I sense a flutter of nerves in my stomach. It’s quickly followed by a bout of baby movement. Holding on to Dad’s arm, I give the tiny arms and legs time to settle into place. That’s a foot in my ribs, I’m sure of it, and I have no idea what’s pressing against my bowels, but suddenly I need to visit the toilet.
‘She’s here!’ Ethan squeals, leaping up and running down the aisle.
There’s a rumble in the distance.
‘Fucking brilliant,’ I mutter.
The music changes to Pachelbel’s Canon in D, the signal for me to move.
So this is it.
No time for the loo.
‘Ready?’ Dad asks.
I swallow, watching as Dan rises to his feet, taking his place in front of the arch, his broad shoulders gorgeously accentuated in a morning suit. Clive stands next to him, and they nod at each other. Finally, Dan turns, giving me a tender smile that’s mine, and mine alone.
‘Ready,’ I reply, smiling back.
On automatic pilot, I begin to walk down the aisle, casting acknowledgements at various familiar faces. On the left: The Steves, Mum, Sara and her boys, along with a host of my extended family – aunties, uncles and cousins I haven’t seen for years. On Dan’s side: Jodie and her mum; Norman and Betty; Bill, Charles, Kathy and the rest of their family, flown over from Bermuda; Gordon sitting with a man I’ve never seen before; Layla and her husband, Sophie, Dan’s niece and nephews. And then there’s Lily, seated with her mother and a few other people I don’t recognise, members of Lily’s and Clive’s families, people from Dan’s past.
As I approach the arch, my eyes return to Dan, and I’m caught again, lost in the bright blue irises. My heart beat trembles and trips. Blood rushes through my veins. I don’t know whether I’m about to pass out or vomit as I step up onto the platform. Luckily, Dan takes my hand and steadies me. And then he draws me in close, leaning down to whisper in my ear.
‘You look fucking amazing.’
‘You look fucking amazing,’ I whisper back. ‘I’m a disaster.’
‘Not from here, you’re not.’ His arms tighten.
‘I need a wee.’
‘Jesus, now? Can’t you wait?’
The baby stirs again, thankfully moving into a better position.
‘Possibly.’
I hear another roll of thunder. It’s still miles away, but it still makes me jump.
‘We can postpone, you know.’
‘No. We’re doing it now.’
He shakes his head.
‘You’re completely mad … but I love you.’
‘I should bloody well hope so. You’re about to marry me.’
‘Don’t get feisty.’ He brushes his mouth against my ear, setting off a host of tingles. ‘You’ll give me a stonker.’
I hear a cough.
‘Are you ready to start?’ the registrar asks. ‘Only I think we’re running out of time.’
I simply nod.
And then it begins …
In a dream world, I gaze into Dan’s eyes, doing my best to keep hold of the registrar’s words as the most important minutes of my life pass by.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to witness the marriage of Daniel Foster and Maya Scotton …’
I feel a rain drop, and then another.
Before I know it, Dan’s reciting his vows, slipping a platinum ring onto my wedding finger.
‘I give you this ring, as a sign of our love, trust and marriage. I promise to care for you above all others, to give you my love, friendship and support, and to respect and cherish you throughout our life together.’
It’s my turn now. Stumbling through my vows, I’m feeling the raindrops gradually gathering momentum.
‘You may now kiss the bride.’
‘Oh, thank fuck,’ I breathe.
Big, firm hands encircle my waist and draw me in. And then his lips are on mine, absolutely perfect, as soft and warm as ever. I’m thinking of that first kiss, wedged up against a counter in his kitchen, the incredible chemistry that started then and still hasn’t waned. For a few long moments, I’m totally adrift, temporarily ignorant to the fact that the storm’s closing in, that there’s a foot in my ribs again, that I’m wearing a cardigan on my wedding day. And then I’m released, returned to reality. I’m aware of applause … and more rain.
‘You’ve got your happy ever after, Mrs Foster,’ he murmurs against my mouth.
‘Thank you, Mr Foster,’ I murmur back. ‘You do know it’s raining?’
He smiles knowingly, turns and holds out a hand to Clive. I watch as a white umbrella sprouts into view. Clive hands it to Dan.
‘Fail to prepare,’ he raises it over our heads, ‘and prepare to fail.’
I look around at our guests, all now sheltering under a forest of white umbrellas. And it’s a good job too. The shower quickly morphs into a violent downpour.
‘Sneaky git. What would I do without you?’
‘Well, for a start,’ he says proudly, ‘you’d get very wet.’
A streak of lightning illuminates the sky in the distance. I give a start and crumble into Dan’s embrace, counting the seconds. Nine of them pass before the thunder follows.
‘To the marquee,’ I hear him shout. ‘Now!’
Under the umbrella, with Dan’s arm clasped around my waist, I’m guided quickly back through the orchard and the garden. We stop by the opening to the marquee. As guests scurry past us into the shelter, someone takes the umbrella from Dan. He glances out at the rain.
‘Just think
