CHAPTER 46
It sounds trite to say something as obvious about your own wedding day as ‘I will never forget…’ but that was a simple fact. Things happened, people were there, that engraved it on my soul. One thing, one instant…

To an outside eye, it may appear odd, but it was Eric that was our friend, first and foremost, Annie almost coming along for the ride. I mean, she was one of my lodestones, the proof that my life could work, but it was Eric who had been there, solid, dependable as the air Ian continued to breathe, Eric who had found the place to allow us to care for him as a family rather than fear for him at a distance. They were clearly a double act, or rather a trio, with their son, but it was that man who had made the difference in our lives, and there he was, in a way that spoke of easy familiarity, with a guitar and his wife, among other friends, to give us his music. Annie was holding a wooden flute.

“Now I know this day is really about one couple here, but I heard this one, and, well, this is a day for lovers, and there are three here that this tune…still applies to. It’s called ‘Geordie Lad’ “

Cheeky cow. It turned out to be a delight, a soulful, lilting tune of real beauty, and I made a point of catching the eye of each of them. Jim. John. Ian… Von was looking away, as Bethy shuffled by with James, but the other two were smiling happily at their lovers. The tune rose and fell, and Eric smiled at his wife as he hit chords that rang as bells, and Steph joined quietly in as young Darren did his bit, and love was played live for all. I could almost get into that music, I felt. Well, for a few moments, at least.

Things got wilder, though, and we got some Tull and other stuff, which was more to my taste. Eric was grinning happily away as two women went absolutely mad in front of him. Just as Annie was doing something one-legged and silly, my wife tapped my shoulder.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice, love!”

She was holding a pair of flat pumps out to me.

“Ta, love! These shoes; not best for dancing, like”

She beamed. “Don’t thank me! John suggested it, so I gave him a key and told him where”

“You had some man poking through our wardrobe?”

“You can check your knicker drawer later, lover. Right now, it’s on your feet and start shaking it all about”

Sadist. We got part way through our bit of grooving and the music just stopped, which made me look up to where the son of that big Welshman---Arwel?---where his son was holding his hands up for hush.

‘That big Welshman’. Stupid statement’ most of them were huge, but I remembered Arwel from a couple of conversations, and his son clearly came from the same quarry.

“Ladies, gentlemen, we are heading towards the end of our permitted time here, aye? For music, that is; I don’t think his vicarness will be turfing us out, and Dad’s just gone off for more beer. I know, I know, but he says he’s got the trout to drive for him, just she doesn’t understand good beer, aye?”

He waited for the laughter to die down, grinning.

“I also know that I’m nothing official here, but I got the mike, aye? We can’t do the loud stuff much later, for neighbours, see, so we’re going to finish off with one dedicated to the happy couple, aye, and to all the other couples here today. Eric…”

The smaller man had been plugging wires into things behind Arwel’s son, whose sheer bulk had kept most of Eric’s activity hidden, and when he turned round he had a Gibson electric slung round his neck. He nodded to his musical partners.

“Ready? Follow me in…”

The riff was unforgettable and unmistakeable, and even without a bass it hammered away nicely, driven by Darren and James on their music dishes, and then the big man, Hywel, almost purred the words into the mike.

“You need coolin’…”

I mean, there are more traditional songs to love, but the title alone was worth it, and it was the music of my youth, and it was filthy, sexual music, so what else could I do in a public place but follow the wife’s orders and, indeed, shake it all about. The dance floor was full, Arwel arriving with the beer just as his son began his star part, and there was sheer pride in his smile, even as his wife abandoned him for her own mad moments.

A whole lot of love, indeed, and an awful lot of beer. The next morning was painful, but we were home, we were with family, and we were properly married. The usual morning need was present, and as I slipped out of the bed Larinda just murmured “Put the kettle on on your way”

“It’s downstairs!”

“Make a detour, lover”

To my astonishment, after I returned downstairs to finish the job, Bethy and Hays were in the kitchen, in the process of making a full English. My head had a little argument with my stomach, but the smell of frying bacon beat both into submission. As wedding breakfasts go it was hardly traditional, but I wasn’t going to complain. I took a cuppa up to the wife, thinking how all had turned out, so differently to how I had imagined. So much better than I could ever have imagined, and still surprising me.

“Arse out of bed, pet, they’re doing us breakfast”

Dressing gown on, slippers afoot, we stumbled down to the kitchen, and I was wondering how bad her own hangover was. That was pushed out by the sight of Ian and Von at the table. When had that happened? Stupid bloody question; last night, obviously. Von gave me a little look, almost defiant, but she had his hand in hers and, I realised, his heart with it. Ian smiled at us.

“Bad morning?”

Larinda gave the answer. “No. Not at all. This is the best of all possible mornings, innit?”

Bacon, sausage, toast, eggs, STUFF, it all got eaten, and for once I watched my brother eat with relish. Whatever Eric’s colleagues were doing, it seemed to be doing the trick, and that fact was something the girls had clearly picked up on. It was possibly the happiest breakfast I will ever have. Newly wed, my family with me (and Von was most definitely family) and a Spring morning glowing outside; what more could I ask for?

“How, lass, what’s the plan for the day?”

“No idea, bro. See what the old couple fancy?”

“Whey, I was thinking, like…but no, the girls would hate it”

Bethy sat up straight, clearly picking up a Dad-vibe.

“Like, what would we hate?”

Ian sat and made a great show of thinking. “Well, Brighton Pier, like”

“DADDY!”

And so we ended up in a mix of rides and bad fast food, the ‘old couple’ insisting on their nice cup of tea as the gulls and girls screamed, and Ian shot things, and I thanked Simon’s god for that day.