Excess All Areas

by Mandy Baggot

‘My Gran had a garter!’ Emma stated with a surprised look on her face.

  ‘Your grandmother was a dancer in her day. Now if there was ever anyone who chased the boys, it was definitely her,’ Sue informed the two.

  ‘I’ve heard enough. I want to remember Gran warm and cosy, dressed in her favourite cardigan and making me cakes,’ Emma spoke, standing up and going over to her dress.

  ‘How all grans should be. Let’s leave her with that comforting thought on her wedding day shall we Sue?’ Freya suggested, going to help Emma with her dress.

  ‘Your grandmother humped half the local barracks before she met your grandfather,’ Sue answered, seeming almost unaware of their presence.

  ‘I think she’s had too much Bucks Fizz,’ Emma remarked, stepping into her dress.

  ‘She’s just nervous because her little girl’s getting married. Here, let me hold that and you put your shoulders in like that. OK, now turn around and I’ll do it up,’ Freya said as Emma manoeuvred herself into the dress.

  ‘I hope Yiannis’ OK,’ Emma said as Freya began to do up the bodice at the back of the dress.

  ‘He’ll be absolutely fine. Besides, what does a man have to do on his big day apart from stick a suit on and run a comb through his hair? Yiannis is wearing a suit isn’t he? I suddenly had visions of him wearing Greek national costume,’ Freya spoke.

  ‘Yes, he’s wearing a suit - with a chocolate cravat,’ Emma informed.

  ‘And who’s the best man? Worth copping off with?’ Freya wanted to know.

  ‘It’s Leandros,’ Emma answered.

  ‘Probably not,’ the two women said in unison and laughed with each other.

  ‘Oh well, never mind. No distractions from the buffet which is fine by me. Right then, let me look at you,’ Freya said as she stepped around the dress to face Emma.

  Sue let out a yelp and put her hands to her mouth, tears spilling from her eyes as she saw her daughter’s appearance.

  ‘What’s the matter? What’s wrong?’ Emma questioned, turning to look at herself in the mirror.

  ‘Nothing’s wrong. You look so beautiful it’s driven your mother to tears. You look amazing,’ Freya told her proudly.

  ‘And not too pregnant?’ Emma asked, smoothing the dress down over her stomach.

  ‘If people didn’t already know then no one would guess from looking at you - apart from the cleavage, which is surely an advantage,’ Freya stated.

  ‘How do I look Mum?’ Emma asked, swishing the skirt of the dress around and looking at Sue.

  ‘Beautiful. Like a princess,’ Sue managed to speak through her tears.

  She blew her nose loudly.

  ‘Right, mother and bride. Let me take some photographs. I know I’m not the official camera person today, but I want some for the album. Sue, come and pull up Emma’s dress and show off that garter of hers,’ Freya instructed with a smile, as she put Claude around her neck and prepared to take a shot.

  Richard, Emma’s father, arrived at the apartments only seconds before Yiannis, Leandros, the priest and Mr and Mrs Petroholis turned up. It was Greek tradition for a flag bearer to lead the groom and his family from the groom’s home to the bride, to officiate their engagement. This was so that the father of the bride could agree to the marriage.

  Richard was red-faced, looking uncomfortable in his suit and began complaining about Sue’s fussing.

  ‘Your mother says my cravat is crooked,’ Richard said to Emma as they watched the party arrive behind the wedding flag.

  ‘Dad you look lovely - very handsome. It’s not crooked honestly,’ Emma spoke with a smile.

  ‘Anyone would think you were the nervous groom Richard,’ Freya remarked, handing Emma her bouquet.

  ‘Hmm, not sure I could go through that day again,’ Richard replied.

  ‘No? Not even for the prize of deflowering a woman wearing two garters?’ Freya asked.

  Emma laughed.

  Thirty Seven

  At exactly twelve o’ clock, Emma, Freya and Richard arrived outside the church of Our Lady of Kassiopi. There were lots of well wishers from the village there to greet them, and most of them had also been invited to the blessing on the beach and to the reception afterwards. A huge marquee had been set up right across the road by the harbour and all traffic had been completely banned from entering that part of the village for the day.

  After more photographs had been taken outside the church, Emma, Freya and Richard moved into the lobby and waited for the priest.

  ‘OK?’ Freya asked Emma with a smile.

  ‘Yiannis’ here,’ Emma said, catching sight of her husband to be, at the front of the church.

  ‘Yes he is. But seeing as he was being led here by Leandros, the flag bearer and the priest, there was nowhere to run,’ Freya responded.

  ‘No,’ Emma replied with a deep breath.

  ‘Don’t be nervous. This is your special day, the one you’ve been waiting for for a long time. Enjoy every second Em. Besides it’s me that has to get this switching of the crowns thing right,’ Freya reminded her.

  ‘You’ll be fine.’

  ‘I promise, even if I get it wrong, I won’t make a scene,’ Freya assured her.

  ‘Right - I’m ready now,’ Emma told her.

  The first part of the service involved the bride and groom having a crown placed on their heads by the priest and Leandros, as the Boron Koumbara, and Freya, as the Koumera, switching the crowns between Emma and Yiannis three times. Freya felt immediately better once this part of the service was over.

  The ceremony was entirely in Greek and Freya had no idea what was being said. The church was beautiful though and she only wished they permitted photography inside, as some of the icons actually dated back to the fifteenth century.

  As Emma and Yiannis began their walk around the ceremonial table, Freya took a look around the church at the guests.

  There were a few of Emma’s work colleagues she recognised and some of Emma’s family. There seemed to be dozens of children on the groom’s side of the church, which Freya could only assume were relations of the Petroholis’. There were also a few villagers, including Zorba from the Greek dancing bar and Samos from the kebab shop.

  Then, right at the very back of the church, almost completely out of view, Freya saw someone that seemed familiar. The back of the church was gloomy and he was wearing a dark suit. His head was bent down as if reading something. She pushed her glasses further up her nose and focused harder. Then, as the priest began singing a hymn to the martyrs, the man raised his head. Freya caught her breath in her throat and hastily turned back to face the front. She was sure it was Nicholas.

  Freya felt her face flush and her heart quicken. She felt sick. What was he doing here? Was it really him or was she seeing things? The back of the church was poorly lit now the main door had been shut. She didn’t dare look back again.

  The priest began chanting, Freya could only assume in prayer, and then Emma and Yiannis were sharing communion. Wine. Wine was what Freya needed right now. She supposed it would be frowned upon if she invited herself to join in with the communion and snatched Emma’s cup from her.

  She had to look back. She had to know if it was him, but she didn’t want to catch his eye. It would be difficult, she was at the front of the church, stood behind the bride and all eyes were on them. But she needed to know, before she had to walk down the aisle towards him.

  Inhaling deeply and bracing herself, Freya turned her head around and looked to the very back of the church again. There was no one there. The person she had thought was Nicholas had gone. Freya scanned the other rows of people for the man in the dark suit, but there was no one matching that description now.

  She turned back to the front and let out her breath just as Emma and Yiannis began exchanging rings.

  The whole ceremony took an hour and at the end, after the bride and groom had been spoon fed honey and walnuts, the whole congregation were given honey and walnut sweets by Mrs Petroholis.
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  They had photographs taken outside the church and were soon on their way to the beach for the blessing by Reverend Roberts.

  ‘Yiannis, have I said congratulations?’ Freya asked the groom as they walked down to the beach, people waving and calling out to them.

  ‘You have said this twice,’ Yiannis answered.

  ‘Well, I’m making sure that you are actually married, because you know what my Greek is like, for all I know we could have just sat through Harvest Festival,’ Freya remarked.

  ‘I am learning your humour Freya. Emma has been helping me,’ Yiannis replied, with a smile.

  ‘Oh Freya! Oh no! I’ve left something at the church! God, I’m an idiot. I’ve left my bouquet,’ Emma announced, waving about a pair of empty hands.

  ‘Look, don’t panic! I’ll get it for you. You carry on your way and I’ll rush back and get it. I’ll be two minutes,’ Freya told her.

  ‘Well don’t be long or we’ll have to start without you and this is the service in English - the one you will understand,’ Emma reminded her.

  ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll be right back,’ Freya announced as she trotted back up the road towards the church.

  Emma watched her go out of sight and took hold of Yiannis’ hand.

  ‘How was my acting?’ Emma asked her husband.

  ‘I think Nick has been teaching you and you are too good at lying for a new married woman. I will have to keep eyes on you,’ Yiannis responded, squeezing her hand.

  ‘Mum, pass me my bouquet will you?’ Emma called.

  Thirty Eight

  The church was deserted when Freya got there and having searched every square inch of the building she still hadn’t found Emma’s flowers. The only other place to look was the altar. Freya felt a little uncomfortable searching around that, in case the cross toppled onto her or she broke something. It could mean eternal damnation. She was just about to force herself to look when she heard the door of the church close.

  She turned around at the noise and saw Nicholas standing at the back of the church. He was wearing a dark suit with a cream shirt, open at the neck. He was tanned and his hair was darker than Freya remembered it, but he looked every bit as handsome.

  Seconds passed by and neither of them said anything. Freya’s heart was in her mouth and she was suddenly trembling inside, scared to death, like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

  ‘I’m looking for Emma’s bouquet,’ Freya spoke suddenly.

  She hardly recognised her own voice when it came out; it was such an unusual pitch. It had wavered weakly and she had to clear her throat.

  ‘I know,’ Nicholas replied as he began to walk towards the front of the church and Freya.

  ‘Have you seen it?’ Freya wanted to know, pretending to search around places she knew she had already looked.

  ‘Last time I saw it her mom was carrying it down the road for her,’ Nicholas informed her.

  ‘She set me up,’ Freya stated, standing still and realising the search was fruitless.

  ‘You didn’t give her much choice. She told me she’d tried but you were adamant you weren’t going to speak to me,’ Nicholas continued.

  ‘So she sent me on a wild goose chase and planned for you to be here. Well, some friend she is,’ Freya responded angrily.

  ‘She’s a devoted friend Freya, you know that. She’s a loyal friend who’s stuck up for you your whole life and told lie after lie on your behalf to protect you. But everyone has their breaking point and she decided she was done with hiding the truth,’ Nicholas spoke, standing right in front of Freya.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Freya asked, looking at him.

  ‘She told me about your father - the phone call on the night of the dinner in Athens. She told me what he said and why you ended things,’ Nicholas informed her.

  Freya pursed her lips and shook her head, not knowing what to do. She moved to go past him but he grabbed her arm and made her stop.

  ‘No! We are going to talk about this. We have to talk about this,’ Nicholas insisted, holding on to her.

  ‘In case you haven’t realised, I’m a bridesmaid. And there’s a service going on at the beach that I’m meant to be part of,’ Freya stated.

  ‘That’s an excuse and you know it. Emma doesn’t need you there. She sent you here to get her flowers remember?’ Nicholas spoke, still holding her arm.

  ‘I haven’t got anything to say Nick. Please don’t do this, it isn’t fair. If Emma’s told you what my father said then you know everything and there’s nothing left to discuss,’ Freya insisted.

  ‘There’s the rest of our lives to discuss as far as I’m concerned,’ Nicholas spoke seriously.

  Freya didn’t respond. She didn’t know what to say. He still had hold of her arm and the strength of his hold, the feeling of his fingers on her bare skin was torturing her.

  ‘What did you think I would do when I got back to America Freya? Forget all about you? Pretend you and I never happened? Perhaps drown my sorrows and lose myself in the next female that came along?’ Nicholas wanted to know.

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t think about it. I…’ Freya started.

  ‘No, you’re right. You didn’t think about it and you didn’t think about me. All you thought about was yourself and what was right for you. Never mind talking to me about it or asking my opinion. You made your mind up and you ran for the hills. And what was with the interview in the magazine denying those stories about your father - saying what a great relationship you have? That really sucked after all you went through - all the heartache all of us went through. You, me, Emma - Emma’s baby,’ Nicholas carried on.

  ‘It was all about you and Emma, my father said…’ Freya began.

  ‘Your father said he was going to ruin my career or, if that wasn’t enough for him, he was going to have me killed. I know, Emma told me. But guess what? His threats do not scare me,’ Nicholas informed her.

  ‘He didn’t just threaten you, he threatened Emma too and Nick, he meant it. He’s not right in the head. He could do that and get away with it, I know he could,’ Freya told him, tears forming in her eyes.

  ‘He’s a manipulator Freya, nothing more. He’s been manipulating you your whole life and he will carry on doing it as long as you let him. When you had the magazine print that article apologising to him, you gave in to him.’

  ‘I had to. I didn’t want him to hurt you or Emma. You’re the people that matter to me most,’ Freya admitted, tears rolling down her face.

  ‘Well, he couldn’t have hurt me any more than you did when you said goodbye,’ Nicholas told her.

  He took hold of her hand and squeezed it tightly.

  ‘I didn’t know what to do, I was frightened. And if I’m honest it wasn’t just him, it was everything. It was the being in the limelight again, the constant scrutiny, people pointing the finger and judging,’ Freya began as she continued to cry.

  ‘You should have talked to me,’ Nicholas responded.

  ‘Well, it doesn’t matter now. You know it all and that’s the end of it,’ Freya answered, wiping at her eyes and trying to compose herself.

  ‘The only thing it’s the end of is your father interfering in your life. It stops here and now,’ Nicholas stated firmly.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Freya enquired.

  ‘I’m not leaving this island without you Freya. I didn’t come all this way on an economy flight to go home empty handed,’ Nicholas said and he put his hand into the pocket of his jacket.

  ‘You never came here economy class,’ Freya remarked.

  ‘It was the only seat available. Here,’ Nicholas said and he handed Freya a small wooden box.

  ‘What is it?’ Freya asked him.

  ‘Open it,’ he urged.

  Freya opened the lid of the box and her mouth fell open before she could stop it. Her eyes glazed over as she saw the ring inside. It was a platinum band with a cross shape attached to it, encrusted with diamonds and aquamarine. It was
the ring from the jewellery shop in Kassiopi - her ring.

  ‘I don’t know what to say. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,’ Freya spoke unable to take her eyes off it.

  ‘Freya, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and I can’t lose you. I was going to ask you to marry me, but I don’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable or make you feel like you need to run. But if you accept that ring, to me that means forever,’ Nicholas told her.

  Freya looked up from the box and met his gaze. She could see his blue eyes were filled with tears and the hand that was holding hers was trembling.

  ‘I love you,’ he told her, squeezing her hand tightly.

  ‘I love you too,’ Freya admitted her voice full of emotion.

  He grabbed hold of her and pulled her into his arms, holding her close to him and almost squeezing the air from her lungs as he hugged her. Freya rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes as she savoured the way he felt. The weeks of longing for him hit her like a thunderbolt and she remembered how good it felt to hold him.

  He kissed her, deeply, not letting her go and she held his face in her hands, not wanting him to stop. When they parted they couldn’t keep their eyes from each other.

  ‘I don’t feel uncomfortable and I’m not going to run,’ Freya stated, looking at Nicholas and then at the ring.

  ‘No?’ Nicholas checked.

  ‘No,’ Freya repeated.

  ‘Freya, will you marry me?’ Nicholas asked her, taking the ring from the box.

  ‘Yes,’ Freya answered and she held out her left hand.

  Nicholas slipped the ring on her finger and held her hand, looking at the band in place.

  ‘Then I believe we have a wedding to get to,’ he remarked with a smile.

  When they arrived at the beach the service was over and everyone had moved to the marquee to begin the party. It was a little while before Freya was able to speak to Emma due to a long line of Yiannis’ cousins waiting their turn to kiss the bride.

  ‘Found your bouquet then did you?’ Freya spoke, fixing her friend with a glare.