Suddenly remembering it’s his day, he lifts his hand towards friends, mates from school and university and work, who wave back, giving thumbs-up and grins. Lisa’s Swansea contingent, he supposes, are the dozen or so chatty faces on the left, and there’s a choir of five grey parishioners in pews to one side. A row of differently coloured umbrellas are drying at the back of the church, making small pools of water on the floor. They slightly lift each time the door opens, as though they’re breathing.
Surprised Jen hasn’t arrived yet, his attention returns to his best men. They’ve moved onto nurses’ uniforms and big breasts, the usual when they rib him about Lisa. ‘He was looking for nympho nurse porn but accidentally found a wife,’ Will is saying to his brother. Nick smiles, thankful for his friends, their steadiness and their laughter. At a sudden rush of sound, he turns again, but it’s another two pearly parishioners noisily removing their wet coats. The umbrellas relax, like a false start, before lifting their ribs again, but it isn’t his bride or her taciturn chunky brothers.
Catching his mum’s soft smile, he nods and looks away. The imperative is there, clenched in his jaw. As much as he loves her, he has to break free, has to do it today. Glancing again at the entrance, a thought suddenly hits him. Suppose Lisa doesn’t come? Bloody hell. Suppose she changes her mind? What then?
Jen
‘The sea, Daddy! The sea.’
Though the grey ocean merges with the dirty sky, Anna has spotted it from the back seat of the Kenning family car.
Ian glances at the clock, then takes a left turn towards the seafront. ‘Let’s take a quick look,’ he replies.
‘Oh God, we’re going to be late,’ Maria groans loudly.
Jen counts to five, then tries for her even voice. ‘No we’re not; and don’t say God, Maria, you’re only thirteen, not thirty.’
‘We’re always late and it’s so embarrassing. If it was me—’
‘Enough, Maria,’ Ian interrupts from the driver’s seat. ‘It’s Nick and Lisa’s wedding day. Mum’s school friends will be there, so let’s try to be happy and have fun. OK, love? We’re nearly there now. Just enough time to see the waves. See how they crash against the promenade.’
Jen glances at her husband. ‘Think someone came to Aberystwyth as a boy,’ she comments dryly. Maria is right; they will be late, but there’s no use arguing. Though mostly easy-going, when Ian’s mind is set, it’s best to follow his lead. And besides, Maria and Holly’s windows are already down, the wind buffeting their neat wedding hair.
‘Tastes of fish,’ Holly says, licking her lips. ‘Your go, Anna.’
Anna climbs onto Holly’s knee and hangs out of the window, returning after a few seconds with more than wet lips.
‘OK, enough now. Seat belts back on,’ Jen says, trying not to think of how long it took to plait, curl and straighten three sets of hair, but quietly pleased their diversion has thrown the smug satnav. When it finally rallies and they arrive at the church, the bridal limousine has just beaten them into the car park.
‘Don’t worry,’ Ian grins, looking at Jen. ‘You took ages to get out of the wedding car. You needed a crane, if I remember.’
‘Cheeky sod,’ she replies. ‘You weren’t even there. You were in the church longing for your beautiful bride to appear. It was the hoops at the bottom of the dress, actually. They took some manoeuvring. But you’re right; Lisa won’t be jumping out of the car and into this horrible weather without a million umbrellas. Park up and we’ll sneak in ahead.’
Finally settled in their pew, Jen lifts her hand to Penny and Geri across the aisle, conscious that her windswept girls have accidentally sat on the bride’s side.
‘Why is Penny staring and who is that fat woman sitting next to her?’ Anna asks from under the brim of her hat.
‘She’s not fat, she’s pregnant, Anna. That’s Geri, Dan’s girlfriend. You’ve met her before. And keep your voice down, love.’
Her eight-year-old studies Geri for a few moments before turning back. ‘She’s not as handsome as Dan, but I like her hat. What colour will the baby be?’ she whispers.
‘A beautiful colour,’ Jen replies. She leans forward to study Holly who’s predictably sitting next to her dad and peering at his mobile. ‘Are you all right now? Feeling better?’
Despite the fishy shower, she thinks her middle daughter looks pale. The girls had a puking virus which lasted two days, but Holly was sick again after breakfast, or so she said. Jen dashed up to the bathroom, but the toilet had been flushed, the only sign of vomit being a large wet patch on the front of the pretty satin dress Holly didn’t like. She didn’t quite get her wish to sport trousers, preferably jeans, but the dress she’s wearing is far from the floaty creation Jen had wanted all three to wear.
‘Struggling with puberty, poor lamb,’ her mum says of Holly, but Jen wouldn’t know. When she was twelve, she’d just started at St Mark’s. She loved growing up and all that went with it, especially the attention from the A Team boys. ‘The honorary boy,’ Nick’s mum used to describe her. ‘Yeah, one with tits,’ Dan, Will or Nick would quietly snigger.
The sudden rich peal of Mendelssohn interrupts her fond memories. Ian rises and takes her hand. ‘Here we go, love. Got the tissues ready?’ he asks with a grin.
‘Cheeky sod,’ she replies, smiling. But she catches Holly’s slender arms as she stands. Not just the vomiting, she’s spider-thin too. The sick bug, of course, the virus.
Shaking her head, she turns to the doors. Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. Just a routine illness.
Surely?
Dan
Will throws back his champagne. ‘Rain’s stopped; everyone smiling. All’s well that ends well.’ He slaps Dan on the back. ‘I’ll get us a top-up. Not so bad, eh? This wedding malarkey. Mark my words, you’ll give in like the rest of us poor bloody …’ But abruptly he stops and turns around with a frown. ‘Was that …? Did you hear that?’
Dan turns too. Two women in work uniforms are pointing to the main hotel building, their faces aghast.
‘Oh my God, look! There’s someone at that window. Oh my God, quick, someone help! I think she’s going to jump!’ one of them shouts.
Snapping his head to the scene, Dan stares. What the fuck? What the hell? Dressed only in her underwear, Penny Taylor is standing on the window ledge, her pale body and buffeted blonde hair framed like Botticelli’s Venus. He gazes for a moment before adrenaline kicks in. Will is just gawping, clearly gobsmacked. Grabbing him by the shirtsleeve, Dan propels him towards the hotel door. ‘Will, move! Now, Will, go now. I’ll be right behind you.’
His body tingling with energy, but his mind strangely detached, Dan scans the scene. Lisa and Nick are turned away in a group with her dad and his parents, listening to the photographer’s instructions. Two of Jen’s kids are watching the newly-weds and not Penny, thank God. And Will’s jacket, he’s still holding it; the key card is there in the pocket. Grasping Geri on the way, he spins her to the window. ‘Look, it’s Penny,’ he