The Wedding of Ginger & Basil

by Lee Strauss

  “I was married once,” he said. “The biggest mistake I ever made. Are you certain the big man upstairs isn’t trying to tell ya something?”

  Basil scowled. He wasn’t about to philosophise about his personal life with a stranger. “I’m certain.”

  “‘Course, I was blinded by beauty. I’m not much to look at now, y’ know, but once I was considered a catch by the ladies. Gladys was, one might say, untameable. My mates tried to warn me, but I couldn’t ’ear it. I wish to God that I’d listened to ’em.”

  Basil softened his opinion. He, like the cabbie, had once fallen for a difficult woman whom he could never satisfy. His friends had warned him as well, and Basil had spent many a day and night wishing he’d heeded their warnings.

  “Thank you for your concern,” Basil said. “But this one is special. I’m a blessed man.”

  The cabbie nodded his head in solidarity. “I ’ope you’re right.”

  Basil lifted back the cuff of his jacket to check his wristwatch, but his arm was bare. He’d forgotten to put it on.

  “Blast it!” He muttered and then froze. Had he forgotten Ginger’s ring as well? He dug into his coat pocket and sighed with relief. He removed the small box and stared at the gold band. So small, it barely fitted Basil’s little finger. Ginger had such graceful hands with long, delicate fingers. Basil couldn’t wait to put it on her. He carefully slipped it back into his pocket.

  Basil had never been so fed up with London’s growing traffic snarls than he was this instant on Piccadilly. Horses pulled trolleybuses alongside motorcars and buses. Pedestrians took their lives in their hands crossing the busy street wherever they pleased. Basil thought he could walk faster. Suddenly, the taxicab slowed to a stop and reinforced Basil’s point.

  Basil leaned forward and spoke earnestly. “What’s wrong? Why are we stopping?”

  The cabbie stretched a long neck out of the window. “Traffic jam ahead. Looks like a lorry tipped its load this side of the Savoy.”

  Blast it!

  Now Basil wished he’d registered at the Savoy Hotel, but Brown’s was in Mayfair, close to the townhouse he was vacating, and it had made sense to book a room at the time.

  Traffic continued to flow in the other direction. Basil needed to get out and find a taxicab that would take him to the church through an alternate route. He paid the cabbie and got out. As he stood on the side of the road, he watched dusty motorcars and long-suffering horses pulling carts and carriages rumble by, but not a single empty taxicab in sight.

  Basil was beginning to think abandoning his taxicab had been a mistake, but he found it had only moved a short distance.

  Out of habit, he checked his wrist for the time, only to find it wasn’t there. He didn’t even know how late he was. He only hoped that Ginger would wait for him and forgive him. What a rotten way to start their lives together.

  “Hey, mate!”

  Basil spun on his heel at the sound of a familiar voice. A taxicab had pulled to the kerb and a floppy-haired man with a smile too broad for his face peered out the back window.

  “You look like you could use a lift,” he called.

  “James Smith!” Basil couldn’t believe his good fortune.

  “Get in old boy,” Smith said jovially. “Before the traffic clogs too dearly behind us.”

  Basil jumped into the back seat of the taxicab before his childhood friend finished his sentence.

  “St. George’s Church, perhaps?” Smith asked.

  Basil grinned, “Pronto!”

  Smith leaned in close to the driver as the man inched his way back into the line of motorcars and horses and carts. “You heard the gentleman. Pronto.”

  With big teeth resting on his lower lip, Smith smiled at Basil.

  “You are an angel, my friend,” Basil said. “You’ve saved my life.”

  “I’d be saving your life if I told our man here to lead us away from the church.”

  Basil let the comment go. They’d grown up together like brothers, and Emelia, the beautiful siren she had been, had become a wedge between them. It was understandable that James would be wary. “I see you got my invite. Nice of you to come all this way.”

  “Ah, it’s too hot in Australia anyway. It’s their summer, you know. Imagine Christmas in the blasted heat, not a snowflake in sight. London’s been tugging on my heart, dear boy. I miss wearing scarves.”

  Basil chuckled. “Well, it’s good to see you.”

  “You too,” Smith said. “You’re a hard man to track down. It helps if you actually put a return address on the envelope.”

  “I knew I was moving, so I didn’t bother.”

  “Yeah, well, I had to look up the bride, at least you mentioned her in your letter. Went to Hartigan House, but apparently, your girl likes to sleep. The most I could get out of the butler was a suggestion to ring Scotland Yard. At first, I thought he was going to call the coppers on me, but then I remembered you worked there during the war. I admit to being surprised you’re still there. You didn’t fall into money problems, did you? Because I’d be happy to help you out if you need it.” Alarm flashed behind his eyes. “That’s not why you’re getting married is it? Has Lady Gold got the gold?” He snorted at his pun.

  “I don’t have financial problems,” Basil returned. “I’m not marrying for money. I work because I like my job.”

  Smith laughed. “You always were the straight one. Anyway, the chaps at the Yard gave me your address in Mayfair, and I was just on my way to find you. Serendipity brought us together!”

  It was Basil’s turn to laugh. James Smith never had a worry in the world, not growing up and apparently, not now. Even in the war years, he had worked in an office—strings pulled by his influential family—and never saw a weapon fired.

  But that was then. Today, Basil was glad to have his old friend with him on his wedding day. All they had to do was get to the church!

  OLIVER

  Reverend Oliver Hill wore his usual white robe, but instead of a thick black stole, a gold one hung around his neck. He stood in the doorway of the vestry of St. George’s Church. He had a good view of the chancel with its large, newly repaired stained glass window depicting Jesus with his disciples. In the opposite direction were the rows of wooden pews in the nave. Today, the nave was outfitted with white roses and flickering white candles. The small organ on the balcony awaited the organist. The wedding guests awaited the bride and groom.

  It was so unusual for both parties to be late. Murmurs of dismay grew louder as each minute ticked by, and Oliver felt compelled to call on the chief organist to head upstairs to the organ loft and play a hymn as they waited. The man was enthusiastic and never played a wrong note, but he lacked emotional dynamic.

  At least it wouldn’t be a complicated ceremony. Neither Ginger nor Basil wanted a lady or man to stand with them. Basil had mentioned a friend from his youth but hadn’t been able to contact him in time.

  Oliver adjusted his dog collar. He must remember to instruct Mrs. Davies, the church secretary and parsonage housekeeper, not to use so much starch.

  Stepping out of the vestry, he dared a closer look, which caused those in the front to glance up in anticipation. A cursory search confirmed that Ginger’s own household had not yet arrived. Oh, dear. He hoped nothing was wrong—that neither the bride nor groom was suffering from, as they say, cold feet.

  Matilda caught his eye in question. Oliver smiled, offered a shrug to her and to the others watching him, and stepped back.

  He and Matilda had had a rocky beginning, but they were married in the end and now had a little one on the way. Oliver simply couldn’t be happier. Undoubtedly, a happy future was also in store for his good friend Ginger Gold.

  The front doors of St. George’s Church opened followed by a blast of autumn wind and the hurried, flustered rush of persons trying calmly to find their seats. Oliver was relieved to see the Dowager Lady Gold with her granddaughter on her arm. The tapping of her walking stick resounded through t
he blustering organ music as they made their way to the empty pew at the front. He also recognised the other faces. The maids, Lizzie and Grace, and the tall sour-looking one that the dowager favoured, what was her name? Yes, Langley, and the housekeeper, Mrs. Beasley. With them was Ginger’s ward, Scout, who had a leash and Ginger’s Boston terrier, Boss. Animals weren’t permitted in the sanctuary, but Oliver had made an exception for this occasion.

  Leaving her grandmother’s side, Felicia Gold headed upstairs and took over the organ duties. The hymn that followed was played delicately, and he could sense the tension in the room lift.

  All he needed was the bride and groom to arrive, and he could begin. Suddenly, the door next to the vestry opened.

  GINGER

  Ginger considered it a sign from above when Basil pulled into the church at the same time she did. Even when late, they were in harmony with each other. She caught his eye and shared a smile. They were both here; they would soon be husband and wife.

  Ginger remained in the Crossley with Pippins and Clement, not wanting Basil to see her before she walked down the aisle. Basil tipped his hat and ran down the side of the church in the company of another man.

  “I wonder who that is?” she said aloud.

  “That’s the gentleman who called at Hartigan House this morning,” Pippins said. “Mr. Smith.”

  “Ah. Our mystery man,” Ginger said with a smirk. “A friend of Basil’s and not a robber after all.”

  Scout looked uncomfortable in a starched shirt, black bowtie, and the small suit Ginger had specially ordered for him. His face was shiny clean, and his hair washed and slicked back with oil, thanks to Grace who’d stepped in. Beside him, on a white leather leash, sat Boss. He was also newly bathed and brushed. Ginger held in a chuckle. What a pair!

  She nodded with a smile, and Pippins ushered Scout and Boss into place behind her. Pausing in the stone archway that opened at the nave, Ginger waited for the first notes of Bach’s Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring, and on the cue given by Oliver, Felicia started to play. The melodious tune reverberated off the stone walls, and everyone stood to watch them walk up the aisle.

  The church was full, and Ginger registered the familiar faces: her own household, of course, Mrs. Beasley, Lizzie, Grace, Mr. Clement, and Pippins; her staff from her dress shop Feathers & Flair, Madame Roux, Dorothy, and Emma; her neighbour Mrs. Schofield and grandson Alfred; men from Scotland Yard, notably Sergeant Scott and Superintendent Morris. Her friend Matilda, now Mrs. Hill, near the front, across the aisle from Ambrosia.

  Ginger captured all these faces in an instant, but her focus was on one man alone, Basil. He stood as if he’d been waiting for her a lifetime. Extraordinarily handsome in his black suit and white shirt, he watched her as if mesmerised; his hazel eyes never left her face. Behind her, she sensed the shy shuffling of Scout, now in lawful possession of Basil’s ring, with Boss at his side. Soft murmurs and sniggers reached her ears, and when she got to the front, Ginger turned. She smiled as the small boy and smaller dog settled loudly in their seats beside Sergeant Scott.

  Basil reached for her hand and held it gently, yet firmly, in a way that said, I never want to let you go.

  A very joyous-looking Reverend Hill stood before them. When the music stopped, he said, “Dearly beloved, welcome to the marriage of Mr. Basil Reed and Lady Georgia Hartigan Gold.” To the couple, he said, “So nice of the two of you to join us.” A collective chuckle followed.

  He instructed everyone to be seated, then once the noise of the shuffling calmed down, addressed the congregation in a solemn voice.

  “We are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocence, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church; which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence, and first miracle that he wrought, in Cana of Galilee; and is commended of Saint Paul to be honourable among all men: and therefore is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men's carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God; duly considering the causes for which Matrimony was ordained.”

  The pounding in Ginger’s chest made it hard for her to focus on Oliver’s words. She thought only of the man who stood before her, the man who loved her, the one whom she loved, and with whom she would spend the rest of her life.

  Blackness formed at the corners of her eyes, and her knees grew weak. The great fear she’d kept at bay suddenly attacked: what would she do if Basil died like Daniel had? Could she bear that grief a second time?

  “Ginger?”

  Basil had her by the elbow; concern etched his brow. He spoke quietly, “Are you all right?”

  Ginger blinked, which brought her world back into focus. Oliver’s exuberant smile was gone. A silence so quiet filled the church as everyone held their breaths.

  Ginger straightened but kept her hold on Basil. “I’m fine. Please continue, Oliver.” One must live in the now, Ginger told herself. No one knows the future. One’s path must not be dictated by fear but, as Oliver had said so eloquently, by love.

  Oliver smiled at the couple before addressing the onlookers. “If anyone can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

  Someone cleared her throat after an uncomfortable pause. Ginger’s gaze darted towards the sound. Mrs. Schofield! Her small eyes, recessed in a well of wrinkles, sparkled with mischief. Alfred Schofield, her grandson and self-professed lady’s man, held back a scoff, and Ginger didn’t doubt that the cad would congratulate his mother later. As Ambrosia responded to Mrs. Schofield’s minor disruption with a glare, Ginger knew precisely what the Dowager was thinking. Mrs. Schofield wasn’t likely to be asked to Hartigan House for tea soon. But then, when had she ever been asked? The sprightly, grandmother always invited herself round.

  “It appears there are no objections,” Oliver said. He proceeded to lead Basil through the vows and then it was Ginger’s turn.

  ‘I, Georgia, take thee, Basil

  to be my husband,

  to have and to hold

  from this day forward;

  for better, for worse,

  for richer, for poorer,

  in sickness and in health,

  to love and to cherish,

  till death us do part,

  according to God’s holy law.

  In the presence of God, I make this vow.’

  Pippins prompted Scout who stepped forward, hands shaking. He handed Ginger the ring. “Thank you,” she whispered. He rewarded her with a big toothy smile.

  Basil’s warm strong hand held hers as he slipped a gold band on her finger and said, “I give you this ring as a sign of our marriage. With my body I honour you, all that I am I give to you, and all that I have I share with you, within the love of God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.”

  Ginger repeated the words to Basil and slid the gold band onto his finger.

  The ceremony seemed to pass by in a blur, through the short sermon, and the signing of the register, and before Ginger knew it, Oliver was pronouncing them husband and wife!

  Hand in hand, Ginger and Basil strolled down the aisle to the applause and cheers of their friends and family. Outside, Goldmine was waiting in all his glorious glory, adorned in white ribbons and roses and hitched to an ornate black carriage. Clement had arranged for the horse and carriage to be delivered to the church ahead of time, and it was the perfect, magical, ending to a beautiful wedding.

  Goldmine, under the direction of a finely dressed Mr. Clement, trotted toward Hartigan House where the reception was to be held.

  Basil whispered in her ear. “We did it, Mrs. Reed.”

  “Yes, we did, Mr. Reed.”

  Their lips met to the chee
rs of everyone who watched on as the church bells rang in celebration.

  “This is just the beginning of a long, happy, and extraordinary life,” Basil said.

  Ginger laughed. “I absolutely agree. I can’t wait to board the Flying Scotsman and get started on our honeymoon.”

  Basil patted his waistcoat pocket. “I have the tickets right here.”

  Ginger wrapped her arms around her groom and kissed him again and Goldmine began the first journey of many they were certain to take together.

  I hope you enjoyed The Wedding of Ginger & Basil. This book has been edited and proofed, but typos are like little gremlins that like to sneak in when we’re not looking. If you spot a typo, please report it to: admin@laplumepress.com

  Don’t miss Murder Aboard the Flying Scotsman!

  Read on for an excerpt!

  One blustery day in October of 1924, newlyweds Mr. and Mrs. Basil Reed travel aboard the recently christened Flying Scotsman, a high-speed steam engine train that travels from London to Edinburgh, for their honeymoon. With only one short stop at York, Ginger anticipates time with her new husband will fly by.

  She’s wrong. Something terrible has happened in the Royal Mail carriage which forces the train to stop dead in its tracks. There’s been a death and Chief Inspector Reed has been asked to take investigate.

  It’s a uniquely disturbing murder and Ginger and Basil are eager to puzzle it out together. What do the first class passengers have to do with the dead man? With another crime shortly discovered, Ginger and Basil soon realize they’re not dealing with a run-of-the-mill killer—they’re dealing with a mastermind who’s not done playing with them yet.

  COMING SOON!

  Ginger Gold’s Journal

  Sign up for Lee’s readers list and gain access to Ginger Gold’s private Journal. Find out about Ginger’s Life before the SS Rosa and how she became the woman she has. This is a fluid document that will cover her romance with her late husband Daniel, her time serving in the British secret service during World War One, and beyond. Includes a recipe for Dark Dutch Chocolate Cake!