Then I spot Oscar to my left. He is wearing a cotton pale grey suit and light-pink shirt. He looks so handsome and smart and has a huge smile plastered across his face, one that says he is overwhelmed by my outfit. I could be his bride walking down the aisle to meet him. I smile back at Oscar, and we share this telepathic romantic moment between us for a few seconds until I pass him. Maybe, I think, maybe when this is all over, I will feel ready to marry Oscar. I check over my shoulder to make sure Caitlin and Hackett are following, and they are. I have nothing in my hands, and I am cursing Caitlin under my breath for not agreeing to a small bouquet for me. I am trying to stop myself wringing my hands by placing one on top of the other in front of me.
I sense the change in the atmosphere as I reach the end of the aisle. Until now, Ava has not turned her head to look, as though turning it too early would cause too much strain. And so because of this, I get to see the entire metamorphosis of her expression, from a look of nonchalance to feigned interest, a brightening of her eyes in alignment with the rest of the congregation, to a flicker of doubt as she strains to look beyond me to where Caitlin is walking with Hackett. She nudges Maxwell, who is sat next to her, who hasn’t noticed, and it’s only when I reach the end of the aisle and stand to the left in front of her chair that Ava fully registers. I watch as a bleak expression spreads across her face. I steal a brief look behind me to see that Maxwell’s jaw has also dropped open slightly. He is wearing one of his classic bow ties – his style hasn’t changed in two decades. This was not who either of them were expecting the sixty-seventh guest to be.
I turn my attention to Caitlin, who has arrived next to me with Hackett by her side.
Hackett is holding on tightly to Caitlin’s hand. The humanist says something, and Hackett does an awkward literal handover of Caitlin to the humanist, a woman in her fifties with tightly curled permed hair, who takes Caitlin’s hands and thanks Hackett. He continues to stand there, not knowing what to do. I tug his jacket and tell him to sit next to me in the seats we have been allocated at the front.
Then finally I get to turn my attention to Chuck and Caitlin. I have not seen them in each other’s company recently, and before that they were an item so sporadically, I was never sure if they would ever get together properly. I would always watch them carefully whenever they were with one another and much more recently. There was an intimacy there of some sort, but it was never public displays of affection or declaration of love. For today, Caitlin had opted for simple vows: ‘I love your integrity, your humour. I love that I can trust you and depend on you.’
I feel a surge of heat rush through my body as Caitlin speaks her words. I’m not sure if its joy or relief. I try to look at both of their faces to see their expressions, but they are turned into one another, and all I can see is half of Chuck’s face. There is a twinkle in his eye as he speaks, but I can now see he is nervous; as he places the ring on Caitlin’s finger, his hand shakes slightly, but he instantly says something that makes both the humanist and Caitlin laugh. When the humanist says the words, ‘I now pronounce you man and wife,’ the room erupts into applause.
There is a band playing some soft, soulful music as everyone steadily flows into the reception room and people begin taking their seats. Oscar grabbed me on the way out of the ceremony and hasn’t left my side since. He keeps holding me at arm’s length and looking at me up and down. ‘My God, Sash. You’re gorgeous. I’m a bloody lucky guy.’ He doesn’t mention marriage, but I know he must be thinking about his proposal and the redundant ring in a box at home in a drawer. And in a way, I am grateful for the pleasant distraction, but I also know it will be short-lived. It is almost time.
One thing I am unsure of is why Hackett was banished from normal family activity all those years ago and made to work on the estate instead. I am just about working it out, and as I do, I glance at the clock on the wall; the time is almost midday. I want to check my phone, which I grabbed along with my clutch bag from behind the reception desk as we left
