Martha was still tormented by her last love, and April didn’t fancy taking up letter writing any time soon. They had loved each other from the first day they met, till the day she took her vows. Then the letters were all her, talking to him but never sending the letters. Sharing her life, her highs and lows. All written to a man who she had never seen again.
Reaching into the box for the next letter, she pulled out a photo instead. It was of Martha, but it wasn’t a traditional wedding shot. This one made April tear up all over again. She knew just by looking at it why it was in the box. Why it wasn’t sitting in a gilded frame somewhere, or between the crinkly pages of a photo album. Martha was sitting at the end of a big hall, the black and white of the photo making the scene look all the more dramatic, and stark. The white of her dress as it billowed out beautifully beneath her. Her little white cotton gloves covered her face as she cried. Turning the photo over, she saw that a young Martha had written on the back.
Saying goodbye, it said simply. Nothing else was needed, and April was back there in her own wedding venue, clear as day. She could almost feel the movement of the fitted designer material around her body, her hunger pains gnawing at her empty belly as she said in the side room. Her mother had just left, wishing her all the best and wiping at her mascara-streaked face. She’d sat in just such a chair, waiting to be wed. She could still remember crying her eyes out, petrified and certain that she was making a mistake.
Looking back at the photo of Martha, she wondered what would have happened if they had met that day, on their most confusing days. Maybe the two women would have kicked off their heels and shimmied out of the window together, dresses and veils fanning out behind them as they escaped. Maybe pain would have been avoided, but it was pointless to think about. They had both sat there, in their dresses, wishing to God their veils were capes instead so they could fly away, disappear. As she sat there, staring at the photo, she heard a noise from outside. Recognising it, she grabbed her keys and phone, locking up behind her and running outside.
‘Hello,’ she said as Cillian returned from the bins. He turned to look at her, and she pushed her keys into her pocket.
‘Hi,’ he said, standing there in just a pair of jeans and a pair of black socks. The man was shirtless, and it took a moment for April to tear herself away from his porch-light-lit body, which looked like something Martha might have sculpted once upon a time. Maybe even now, judging by the passion April could still feel in her words from her latest letters.
He kept walking up to his chalet door, and April found herself scrambling after him.
‘Cillian,’ she said when she was standing right behind him. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t want to fight.’
He sagged then, and turned to face her properly.
‘It was me, my stuff. It’s okay.’ He spotted the phone in her hand. ‘Back in the land of the living finally?’ She looked at the handset, then back at him.
‘My ex-husband is getting married as you know, but I found out today they’re having a baby.’
Cillian’s jaws flexed and he stepped forward, pulling her into his arms and turning them both till they were sitting on his porch seat.
‘Well, that’s awful.’ He stroked her arm with his hand as he wrapped his arm around her. She nestled closer, turning till she was resting her cheek on his chest. She could smell soap, and mouthwash and she took a slow breath in to savour his scent. ‘My mate Paddy brought Tina to the solicitor’s today and told me to sort it out.’
‘Wow. How did you dispose of him? Not the bins, I hope.’
Cillian snorted, and she rested her hand on his chest, pulling his shirt in close with her fingers. He lay against the wooden back, bringing her with him.
‘I can’t tell you that.’ He tapped the tip of her nose with his index finger as he looked down at her. ‘Top secret.’ She looked up at him, and he dropped a kiss where his finger had just touched her skin. She moved her head up, taking his mouth with her own. They kissed for a long time, her lying on him, him wrapping his arms around her and kissing her bad mood away.
Eventually, when they pulled apart, she swallowed hard, and bit the bullet.
‘Cillian, I—’
She was about to tell him about Martha, about the letters, and the wailing, heartbroken women in their wedding dresses. She was about to tell him that she was feeling things for him, and she wanted to—
‘I’m sorry about earlier.’ He seemed to want to talk, and she found herself biting her tongue. She wanted to hear what he had to say. ‘It’s been awful the last few months, and I took it out on you. Tina wasn’t exactly loyal, and with everything else, it’s just a lot. I didn’t expect you. It’s hard to trust, you know? I’ve got it pretty wrong before.’
She nodded, looking him in the eye now as their hands
