‘Lottie did lying?’ Oscar didn’t sound convinced.
‘Hey, why don’t you show me your ring-bearer walk, and I’ll tell you what I think?’
Oscar ducked his head, smearing at his runny nose with both hands, one after the other. ‘You might laugh.’
The groom crouched down, gently took hold of Oscar’s snotty hand and shook it, looking him right in the eyes. ‘I won’t. Here, I’ve shaken on it. And a real man never goes back on his handshake.’
He stood up again. ‘Come on, we’ve both got very important jobs to do in a few minutes, and they can’t start without us. Let’s see you walk to that bush and back.’
‘I don’t have a ring to practise with. When I practised at home I was holding Lottie’s ring.’ Another swipe of his nose and eyes.
‘Well, that’s easily solved.’ The man reached in his pocket, opened what could only have been the wedding-ring box, and carefully placed the contents in Oscar’s trembling hand. ‘Might as well practise with the real thing. Oh – hang on a minute though, got to look the part even when you practise.’ He whipped the forest-green pocket square out of his jacket and bent down to give Oscar’s disgusting face a careful wipe. ‘There. Now you’re ready to rock.’
As Oscar began his ring-bearer walk to the holly bush, a smile broke out on my future husband’s lovely face, and in that moment, my doubts and fears dissolved into insignificance.
If a man was prepared to put his about-to-be-wedding ring into the snotty, grubby, trembling hands of a boy he’d only just met, and send him off across the garden while smiling, that told me all I needed to know.
So, yes, he had told me at a wedding only weeks before that marriage was a ‘noose for two’. But at the same time, he’d voluntarily climbed in a bin to prise a wedding ring from a dog’s drooling jaws.
And people could change their minds, couldn’t they?
In that moment, mine was definitely made up.
I was getting married to Hot Photographer.
I was getting married!
In about fifteen minutes!
Except I really needed a wee first…
‘Perfect!’ I heard him call out as I ducked back inside.
I couldn’t agree more…
No wonder we matched so highly on the compatibility test, I marvelled while readjusting my dress in the downstairs cloakroom. Both in the celebration industry. Both self-employed. Both loved children. Both… lived in Nottinghamshire. I presumed.
I found everyone hovering nervously in the corridor, trying to pretend they weren’t organising my search party.
‘Ready?’ Bridget asked, as if she didn’t want to hear the answer.
‘Yep. Ready to rock.’
Everyone released their breaths in one relieved puff.
‘Well, actually. Can you wait here a minute?’ Sofia asked. ‘Let me get in position.’
‘I need to round the kids up, too,’ Orla said, hurrying out of the front door behind Sofia.
‘Yeah, I’m going to check on the groom,’ Bridget added.
‘Well, looks like it’s just us, then.’ My mamma clutched her hands to the bodice of her gold sequinned dress. ‘I can finish the prayer while we wait for the minute.’
‘Actually, Mamma,’ Annie interjected. ‘I think someone else wants to escort Emma to her wedding.’
She grabbed Mum’s hand and dragged her out of the door and halfway across the yard before Mum had time to protest. Heading over in the opposite direction, taking slow, careful steps without his stick, came my father.
With a few metres left to go, he took his eyes off the uneven gravel and looked up. As he caught me there in the doorway, his face transformed from that of a weighed-down, weary old man, wracked with pain, into a face shining with love and unadulterated pride. He stopped, wobbling on his feet for a moment, and I hurried out to join him.
