by Janet Woods
Something blue. A provocative garter circled her thigh.
Saffy was adorable in pink with a posy of flowers - so proud of her white patent shoes that she kept tapping her feet and staring down at them with a smile. Susie, her long dress a deeper pink was self-conscious in her touch of make-up.
The veil was a white mist about her head and secured in a circle of pearls. A cascade of pink rose buds spilled from her hands down the skirt of her gown.
Is Griff nervous this day? Is he already at the church, standing at Devlin’s side? I shall be late of course, but not too late. It’s the bride’s prerogative.
Janey looked like a stranger in the mirror. She’d bathed in the September dew and she knew her marriage would be happy.
Then she was alone with her father. He looked so proud she thought her heart might break.
His voice was choked with emotion. ‘I love you, Janey. Be happy.’
There was a slow clip-clop of horses down the road. It was Brenda’s idea. The Victorian carriage emblazoned with Lord William’s family crest had gathered into itself a hundred years of dust. Repaired and refurbished for the occasion it creaked and groaned but was burnished bright.
Phil handled the reins with a casual aplomb, as if he’d been born to the job.
Church bells rang. There was a flowerbed of hats in the church. The organ wheezed Handel’s wedding march and there was a sudden flutter of nerves as faces turned her way. Her father’s arm supported her under her elbow. There were familiar faces, faces she loved – strangers’ faces, smiling at her, wishing her well.
A collective sigh went through the church, a long drawn out: ‘Ahhh ...’
Justin wriggled on Pamela’s lap. ‘Mum ... mum ... mum.’
The procession stopped whilst she leaned down and kissed him.
Griff was waiting, his face grave and his body reflecting the stillness inside him. He was perfectly at ease, tall and elegant. His dark eyes sought hers, pulled her towards him like a magnet. Their hands met - each seeking the other like twin souls.
Devlin took a step back.
The vicar beamed a smile at her and nodded at Griff. His balding head shone in the light streaming through the window as he began to speak in a strong resonant voice.
‘We are gathered together in the sight of God.’
Her father was giving her away – giving her to Griff just when they’d found each other.
Outside, a taxi pulled to a halt. The passenger was man in his mid-twenties, tall, clean-shaven and handsome.
‘Wait, would you, man?’ he instructed the driver.
The cabbie watched him walk towards the church and slip inside.
‘ ... let them speak now, or forever hold their peace.’
Clear green eyes roved over the congregation then came to rest on the bride.
‘Do you, Jane Elizabeth Renfrew ...?’
She was gorgeous, the sight of her stunned him.’ His mouth twisted into an ironic smile. Doc Tyler of all people ... if he had to lose out it couldn’t have been to a better man,
‘I do.’
‘Do you, Griffin Philip Tyler ...?’
Doc Tyler’s eyes sought Janey’s, his love glowing transparent for all to see as he spoke to her alone.
‘I do.’
‘With this ring I thee wed.’
A small girl in a pink dress caught his eye. His smile became tender. ‘Saffy,’ he murmured. She resembled her mother, but her eyes were as clear and green as his was.
‘I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.’
Such love in their eyes. She’d never looked at him like that. It was time to make himself scarce.
Half-hidden behind a tree he watched them emerge, watched the mill of people laughing and chattering, posing for photographs, the confetti floating in the air. Janey’s happiness made him ache. The way Griff kissed her and the way she responded made him die inside.
Saffy was dancing on the grass, her dress floating out around her like the petals of a flower. She tripped over a tussock and fell flat on her face.
It was Doc Tyler who picked her up and cuddled her tight. Doc Tyler who dried her tears and made her laugh again. She called him daddy.
Damn his grandfather! Drifter thought, why had he been so weak? He should have defied him like he did over active service. Vietnam! He was dreading Vietnam, but too many of his countrymen had died and he’d felt guilty sitting behind a desk.
Then the crowd moved away, some following after the horse and carriage on foot, others getting into cars.
Devlin drove off with a classy looking chick. Devlin had delivered Janey’s message and his eyes had been cruelly amused when he’d watched him unwrap the painting. At least he hadn’t got her. Doc Tyler he could forgive.
A man gave him a cursory glance as he walked by, a man so ordinary looking Drifter forgot what he looked like before he was out of sight.
* * * *
Darius Taunt! John Smith felt a twinge of guilt until he recalled how Griff and Janey had looked at each other in the church. Then he smiled and put it out of his mind.
The church grounds were empty now. Drifter wandered over to where Saffy had fallen – to the white object lying on the grass.
A tiny shoe made of shiny material with a pink rosebud on it. He held it to his cheek for a second, smiled, then slipped it in his pocket and sauntered back towards the waiting cab.
Copyright © 2003 by Janet Woods
Originally published by Robert Hale [UK]
Electronically published in 2014 by Belgrave House
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.