Another Way to Fall (36 page)

Emma had to agree that St Luke’s wasn’t an obvious venue for a wedding. By rights it shouldn’t have survived the bomb that fell on it during the Blitz or the ensuing fire that swept through the entire church from the altar at one end to the tower at the other. But whilst the roof and everything inside the church had been destroyed completely, the yellow stone edifice had survived unscathed. The tall square bell tower was missing its bell, the ornate windows were bereft of their stained glass, but somehow each and every one of the Gothic pinnacles that adorned the edges of the absent roof stood proud and impossibly intact. It was a survivor and that was what had appealed to Emma.

The church was no longer a place of worship but it was still being used regularly for a variety of creative arts events and there had been some intense negotiating by the Wedding Planners to secure the venue. Emma had to be at the church at nine but her six o’clock alarm call was nothing compared to the early call some of the volunteers had. They’d been working around the clock to get everything ready.

‘Someone must be looking down on you,’ Meg told Emma as she watched benign, fluffy clouds ambling across a sky that had been molten red at sunrise. They were standing on the balcony of the apartment and everything around them glistened with spent raindrops. The air was fresh and the first day of spring looked like it was going to be a bright one.

Emma had been made up to within an inch of her life. Her hair had thinned and there were two significant bald patches where the radiotherapy had done its worst, but thanks to the creative use of a tiara and accessories, she was given a hairstyle befitting any bride. Her grey pallor and the dark shadows under her eyes had been hidden beneath carefully applied makeup that looked fresh and natural. Gina had succeeded where her doctors had failed.

‘Enough fresh air,’ Gina said, pulling Emma back into the apartment. ‘It’s time for the dress.’

‘I feel sick,’ Emma moaned as they re-entered the apartment, which felt very warm, as did she.

‘You can’t throw up now,’ Gina cried, her eyes wide with alarm. ‘Meg, do something.’

‘Let’s get you back outside,’ Meg said, leading Emma carefully back through the patio door. She tipped up a chair with a large puddle in the middle of it and was wiping the seat with a tissue as she spoke. ‘Ally, get her some water. Louise, get her anti-sickness tablets. Emma, sit down here.’ Her instructions came out as fast as bullets and Emma, like everyone else, followed her orders without question, sitting down heavily on the damp chair.

‘It’s probably just nerves,’ Emma told her mum.

Meg took a deep breath and calmed herself so her next words would be free from the anxiety building around her. ‘Of course it is. We’ll just have to take things a little more slowly. It’s traditional for the bride to be late.’

When they arrived at the church, Emma was no less nervous but the drugs had banished the nausea. She hadn’t been sick and her makeup had remained intact. As she stepped out of the car, she felt like she was stepping into another reality, leaving behind the Emma who felt tired and frail, the Emma who was dying. The young woman who stepped out of the car was radiant and as Gina and Ally adjusted the fall of her ivory silk dress and carefully arranged the veil over her face, Meg and Louise looked on with tears in their eyes.

It didn’t register with Emma that the car was only a taxi cab. The driver, a bistro regular, had dressed his car with silk ribbons and flowers for the occasion and Emma couldn’t have been happier if she had stepped out of the classiest limousine. Nor did she care that her dress had been acquired from a charity shop. It had been pulled apart and completely transformed by Gina to the extent that it was, in Emma’s eyes, fit for a princess. The bridal bouquet was a spray of spring flowers and roses, provided by Iris and Jean, no questions asked. As far as Emma was concerned, the illusion was complete.

Meg looked anxiously at the steps that led up to the entrance to the church but before she could ask, Emma had her answer. ‘I’ll be fine, Mum,’ she said. ‘Let’s not keep them waiting.’

Emma could hear the swish of silk as she glided up the stone steps and when she reached the top, the sound of church bells filled the air, coming not from St Luke’s but the nearby cathedral, which was lending its voice to the occasion. As Emma reached the entrance, a figure stepped out of the shadows. Through her veil, Emma didn’t recognize him at first, or perhaps didn’t trust her own eyes.

‘I know you’re not exactly mine to give away,’ he began, ‘but I had to be here. Tell me to go if you want.’

Emma didn’t answer her father but turned towards her mum who was following close behind. ‘It’s alright, I knew John would be here,’ Meg said, although she avoided looking at her ex-husband. ‘It’s your day, Emma. It’s your decision.’

John Patterson had played no part in the wedding day of her imaginings. This isn’t a dream, she told herself. This is really happening.

Emma didn’t say yes or no, instead she reached out her hand for her dad to take and the look of relief on his face was clear to see. ‘Thanks, Emma. I don’t know how I would have broken it to these two if we had to leave before the big event.’

Emma looked on as a tiny, cherub-like face appeared from behind him, closely followed by another. Olivia and Amy had little rosebuds in their hair to match Emma’s bouquet and pretty satin dresses in the exact same shade of navy blue as her other bridesmaids.

‘Rose!’ cried Emma.

‘No, I’m Olivia,’ corrected the little girl with a giggle.

‘Yes, silly me,’ she agreed, ignoring the looks of concern from everyone around her.

‘We’ve got flowers,’ explained Olivia, holding up a small basket full of petals, ‘and we’re going to throw them on the floor.’

‘And then you can squish them,’ added Amy in excitement.

‘Oh, they’re too beautiful to squish. I’m going to have to tiptoe through them.’

Olivia thought about it for a while. ‘You could always use your angel wings and fly over them.’

‘Maybe not today,’ Emma said. ‘I haven’t quite worked out how to fly yet.’

Before the girls could interrogate her further, Meg and John started to usher everyone into the church, managing to synchronize their actions without speaking to each other or even acknowledging what the other was doing.

Before Meg disappeared into the church she glanced back, a smile trembling on her lips. Soon after, the bells stopped ringing and beautiful music filled the air. The flower girls began the procession into the church and Emma prepared for her own entrance.

‘Shall we?’ John asked, giving Emma’s arm a quick squeeze.

When Emma entered the inner ruins of the church, she was grateful for her father’s arm. They stepped into a world of enchantment where the ethereal sound of violins echoed off the high walls with their Gothic peaks. Swathes of cream voile had been draped from high, falling in front of the windows and billowing softly in the breeze. The bare stonework, the charred timbers and the weeds growing from lofty crevices bore witness to the church’s resilience and added to its charm. The makeshift aisle that led to the altar was dappled with sunlight that fought through the bubbling clouds high above them. The altar itself, with its curved walls and intricate windows, appeared to have kept the majority of the sunbeams for itself. Flickers of light glinted from tiny shards of stained glass that had remained attached to the windows with colourful determination.

The intimate gathering of family and friends stood to attention as Emma made her way down the aisle. With no pews to sit on, they would have to remain standing throughout the ceremony. Emma didn’t look at their faces or note the tears being shed; she was looking at one person and one person only.

She hadn’t seen Ben since they had stolen themselves away to the register office the day before to make their union official in the eyes of the law. That particular ceremony had been perfunctory with only Iris and Jean in attendance as witnesses. Emma hadn’t wanted her family there. This was her real wedding, this was where the magic and the memories would be made and as Ben turned to look at her and smile, Emma’s heart beat a little faster. It was the first time she had seen him in a suit. He looked impossibly handsome as he pulled back his shoulders and stared directly at her, strong and resolute. She fought an overwhelming desire to rush straight into his arms.

Ben stepped forward to claim his bride and gave her dad a wink. He lifted the veil from Emma’s face. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he whispered.

Having reached the safety of Ben’s side, Emma took in more of her surroundings. Delicate sprays of flowers decorated the altar and the sweet scent of the blooms drifted towards her. Candles flickered in a breeze strong enough to snuff them out but the candles simply burned brighter in defiance. To one side of the altar, a quartet of musicians stood to attention, their music having reached a heart-stopping climax as Ben took her hand. She glanced past his shoulder and Steven gave her an encouraging smile.

Without the music, Emma could hear the distant hum of traffic outside and the frantic cry of seagulls above, reminding her that they hadn’t been magically transported to a dreamscape. There was the occasional sniffle from the congregation and she didn’t need to look around to know that the person who had just blown her nose was Jean, not when she had also heard Iris telling her to shush. The distinguished-looking gentleman standing in front of her drew her attention back to the altar. There was something familiar about him but the dog-collar had distracted her. She had seen him at the bistro where he had worn less formal garb. She was staring into the benevolent face of Iris’s new beau.

Ben and Emma had written their own vows and their words focused on the here and now, about their love for each other and their completeness. There was no talk of ‘till death us do part’, only of a love that was undying and of the memories they were now sharing, which would bring them eternal joy.

Emma’s voice was clear and strong as it echoed around the church. It was Ben’s voice that shook and his hand trembled as he placed the wedding band on her finger. Her eyes were drawn in awe to the ring that symbolised their union and if there was ever a moment in her life when she felt truly complete, it was when the chaplain pronounced them husband and wife. A shiver of excitement coursed through her body and was electrified as her husband kissed her.

The unconventional venue meant that the wedding breakfast could be held there and then. The party could continue afterwards at the bistro but this was the place where all the formalities would take place, including the speeches and, thankfully, the weather didn’t encroach on their plans. Champagne bottles were popping before Emma and Ben had time to draw breath and as they turned around, glasses were being lifted into the air.

‘To the bride and groom,’ everyone chorused, as the music started up and Ben led his new bride towards the well-wishers.

Emma didn’t know who to greet first, there were so many familiar faces. Gina was linking arms with Dan, Ally stood a little more discretely with Peter’s arm around her waist. Mr Bannister was there, as was Jennifer, but Emma had someone else in her sights, the person who deserved the first hug. She ushered Ben in the direction of his father-in-law whilst she walked over and let her mum wrap her arms around her.

‘Thank you, Mum,’ Emma said.

‘What for? This is your day, your creation,’ Meg told her, reaching up a hand to tuck away a rogue curl from Emma’s face.

‘Thank you for everything. For making me strong enough to be happy.’

‘And are you happy?’ Meg asked.

‘Blissfully,’ Emma assured her. Only now did she notice the eminent figure standing next to her mum. He looked quite different without his white coat and stethoscope. ‘As long as you two don’t come to blows in the middle of my big day.’

‘I’ll have you know, your mother and I never fought each other. We were always fighting for you, in our own, sometimes opposing ways,’ Mr Spelling corrected.

‘Hmm,’ Emma replied, ‘I’m going to have to trust you on that one while I go and say hello to some of my other guests.’

Emma gave into her curiosity and walked over to Jennifer and her old boss. She was keen to hear the latest news on Alex who, according to Ally and Gina, hadn’t been seen for over a week.

‘How lovely to see you both,’ Emma said as the old man leaned forward to kiss her cheek. Mr Bannister was only in his sixties but years of drinking and smoking had aged him beyond his years. At least beneath his weathered skin, his spirit was still as indomitable and boundless as ever.

‘We wouldn’t have missed it for the world,’ Jennifer told her, reaching over to touch Emma’s arm gently; there wasn’t a hint of the gushing insincerity that would once have greeted her.

‘Why don’t you get this girl a drink,’ Mr Bannister said, raising a meaningful eyebrow to his daughter. Jennifer dutifully disappeared out of earshot.

‘I’m glad I’ve caught you on your own,’ he began with a wicked smile.

‘Yes, how did that happen?’

‘I hope you’ll indulge an old man and let me clear my conscience,’ he said, waiting long enough for Emma to nod her consent. ‘I made a mistake not putting you in charge of marketing, I know that. Alex wasn’t up to the task.’

‘I take it by your use of the past tense that he’s no longer in your employ?’ Emma asked and when Mr Bannister told her that he had been sacked the week before, she felt a sense of relief mixed with a little pity, which she knew Alex didn’t deserve. ‘Jennifer made you see sense, then?’

‘You’ve influenced her more than you could even begin to imagine and I will be eternally grateful for that. I’m only sorry I didn’t appreciate you when I had the chance.’

‘Don’t worry about me. Today isn’t about regrets. To hell with the past, or the future for that matter.’

Mr Bannister didn’t have a chance to respond even if he had been able to think of anything to say. The music had stopped and there was an insistent tapping on a glass as Steven drew everyone’s attention. Emma was summoned to Ben’s side and they stood in the centre of the church, next to a small pond that had been added after the church’s demise. It gave life to an assortment of tall, willowy plants and there were white ribbons tied to every branch and twig, each one conveying a single-word blessing written by their guests, but there was no time to read them. The best man was about to give his speech and Emma wanted to concentrate on every word, even though she already knew it by heart.