. He’d been trying so hard to be the man of the house, to understand the bureaucracy that went with death, and to shoulder the burden. The night after the crash, she’d stayed in his bed, and she’d stayed with him ever since. Except for tonight. Tonight he was sleeping alone.
‘I still don’t see why you have to go to the hotel tonight,’ he said, putting his arms around her and pulling her to him. ‘You know I hate sleeping without you.’
She batted him away. ‘You know why. The bride and groom can’t sleep in the same house the night before the wedding. It’s not proper. I want everything to be done right.’
‘I know,’ Edward said. ‘I’m just teasing.’
‘Come on. It’s too hot out here.’
Cathy ran around to the passenger’s seat, leaving Isabelle to wedge herself into the back of the car with the dresses.
Edward drove them to the White Crown and carried things inside according to instruction – either to Cathy and Isabelle’s rooms or to the big function room, which was a hive of activity as hotel staff dressed it in white fabric, with splashes of dark red on the tabletops and by the windows. Empty vases stood waiting in the centre of each table.
‘If you don’t need me any more, I’m going,’ Edward said.
‘Go on then.’ Cathy dismissed him absently as she fiddled with some candles.
‘Cathy…’ Edward grabbed her hand. ‘Do you realise, the next time I see you will be at the church. When you walk down the aisle. I can’t wait to make you my wife.’
‘Me too.’ She kissed him on the cheek, but he could sense her mind was elsewhere.
It wasn’t how he had imagined this moment, but it was all right. Cathy had a lot on her mind. And tomorrow they would be married. Things would be different after they were married.
He left Cathy and Isabelle fussing and walked back to his car.
Driving away from the hotel, his eyes were drawn to the Heights. Since the mine closed the estate had declined. Those who could had gone to Leeds or Manchester looking for work. Cathy’s brother Mick was one of the ones left behind. And Harry, her nephew, he guessed. She had been at Thrushcross for so long with Isabelle and him that it was easy to forget she had a family of her own. He’d asked her if Mick was going to walk her down the aisle. She’d been quick to reply that no, she would walk down the aisle by herself. She said she didn’t need anyone else.
He’d said nothing. But he didn’t believe her. Of course she would want her brother to walk her down the aisle. She wanted her wedding to be perfect, didn’t she? And it couldn’t be perfect if her family weren’t there. A thrill ran through him. There was something he could do to make it perfect. He drove across the bridge, but instead of turning towards Thrushcross, he turned onto the estate.
The estate was practically deserted, and the house was smaller, darker and even more rundown than he remembered. He knocked on the door, wiping his hand on his jeans when he’d finished. When no one answered, he knocked again. He was lifting his hand to knock a third time when the door swung open.
He dropped his gaze to the face of a dark-haired boy, of about four or five, dressed in football shorts and a shabby T-shirt that was too big for him and looked none too clean.
‘Whadda you want?’
‘Harry?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Is your father here?’
‘In the kitchen.’
The boy turned and led the way through a hallway that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned for weeks. Edward caught his breath against the smell as he walked into the kitchen, which was vaguely familiar, but equally as dirty as the hallway. Unwashed dished were stacked in the sink. There were a couple of old pizza boxes on the worktop along with some empty beer cans. There were beer cans on the table as well, one of which was in the hand of the man who was slumped there reading a newspaper.
‘Mick.’
Mick looked up. Edward was shocked by his unshaven face and bloodshot eyes. He’d aged a decade at least since Edward last saw him.
‘Whadda you want?’
Edward steeled himself. ‘You know that tomorrow Cathy and I are getting married? We sent you an invitation.’
‘So what? She don’t want me there. She’s always thought she were too good for me. Stuck-up…’
‘That’s not true,’ Edward interrupted. ‘She wants her wedding to be perfect. And it can’t be perfect if her only brother isn’t there. Or her nephew. You should come. You could walk her down the aisle.’
‘Nah.’
‘Yes. Please. Do come. It’s tomorrow. Three o’clock. At the church.’
‘I ain’t been in St Patrick’s since they buried me dad.’
Edward shifted on his feet. ‘It’s not St Patrick’s. We’re getting married in St John’s.’
‘The proddie church. Well, that’d have me dad turning in his grave.’
‘The church doesn’t matter,’ Edward said, trying hard to keep the irritation out of his voice. He was doing this to make things right for Cathy, to show her he was the one who could give her everything she needed. ‘It’s Cathy’s wedding, and I think you should be there for her.’
Mick was listening to him. He’d let go of the beer and was staring into space. ‘Me dad would have wanted to walk her down the aisle,’ Mick said slowly.
‘Then you do it for him.’ Edward reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. ‘Look, I know it’s been hard for you since the mine shut. Here, use this to buy yourself…’
Mick’s head snapped up.
‘We don’t need no charity.’
‘No, of course not,’ Edward said hurriedly. ‘Use it for a taxi up to the hotel. Or for whatever you need. I know you’ll make Cathy very happy if you do. And you can bring Harry too.’
Edward placed a handful of notes on the table and left. He hurried out of the house and back to his waiting car, subconsciously checking to see if it had been damaged in his absence. As he drove back down the narrow street, he wondered if Mick would be at the church and the White Crown tomorrow, or if the money he’d left would find its way into the till at the Red Lion further down the hill.
Chapter Twenty-Two
June, 1990
‘So, what do you think?’ Cathy stepped back to view herself in the full-length mirror.
‘You look beautiful,’ Isabelle said.
Cathy heard the admiration in Isabelle’s voice, and swayed her body. The full skirt of her wedding gown swayed with her, with a very satisfying rustle of silk and tulle. The dress was the very latest fashion and had been the most expensive dress in the Leeds bridal shop. It was pure white satin, with a long, full skirt trimmed with lace. The top was lace too, with a neckline that dipped down to show the curve of her chest. She hadn’t really wanted sleeves, but the sales assistant had told her that big, full sleeves were the height of fashion, like Princess Di and that Sarah Ferguson had worn, and that was enough for Cathy.
‘How do I look?’ Isabelle asked.
Cathy cast a brief glance in the direction of her only bridesmaid. The dress was like one she’d seen in Hello! Cathy frowned. The colour didn’t really suit Isabelle’s pale complexion and brown hair. But the dress was right.
‘You look fine,’ she said. ‘I wonder if the paper will send a photographer. They should. I sent them a notice.’
‘Don’t you have to send them a picture?’
Cathy pouted. ‘Not for a proper big wedding.’
‘It would be so exciting to have our picture in the paper,’ Isabelle gushed.
‘Well, they’d probably only use a photo of me and
Edward. Come and do my veil.’
The hairdresser who had left a few minutes before had already seated the glittering tiara in Cathy’s upswept dark hair. All that was left was to push in the comb on the veil.
‘Ouch, careful,’ Cathy snapped as Isabelle pushed the comb too hard into her scalp. ‘Look, you’ve got it crooked. Try again. It has to be perfect.’
‘It looks wonderful,’ Isabelle whispered after several attempts to please the bride.
‘It does, doesn’t it?’
‘I’m so glad you’re going to be my sister for real now,’ Isabelle said, reaching out to hug her.
‘Me too,’ Cathy said. ‘What’s the time? We need to get going. You’ll have to help me get down into the car without getting the dress dirty.’
‘I want to check the reception room before we go,’ Cathy said, leading the way to the double glass doors.
She pushed the doors open and looked inside. People were moving slowly around the room, pushing trolleys with glasses and knives and rows on them. Some of the tables didn’t even have tablecloths on them yet. And the vases with flowers in them were just sitting on the floor.
‘What’s going on here?’ she almost screamed. ‘Why isn’t everything ready? And where are my lovely red runners for the tables?’
The staff froze in their tracks and turned to face her. No one said anything.
‘Where’s the manager?’ Cathy stormed. With Isabelle trailing in her wake, Cathy headed for the reception desk. Today was going to be perfect. And if she had to scream and cry to make it perfect then she would.
‘I demand to…’
The words caught in her throat as she saw two figures walking in through the doorway.
‘What are you doing here?’
Mick reeked of cheap aftershave and his thick, stupid neck was bulging out of his cheap shirt. Her brother blinked a couple of times, then a slow smile spread over his face.
‘Cathy. You look beautiful.’