by Kitty Wilson
T minus three. We’ll be leaving in three minutes. Get everyone into the church now. Any stragglers, shoot them. And why the hell does Serena know more about our relationship than I do?
She deleted the last sentence. Not helpful at this moment. She would take him to task for that later. She left the shooting bit in.
‘Right then, are we ready? You look phenomenal, Rosy, really you do. There won’t be a dry eye in the house.’
Bing.
Everything fine here. So lovely actually. They sang ‘You’re Getting Married in the Morning’ as Matt pulled up. Hector is proving a little tricky, practically pissed by breakfast, but I think I’ve got it all under control. Will get everyone inside now.
‘Tell me about it. The only thing stopping me from streaming with tears right now is my fear of Pippa should I smudge this mascara,’ Rosy said, bringing Marion back to the present. She definitely wasn’t worrying about Hector right now. She’d sort him out later. He was relatively easy to deal with. A childhood of nannies meant she only had to quirk her brow disapprovingly and the man practically melted.
‘I think you’re right to be frightened.’ Lynne laughed. ‘She spent hours on those eyes.’
‘And they look fabulous for it; now come on, let’s go. I know it’s expected for the bride to be late but there’s no need to take the mickey.’ Marion chivvied them out of the bedroom.
‘It’s all downhill, we’ll have plenty of time. I can always run if I have to,’ Rosy said with a mischievous lilt.
‘I’m sure the world’s best wedding planner will happily launch you over her shoulder if necessary and sprint to the church,’ Lynne said. Marion narrowed her eyes.
‘And risk creasing that dress, and mine!’ She smoothed down her dress, a fire-engine red number – it was definitely Marion’s favourite colour at the moment. ‘Fireman’s lifts cost an extra £500 and for that I’ll do practically anything.’
‘So I’ve heard,’ Lynne joked and they shared a giggle. Was this a bonding moment?
‘Chop, chop, do come on.’ Marion managed to get them out of the front door – progress – down the path and into the lane leading towards the village, the photographer leaping about like a demented gazelle in front of them, skip, snap, skip, snap, with Marion grinning in every frame whilst daydreaming of ramming his camera down his throat. He may be the best at his game but right now he was like a mosquito begging for a slap.
It was the oddest bridal procession she had ever seen, Rosy walking in between Marion and Lynne, holding her dress up and out at the sides so it didn’t drag on the ground and get grubby. She looked like she was about to launch into some kind of Tudor dance.
Marion could feel herself getting antsy as Rosy kept stopping to admire the colours of the trees, make cooing noises at the cows in the field and to talk to Bill Meacher, who had appeared out of his cottage and attempted to strike up a conversation. Marion was not having that.
‘Off, go, go, go! We don’t have time for you today.’ She flapped him away, corralling him as if he were a sheep and waving Lynne and Rosy past.
‘I say, Marion, I think—’
‘Walk!’ Marion barked and Lynne shot her another look.
‘I’ve always thought you were a bit of a nightmare…’ Lynne said.
Ouch!
‘But today I have to admire your efficiency. We would have been stuck there for hours. Even growing up my mum told me to walk to the shop the long way around, avoiding the Meacher house if I wanted to be home by sundown. His wife was even worse, you know, had me pinned in talking about different widths of sewing thread for over half an hour once; I was ten and didn’t know how to escape. If we had all just treated the both of them like rogue chickens that would have been a lot easier. I’m going to try that in class.’
They got to the centre of the village, Bill Meacher left a few hundred yards behind them looking a little confused, and they could see Penmenna church in front of them just as Marion’s phone beeped.
All good, everyone in their places and ready for the bride. Looking amazing in here. Love you.
She wasn’t dealing with that latter bit now but good to know the groom was in place.
She looked up from her phone and exchanged a smile over the bride’s head with Lynne as Rosy began to work out what it was she was seeing.
‘Oh my goodness, what? How? Oh my goodness!’
‘Don’t cry! Lynne admonished. ‘Do you need me to dab your eyes?’
‘Marion, how did you…?’ Rosy indicated she didn’t need Lynne and her bits of tissue, turning to her wedding planner instead.
‘Oh no, it wasn’t me. It was your matron of honour here and Alice, all them. Stop and listen.’ They could afford a ten-second pause; Marion had scheduled it in. She’d been impressed when Alice had come to her and suggested this and looking at Rosy’s face now had to admit it was really touching. She wondered if she could pinch the schoolchildren for other weddings in her diary.
In front of the church was what seemed like half the school’s children with their parents standing behind them. They were everywhere, in the churchyard, all around the lychgate and sprawling out onto the pavements, lining the road for a good distance. The photographer was going crazy trying to snap the children and Rosy’s face all at the same time. As Rosy, Marion and Lynne strained their ears to listen, they heard the children all singing Pharrell Williams’ ‘Happy’ at the top of their little voices.
And all her tough-nosed resilience, all her I-am-not-going-to-cry went up in smoke, tears streaming down Rosy’s face as she approached the children from Penmenna School, led by Alice, loud in voice as they sang their headteacher down the road, through the gate, across the churchyard and into the church.
It was so touching that Marion forgot, just for a minute, about how cross she was with her husband.
Chapter Forty
Richard wanted to seat himself in the church right at the back. He figured that Marion wouldn’t come in until the bride was down the aisle and he wanted to grab her as soon as possible to warn her about next week. But he had to take up his seat beside his sons in the chancel with the choir. It was probably a good thing; if he tried to tell Marion now about Angelina and Chase’s well-intentioned crazy idea she would probably screech ‘you what?’ at the top of her voice as Dan asked about just impediment.
The morning had been seamless so far. Things were pretty simple from the groom’s point of view: Matt had given Scramble a long walk along the beach and then got dressed. It had been that easy. Although Richard thought he could see an edge of fear on his face underneath his usual customary charm and could empathize. He had spent his entire wedding day in abject fear that Marion wasn’t going to turn up, that she’d realize the error of her ways and make a bolt for it, that his mother may have paid her off or hired a hitman to take out the woman she didn’t deem fit for her son. He reckoned no matter how secure you were in your relationship, everyone had fears when the actual day came.
He had been over to pick the boys up fairly early on to free Marion to get over to Rosy’s and had planned to tell her all about Angelina’s ridiculous plan then but she hadn’t given him a chance, instead pushing a bleary-eyed Rufus at him, saying, ‘Must dash,’ and leaving.
That could be interpreted in a myriad of ways. None of them particularly good. None of them implying that the night of her birthday – and what a night it had been – had been so life-affirming that she was planning on asking him to move back in. He didn’t really understand the rules these days. It all seemed pretty straightforward to him; if you wanted to be with someone, cared enough for them to let them into your bed then surely, surely that was a sign that things were back on. He needed to discuss that with her later today as well. He was possibly as nervous as Matt at this point.
Sitting in the chancel, he could hear a huge chorus outside of the children singing. When the song finished, a huge cheer went up, and heads turned as the chords of ‘Canon in D’ struck up and they waited for the
bride. People gasped as Rosy entered.
She had always been attractive but today she looked beautiful. Richard watched Matt’s face light up, his eyes so shiny that Richard was warmed by the strength of his obvious love.
Two little girls came in before the bride, one scattering rose petals delicately along the nave, doing little ballerina skips all the way down the aisle – the perfect bridesmaid. The other one was slower and more interested in eating the rose petals than scattering them, stopping occasionally to spit the odd one out.
As Rosy reached the front of the church he saw Marion slip into the pew at the back. He wanted to be sitting beside her, squashing his knee up against hers in a show of solidarity and a promise of things to come. He imagined reaching out his fingers to interweave through Marion’s, to bind them together with a gesture, here in the church as two others pledged their love. He cocked his head up, sending a great big grin all the way down the nave and in her direction so she would know how excited he was about them spending time together later, at the reception, masking his concerns about what he had to say.
She may be some distance away but she had the eyes of Superman – X-ray vision and super-sight – and she picked up on his look. And she wasn’t grinning back at him. No, even at this distance he could see her facial features were very definitely snarl-like, not sending him waves of romantic hope in the least. Bugger, and this was before he had told her about next weekend!
* * *
Marion was pleased at the way everything was going so far, though she didn’t want to be too jubilant with the reception still to get through; a lot of moving parts and people – it was always people that messed things up.
A voice at the back of her mind pointed out it was always people that fixed things and made them right too. It seemed new, kind Marion was well and truly implanted and as irritating as she might be, Marion had to concede it was a fair point. And not everybody was annoying; the children had been sweet singing on the way into church and that had been arranged by Lynne, who she very definitely had never been a fan of but was now warming to.
Then as if to rub in the universe’s capricious nature she caught sight of Richard, sitting up at the front with the community choir and trying to catch her eye. Okay, some people were aggravating and right now, as much as she loved her husband, Richard was one of them. What had he been thinking? Why on earth would he have something that proved he had never slept with Claudia and then not show her? She did not understand how that man’s brain worked sometimes.
The service raced by, the vows and the exchange of rings only taking a matter of minutes. The bride and groom had gone into the vestry with Dan, Lynne and Jean-Jacques to sign the register and Marion needed to stop revelling in the romanticism of the moment and get on with her job. The choir were singing ‘Amazing Grace’, and it sounded all kinds of wonderful. Her eyes alighted for a second on her boys standing in front of Richard and joining in – such good boys, voices and faces like angels.
This wedding had been heavenly. She prayed – she was in a church so it seemed fitting – that the reception went just as smoothly.
Chapter Forty-one
Everyone gathered in the churchyard to greet the bride and groom as they exited the church after the ceremony. Richard’s eyes darted left and right in an attempt to find Marion. Aha, she was there handing out rose petals to the guests ready to throw as confetti. Petals, he hoped, free from bridesmaid spit.
He was determined to see her, talk to her. Part of him knew that he should maybe wait until this evening, when the pressures of the day were relieved, but the other part of him was beginning to get a little resentful. He was so busy trying to listen to what Marion needed, respect what Marion wanted, that his own needs and desires were in danger of getting trodden underfoot, buried into a weave of earth and worms and roots, never to grow and flourish. Surely if he was working towards a fair partnership then what he wanted had to have a voice as well?
She was standing now, admiring her handiwork. She had persuaded the gardeners from Penmenna Hall to bring tools to the wedding, which they had stashed around the side of the church and were now held aloft in a guard of honour as the bride and groom left the church, hoes and spades rather than swords and sabres.
‘Can you keep an eye on the boys a minute?’ Richard turned to Annie and Ethel, who were standing next to him. Possibly not the best people to ask given their history, but leaving them to their own devices was never wise.
‘Of course we will.’ Annie smiled, her church bell earrings jangling as she did so. He had a feeling that he may return to find his sons tied to a crow’s nest, having set sail to the Caribbean whilst Ethel stood on the dock rubbing her hands and counting the pieces of eight she had exchanged for his boys.
He headed over to where his wife was and stood beside her as she counted the cars lined up to take the wedding party to Penmenna Hall. His arm was itching to pull her towards him as he spoke to her – surely the other night meant it was okay to do that – so he reached out his hand and wrapped it around her shoulder. Instead of jumping and whacking him with her iPad she nestled in for a moment and breathed a sigh of contentment.
‘You have done this so well. You’re quite wonderful, you know.’
‘That’s nice of you to say; you’ve always been my biggest fan.’
‘I’ve always had a good eye for quality. Look at this, tell me you’re not proud of yourself.’ He gestured at Rosy and Matt heading out from under their wedding arch, grins so wide on their faces, their eyes sparkling bright. They could not have looked any happier. ‘You have made their wedding so perfect, so seamless and so them. I am so proud of you I could burst.’
‘And not a stuffed swan anywhere.’
‘Eh?’
‘Sorry, a joke with myself. I had to give them the wedding they wanted. They wanted one that was quiet, reflected who they were…’
‘You couldn’t have done better. I know how you wanted this wedding to be. You’ve always been a fan of a big blow out event and yet you made this so personal for them.’
‘Well, I get my big blowout event next week. Huge, glam and jam-packed full of celebrity if Angelina has come through on the guest list. Ooh look, there they are. Coo-eeee!’ She waved frantically at Angelina and Chase; the golden couple looked up from their chat with Serena and waved back.
‘Ah…’ He squeezed her closer, wondering if he could keep her there forever, relishing the moment and worried he was about to mess it up. However, her body language changed in that moment, her back straightening and arching away from him before he had even started to speak. What had triggered that? She detangled herself completely from him now, her face unreadable. He needed to press ahead or he would never get this said. ‘I wanted to talk to you about next week. There’s something you don’t know.’
‘Oh, I know there’s something I don’t know. I know that. I had forgotten for an instant but trust me it’s fresh again now.’ Her tone had changed as she shifted her focus from Angelina, Chase and Serena and fully back on him, turning herself so she was now facing him, arms up and crossed against her body.
‘It is? You do?’
‘I do. We need to talk about it but we’ll talk about it later, trust me. Today shouldn’t be about being cross and I’m really very cross with you.’
‘Cross with me?’ That seemed unfair. He was putting her first and warning her and she didn’t seem to be appreciating it.
‘Yes, Richard. Now shush and help me. I need to start getting people in cars and up to Penmenna Hall or we’ll get behind schedule.’
Richard knew he was looking at her as if he were a fish, mouth open and a puzzled expression on his face.
‘Marion, just stop for a minute. Listen to me and then I’ll help you with people and cars. Next week, it’s not just an engagement party; it’s a vow renewal ceremony, for you and me. I thought you should know.’ He held his hand lightly on her shoulder, hoping that she was listening to him and not thinking of cars, numbers,
people, routes, the things that she felt she should be worrying about now.
This time her mouth dropped open. She was listening. And she did not seem particularly pleased.
Chapter Forty-two
Marion took a deep breath as she sat herself slowly down on the wooden bench, perfectly placed just outside the orangery so she could see all of what was happening without being part of it. There was obviously something about benches and her this year. It felt as if she had come full circle, from a wooden bench on her old housing estate where this idea, the idea of her setting up in business had been born and now, where her most meaningful event of the year was taking place. The Marion that sat here this evening was a very different woman to the one eight or so months ago.
Everyone had eaten outside once they arrived at Penmenna Hall from the church, the tables winding through the trees with candles and tiny lights on them along with large tall clumps of gypsophila standing straight down the centre of the tables, making the whole thing feel a little bit like a fairy banquet. The tables were now largely deserted: a few children were gathered around someone’s iPad; Alex and Sylvie sat taking a breather whilst looking achingly glamourous, him with a loosened bow tie and her looking like the elfin queen.
Marion took a sip from the glass of wine she had brought out with her and took in the scene that was playing out behind the glass of the orangery. The majority of people were sitting around up the far end in a plethora of comfy chairs clumped in groups whilst a brave few, Pippa and Kam, Annie and Ethel among them were dancing down at the other.
Sitting here now she could hear the music drifting about, dancing in the air by her ear, the sound of people laughing, the business of the day done with nothing left to do than celebrate with friends and loved ones. It was rather nice.
The air was floral as night-scented stock mingled with the aromas of jasmine, honeysuckle and phlox. She could see Rosy and Matt, Rosy leaning onto him as she took off one of her shoes and rubbed her foot; he supported her and whispered something in her ear, making her laugh and nod her head.