Love Lies

I gather my veil and my thoughts, buckle up the most dainty, most beautiful strappy, diamante sandals and step outside where I find a waiting horse-drawn carriage. All six horses are white; their coats are sleek and worthy of an appearance in any fairytale. The carriage is entirely covered with colourful peonies, gerberas and fat, loose roses, as I specified. The road is strewn with petals, as I’d dreamed. Crowds of Scott’s fans line the streets, as I could never have imagined. Most are screaming their good wishes, some girls are sobbing or their mouths are twisted in disappointment and fury. I don’t know whether to wave at them or ignore them. Lisa and Jess are sat opposite

After a few short minutes, we pass the media scrum and leave the press and disappointed fans behind security barriers. The horses’ hoofs stop click-clacking as we draw to a halt.

‘This is it then.’ I beam at my friends. They nod and force smiles that bunch up their cheeks but they can’t push the smiles as high as their eyes. This is it. Or at least, this is as near it as I’m ever going to get.

Lisa helps me out of the carriage; she still looks unusually white and drawn, the professional makeover doesn’t seem to have done its job. I turn to Jess. I always imagined my friends giggling and beaming and making jokes about the wedding night. I guess that’s a tricky one now, under the circumstances.

Jess stares resolutely at the floor and blurts at the gravel, ‘You are so obviously still in love with Adam.’

‘He didn’t want me. Nothing’s changed there.’

‘Yes, it has.’ Now she does meet my eye but I can’t see happiness or confidence, just concern and sincerity. ‘He’s grown up such a lot. He has the band and he’s bought a –’

‘I know he’s changed and grown up in many ways but he still doesn’t want me. That hasn’t changed.’

‘I think he does want you.’

‘No, he doesn’t. I asked him.’

‘Oh.’ Jess and Lisa look crushed by this news. The hems of their dresses flutter so prettily in the light breeze. We look gorgeous. I wish it was a more gorgeous moment.

I spell it out. ‘I don’t have a choice.’

‘There’s always a choice,’ insists Jess. I love Jess in this moment because she is taking an enormous risk. She’s being brave and honest. I’m breaking her heart by making what she considers to be the wrong decision. I feel duty bound to cheer her up.

‘Scott’s not a bad man. He’s just complex,’ I assure them.

‘Gay?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Oh, Fern.’

‘Don’t, Jess.’ I hold up my hand. I can’t hear any more from her. I can’t give up Scott. And it’s not the clothes, shoes and lifestyle that are pulling me. He’s my only option. ‘You’ve been great, Jess. You’ve done everything you could. You brought Adam here. You tried to make me jealous. You’ve pointed out how he’s grown and his new successes. You’ve been the best friend. But –’

The ‘but’ is swallowed by a click of the camera as the reportage photographer captures the moment.

‘I love the moment the bride soars into the service,’ he calls with a grin. ‘It’s a moment of such exquisite loveliness, a moment of intense possibility and unblighted hope. Isn’t it?’

No one answers him.

72. Fern

I glide up the aisle and it is all so breathtakingly beautiful. The pews are packed with faces I recognize and even one or two people I know. As I get closer to the altar I smile and nod to neighbours, friends and family. My family have turned up, after all. I wonder whether they have accepted and approve of my decision to marry Scott or have just decided to support me because that’s what family do – and besides, they all like a good party. I have no time to decide, as in a few short steps I’m face to face with Scott.

He looks wonderful. He’s wearing a tailor-made Versace suit; it’s a deep aubergine colour with a lime green lining. I’m not sure whether I knew this and had forgotten or whether I’ve ever shown much interest in what Scott was going to wear today. This man, this beautiful and complicated man, is about to become my husband and I’m so lucky. I really am. Ask Amanda Amberd.

Saadi stands up to do a reading. I’m surprised – it was supposed to be my sister, Fiona, who was going to do the first reading; she must have stage fright. I know she’s here. She’s sitting a few rows back in a pew to the left; I heard her crying when I walked down the aisle. Scott chose the reading and it’s been kept a secret from me. I did insist that it wasn’t Corinthians chapter 13. It’s not that I have anything against that reading, it’s just that I’ve heard it one hundred times and know it so well I no Why Marriage?

She coughs and looks my way. ‘Why Marriage, author unknown. Why Marriage? Because to the depths of me, I long to love one person, with all my heart, my soul, my mind, my body.’ Saadi glances at her notes; she clearly hasn’t been given much notice about doing the reading – I bet she’s irritated. She’s a professional; I know she’d have wanted to read this fluently and without prompts. She coughs and then carries on.

‘Why Marriage? Because I need a forever friend to trust with the intimacies of me, who won’t hold them against me, who loves me when I’m unlikeable.’ The words are shockingly poignant. I prick up my ears. Scott chose this reading. Scott wants this from me. He’s talking to me. ‘Who sees the small child in me, and who looks for the divine potential of me.’

I do, I do. I glance at Scott and we lock eyes. His green, sparkling, soul-slicing eyes are drilling into mine. I care for him, so much.

‘Because marriage means opportunity to grow in love, in friendship. Because marriage is a discipline to be added to a list of achievements.’

Even if he’d written these words himself they could not have been more appropriate and moving. The aching disappointment that he did not write the Wedding Album songs for me is some way salved. He does care. So much.

‘I promise myself to take full responsibility for my spiritual, .’ That part is a bit new age-y for my tastes, but it’s still good. ‘Why Marriage? Because I take half of the responsibility for my marriage. Together we create our marriage because with this understanding the possibilities are limitless.’

Saadi sighs with relief at getting through the speech and then quickly returns to her seat. I play the words over and over in my head. ‘I take half of the responsibility for my marriage. Together we create our marriage.’

Two of the little bridesmaids start to whisper and giggle. I don’t know who the culprits are – maybe my nieces. Scott flashes an indulgent grin in their direction; even so, Saadi’s third assistant leaps up and whisks them out of the service. I bet she’s gutted to miss out on the ceremony.

The vicar is talking about how sure he is that Scott and I will have a marvellous day today, supported by all our guests. A prayer is said. A hymn sung. I float above all this. Breathing in the heavy scent of lilies and lavender, catching the odd, muffled ‘oh’ or ‘ah’ from the congregation, feeling the weight of my bouquet and my friends’ concerned glances.

I take half of the responsibility for my marriage.

The vicar calmly intones on and on. He talks about the peace Scott and I have found in one another, but it doesn’t resonate. Scott is offering me many things – peace isn’t one of them. The vicar talks about hope and about life’s quests – that makes more sense. I’m going to need buckets full of hope, and quest is another word for hunt, expedition or mission, isn’t it? He goes on and on and on until –

‘If any one of these people here present today knows of any reason why these two may not be joined in lawful matrimony, may they speak now or forever hold their peace.’

And I stop breathing.

I wait. I wait and I wait. I wait for my brain to make the connection as to exactly what it is I am waiting for.