by Ali McNamara
“I don’t think so.” Sean now leaned forward to speak to our own speed queen. “How much longer to the church?”
“At this speed, hen, ’bout another twenty minutes.”
“Sean, the wedding is in ten!”
Sean pulled a wad of notes from his wallet.
“Look, this should cover the fare so far—we’ll walk from here.” He turned to me. “Is that OK with you?”
I looked down at my high heels and sighed. “I don’t think we’ve much choice.”
We climbed out of the taxi and began to walk along the pavement on the side of the road.
“Do you think we’re going to make it at this speed?” I asked, trying hard to keep up with Sean’s great lolloping strides and finding I was having to break into a jog to do so.
“Can’t you go any faster?” Sean asked. Then he glanced down at my heels. “No, I don’t suppose you can.” He looked quickly around him, then suddenly darted out into the traffic.
“Sean!” I cried. “What the hell are you doing?”
Sean dodged in and out of the vehicles that still crawled along the road. Horns beeped, and obscenities were shouted from car windows, but he kept going until he reached the other side. Two delivery boys standing outside a pizza restaurant having a cigarette idly watched him.
Sean approached them and words were quickly exchanged, and then some money. The boys put on their helmets and climbed aboard their mopeds. Sean climbed onto one of the bikes too, perching on the back where the pizzas usually sat.
Oh no, you can’t be serious, I thought, as they wove their way back across the traffic toward me.
“Climb aboard,” Sean shouted above the noise of the engines. “They’ll get us there on time!”
“But I can’t—I’m wearing a skirt!”
My delivery boy smirked at my tight dress. “You could always hitch it up,” he leered.
“Come on, Red!” Sean called. “Don’t be a spoilsport—it’s the only way we’re going to make it there on time!”
I glared at Sean, then, swallowing my pride, hoisted up my dress and perched myself gingerly on top of the pizza rack.
My escort turned round and grinned. “I’m Brian,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Scarlett,” I said, shaking it.
“Nice name. Look, Scarlett, you’re going to have to put your arms around me,” he instructed. “Or you’ll fall off.”
“Right,” I said, closing my eyes and wrapping my arms around Brian’s skinny torso. Jeez, this had better be in a movie somewhere, I thought, as I held on for dear life while Brian expertly wove his moped in and out of the congested Glasgow traffic. He’s not exactly James Dean or Marlon Brando. But I don’t suppose, as I balanced precariously on the back of a pizza delivery bike, I looked much like a starlet of Hollywood yesteryear either.
***
We arrived at the wedding with minutes to spare. I clambered off the moped as gracefully as I could and hurriedly smoothed down my dress, grateful there had not been any undelivered pizzas on the bike during our ride or my current odor might now have been less Chanel No. 5, and more Order No. 5 with extra pepperoni and cheese. I was grateful we’d been wearing helmets too, for as much as my hair had been flattened from being squashed under the helmet, if it had been loose I’d have had another movie moment to add to my list, and it would have been a most unwanted one—that of Bridget Jones’s frizzy hair after she’d been in Daniel Cleaver’s open-topped sports car.
“OK?” Sean asked, holding up his hand to the pizza delivery boys as they sped off together, zigzagging back through the traffic.
I nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Well, at least we got here before the bride.”
“Only just,” Sean said, nodding in the direction of a big black car pulling up outside the church.
I watched as the car door was opened and a young girl wearing white alighted from the vehicle. “Is that Rachel?”
“Yes,” Sean said, taking a quick glance. “Now come on, let’s get inside before she does.”
“It’s an unusual outfit she’s wearing,” I said as we quietly crept into the church.
“Mmm, is it?” Sean said, finding us an empty pew at the back. “I didn’t really notice.”
It was then I realized something wasn’t quite right.
As I looked around me, I saw the congregation weren’t dressed in the usual wedding attire of morning suits, dresses, and oversized hats, but were wearing what looked like fancy dress outfits.
“Sean, what’s everyone wearing?” I whispered.
“What do you mean?” Sean looked up from his Order of Service.
“Look at everyone, they’re all dressed funny.”
As we both looked closely at our fellow guests, the realization dawned on us that the wedding obviously had a theme. Nearly everyone had on some sort of costume, the only exception seemed to be a couple of elderly grannies, or maybe they were aunts, who wore the more traditional wedding attire of pastel twinset with matching shade of large feathery hat.
“Didn’t you know it was fancy dress costumes?” I hissed in Sean’s ear. “I feel a right fool dressed like this now.”
“It’s worse than just fancy dress,” Sean whispered back, a smile beginning to spread across his face.
“What do you mean worse? How could this get any worse than us being at a fancy dress wedding in normal clothes?”
Just then the huge wooden doors at the back of the church burst open, and everyone stood up as the first bars of the bridal march began.
That sounds familiar, I thought as the notes began to register in my ears.
Then it hit me what the music was, and why Sean was now standing next to me grinning like a fool—as the John Williams theme from Star Wars echoed around the church, and Rachel, dressed as Princess Leia—bagel hair and all—shimmered toward us in a long white dress.
I looked at Sean. His eyes shone in amusement.
“It can’t be, can it?” I asked, wanting to giggle. “It’s not a Star Wars–themed wedding?”
“Look at Uncle Jonathan,” Sean hissed, barely able to speak for laughing now.
The man walking Rachel down the aisle was dressed in what looked like a monk’s habit—a long brown hooded tunic, knotted at the waist with rope.
“I think he’s Obi-Wan Kenobi!” Sean squeaked, his hand covering his mouth to try and conceal his mirth from the approaching Jedi Knight.
Following Princess Leia and Obi-Wan were the bridesmaids, two of them dressed as Ewoks, and the other, an older girl, as Queen Padmé from the later Star Wars films.
We watched in amazement as the bridal procession passed us. Sean craned his head around the end of the pew to get a better view down the aisle.
“Who is the groom dressed as?” I asked, unable to see clearly through the people in front of me, one of whom had come as Jar-Jar Binks and was wearing extremely tall headgear.
“I think he’s Han Solo,” Sean said, whispering. “Oh my God, guess who the best man is?”
I tried to look through the sea of costumes and caught a glimpse of something gold shimmering up ahead. “Not C-3PO, surely?”
“It surely is.” Sean leaned his head back toward mine. “Shouldn’t it really be Chewbacca, though, wasn’t he Han’s best mate?”
I smiled at Sean. “I thought you didn’t know anything about movies?”
“Maybe some I do. Anyway, everyone knows Star Wars.”
“I guess.”
“I suppose we can let them off the Chewbacca thing. After all, who’s going to be daft enough to dress up as him? The suit would be stifling inside.”
I nodded in agreement. “I can’t believe this, Sean. I’ve been to loads of weddings, but never anything like this before. I mean, what’s next—the vicar dressed as Darth Vader?”
Sean took another look. “How did you guess?”
“What? You’re kidding, let me see.” I leaned across Sean to take a peek. And indeed, up ahead conducting the ceremony was Darth V
ader himself, in a long black cloak and full head mask.
I grinned, then realized I was still lying over Sean’s lap, so I hurriedly pulled myself up again.
“Sorry,” I whispered in embarrassment.
“No worries,” Sean said, and our eyes held each other’s again for the briefest of moments. Then we noticed that the rest of the congregation was standing, and it was time for the first hymn. Well it wasn’t actually a hymn, we all sang “Super Trouper” by Abba. (Except it was written “Super ‘Storm’ Trooper” on the Order of Service.)
The Star Wars theme continued throughout the ceremony. The rings were brought out on a silver cushion carried by a full-size remote controlled R2-D2. Then it was Yoda’s turn to give us a reading, based on his own philosophies and teachings. The part of Yoda was played by one of Sean’s cousins—he crouched down behind the pulpit with his hand stuffed inside a children’s puppet of the wise Jedi.
The piece de resistance of the whole ceremony, though, came during the signing of the registers, when we were treated to a reenactment of a classic fight scene from one of the films. Obviously Darth Vader was a little too busy just now signing paperwork to be fighting Luke Skywalker, so Darth Maul took his place in the battle of the light sabers—in full red and black makeup.
When the battle of good against evil had been won and the registers had been signed, the happy couple walked back down the aisle through an archway of millennium stormtroopers, each holding a light sabre above their head.
“Well, that was certainly different,” I commented, as we emerged into the cold February air once more.
“Different is certainly one of the words I’d use to describe it, yes,” Sean said, squinting into the bright winter sun. He pulled a pair of silver sunglasses from his pocket and the Brad Pitt Ocean’s Eleven look was now complete. I swallowed hard.
I looked around at the guests emerging from the church behind us to try and take my mind off it. “Oh my God, Sean,” I said, spying a rather large woman standing not far away. “Look at all the trouble that woman has gone to—she’s well padded up under that dress. What a sense of humor, eh? Jabba the Hutt does M&S! Brilliant!”
“That’s Great-aunt Evie,” Sean said, looking to where I was pointing. “And I’m afraid to say she’s not actually in fancy dress.”
“Oops. Sorry.” My face flushed the color of my dress once more. I turned in the other direction. “Oh look, Sean, there is a Chewbacca here—and he’s waving at you.”
Sean turned around as Chewbacca and his escort—a female Jedi knight—began to walk toward us.
“That looks like Diana under that hood…” Sean said, peering at them. “Oh no, that means Chewbacca must be…”
“Sean, how are you?” Diana asked as they reached us.
“Good, thanks, Diana.” Sean kissed her on the cheek. “And yourself?”
“Wonderful, darling.”
“Hello, Dad,” Sean said, looking up at Chewbacca.
Chewbacca removed his head. “How’d you know it was me?”
“I should have known, this is right up your street, isn’t it, all this movie stuff?”
“Fantastic idea! It’s certainly livened up the occasion.” Sean’s father turned to me. “You must be the Scarlett Ursula was telling me all about?”
“Sorry,” Sean apologized. “Dad, this is indeed Scarlett. Scarlett, this is my father, Alfie, and my stepmother, Diana.”
“Fantastic to meet you.” Sean’s father reached out his large paw and shook my hand vigorously.
I turned toward Diana. Underneath the hood was a tall, elegant woman, with long, silver hair tied up loosely on top of her head. She had electric-blue eyes, with which she studied me intently.
“Lovely to meet you, Scarlett,” she said, holding out her hand.
“And you, Diana,” I said, shaking it.
I knew at that moment she wasn’t my mother: Sean had been right once again. I don’t know how I knew; it was just a feeling—well, a lack of feeling really. I was certain if Diana had been my mother I’d definitely have felt something…anything, when our hands touched.
Ten
We spent the rest of the wedding celebrations with Alfie and Diana.
They were a lovely couple. Alfie was a large, jolly man, full of mischief and laughter—he reminded me very much of Gareth from Four Weddings and a Funeral. Diana was his calming influence—she was elegant and serene, but very approachable and friendly. Honor Blackman with a touch of Helen Mirren were my favored choices for Sean’s stepmother.
“You must take after your mother,” I said to Sean, as we sat watching Alfie spin Diana around the dance floor at great speed. It seemed it was not only in looks that Alfie resembled Simon Callow’s Four Weddings character. He’d been dancing with great exuberance for most of the evening; no female was safe once he selected his next dance partner—even me. I had been chosen by Alfie to strut my stuff with him to Robbie Williams’s “Let Me Entertain You.” Which, considering it was one of my favorite songs, I didn’t mind too much. But Alfie’s rendition of the song was something I didn’t think I’d ever forget.
“Why do you say that?” Sean asked, turning to me.
“Your dad—he’s just so spontaneous and full of life.”
“And I’m boring, is that what you’re saying?”
“No,” I said, quickly trying to backtrack. “You’re just…more laid back—there’s nothing wrong with that. Ursula must take after your dad, and you, your mum.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Mum and I always understood each other better.”
“Do you see each other much?”
“Mum died two years ago.”
“Oh, Sean.” I was shocked by his revelation. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea—I just assumed your parents had divorced.”
“They did, and then Mum went to live in Wales with another man. Her illness came on quite suddenly—but she died without too much pain, so we were grateful for that.”
Sean looked so sad as he reflected on his mother’s death that I desperately wanted to put my hand over his to comfort him. But I didn’t feel it was my place to.
“She was happy, though,” Sean continued. “Before she died. She remarried, and her second husband, David, was nothing like Dad. He was a very quiet chap, calm and conventional, good at his job. Ursula thought he was boring, but Mum was happy with him, so we were happy for her.”
“Davids often are,” I said, not meaning to think aloud.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh sorry, nothing really. Please, continue about your mother.”
“No, go on,” Sean insisted. “I don’t want to dampen the mood of this happy occasion. What did you mean, about Davids?”
I stalled for time by finishing off the last of my drink. Then I swirled the remaining ice around in the bottom of the glass. Did I really want to start a conversation about David and myself with Sean? But after what he’d told me about his mother I didn’t want to seem insensitive. “David is my fiancé’s name,” I said eventually, putting my empty glass down on the table. “And it’s just…he’s quite conventional too.”
“You mean boring?” Sean grinned.
“No, not boring. He knows what he likes, that’s all.”
“What does he do for a living?”
I looked at Sean—I knew what was coming before I even spoke.
“His family owns a chain of cinemas.”
Sean threw back his head and laughed. “Scarlett, you really are something else. Is that why you’re marrying him, so you can get free cinema admission for the rest of your life?”
“No.” And there was me trying not to be insensitive.
“I’m sorry,” Sean said, trying to straighten his face. “I shouldn’t have laughed. But you’ve got to see the funny side.”
“I suppose it may be mildly amusing. But that’s not why I’m with him.”
“Why are you then? Wait,” Sean said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Is he Brad Pitt’
s long-lost twin by any chance?”
“What my David is or does is none of your business.” I was getting cross with Sean now, mother or no mother. Why did he always have to find something about me to ridicule?
“Right, so he’s not great looking. He’s boring…and you’re not marrying him to get free movies forever, so that only leaves…his money.”
I glared at Sean.
“Oh, Red, you’re not, are you? I never thought you would be so mercenary.”
Sean was joking, but he was getting a bit too close to the truth for comfort, and I didn’t like it.
“Don’t be silly—of course I wouldn’t marry someone for their money. I love him. There, isn’t that enough?”
Sean looked as if he didn’t believe me. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much. However, I’ll trust you—you don’t look the gold-digger type.”
“Thanks,” I said sarcastically.
Alfie and Diana returned to the table.
“So,” Alfie asked, panting heavily after a vigorous rendition of Ricky Martin’s “Livin’ la Vida Loca.” “How are you two getting on?” He looked between the two of us. “More drinks?”
“Yes please, Alfie,” I said, holding up my empty glass. “That would be great.”
“My round,” Sean said, standing up. “I think Scarlett has had enough of my witty repartee for now. Haven’t you, Red?”
I chose not to respond and looked out at the dance floor.
Sean just grinned. “Right then, same again for everyone, is it? Good, then I shall return forthwith!”
Sean strode over to the bar, leaving me sitting with Alfîe and Diana.
“Oh dear,” Diana said with concern. “He hasn’t been teasing you, has he? He’s a devil for winding people up.”
“No, it’s fine.” I smiled at Diana. “Nothing I can’t handle anyway.” Perhaps Sean wasn’t as different from Alfie as I’d automatically assumed earlier on. His sense of humor was just a little more subtle.
“So, Scarlett,” Alfie said. “Ursula has told us all about how you love the movies.”