We ate, drank in moderation, and retired to bed early, contented and aware of the big day ahead of us. The next day we heard of some drunken tales from the bar, but we were glad to have kept clear heads.
We were rudely awoken at 8am the next morning when the phone on the bedside table next to Ed began to trill. I looked at the phone in confusion and sat bolt upright in the bed, my heart pounding. For some reason I had a feeling of dread clutching my heart.
Ed was more relaxed and reached out and lifted the receiver without even moving his body, putting the phone to his ear.
Lazily and groggily he said, “Hello,” then a series of sounds, “mm, mm, mmm,” in response to whatever was being said to him, ending the call with, “Thank you.”
Slowly he opened his eyes and reached out a hand to me. “It’s okay,” he reassured me, “it was just our wake-up call, no need to worry. I forgot to mention I booked it last night to make sure we were up in time. Let’s throw on some clothes and grab breakfast, we can come back and shower after that.” He threw back the duvet and got out of bed purposefully, clearly taking command of the day.
In the bathroom I took a moment to compose myself, throwing water over my face to wash away the sleep, and buried my wet face in the soft cream towel, pressing it into my face as reassurance. I repeated my old mantra from my more stressful work days: ‘It’s going to be a good day. Everything is okay. It’s going to be great.’
I stared at my reflection in the mirror and repeated the mantra a couple more times before re-joining Ed and making our way back to the dining room.
In just a few short hours this room would be transformed into the wedding venue and later transformed again for the reception. But for now it was as it had been the night before: crisp, white linen tables laid up waiting for diners.
Dan joined us in the queue for the breakfast buffet. It was a sumptuous spread all neatly laid out, from cereals, yoghurts, fruit, through meat and cheese platters, to hot silver warming trays containing all the elements to make up a full English breakfast.
I felt sick, nervous sick. I knew I needed to eat something both from a diabetic point of view and to steady my nerves. Next to me a confident Ed was reassuring an equally nervous-looking Dan. Ed reached out and put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’m really proud of you, this will be a very special day, we are all here to support you.” Seeing Ed with Dan made my heart soar with love. I had never had the privilege of being a mother, but I felt a real swell of pride in both of these men before me.
We all turned back to the feast in front of us and made our food and drink choices, returning to an empty table to eat a leisurely meal, accompanied by several return trips to the buffet to refill empty mugs. Eventually realising that time was marching on we returned to our rooms to get dressed, with promises to Dan that we would join him in his room an hour before the wedding.
As I entered the bedroom having showered, made-up and with my wedding outfit on, Ed, who was sitting on the edge of the bed doing up his cufflinks, looked up.
“Wow,” he mouthed as he rose to his feet and strode over to me where I stood rooted to the spot.
He picked up my hands in his and leant in and kissed me hard and passionately.
“Wow,” he repeated. “You look amazing.” He meant it too.
He stood holding my hands, staring deeply into my eyes, smiling.
“Although,” he said slowly as I held my breath, “you might need to reapply your lipstick.”
We laughed as Ed wiped the lipstick from his lips and I reapplied it to mine.
As we were leaving the room a short time later, Ed looking incredibly handsome in his formal morning suit, he stopped me by the door.
“I can’t wait to get back here later,” he said with a cheeky grin.
“Me too,” I laughed.
Ed tapped his pocket for reassurance, satisfied that his speech and any other valuables were safe inside. I checked the contents of my clutch bag for the umpteenth time to check that the reading, printed in very large, bold font, was inside. It was, as it had been every time I had checked.
We walked hand in hand down the long hallway, silent, running through what we needed to do on that auspicious day.
We heard laughter before we got to the door of the suite where Dan and his best man were getting ready.
“Sounds like they are in good spirits,” Ed said as he knocked on the door.
“Coming,” a cheerful Dan called out from behind the closed door.
Dan appeared, with a half-full, or half-empty depending on your persuasion, glass of champagne in hand and a beaming smile on his face, all the earlier doubts and concerns clearly dispersed by the love and support of friends and family, and no doubt also eased by the champagne. It may not have been his first glass.
Dan stepped back and beckoned us inside. “Come in, come in. Tim,” he called to his co-conspirator, “pour a couple of glasses for my dad and his girlfriend, Chloe.” We shook hands before Tim was released to carry out his task.
It was a beautiful suite. We gathered in the sitting room with window seats below tall windows overlooking the garden.
The coffee table was adorned with champagne glasses and three bottles of champagne cooling in an elegant silver bucket full of ice. Clearly one bottle had already been consumed. Tim popped the cork on a new bottle and filled glasses, which he handed to us with a mock bow as he did so, then turned and topped up Dan’s glass and his own. They were clearly on a mission.
“Sit, sit,” Dan called over his shoulder as he went through the double doors into a sumptuous bedroom, the huge bed of starched white sheets and pillowcases adorned with lavish red and gold velvet throw and cushions. “I’m nearly ready.”
Tim sat on the sofa opposite us.
Ed struck up conversation. “Lovely to see you again, Tim. It’s been a long time. What are you up to these days, still in the City?”
“Yes, for my sins. I keep thinking about getting out of the rat race, but I haven’t a clue what I would do instead,” he admitted.
Dan returned to the room, his shirt still undone at the collar but now wearing a colourful, tailored waistcoat which reflected the reds and golds of the bedroom. He was carrying a red tie in his hand.
“We’re ready a little early,” he said as he sat down next to Tim, “but that’s no bad thing, I guess.”
“It’s good, Dan, always good to be prepared,” Ed assured him.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked.
“No, no, everything is under control. Mary, the wedding co-ordinator, has the ushers checking everything is in place and are poised to meet guests as they arrive,” Dan said, switching into controlled confident groom.
I sipped at the champagne, not wanting to slur during the reading, or fall asleep mid-afternoon. I’d never been good at daytime drinking.
“Would it be okay if I order a coffee?” I asked to no one in particular.
“Good idea,” Ed said as he tapped his pocket. I was wondering whether it was a lucky talisman.
Dan looked a little disappointed. We were not admonishing him but we both feared what a state he would be in if he kept up the rate of consumption of the champagne.
“Anyone else like coffee?” I asked as I walked over to the phone on the small round console table by the door.
“Get a large pot,” Ed advised. “I’m sure it will all be drunk.”
Whilst we waited we went through all the plans for the day, making sure we all knew what to do and when. I was looking forward to being able to relax as soon as the reading was done, but for now I could feel the nerves starting to attack my happy mood. The palpitations. The sweat prickling my forehead and hands. The slight shake that was only visible to me.
Ed sensed my stress. “It won’t be long now, and you’ll be fabulous. I’ve heard you practise and you practically know it
word for word without referring to your sheet.”
I smiled nervously back at him, not feeling the confidence he was demonstrating. Ed tapped his pocket.
An hour later we gathered ourselves, buttoned up shirts, waistcoats and jackets, did final checks in front of the mirror. The boys all patted each other on the back – strong, manly slaps for courage and reassurance – before we made our way down to the transformed dining room, now set up with rows of chairs either side of a wide aisle that led down to the massive fireplace, to the left of which was a small lectern from which we would do our readings. The outside edge of each chair that lined the aisle was adorned with a small bouquet of fresh flowers, white against the green of the foliage.
The room looked magnificent.
Most of the seats were already full of animated friends and family chatting to neighbours either side or on the row in front or behind. It was a joyous sight and something to lift the heart.
A couple of ushers handed us our order of service and took us down the aisle to the reserved rows on the groom’s side of the room. Ed tapped his pocket.
Clare, Steve, Joan and David were already seated and stood as we approached. We all kissed and shook hands. Dan, now starting to look a little nervous, was reassured by his parents. He looked at me and said, “Thank you.”
“For what?” I asked, unsure.
“For the coffee,” was all he said before he and Tim turned and took their place in front of the registrar, who was smiling at the assembled throng. We took our seats. Ed tapped his pocket.
There were no musicians but music struck up from somewhere, piped through from an unseen sound system. We all took our cue and almost in unison we took to our feet and turned towards the aisle as the resplendent Emma, arm in arm with her father, who was clearly bursting with pride, entered, accompanied by her four bridesmaids in matching gold and red evening dresses: an adult, two teenagers and one small child with small flower basket in comparison to the bouquets that the others carried.
I turned to look at Dan. He looked like he would explode with love. I had never seen anyone look so much in love and so unreservedly happy and I felt the love emanating from him wash over me like a wave.
Ed must have felt it too, as he put his arm around my back, resting it on my hip and pulling me in close to his side.
I looked at him and smiled, returning the love that his eyes were conveying. It was a magical moment.
We turned back as Emma arrived at Dan’s side. She turned to hand her reverse teardrop bouquet of white, gold and green to her maid of honour. Before turning back to Dan she smiled at her parents and then across the aisle to include us as her soon-to-be-extended family.
As we retook our seats I could feel my nerves begin to get the better of me and I missed most of the first part of the ceremony as the fog in my head took hold. Ed brought me back with a squeeze of the hand and mouthed, “It will be okay.”
Why the hell did I agree to do this? I thought. I could easily have said no and no one would have thought anything less of me, but no, I said yes, and here I am. STOP, I told myself. It will be okay, it will be okay.
“You’re up,” Ed said, nodding towards the lectern and the expectant faces of Dan and Emma.
Clutching the reading tight in my sweaty hand, I stood slowly, trying to ground myself before making my way forward. I flattened out the piece of paper, grateful for the large font as I swayed slightly with nerves. I took a deep breath and looked up to see reassuring eyes from Dan, Emma and just behind them Ed.
I smiled. Slowly, loudly and deliberately I began to read, deciding it better to read rather than try to remember the whole piece despite knowing it almost by heart. Looking at the paper was easier than meeting the eyes of the congregation.
“This reading is 1 Corinthians 13:4-13 entitled ‘Love’…”
As I approached the last couple of lines I don’t know what force within me raised my head, fixed my eyes on Dan and Emma and delivered the final line, now imprinted in my mind, and I smiled at them as I drew them in with “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love”.
Dan mouthed, “Thank you,” and Ed beamed with pride as I slowly folded the piece of paper and quietly returned to my seat where Ed leant over and kissed me on the cheek.
I felt exhausted as the adrenaline ebbed out of my body, but more than that I felt proud, I felt relieved and I felt joyously happy.
The ceremony rolled on and soon it was Ed’s turn to take to the stand. He rose confidently, half turning to me and smiling before striding to the front of the room.
He pulled himself up to his full height and rested his hands on the top edges of the lectern. Then in his strong baritone voice he delivered The Dove poem. I listened to him in awe as he held the room in the palm of his hand. I had never felt so proud and so, so much in love. I wanted to leap up and declare my love to the room, but now was not the time or place.
There was a brief silence in the room and then a ripple of applause as he returned to the empty seat beside me, tapping his pocket as he sat.
I leant over and whispered, “I love you,” into his ear.
“I love you too,” he said, heartfelt.
The rest of the ceremony passed in a dizzy whirlwind of love, of singing, of joyous betrothal. All the time Ed and I held hands and stole furtive sideways glances at each other.
As Dan was told he could kiss his bride Ed and I watched for a moment before Ed took my face in his hands and kissed me long and hard. The assembled guests might well have questioned who had just got married.
“We had better tune this down a bit,” I told Ed, fearing that we might be stealing some of Dan and Emma’s limelight.
As Dan and Emma made their way up the aisle we all fell in behind them, making our way to the reception hall and on to the bar where we were greeted with waiters holding large silver trays bearing champagne flutes and glasses of soft drinks.
Whilst Dan and Emma were whisked away for the obligatory photographs, Ed and I circulated, chatting to Ed’s old friends and being introduced to new ones.
At very precise intervals we were presented with delicious canapés of smoked salmon blinis and mini chicken vol-au-vents – very 1980s. The volume of noise in the room rose as guests were filled with champagne, canapés and the beautiful sound of the string quartet entertaining us.
As Dan and Emma returned to the room, Ed made his excuses. Leaving me with Clare and Steve he marched over to the newlyweds. I saw him kiss and embrace Emma and then usher them both out of the room. I thought it strange that he had not included me in whatever they were up to but, after all, I was not part of the immediate family.
I turned back to the conversation and was lost in our enthusiastic confirmation of what had, so far, been a fabulous day. When Ed came up behind me and put his arm around my waist I jumped at the unexpected embrace and turned sharply to see Ed’s smiling face beside me.
“Hey, you,” I said, “where have you been?”
“Just sorting out a few things with Dan and Emma.”
“Is everything okay?” I asked in response to his uninformative statement.
“Everything is hunky dory,” he said without any more explanation. He pulled me close and gently kissed my cheek.
The merriment continued as the dining room was reset.
I have to confess that after the stress of the reading I finally relaxed into the day and happily consumed a number of the delicious ice-cold champagnes that kept magically appearing in my hand.
It was, therefore, a relief when the master of ceremonies appeared next to our merry little group and advised us that they were forming the line-up for guests to meet the extended wedding party and we were needed outside the dining room.
Thank goodness, I thought, now in great need of some sustenance, as I tottered on my heels, arm in arm with Ed towards our de
signated spot.
We shook hands, smiled, said, “Hello,” and, “Thank you for coming,” in equal measure as the guests filed into the dining room and found their seats.
As I turned to follow them Ed held my arm, stopping me.
I turned to him. “Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Yes, yes,” he stumbled. “You know I spoke to Dan and Emma.”
I nodded, fear starting to rise and the palpitations returned.
He smiled at me to reassure me it was nothing to worry about and then continued.
“I wanted to check they were okay for me to do something I’ve wanted to do for ages and today just seemed the perfect time, but I wouldn’t do it without their consent.”
Now I was confused. I had no idea what he was talking about or where this was going. I caught Dan and Emma out of the corner of my eye. They were standing in the double doorway with the Christmas garland above their heads. They were smiling at us.
“Okay, I don’t know whether to be nervous or what,” I confessed.
Ed tapped his right pocket again and then his hand delved into it to retrieve whatever had been secreted there all day. As he pulled his hand from the pocket he sank to one knee.
I looked at Ed, and then up to Emma as she yelped and jumped up and down like a child.
I looked back down at Ed who was now opening the box lid to reveal a beautiful, princess-cut diamond set in a platinum ring.
Ed looked up at me. All he said was, “Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” was my simple, but heartfelt reply. Finally, here was a love that would never to be lost.
Note from the Author
The medieval town depicted in the pages of this book is real. Saffron Walden, in north Essex, nestles into the protection of nearby Hertfordshire, Cambridgeshire and Suffolk.
Most of the shops, cafes, restaurants and landmarks are real too. The bookshop is Hart’s Books, the cafe that Chloe and Ed visit on their first date is Maze Bar & Grill, and the bike cafe where Chloe bumps into Ed’s friend is Bicicletta. All of the places mentioned in the book can be found on the way into, or in, the town centre, where you will also find a gorgeous gift and furniture shop, Angela Reed, full of wonderful things to discover. These are all places I love.
Loves Lost and Found Page 25