It's a Vet's Life
Page 35
I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, not in front of everyone, but it’s too late. I can’t hold back.
‘Oh, Maz,’ Alex says, anxiety behind his smile. ‘Don’t cry. I thought I was making you happy.’
‘You are. You do …’ I am the happiest person in the universe.
‘A tissue for the bride.’ Lucie darts between us. ‘It’s from Humpy.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, embarrassed. ‘That’s very kind.’
‘Are you all right to continue, Maz?’ the vicar asks.
I nod as I wipe my eyes. Alex takes the mascara-smudged tissue from me and sticks it in Stewart’s pocket.
The vicar addresses the congregation, finishing with, ‘I therefore proclaim them to be husband and wife. Alex, you may kiss the bride.’
Alex leans towards me.
‘They’re gonna k—’
‘Sh, Sebastian.’
Alex wraps his arms around me and presses his lips to mine, at which the congregation erupts into applause. It’s a chaste kiss with the promise of more to come …
When Alex and I step outside the church some time later, hand in hand, and having signed the register, I assume that there are rose petals swirling down from the dark sky. The assembled crowd are clapping again, though, not throwing confetti.
‘It’s snow,’ someone shouts.
‘It’s a white wedding, after all,’ Stewart says drily.
‘Hey, stop casting aspersions on my lovely wife,’ Alex teases.
‘Thank you for upholding my honour, my husband,’ I smile. It’s going to take a while to get used to calling him that. My husband. My darling husband. I glance towards our son who is copying Seb, trying to catch the snowflakes in his mouth.
The snowflakes gleam in George’s hair.
‘’No,’ he says, pointing at it.
‘No,’ says Lucie. ‘It’s snow.’
‘No!’ George yells. ‘It ‘no.’
‘Can we make a snowman?’ says Seb.
‘Not yet. Faster, faster, faster,’ Lucie shouts up at the clouds.
‘Sh, Lucie,’ says Sophia.
‘Do you think Granpa’s watching us?’ she says.
Sophia touches Lucie’s shoulder. ‘He’ll be up there, keeping us company on Maz and your daddy’s special day.’
‘It was very sad when he died,’ says Lucie.
‘He was not a well man,’ Sophia says. ‘I told him he’d go before I did.’ Though sad, she appears to find a sense of satisfaction in being right – unsurprisingly perhaps, when Old Fox-Gifford never let her have that opportunity when he was alive.
‘Daddy,’ Lucie says, changing the subject, ‘did you know, by the way, you still have the labels on the bottom of your shoes?’
Stewart bows his head, shoulders quivering. It was him, I know it. Alex’s shoes are an old pair, polished up to look brand new. Stewart must have added the labels for a prank. I’m dreading the best man’s speech – in the nicest possible way.
‘I hate to wreck the schedule,’ Stewart says, as the photographer appears with his camera, ‘but these good people are going to get wet and cold, waiting here for hundreds of photos. I suggest we do them all, apart from the ones of the bride and groom and close family, at the reception. Is that all right with you, Maz?’
The snow is coming down harder, swirling around the streetlights outside the churchyard that have switched on early due to the overcast conditions. Although the paths are clear, there is a thin covering of snow across the grass and the gravestones, enough for the children who are running around to leave footprints.
‘One more change in the wedding plans will make no difference at all. It’s fine with me.’ I glance at Alex. I’m not cold.
On the way to the Talymill Inn, I sit beside Alex in the back of the Bentley with his arm around my shoulder, watching the snow sweeping past, blanketing the hedgerows and verges along the lane to the pub.
‘I reckon we’re going to get snowed in,’ I say.
‘It doesn’t matter. I’ve booked a room so we can stay and spend our wedding night alone together.’ Alex chuckles. ‘The best laid plans of mice and men … It looks as if we could be spending it with the majority of the population of Talyton.’
‘We’ll have to make the most of it then. An all-night party could be a lot of fun.’
‘As long as we’re home in time for Christmas.’
‘Before then. I haven’t actually had time to do any shopping yet. The only present I’ve bought is George’s. I haven’t got you anything, Alex.’
‘Mrs Fox-Gifford, I don’t care. I don’t need anything new.’ Alex kisses my cheek. ‘All my Christmases have come at once.’
As I lean in to him, my husband and happily-ever-after, a mobile vibrates in his jacket pocket. I raise an eyebrow. ‘Who on earth is that? On our wedding day!’
Alex checks the caller’s number and looks at me sheepishly. ‘I said Justin could call me if he wasn’t sure about anything.’
‘Go on then,’ I sigh. ‘You’d better take it.’
It turns out that Alex’s new assistant has locked himself out of the surgery up at the Manor. Alex tells him how to break in without a key.
‘Sorted,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry, Maz … but you know how it is.’
‘I do,’ I murmur, tilting my face to kiss him back very gently on the lips. ‘It’s a vet’s life and I love it. I wouldn’t have it any other way.’
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank my agent, Laura Longrigg at MBA, my editor, Gillian Holmes, and the rest of the wonderful team at Arrow Books for their enthusiasm and support.
Thanks, too, to Tamsin and Will, my family and friends for their insight.
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Copyright © Cathy Woodman 2011
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