Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 832 by Angharad

I walked down the aisle in a daze, encouraged by Tom and the girls. “We’s bwidesmaids, Mummy,” giggled Mima

“You look really beautiful today, Mummy,” said Trish and I felt her arm around mine. Before me, stood Simon, I recognised the suit and some other man. As I neared them, I could see it was Henry. I’d never heard of someone having their dad as best man. Beyond them stood Marguerite, did she know this was a surprise to me. Surprise party–difficult but okay; surprise wedding–I don’t know what I think.

I honestly would never have thought that Simon was capable of organising this. There weren’t more than a few other people there: Pippa, Dan, Neal and Gloria from the department, Erin and Alan from my film and Monica. Is that why she wasn’t down to see Henry? Surely not, and what if Henry had died? They surely wouldn’t have gone through with this then, would they? If they had, I’d have been legging it away from here double quick. As it is, I’m not sure if I’m going to stay.

We suddenly stopped and Stella popped a small posy into my hands. I took it without actually registering what it was.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered...” Marguerite started to the small congregation. I kept thinking when she gets to the bit about anyone having just cause, I would say something.

My attention was taken by the building, it was a very pretty church–I looked up at the ceiling–big mistake. My head started to swim and instead of just cause, I just keeled over as everything went black.

Apparently Simon managed to grab my arm as I doubled up, which explained why I had some bruises on it the next day. I didn’t however hit the floor, which being stone would have hurt. He carried me out to the vestry and laid me in a chair.

Marguerite took over, “Cathy, are you okay?”

“My head feels funny,” I said, because it did and I felt sick. Someone, Stella I think, shoved a bucket in front of me and I threw up.

“This happens all the time,” said Marguerite’s voice, “Could someone tell the others, there’ll be a short interval.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I eventually forced out in between retches.

“I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“It was that alright,” I paused and upchucked again, “please note, I didn’t say nice one.”

“Cathy, do you not consent to this wedding?” asked Marguerite.

“I don’t know,” I said feeling the room slow to a gentler orbit.

“I can’t marry you unless you’re sure. I assumed because you asked me months ago that you were keen on the idea.”

“I am–keen on the idea–oh my head.”

“So she does consent, don’t you, Babes.”

“Do I?” I asked.

“No, Babes, it’s–I do.”

“Is it?” my head was swimming.

“Use your blue light, Mummy,” called Trish’s voice.

“I can’t find the switch, sweetheart,” I called back.

“Let me try,” Trish pushed her way through, “Come on, Mummy, feel the light.” She placed her hands either side of my head. I placed mine on top of hers and I felt my head clearing. I opened my eyes and she was surrounded by an aura of blue light–it was so beautiful, I wondered for a moment if I was looking at an angel. I hugged her, and she said, “Please marry Daddy, otherwise we can’t be bridesmaids.”

Her words caught me in my throat where a huge lump formed and it seemed to pain in my chest as well and for a moment, I wondered if I was having a heart attack. Then I realised I was, not of a physical sort, but an emotional one. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I hugged her. “Don’t cry, Mummy,” she said and hugged me tighter.

A few minutes ago, I felt anger and shock at what Simon had done. Everyone knew but me. For a moment I felt outrage–then I realised, he thought he was doing something special for me, for me and the children. It was certainly a surprise–initially a nasty one because it shocked me–then as I thought about it, and the shock wore off, I realised if I said no, that would be it–my little family would be over because they were all out of kilter with me. I always fully intended marrying Simon, but it was always tomorrow, why? I don’t know. I wasn’t scared of the commitment, except I worried that it would constrain me as an individual, yet I wanted the three children for whom I cared, to commit to me–so why couldn’t I to them? I felt the love of the embrace of this child and it was killing me, exposing the cowardice in my own heart. If I loved her, I needed to act like her mother not her guardian and I wanted to be her mother, more than anything. I wanted my family to stay together, to fight together for the sake of the children because in protecting and nurturing them, we’d do the same for ourselves–as we watched them grow, so we would grow with them.

Someone passed me a tissue and I gently dabbed my eyes. I kissed Trish and stood up. I looked Simon in the eye and said, “Don’t you ever try anything like this again without discussing it with me.” He went to speak and I shut him up with a glance. “Let’s do it,” I said and walked out to the nave holding Trish’s hand.

I can’t honestly say I remember too much of the service, Trish, Livvie and Mima surrounded me as I said, “I do,” and as Simon said the same. Suddenly a ring was put on my finger and we were pronounced man and wife. Unless this was a dream, I really was Lady Catherine Cameron.

We were led back out to the vestry and with Tom and Henry, signed the register. Now it was legal, my God. I was still in a slight daze, Henry, Stella, Tom and Monica surrounded us and we were hugged and kissed. Then three little girls led us back out to the church and the small group who awaited us applauded as we emerged.

I didn’t eat much of my lunch but I certainly won’t forget my twenty sixth birthday in a hurry, nor the precious looks on the faces of three little girls who’d sort of fulfilled an ambition for the first time. At Trish’s age, I’d have killed to be a bridesmaid. We didn’t do the job properly now, and over lunch I told Simon that I assumed we’d be doing a very public ceremony sometime in the spring. I enjoyed telling him that–he spilled soup in his lap–but he agreed and I also recalled that we had to invite another little girl to take part if she wanted.

Tom said he’d happily pay for his daughter’s formal wedding blessing, but Henry told him it would be his pleasure to lay on the service at Stanebury, and Marguerite was asked if she’d do it again for us.

“I’d be delighted, if your local priest doesn’t mind.”

“Stella, you can help me organise it, and this time I want the works, white dress, long dresses for the bridesmaids, the men in formal dress–kilts, perhaps?”

“Only if it’s a warm day,” said Henry.

“Och ye big Jessie,” said Tom, and everyone laughed.

We did have a couple of photos of the day, the best one was of Simon and I with the three girls–were becoming a family, a proper family. On Monday, I was going to ask our solicitor to start the process to adopt these girls–dammit, I was going to become their mother if it took me the rest of my life.

“Whit aboot a honeymoon?” Tom asked Simon.

“We’ve just been away for a couple of weeks–I think, Cathy, I mean Lady Cameron, my wife, would prefer to get back into her routine with the girls–oh and we’re going to see Father Christmas in Lapland in a fortnight, just for the weekend–with the girls of course.”

As you will imagine, that went down very well with three school girls. Personally, if I get to meet him, Father Christmas, that is–I’m gonna ask him what happened to the doll I requested every year from age three to eleven? That should fix the fat bastard!