Georgia looked amazing in a brilliant green dress-also bare shouldered-with a green feather arrangement in her wild hair. Linda was sporting similar headwear; they were known as fascinators, she had informed Alex on the way down.
Georgia urged the three little boys into a pew at the back and, after a whispered conversation with Patrick, inserted herself between them, clearly with a view to minimising talking and giggling; Patrick was beside them in the aisle.
This was a great day, Patrick thought, for all of them, and thought how far he had travelled from that darkest of the dark days all those months ago, and how impossible it would have seemed then that he could have been attending a wedding, dressed up to the nines, his conscience clear and his physical outlook so good… He was interrupted in this reverie by a change of pace and tune from the organ and a rustle of excitement from the opening door, and saw that the bride was standing on the porch, on the arm of a handsome young chap positively beaming with pride, and behind them, dressed in the palest, softest pink chiffon dress, his beloved, beautiful Maeve.
She should be here, Gerry thought, Christine really, really should be here. What demon had possessed her that she had been able to resent her mother’s new happiness so deeply; and worse, to be unable to suppress it or at the least conceal it? He was ashamed of her, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to cope with those emotions in the days ahead. He-
“Stand up, Gerry,” hissed Lorraine, Tim’s girlfriend-very nice to have on his arm that day. What did they call girls like her? Oh, yes, arm candy. “They’re here.”
Russell was afraid for a moment that he was going to pass out, so strong was the wave of emotion that passed through him then. The sound of the organ, the opening of the door, the knowledge that she was walking towards him down the aisle at last, after a wait of more than sixty years… it was an experience of such intensity that the light in the church seemed to fade a little, the sound of the organ to diminish, and all that existed for him was her, walking slowly towards him, then standing beside him, smiling up at him, his Mary, his adored and adorable Sparrow, her eyes as brilliant and blue as they had been then, her mouth as soft and sweetly smiling, and her hands shaking a little as she handed over her bouquet to Maeve.
And Mary, looking up at him, saw the young Russell again, whom she had loved so very much, whom she had never forgotten and never failed. She had feared she might cry, make a fool of herself at this moment, as she put it; but she felt steadfast and strong, purely and intensely happy.
This was how it should be, Linda thought; this was love she was looking at, true love, not the counterfeit version she had known, and wondered if it was what she felt for the man beside her, who had suddenly and unaccountably gripped her hand.
This was how I thought it was, Alex thought, and do I dare even to think I’ve found it now?
This is what I thought we had, Emma thought, and what I’ve lost, and will I ever find it again?, and first one large tear and then another fell onto her prayer book, and for a while she saw everything spangled with tears.
Mary reached up suddenly and kissed Russell, and the gesture was so sweet, so spontaneous, that a small fragment of applause started from somewhere near the back of the church and spread round it, and Mary turned to acknowledge it, smiling, and thought as she did so that she saw the door begin to open; and then turned back to the vicar as he bade them all welcome and prepared to embark on the lovely, familiar words. (While omitting, as they had agreed, those that might appear somewhat ludicrous, about the procreation of children, and carnal lusts and appetites.)
But then something truly wonderful happened: as the vicar began to speak, the door at the back did indeed open-everyone heard it and turned to look-and through it, with no expression on her face whatsoever except one of absolute determination, came Christine, bareheaded, wearing the old mackintosh in which she walked the dogs and some really quite sturdy boots, and Mary, catching sight of her, provided one of the most beautiful moments of the day, for her small face fragmented into joy and she left Russell and walked back up the aisle and put her arms round her daughter, her beloved, brave, difficult daughter, and kissed her, and then led her by the hand to her place in the front pew, next to Gerry. Who, in turn, put his own arm round her and gave her a kiss.
The service proceeded without any further departure from convention; Tim gave her away with his eyes suspiciously bright; Russell beamed throughout, until it was his turn to make his vows, and then as he said, “Thereto I give thee my troth,” his strong voice cracked and two great tears rolled down his handsome old face; and as Mary promised to love, cherish, and obey, a giggle rose unbidden in her voice, and it was more than a moment before she could compose herself once more.
And then, having uttered his final solemn exhortation that no man must put them asunder, the vicar pronounced them man and wife and told Russell he might kiss the bride; and Mary was not only kissed but held so tightly and so fervently that it seemed Russell was afraid, even now that she had been pronounced his, of losing her again. The bells began to peal; Mary turned, took Russell’s arm, and walked slowly down the aisle, smiling into the dozens of flashing cameras that had most assuredly not been a feature at her first wedding, waving at people, blowing kisses, and hugging the small boys who scrambled over their father and rushed from their pew to greet her.
“I’ve been to a great many weddings,” Maeve confided to Tim, who was walking her down the aisle, “but never in my entire life one more beautiful than this.”
CHAPTER 44
The concert had been Anna’s idea. Georgia had been talking to her in the pub one night, trying to explain how bad she still sometimes felt about the crash-“and not just about Patrick, the lorry driver, although there he is, three little kids to keep and no job, really-there are other people who are still really hurting. That man whose wife was killed, with a little boy he’s had to give up his job to look after him, and several other people who have lost their livelihoods, no fault of their own, like one girl who can’t walk, and she was a dance teacher, or who’ve had breakdowns, and I just feel so bad about them-here I am having a great time now, and it’s not fair. Is it?”
Anna had agreed it wasn’t fair. “But it absolutely wasn’t your fault, Georgia; you have to see that.”
“I know it wasn’t my fault-well, except for deserting Patrick-but that doesn’t stop me feeling terrible. I just wish there was something I could do.”
“Like what?”
“Well, I don’t know. Help. Really help. In a practical way.”
“What… like raise some money, maybe? Help them at least financially? Don’t look at me like that. Quite small things can help a lot. I did a gig for a concert, just a small one, that provides special bikes that physically disabled children can control. It means they can hare about like other kids. But… it’s only an idea.”