Chapter 10: Her Master's Wedding, Part 10, The Wedding Day

JAMES

The morning is chaotic. In theory, Michael and I, Richard and the guests occupy the hotel. Charlotte and Beth have the house. In practice, people mill about in all directions, turning up in unexpected places....

Still in jeans and tee-shirt while I make a last check on preparations, I eject a couple of kids from the kitchen where the chef's knife set seems to be a magnet for them. Then as I turn to leave, I run into an old lady trying to force the larder door open.

"I was only looking for the ladies' toilets...."

"And who are you?"

"I'm Michael's Aunty Gladys"

"Well, I'm James, his Best Man, and you'll find the toilets along the corridor." Taking her by the shoulders, I turn her around, steering her to aim the right way, then wait and watch to be sure she toddles off.

In the bedroom we're using as a changing room, Michael looks harassed. "Please tell me you remembered to lock the door to the cellars in the house."

"Oh, yes. We don't want random wanderers down there," I flash brows, fishing out my keys, jingle them in demonstration, then tuck them safely back in my pocket. "All locked and secure."

Jeez....

The idea of Ben wandering down there....

For someone normally so sunny, so self-contained, so competent, Michael is a bag of nerves. He misbuttons his shirt and has to unfasten then rebutton it. The tie dangling under his collar, he fumbles and mis-knots it. The front ends up three inches long with the back half trailing by his belt. The result looks like something worn by a circus clown.

He tries again, with a similar result.

"I'll do it for you in a sec," I say, brushing specks of dust from his dark grey formal jacket.

"Here, let me." It's Ben. "Come on Bro. Calm down." Michael shoots him a grateful glance as Ben unravels the tie, then reknots it into a perfect Windsor. "You should have a drink. What is there around here?"

I point to a bottle and glasses. "Scotch over there."

Michael shudders. "Don't think I could handle it."

"You should have some breakfast at least."

Ben raises brows. "Yes, he should. I'll bring something up for you. Is the kitchen open, James?"

"The staff should be in there by now. Just tell them what you want."

"How about bacon sandwiches all round then?"

Michael's face sets, so I interrupt. "Great idea, Ben. Get something solid inside him."

*****

Leaving Michael to the tender care of his brother, I go to check the catering arrangements and see that the staff have everything they need.

Along the staff corridor by the kitchens, I find a girl wandering. She seems familiar, but for a moment I can't place her.

Then she sees me and breaks into a simpering smile. "Hello."

Ah, gotcha.

"Hello. It's Marie, isn't it? Charlotte's friend from the student house?"

"That's right. She swings her arms around in time-honoured 'dumb-blonde' fashion. Personally, I've never found blondes to be dumb, but in Marie's case, I'm happy to make an exception.

I point. "The public areas are down there and to the left. And if you want the bathrooms, they're to the right." I turn to for the kitchen, but my progress is interrupted.

"Charlotte's very lucky to marry someone like Michael. He's terribly handsome isn't he."

I keep my voice dry. "You wouldn't be the first to think so." A thought occurs. "Is your boyfriend here too? Pete was it? Rather a good cook as I recall."

She wrinkles her nose....

Who actually does that...?

"No. Me 'n Pete split up. He ran off with another girl...."

Sensible lad....

".... I'm single these days...." She gazes up at me with what perhaps she thinks is a winning look. And I look down into eyes quite devoid of a single original thought. "Are you with anyone today, James?"

Oh, crap....

"I'm here as Michael's Best Man. I...." I'm saved from answering further by a crashing sound. Metal clanks and clangs from beyond the swing doors....

And I don't care what degree of disaster just befell....

.... Perfect....

"Please excuse me, Marie. I need to see what that is." Turning on my heel, I leave her, pulling a face.

Following the racket into the kitchen, I find a girl in a previously white blouse and black trousers scrabbling on the floor, floundering in a sea of spilt sauce and trying to gather up pans. The cause of her accident sticks out from under a counter: a pair of legs in worn jeans and battered workman's boots.

"I'm sorry, Mr Alexanders," she babbles. "I didn't see him there."

I help her to stand, find a cloth to wipe off the worst of the sauce, then point her to the storeroom. "You'll find some clean overalls in there. Just use what fits."

Then I turn my attention to the pair of legs. "And who would you be?"

The voice is reedy, a blue-bottle buzz of a voice. "Just plumbing in the dishwasher."

What... Now?

"I wanted that done a week ago."

"Well, we can't always have what we want, can we? It's a busy life, innit."

"I'm guessing you will want to be paid for your work. It would be a real shame, wouldn't it, if you couldn't have what you wanted either. Get it finished quickly. The kitchen staff need to be able to do their jobs too."

He slides out from under the counter, lying on some kind of trolley. "Look, mate," he says, punctuating his words with a spanner. "I can talk, or I can work. Which is it to be?"

Officious little runt....

And I have to be satisfied with that.

The girl reappears. "Can you wash those by hand for now?" I ask her, nodding down to the pans.

She casts a toxic look at the plumber. "I'm going to have to, aren't I? I've got a gallon of sauce to remake."

*****

In the church, we wait, the congregation gathered. A baby wails. Paper rustles. The susurration of many people speaking whispers under the vaulted stone roof. Footsteps echo, and Ben's voice carries as he guides the last of the guests to their pews.

Beth certainly made a good job of the flowers.

She has quite a talent for it....

Wonder if she intends to apply it to the spa centre?

Or if she's mentioned it to Michael?

But I suppress the smile. My closest friend has enough to keep him occupied today.

Michael fidgets as I finger the ring....

.... the second ring....

.... Which lies in my pocket, this one in white gold.

Is he still upset about yesterday?

Or is it just normal Groom's nerves?

"Calm down," I murmur.

He's facing forward, but his eyes slip sidelong to mine. "You don't think she might...."

"No.... Now relax."

"You've got the ring?"

"Yes, I've got the ring." I give him a shoulder-slap. "You should have had that drink."

"Mmmm. Perhaps I should."

As we wait, my mind rambles back to the time, what? Thirty years ago? The last time I did this, but on that occasion, I was the groom.

And yet, my first marriage was a farce. At the time I never understood how much so. The bitterness of it ....

Georgie...

I'd have liked you to be here today....

How old are you now?

Older than Charlotte....

Perhaps not a good idea then....

Enough already!

Pull yourself together, man....

This time, it will be different.

From the rear comes some sound, some movement.

The minister looks beyond us. "She's here."

The congregation, as one man, turns to look rearward, and the organ breathes into life; Pachelbel's Canon, one of Charlotte's favourites. One of mine too. I don't think Michael cared about the music. Everything he cares about sits in my pocket.

Nonetheless, he also semi-turns to follow the music that ripples along the aisle... To look... Then, he pauses, visibly restraining himself as he remembers the groom is not supposed to look back.

His face....

Joy?

Wonderment?

Disbelief?

That we finally made it to this point...?

But there is nothing to restrain me. I turn to see.

And there, accompanied by Richard, who agreed to stand in for her murdered father, to give her away, is Charlotte.

Oh, my God....

I expected her to be beautiful.

I hoped she would wear white.

But I wasn't prepared for the reality....

She looks astonishing....

Yes, the dress is white: full-length and of a simple design. Under the veil she wears her hair long and loose, laced with....

.... pearls?

Weighted by the pearls, it sways with her movement as she paces slowly down the aisle, one hand resting on Richard's arm, the other holding a small bouquet.

The veil is of some fine filmy stuff, very sheer. Even with the slight movement of Charlotte's slow progression through the church, it flutters and shimmers about her face.

And through the veil, despite the distance between us, I meet her eyes, vivid emeralds, even through its haze.

Oh, my Jade....

.... I wanted this for you....

As she draws closer, I see the flowers; violets. Small, unassuming and so.... right....

Michael nudges my elbow, trying to see past me.

"She looks... breath-taking...." I whisper.

It will not be me exchanging vows with her today.

And I have only one vow for her....

You will always be my Virgin.

But I have a job to do. Raising the brightest smile I know how, I murmur to Michael. My closest friend. My friend of years. The man I trust most in the world. "I don't think you're going to be disappointed."

And as she finally moves into his view, as Charlotte and Michael see each other, his lips part and his eyes widen. And she bursts into a sunbeam smile.

Richard leans close in, whispering something to her, then taking her hand, offers it to Michael. Bride and Groom stand side by side.

"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here...."

*****

.... "The ring, please." says the Minister.

I slip the small thing, so tiny a thing, to carry such meaning, from my pocket, wondering how the Minister will react. Perhaps he doesn't notice as Michael places the white-gold circle on her finger, to nestle by its red-gold companion already there.

A part of me dwells on the time when I too, so long ago, placed a ring on a woman's finger....

Then, I realise Charlotte is watching me....

.... So, I grin and wink.