Page 44 of A Clean Sweep
Minutes later and the cast was beginning to assemble onthe steps of the registry office. Tabitha liked to think of them in that way – players taking their positions, rehearsals over, the production finally ready to be staged. Hard to believe where they’d all been a year ago, how far they’d all come in both individual and collective ways.
'Susan! I hardly recognised you.' Tabitha gave her mum's friend a warm hug, turning to embrace the beaming man by her side. 'And you're looking pretty dapper too, Jonathan.'
The pair of them shuffled closer together with a slightly embarrassed but emphatically chuffed expression on their faces. Susan knew that a large part of her changed appearance was down to shedding over two stone – and still more to go – but the decreasing numbers on the scales only told part of the story. She was free of cancer, although regular checks were still necessary, and beside her stood the man she'd loved, lost and – miraculously – found again. As an accountant she was used to making sense of numbers but she'd given up on counting her blessings. Was just grateful she was alive, with good friends and a man who made her feel everything she'd failed to feel in the past.
More and more people were arriving, the official photographer huddling them into groups on the steps of the registry office. Smile! Click, click went the camera, capturing each moment for posterity. The weather had decided to behave itself after several anxious days of downpours and dark clouds. Now the sun had made a welcome appearance, bathing the guests in its warm glow.
Tabitha spied her aunt Celeste and uncle Michael making their way from the parking area. She suppressed a giggle as Celeste tottered across the gravel driveway in her vertiginous heels, clinging to Michael lest she come a cropper. She was wearing a bright orange dress which almost matched the colour of her fake-tanned skin, hair styled in an elaboratechignon with an enormous fascinator that appeared to have been plucked from some exotic bird.
‘Tabitha, darling! Don’t you look totally ravishing.’ Still clinging to Michael’s arm, she carefully leant in for an air kiss. Just as well, thought Tabitha, who didn’t particularly want to be smeared with gloopy tangerine lip gloss.
‘Hi Aunt Celeste, Uncle Michael.’ Tabitha exchanged a quick hug with her uncle, Celeste now safely on level ground. ‘You both look wonderful. Didn’t you come with Sophie and the boys?’ Just as the words left her lips she heard the unmistakable sound of two tiny terrors approaching at breakneck speed. Scuffing their highly polished shoes through the stones, one wielding a toy aeroplane and making appropriate noises, the other clutching a plastic dinosaur head on a stick.
‘Boys, would youpleaseslow down! And George, stop snapping at your brother’s ear with that damn thing!’ Looking rather flushed and harassed, Sophie caught up with the dynamic duo and grabbed the offending T Rex from her youngest’s hand, prompting a wail of outrage. Sensing imminent meltdown – Edward was rubbing a rather inflamed ear with a distinctly wobbly lower lip – Tabitha delved into her beaded purse and produced a bag of jelly beans. ‘Here boys, look what I just happen to have on me!’ Like starving velociraptors, they pounced on the sweets, cramming handfuls into their mouths. Sophie sighed, then squeezed Tabitha’s hand in gratitude. ‘Not sure a ton of sugar and additives isquitewhat the doctor ordered but at least they’re quiet for now. Thank you.’
Tabitha watched as Sophie and the boys walked towards Celeste and Michael. Her uncle embraced his daughter warmly, before bending down and hugging each of his grandsons in turn. Stepping back, Sophie smiled at Celeste then gave her the briefest peck on the cheek. Celeste in turnruffled the hair of Edward and George in a slightly self-conscious manner. They’d come a long way in the past year, but if Rome wasn’t built in a day then repairing years of damaged relationships and deep-rooted animosity would take considerably longer. Privately, Tabitha thought her aunt a singularly selfish person, her uncle a virtual saint for putting up with her ‘me, me, me’ ways for so long. When the whole painful Sophie saga came out she’d fully expected Michael to walk away and build a new life with his daughter and grandsons. But – to give Celeste some credit – she’d extended an olive branch to Sophie. Who – to give her massive respect – didn’t tell Celeste which orifice she could shove it in. Tabitha could never imagine them having cosy stepmother/stepdaughter tête-à-têtes but at least they’d achieved some workable level of acceptance.
Suddenly the low murmur of the crowd turned to excited whispers then cheers.
‘They’re here! Look, everyone. They’ve arrived!’ Indeed, a powder-blue vintage Austin Healey had swung into the driveway. Tabitha sent up a silent prayer of thanks that the roof was firmly up. Artfully tousled was one thing, dragged through a hedge backwards quite another.
As everyone watched, Joe emerged from the driver’s side and made his way around the car to open the passenger door. He was wearing a slate-grey suit and gleaming white shirt, accentuated with a deep purple tie. He really was a stunning-looking man, thought Tabitha. A collective roar of approval went up as Emily emerged from the car, clutching a small posy of flowers in one hand, her other held firmly by her husband-to-be. Tabitha felt a flood of emotions wash over her, not least pure joy that her wonderful, amazing mum had found true happiness.
'Och Em, you look like an angel!' Her friend Kirsty – who'd flown over from Australia for the occasion – lookedEmily up and down, her face alight with pleasure. Emily self-consciously smoothed down her cream dress, appliquéd with swirls of bronze and taupe. She'd spent hours browsing for it with Tabitha, discarding many for being too over the top or too 'young'. But she'd been immediately smitten when she set eyes on this one. As had Tabitha, judging by the way her eyes had filled when she emerged from the changing room.
'Aye, but you're a wee devil for 'no telling me about your man sooner,' scolded Kirsty good-naturedly.Thathad been an interesting Skype chat three months earlier, with Kirsty shrieking like a madwoman to the point her husband Dave rushed in fearing some medical emergency. He dutifully fetched a hefty glass of Springbank and she toasted Emily and Joe, who she'd demanded step into view of the camera and went a vivid shade of crimson when Kirsty pronounced him 'well braw'.
Dave appeared next to his wife and gave Emily a kiss on each cheek. 'Looking a knock-out as always, Em,' he said before slinging his arm around Kirsty's shoulder. 'And this one doesn't scrub up too badly either!' With mock exasperation Kirsty nudged him in the ribs. 'Less of your cheek, Dave, or I'll be trading?youin for a younger model! Has Joe got a dishy brother by any chance?'
It wastime for the ceremony to begin. As neither Joe nor Emily were particularly religious, they’d opted for a secular service with an officiant recommended to them by Rosemary at Where the Hearth Is. They’d written their own vows which had caused a great deal of hilarity. Emily was adamant there was no way Joe was going to ‘promise to be with you through the toughest trials in our live and cry with you. Except when you’re sobbing at some sappy soap opera storyline. Then, you’re on your own.’ Equally, Joe put his footdown at Emily’s pledge to ‘learn how to check the oil in my car and master the offside rule. Actually, forget that one. Ain’t gonna happen.’ They’d settled for a simple declaration of their lasting love for each other no matter what life threw at them. Till death did them part. The traditional ending had sent a little tremor of fear down Emily’s spine. With their age gap, wasn’t it more than likely she’d be the one to die first? Completely understanding her concern, Joe had kissed her tenderly before reminding her of the famous Joan Collins quote.
‘When she was asked about the thirty-two-year gap between her and her younger husband, she simply replied, “If he dies, he dies.” There are no guarantees, Emily. But I’m in it for the long haul. You won’t get rid of me that easily!’
Stood together at the front, Emily and Joe faced the officiant, a kindly faced man in his mid-sixties called Andrew Black. They’d met him a couple of times beforehand to discuss the proceedings, united in their desire to keep things simple. She’d already done the full-blown wedding thing and Joe was happy to go along with her wishes. He’d confided in her about Caitlin, how he’d thought she might beThe One.
‘There I was, imagining some exotic location. White sandy beach, awesome seafood banquet, hot and cold running waiters. When, the truth was, all I needed was the right person. And I’ve found her.’
Tabitha was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, aware of other sniffling sounds around her. And not just the women. Steve – sitting to her right with Meryl – looked distinctly misty-eyed. Even her normally wise-cracking and wonderfully manly Adam had produced a hankie, although he’d mumbled something about a ‘dodgy contact lens’. Yeah, right.
‘I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.’ As she had no veil to lift, Joe simply took her in hisarms and kissed her. Thoroughly and expertly, only coming up for air when some wag at the back yelled, ‘Oi, get a room!’
It was official. They were married. Mr and Mrs McKenzie. Emily pinched herself hard on the fleshy part below her thumb. Ouch! No, it wasn’t a dream. Or, rather, itwasbut a real-life, wide awake, this hasactuallyhappened, one. Who could have imagined all those months ago that a dead pigeon could have led to this?
‘Are you all right, Em?’ Joe’s words shook her out of her reverie. She rubbed the still-throbbing piece of skin before taking his outstretched hand. Those strong, capable fingers, always immaculately clean. She felt the warmth of his touch, the now-so-familiar yet always electrifying sensation of making physical contact. Mrs Emily McKenzie. Without a doubt, the happiest woman on the planet.
Turning to face their friends and family, Emily was aware of Adam gesturing to Mr Black, who scuttled off to the side. A split-second later, something burst out over the loudspeakers.
‘De-de-de-de-de,De-de-de-de-de,De, boom, boom, boom… Congratulations, and celebrations…’
To loud whoops and applause, Emily and Joe made their way towards the exit, serenaded by Cliff Richard in his heyday. Passing Adam and Tabitha she attempted a frown but the moment was so surreal, so totally bonkers it somehow feltright.
‘It washisidea, honest, Mum,’ hissed Tabitha as Emily kissed her before passing her the posy of flowers. ‘Wait, aren’t you supposed to throw those outside, and whoever catches them is next down the aisle?’
Emily patted her indulgently on the cheek before moving off. Her parting shot was aimed at Adam. ‘Thought I wouldn’t leave it to chance, darling. And, don’t worry, Adam. Revengewillbe mine. Maybe a little “I Should Be So Lucky”?’
Leaving Tabitha clutching the flowers and blushing profusely, Emily and Joe made their way to the car, now festooned with a Just Married sign. Liberally covered in confetti, they clambered in and headed into town.
The reception was at Bar Belle. They’d negotiated a good deal on a delicious buffet and free-flowing champagne, wine, beers and soft drinks. Tabitha had taken charge of the organisation and decoration. All the tables had silver and gold heart-shaped balloons as their centrepiece, and Meryl had sourced some flame-shaped place cards bearing everyone’s name. Adam had sorted out a DJ and a small area had been cleared as a dance floor. He’d promised – hand on heart – to play at least a few Abba tracks but any more Cliff Richard and he was a dead man.
