Follow Me Home

by Cathy Woodman

  ‘I don’t think they did – flash photography puts him off. You had some photos taken with him outside the church, didn’t you?’

  ‘He’s so beautiful. I half expected Harry Potter to turn up. Thank you, it was the best wedding present we could have had.’ Claire hands Leanne her bouquet as we reach the toilets. ‘How do you expect me to get in there with the dress?’

  ‘With difficulty,’ Leanne giggles. ‘Here comes the bride, all fat and wide.’

  ‘Are you going in forwards or in reverse?’ I ask.

  ‘It’ll have to be reverse. I’ll never turn round in there.’

  ‘You might do it as a four- or five-point turn.’

  ‘This is ridiculous. I didn’t think about it when I chose the dress.’ Claire is laughing as she turns to me. ‘Don’t let the train drag on the floor.’

  ‘I won’t.’ I gather it up tightly in my arms. ‘Let’s drape it over your shoulder and see if you can manage, otherwise I’ll have to join you in there.’

  I push the door up as far as it will go and wait outside, holding it semi-closed.

  ‘Has everyone turned up?’ Claire asks.

  ‘Gran came along with Lewis.’

  ‘That’s good. I hoped she would.’

  ‘The only guests who couldn’t make it are Tessa and Jack. Tessa isn’t well.’ I worry about them, wondering if they’re trying to avoid questions about the baby, because I can’t imagine they can answer with any joy. I make a mental note to call Tessa on Monday for a chat. ‘Are you okay? You’re taking a very long time in there.’

  ‘I’m done,’ Claire says.

  ‘Let’s go and get this party started then,’ Leanne says. ‘I’m starving.’

  ‘So am I. I feel a bit light-headed and I haven’t had that much champagne.’ Claire emerges clutching the train and looking pale beneath the fake tan. She has that delicate, almost translucent appearance that I’ve seen many times before and I can’t help wondering . . .

  ‘Come on. Stop dreaming about the hot shepherd and come and catch this bouquet,’ Claire says, handing me the train once she’s washed her hands and taken the flowers from her sister.

  ‘I’m all right, thank you,’ I respond. ‘I’ve had my chance at marriage. Let someone who hasn’t have a go – not that I believe there’s any truth in it.’

  ‘Don’t spoil my day,’ she says brightly as we join the rest of the wedding guests in the dining room. ‘Humour me.’

  Kev escorts his new wife up to the mezzanine gallery and introduces her before she turns to throw the bouquet over her shoulder. She puts so much energy into it that the flowers hit the ceiling above and drop straight down into my hands when I couldn’t have tried any harder to avoid them.

  ‘Yay!’ Claire cheers from above. ‘Zara, you’re next!’

  ‘Oh no, I don’t think so.’ I hold the flowers as far from my body as possible, as if they’re infectious, while Claire runs down the steps, holding up her skirt, comes over and hugs me. ‘It’ll be my turn to laugh at you when you’re planning your wedding.’

  ‘I’ve told you before. I’m not going to marry again. I’ve been there before, remember?’

  Claire nods towards where Lewis is chatting with my gran, Emily and Murray. ‘I have a premonition that someone will change your mind. Now, I’m going to catch up with my mum who’s having a nervous breakdown before we sit down for the meal. Have you got the seating plan?’

  ‘I gave it to Elsa to put up on the board outside.’

  ‘Would you mind making a couple of changes?’ She whispers in my ear.

  ‘Will do.’ I catch the silken fragrance of roses from the bouquet. There has to be some matchmaking to make a wedding complete. ‘What shall I do with the flowers?’

  ‘I don’t know – leave them on the top table?’

  ‘Isn’t it on the plan?’ I tease.

  ‘Oh, sod that. I’ve lost the plot.’ Claire laughs. ‘Let’s just relax and enjoy it.’

  Lewis joins me with a glass of champagne in one hand and his other hand on my bottom. I lean up and kiss him on the lips, then step away, or at least, I attempt to, but I appear to be stuck to the floor. I glance down.

  ‘Lewis, you’re standing on my dress.’ I give him a gentle push and, chuckling, he moves aside. ‘I’m just going to rescue those people over there from Rosemary. The sherry has gone to her head.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I say smiling as he walks across the room to take my grandmother by the arm and guide her back towards us.

  After the meal, Harry makes the best man’s speech. There are a couple of stories about Kevin which shed an entirely different light on what I thought of him, and from Claire’s expression are revelations to her too, followed by a list of thank yous.

  ‘Finally,’ Harry looks relieved that he’s about to reach the end of his ordeal, ‘last but not least, the bridesmaids who are all, I have to say, looking absolutely beautiful today, not that they don’t always, I’m sure. Zara and Leanne, I’d like to spank you for all you’ve done today.’ He stops abruptly as those who are still listening, a fair few, burst out laughing. ‘Did I say what I think I said?’

  ‘You have such a dirty mind, Harry,’ Kev exclaims.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I meant to say thank, not spank. Definitely not spank,’ Harry blusters, reddening to the roots of his hair.

  ‘I’m not sure I’d say no,’ Leanne whispers aside to me as Lewis calls out, ‘Hey, hands off my girlfriend. If anyone’s doing any spanking, it’s me.’

  When the next round of laughter subsides, Poppy comes up to the top, table and gazes at Harry in awe as she asks him if her auntie Zara has been very naughty.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Harry says. ‘You’ll have to ask Lewis that.’

  ‘No, please don’t.’ I cover my face.

  ‘Yes, spare my bridesmaid’s blushes,’ Claire joins in.

  ‘It’s too late!’ I exclaim.

  ‘You could melt a marshmallow on your cheeks right now, Zara,’ Claire grins.

  Distracted, I dig around in my bra for Claire’s wedding day spreadsheet, and open it up. ‘Harry, nowhere on here does it say, embarrass the bridesmaids.’

  ‘Hey, give that to me.’ Claire reaches across and snatches it from my hands.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Celebrating my freedom. I’ve been ruled by this piece of paper, this plan, for over a year.’ She holds the corner in the flame of one the candles in the floral centrepiece on the top table.

  ‘You rebel, you,’ I say, watching it catch and burn, at which Kev pours a glass of water over the top.

  ‘If you persist, wife of mine, I’m going to have to arrest you for criminal damage.’

  ‘Do I get the full treatment, the uniform and the cuffs?’ Claire giggles.

  ‘That’s too much information,’ Leanne squeals. ‘Really!’

  The bride and groom cut the cake with its nurse and policeman topper and we drink a toast while the band sets up in the next room, ready for the dancing. Claire and Kev take to the floor for their very first dance together before everyone else joins in.

  Towards the end of the evening, I begin to lose myself, dancing to the slow numbers in Lewis’s arms. Emily brings me back to earth, tapping me on the shoulder. I stop with Lewis’s arm around my waist.

  ‘I’m sorry for cutting in, but we’re off home. Poppy’s in a strop and Gran seems very muddled. We’ll drop her at the flat. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she’s tucked up in bed with her cocoa or whatever she has before we leave.’

  ‘I don’t wanna go home,’ Poppy wails as the band pauses between numbers. ‘I wanna stay here.’ Her voice is drowned out by the sound of drums and a bass guitar.

  ‘I’ll come and say goodbye outside,’ I suggest as Lewis’s hand slips down to my buttock.

  ‘Is Lewis coming to say goodbye?’ Poppy asks.

  ‘Yes, please,’ Emily says, answering for him. ‘And if he could just come back and read a bedtime story. Only joking
. . . I really should have taken you on as our full-time nanny. Lewis is the only person, apart from Grandma, that Poppy takes any notice of.’

  We head outside into the cool evening air and send Poppy on a search for the family car, but she doesn’t want to have anything to do with it. She folds her arms and stamps her foot on the gravel as Lewis and I, Emily and Murray look on somewhat helplessly.

  ‘Poppy, it’s dark and it’s way past your bedtime,’ Murray says.

  ‘It’s not dark. Look.’ Poppy points to the lanterns that are dotted around the car park.

  ‘It’s still past your bedtime,’ Murray insists.

  ‘It’s past your bedtime, silly Daddy.’ Poppy scampers off towards the line of vehicles nearest the exit, and I can almost hear Emily’s sigh of relief that she’s decided to go along with the idea of looking for their car.

  ‘She’s a nightmare sometimes. Who’d have children?’ Emily stops abruptly. ‘I’m sorry, sis, that was—’

  ‘It’s fine,’ I say quickly, determined that nothing will spoil the day.

  The scent of buddleia is heavy in the air and the shadows of several pigs snuffle about and snort in the dark, the light of the moon catching their backs and the metal curves of the roofs of their arks in the paddock behind the gate. There’s the sound of footsteps and someone swearing lightly as they trip into a flowerbed.

  ‘Who is that?’ Murray says.

  ‘It’s all right.’ I recognise Leanne’s voice. ‘It’s just us.’

  ‘The bar’s back that way,’ Murray chuckles.

  ‘I don’t think they were looking for the bar,’ Emily says.

  ‘Is that you, Harry?’ I say, catching sight of the best man’s face as he moves into the light, his shirt undone and looking worse for the wear.

  ‘We thought we’d get some fresh air,’ he says.

  ‘Sure,’ I say.

  ‘We believe you. Thousands wouldn’t,’ Murray says ironically.

  ‘Oh, leave them alone,’ Emily sighs as he sings the first few lines of ‘Love Is in the Air’. ‘Goodnight, Zara.’ She gives me a hug. ‘Goodnight, Lewis.’

  ‘Goodnight, Emily.’

  ‘Where’s Poppy?’ Lewis asks.

  ‘She was right here just now,’ Murray says.

  ‘Poppy, come here!’ Emily calls, her voice strained. ‘Where are you? We’re going home.’

  ‘I’m not going home!’

  I follow the sound of Poppy’s protestation, catching sight of her running towards the road. My heart misses a beat, but it’s all right because it’s late and there’s no traffic, except I can hear the distant hum of a car heading this way.

  ‘Poppy!’ Emily screams, as Lewis and Murray start to run after her. ‘Stop right there!’

  Poppy hesitates and, for a moment, I think she’s going to turn back.

  ‘No!’ she screams back, and sets off again, straight into the road. All I can see are headlamps illuminating a tiny girl, suddenly turned to shadow as somebody throws themselves at her. All I can hear is the car skidding to a screeching halt some way down the road before a scream, a thud, then nothing apart from what feels like an endless, empty silence before Emily runs forwards, crying out, ‘Poppy! Oh no, Poppy!’

  I will never forget my sister’s screams as Murray intercepts her and holds her back. He looks at me, his eyes crazed with fear.

  ‘You look. I can’t,’ he says, his voice breaking.

  I bite my lip, afraid of what I’m going to find because it’s obvious now that Lewis is involved. Both the men ran after Poppy, but he was the one who got to her.

  My heart is pounding as my feet scrunch across the stones to where the driver of the car is already out, shining a torch onto the far side of the road, where a figure is struggling to get up. Lewis is still with us, but what about Poppy? Where is she?

  ‘Stay there, sir,’ the driver orders. ‘Let me have a look at you and the child before anyone moves.’

  I recognise the voice. It’s Ben, Dr Mackie. I catch sight of gleaming ringlets of hair draped across Lewis’s arm while, behind me, Emily is still screaming for her baby. I cross the road, forcing myself to look, and at that moment, Poppy opens her mouth and cries. My body floods with relief. She’s alive, at least.

  I call for Emily and Murray who come rushing over.

  ‘Poppy, darling, Mummy’s here.’

  ‘And Daddy,’ Murray says gruffly.

  ‘You’re all right,’ Lewis tells her. ‘You’re safe, Pops.’ He makes to stand up again.

  ‘I said, stay there, sir.’

  ‘Lewis, thank god,’ I breathe, kneeling beside him. ‘I thought . . . Never mind. Do as the doctor tells you.’

  ‘Zara?’ Ben exclaims. ‘It’s Claire’s wedding do, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is.’ I extricate Poppy from Lewis’s arms. ‘Are you okay, darling? Does anything hurt?’

  She thinks for a moment, pressing her finger to her lips and looking up at the stars before shaking her head.

  ‘Murray, take her inside,’ Ben says. ‘If you could put the hazards on my car, Zara, I’ll sort it out later. I think I ran it into the bank.’

  ‘What about Lewis?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m fine, really.’ He gives me his hand to pull him up.

  ‘Let me be the judge of that,’ Ben says sternly. ‘You’ve had a nasty bump on the head.’

  ‘Have I?’ Lewis touches his forehead, winces and checks his fingers. ‘Oh, I’m bleeding.’ In the light of the torch, he looks pale and dazed, and dark blood trickles down the side of his face. His shirtsleeve is ripped from top to bottom, revealing a graze all the way up his forearm.

  ‘Do we need an ambulance?’ Murray comes running back, accompanied by Kev. ‘Elsa’s asking if she should call 999. Emily’s looking after Poppy.’

  ‘Give it a minute, or two,’ Ben says quietly, and he asks Lewis a few questions and taps his chest, deciding that it’s safe to move him indoors. ‘We don’t need an ambulance, but we’ll have to call the police to report the accident.’

  ‘I’ve called it in,’ Kev says. ‘Someone will be out to take the details.’

  Murray and I help Lewis back into the hotel where he’s treated as a hero. Elsa wants to give him a brandy. Ben says no, but he’ll have one, thank you.

  ‘I didn’t see her. She appeared in front of me, like a ghost. I don’t know how I stopped in time. Where is Poppy?’

  ‘She’s inside with Emily and her great-grandma,’ Elsa replies.

  ‘I should clean those wounds up.’ I touch Lewis’s shoulder.

  ‘Ouch!’ He holds out his hand. He’s shaking.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘I hope you’re going to be gentle with me,’ he says cheekily.

  ‘I’ll fetch the first-aid kit,’ Elsa says.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Ben says. ‘I’ll fetch my bag from the car. I reckon that’s going to need two or three Steri-Strips:’

  ‘Do you think that will be enough to keep my brain in?’ Lewis says. ‘It’s throbbing a bit.’

  ‘No more dancing tonight,’ Ben says. ‘Take a couple of paracetamol – that should do the trick. And you shouldn’t be left on your own for the next twenty-four hours. You could be concussed.’

  ‘I’ll stay with him,’ I say, smiling. ‘It’s no trouble!’

  I clean up Lewis’s head wound and Ben applies the butterfly strips.

  I help him out of his shirt, unfastening the buttons down the front one by one, and sliding the material off each shoulder, taking every opportunity to touch his warm skin and feel the hardness of the muscle underneath. I know it’s naughty, but he is so yummy, I could eat him. Elsa brings him a clean, short-sleeved shirt – it’s a fraction tight across the shoulders but it will do for now.

  I pick out the gravel from the grazes on his arm, using the tweezers from Ben’s visit bag, before cleaning the wounds with antiseptic.

  ‘You are a cruel woman,’ Lewis says.

  ‘I’m sorry. I know it hurts.’ I pause
. ‘What do you think, Ben?’

  ‘You’ve done an excellent job,’ he says, peering through his reading glasses. ‘Lewis, I’d like you to pop into the surgery on Monday so I can check up on you. I can prescribe you antibiotics if it’s necessary.’

  Emily and Gran turn up with Murray, who’s holding his wide-eyed and weary daughter in his arms.

  ‘Poppy, what did you want to say to Lewis?’ Emily says.

  ‘Thank you.’ She takes her thumb out of her mouth for just long enough to speak.

  ‘I want to give you a hug, but it looks as if it could be too painful. I want – we both want to say that we can’t thank you enough. There are no words . . .’ Emily’s eyes well up with tears

  ‘We’re for ever in your debt,’ Murray finishes for her.

  Lewis blushes as Murray clears his throat. ‘I happened to be in the right place at the right time. Anyone would have done the same thing.’

  ‘You can run bloody fast,’ Murray goes on. ‘You should start training for the Olympics.’

  ‘It was the adrenaline,’ Lewis says, reaching out for my hand. I squeeze his fingers.

  ‘I think I should take you home,’ I say. ‘Emily, could you drop the three of us at Gran’s?’

  ‘Of course,’ she says. ‘We’ll see to Mick and Miley tonight.’

  ‘Their biscuits are in a tin in the cupboard under the sink,’ Lewis says. ‘They have two each when they go to bed.’

  ‘I’ll go and say goodbye to Claire,’ I say, smiling. Lewis has remembered the dogs, so he can’t be feeling too bad, although I won’t stop worrying about him for the next twenty-four hours. There are occasions when I wish I didn’t have a medical background, and this is one of them. I can’t help imagining the worst!

  Luckily, the bride has no idea of how serious the situation could have been.

  ‘Kev told me Lewis walked into a door. Is he okay?’ she asks. ‘Silly bugger, that’s what comes of having too much to drink.’

  ‘He’s fine, but I’m going to take him home now. Carry on. Don’t stop the party!’

  CHAPTER TWENTY