CHAPTER 106
We pulled off the motorway at last, the minibus feeling heavy as I started to handle bends rather than sweeping curves, turning right at a roundabout and then past the airport. There were three more roundabouts, and then a turning into a field by a tiny little river, tents scattered over the grass. I stepped out to stretch my back, Frank’s hands on my shoulders to massage the tension away, and the younger girls went looking for someone to talk to as Alun parked his own car and started dragging out his and Alicia’s kit.

There was red and white tape pinned down over the grass to leave roadways, and as I parked the bus up more neatly, the boys began hauling our own tents out. The sun was warm on the back of my neck as I stooped to shake out my sleeping bag, the well-trained lackeys having put my tent up first.

One of the lackeys was Frank, of course, and it was his tent as well, so perhaps not that generous. I set out the sleeping mats, arranged the bedding, and then saw Charlie and Tiff returning, carrying a couple of cartons of milk which I assumed they had bought in the garage over the road. That was hint enough, and Pat would have been proud of me as I set up the cooker and filled the kettle. I needed tea…

Charlie was happy.

“Found Diane! Her boy’s with loads of other kids, all being mad things. Says there’s music tonight”

“I knew that, love! Now, food. What are we doing for food?”

Seb called over to us that there was a pub out the back of the church that did food, and that there was a Tesco not far away, which set Frank to laughing.

“Takes me back, love! Grateful I started there, I am”

I grinned at him.

“And why’s that?”

“Because how else would I have ended up finding Gemma here?”

“Sod!”

He took the bus to the supermarket in the end, loading up with food for the two nights, and as we fed ourselves in the warmth of the early evening, I found myself playing back memories of rallies I had been to with Mam and Dad, Rosie and Sam. Carl…

No. Not this weekend. I nearly forgot that resolution when we made our way round to the church hall, where we found a bar set up, a dance floor and little stage laid outside on the grass. So many people, so many strangers. Sparky started to look twitchy, but I managed to talk him down as we checked out the hall itself. I got my first shock of the weekend there.

He was just as big as I remembered, the moustache still drooping, though tinged with grey now, and I felt nervous as I walked over to him to say hello.

“Do I know you?”

It wasn’t said in a nasty way, but warmly, and with just a hint of puzzlement. I smiled up at him.

“Possibly. You might remember my Mam and Dad, and… and a friend of mine we said goodbye to a little while ago. Lad called Goat, back then”

His eyes widened.

“Bloody hell, of course! Sound man… Look, what do I call you?”

“I’m Debbie”

“Right. I am Steve. First, I heard about what happened, so let’s leave that bit closed, okay? Not being nasty, but not on a weekend like this. And I think I’ve just placed you. Ken and Lorraine? Traders?”

He caught my wince, and took my hand.

“And him gone as well. Picking some shit topics for a party, woman”

“Sorry, but just thought I should warn you. Got a couple of younger girls here. No good time to say this, but I need to get it in. Both of them met someone else you know. Joe Evans”

His face closed up like a rat trap.

“Oh, fuck! I hope you have some better news to talk about, after those little hand grenades”

“I have; I just wanted to let you know some things you need to steer clear of. I am actually here for a happy weekend too, so let’s make some better memories, okay?”

His eyes bored into mine, a flow of emotions passing behind them before he laughed, and we spent a happy half hour sharing anecdotes and memories, including some of naked bodies on sun-washed grass. Good times; by all the gods, but weren’t they the best of times? I looked over my shoulder to see if I could spot Frank, and saw him with Sparky, talking to a slim man in a dog collar. Ah.

“Steve?”

“Yeah, love?”

“Got to go. Lot of stuff to sort out this weekend, so see you about?”

He took my hands in his, so gentle, so strong.

“Your Mum and Dad? You found the right place for them?”

How to explain in such a short time? I remembered their shared ashes, flying across the waves of grass by a soldier’s little place of comfort in an uncaring world, flying as free as their lives had been, as mine had been with them…

“Yes, Steve. The best of places”

“For the best of people. Thank you, Debbie. Goat spoke a lot about you. Nice to see how right he was. Enjoy the weekend”

He turned away, rather abruptly, but his eyes were gleaming. I headed over to Frank and Sparky, recognising the vicar as the one I had first spotted in that news report so long ago, joining them as they chatted, Frank’s arm falling naturally over my shoulder as he introduced me.

“Vicar…”

“Simon, please. On a weekend like this, we try and avoid all the titles and stuff”

“Simon. This is Debbie. Deb, Simon looked after Melanie Stevens when, you know…”

Sparky was trembling, and Simon clearly noticed. He called out to a young lad heading into the hall with a case of beer.

“Darren?”

“Yes, boss?”

“Cheek… Could you please find your Mum, and Sally and her husband? Ask them all to pop over?”

He turned back to Sparky as the lad trotted off, smiling in as gentle a way as I had ever seen.

“Just waiting for a few friends, and then I will take you to see her. Are you sure you will be okay?”

Sparky shrugged.

“Come all this way, Padre. Got to be done, isn’t it?”

His face twisted, as he looked away for a while, then he was back with us.

“Done a lot worse, haven’t I? Good woman she was. Only wish I had been given a chance to meet her”

The lad was back, Annie in tow, a grin spreading across her face as she saw me.

“Hiya, Debbie! How’s she doing?”

“Charlie or Di?”

She laughed, as happily as I could hope for.

“You know exactly who I meant!”

I found myself grinning at her.

“Here with us, isn’t she? You can ask her yourself. Oh, and I need to say ta to your mate, um, Woodruff? Got a lot to say thanks for”

“No worries. I’ll point her at you. Simon, Darren didn’t say what you wanted”

His smile was just a little strained.

“In a minute, Annie. Just waiting for… ah. Over here, mate!”

Sparky suddenly stood straighter.

“Stewie? Stewie McDuff? Fuck me!”

A short, fit-looking man with a nose to match Sammy Patel’s was standing transfixed a few yards away.

“Sparky? Sparky fucking Sheridan? What the.. Simon, sorry, mate”

Before I could blink, they were wrapped around each other, tears shining on both faces, and I didn’t need to ask, as Sparky had said so much, so long ago. This was Melanie Stevens’ mate, her companion in war; the one Sparky had thought might have been her lover. That man, Stewie, pulled away from Sparky, indicating a woman waiting nearby.

“Sparky, mate, fucking hell, MATE! Shit! Um. This is my wife, Sally. She was Mel’s best mate”

Suddenly, he seemed lost for words, and as Sally stepped forward, he looked over at Simon.

“Going to take a walk over, mate? Sparky, need to explain a bit. This is Annie. She was with Mel when, well. Annie, my love?”

She was nodding, but her hands were clenched.

“Sparky?”

“Yes?”

“I… I couldn’t help her at the end, but we found her the best place we could. Will you walk with us?”

He nodded, and I went to go with him, but Simon took my arm as the rest walked over to a corner of the ranks of gravestones.

“No, Debbie. Private things, yes? Anyway, we do have rather a lot to sort out! You have rather overloaded my schedule for tomorrow”

Frank looked a little abashed.

“Sorry, Simon. It’s just that this woman has been avoiding me for so many years that I didn’t dare risk saying no to her choice of venue”

Simon was still smiling, which seemed to be his default expression, but at no point did it ever look to be anything other than genuine.

“Not to worry, Frank. I do have more than a little experience in this sort of thing. Now…”

He spent about half an hour talking us through the plans and timings, before grinning rather than smiling.

“Now, a couple of things. My own wife may be teetotal, but I am most certainly not. We have a sort of ticket system for this evening, as everything has grown so much since the first event, so while our evening fun will mostly be outdoors, the bar is limited to invited friends. We would be unable to cope otherwise, but tomorrow’s main event will have a professional bar open for all. I would therefore suggest that if you want a drink tonight, on site that is, you pop round the corner to… Does your grin mean what I assume it does, frank?”

My man just nodded.

“I never leave things to the last minute, butt! Anyway, evening like this one, be a shame to sit indoors. Now, they are on their way back over. We haven’t told many people what’s happening tomorrow, so shush, please. You okay, Sparky?”

My old friend simply walked to me for a hug, as fierce an embrace as I had ever been given, and whispered “Thank you, love” into my ear. Simon raised an eyebrow towards ‘Stewie’, receiving a single nod, then turned back to us.

“I think that is three of you on the ‘invited friends’ list, then. I shall let Merry know. Until later, then?”

He was off across the grass to his church, and I was left with my own smiles as he went. This was so right a choice, so much the place to make things better. Stewie, Sparky and the two women were heading off the same way, I assumed to finish their sharing of memories, and I sent a wish with them.

Let there be light in there, somewhere. Let there be smiles behind the pain. I looked across to the tents, just as Cathy and Nell drove in with their men, followed by Benny and Peter, and I decided I needed just a little more us-together time before it became all-of-us-together.

“Frank?”

“Yes, love?”

“I think we should go and find Diane, say hello”

“Get attacked by hyperactive small person?”

I grinned back.

“Like that is a problem for you?”

So many people…

She was sitting with a group in camping chairs on the grass beside the dance floor and little stage, a pint mug of tea in her hand, as Rhod ran past screaming with a group of other children, pausing his siren impression just long enough to shout “Hiya Aunty Debbie Uncle Frank NEE NA NEE NA…”, and I caught a snort from Diane.

“We come here, Debbie, and he can’t make up his mind if he’s a plane or a police car. Thank god for Lainey’s family is what I say. They’ve got a babysitter roster for tonight. Bloody well organised, this. You know Lainey and Siân, they’ve got a couple of the louder ones, and this is Sar, Lainey’s sister”

She waved her free hand at a skinny strawberry blonde, as I added her to the ‘Don’t mention Joe Evans’ list. Sar smirked.

“My offspring is old enough to be sensible, Diane”

Lainey chuckled.

“Isn’t he off face-sucking with Arris’s eldest?”

Sar’s smirk broke into a grin.

“Aye, chwaer fawr, and I would argue that snogging is a far better pastime than impersonating a fire engine!”

“Police car!”

“Ambulance!”

Once again, as the teasing continued, I found myself remembering days at the Welsh Coast or Fumble, and as Elaine snagged another couple of chairs for us, I introduced Frank.

“Love, Diane you know. This is Elaine, Di’s old boss, and her wife Siân, who you might remember from Chris’s stag do, if you remember anything at all…”

He snorted,

“Glass bloody houses, woman!”

“… and, if I have it right, Elaine’s sister Sar. Ladies, this is Frank. He likes bread”

Sar leant forward in her chair as Frank, with firm instructions from me, headed for the hall to grab me another cuppa.

“Debbie, you were chatting to a friend of mine, earlier. Steve?”

“Yeah. Sort of known him by sight a long time, but never really had a chance to say hello properly. Rallies, Welsh ones”

“Oh! Another biker! Which rallies?”

“Loads, but main two were the Farmyard Fumble and the Welsh Coast summer one”

“Shit! That’s where… Long story. Took a mate to that one, we met a couple of lads, and we ended up married to the pair of them. It’s Steve’s daughter my boy is off with. If I say ‘naked bodies’…?”

“Lazy Riders? Oh yes. And do you remember Fester?”

“Bloody hell aye! Amazing breakfasts”

“Just thinking, Sar: I remember Steve at one of those rallies, with a big guy, black beard?”

“Yup! That’s my Tone”

She sounded smug, but once again there was far more going on behind the smiles, so much unspoken between the family members. Frank returned with two mugs of tea, and a message.

“I know you’ve been looking to see that Mrs Woodruff, Debbie. I found her by the stage. She’ll pop over in a few”

Sar asked me what I might want with the woman, and I smiled back at her.

“One of my girls was over this way for her surgery, down at the Nuffield in Brighton. Di was with her, and I will always be grateful to you for that, my love. I met Annie a little while after the trip, but it was Steph Woodruff who put them up some of the time”

I realised Sar was staring at me, in a way I knew so well. I spread my hands.

“I see Diane has kept confidences. Thanks, Di. I run a shelter for trans girls in Cardiff”

Frank put a hand on my knee.

“Does an amazing job, does Debbie. Got a load of them through to University, and good ones too. Cardiff, Bristol, Aberystwyth. One of them works for me, so she’s setting up in the hall. Brought these over…”

Out of a carrier bag came one of his cardboard boxes, and conversation paused for a little while as Gemma’s work did its tricks with palates, and then Sar was licking her fingertips while speaking. I got the message, just, around the crumbs, which was that Aberystwyth had been her own university. So many links, so many might-have-been meetings.

“I have the two Aberystwyth girls here, Sar. Want me to send them your way?”

“That would be nice. Now, that’s Steph Woodruff behind you”

Diane called out “Hiya Steph!”; I craned my neck over my left shoulder, and nearly fell out of the chair before rising to my feet. I took a few seconds to find my voice.

“Er, hello. I… I believe we have met. If I have it right, you play the violin?”

She was still as slim, still as ginger, but the pony tail was undone, and those were breasts… there was a smile there now, not a look of despair. The smile drifted into a puzzled look, and as I stepped a little way from the others, she asked the obvious question.

“Met? When was that?”

I lowered my voice as much as I could without actually having to bend forward and whisper into her ear.

“Years ago, it was. Owen wondered where you had gone”

“Owen?”

“Spotted Cow, in Bethesda. We still go there for the folk night when we are up that way. Owen’s retired now, I think, but yeah, that was where. That and the Mole pub in Capel Curig”

“Bryn Tyrch… hang on. Did you give me a lift one night? Bloody cold one, up to Big Willy’s?”

I nodded.

“Didn’t want to out you, Steph”

She gave me a quick hug before standing back once more.

“Ah, they all know me here. Shit. I wasn’t in a good place back then”

I found myself laughing, as her manner eased my own.

“Got someone else with me that’ll remember you, as well as Charlie. Cathy, Nell and me, we used to call you the Ginger Misery. What happened?”

She was standing with her head down, old demons obviously paying her a visit, and a fleeting one, as she straightened, smiling far more happily.

“Friends, Debbie, friends. And family, a bloody wonderful one. My husband. That’s what. I made one decision, just when I needed to, and… “

She started laughing.

“Problem now is that every time we go to North Wales, Geoff and me, we have to stop the car twice. Second time is at the Geeler Arms, where you get the first real view of the mountains”

“I know the spot!”

“Yeah. It’s a tradition now for us. Other place is where we have a proper snog, parked up that is, where we first met, in Shrewsbury”

She caught something in my own expression, and led me much further away, where we shared our stories, heavily edited in my case, before she hugged me once more.

“So many people for you to meet this weekend, woman. When are you heading back?”

“Sunday evening”

“Well, I shall leave you with a gift, then. Simon has told me why you are here, as I will be playing for you. What are your tastes in music?”

“Oh, wide, but all sorts of rock, folk, folk rock”

“Names?”

“Um, Tull, Steeleye, Chicago blues, Zep. Rhythm and blues”

“Can you waltz?”

“Sort of. I know Frank can”

“Grab a few minutes with Steve, then. He is a dab hand. Now, simple question, last one: do you have a favourite song, one that sums up your life?”

“I thought I was supposed to sort this all out with Simon!”

“Ah, not only is he a bloke, but he is NOT the musician here. Song?”

I told her, and she grinned.

“I know it! I can guarantee a rather different arrangement, but you will love it. Now, off to finish setting up for tomorrow, and Debbie?”

“Yes?”

“My husband was the man who allowed me to live my real life, him and his family, and Sally, of course. Thing is, that night was one where I might have given up on the walk back. Cold nights, alcohol and… and the inability to take any more; not a good cocktail. Without you, well, Geoff and the rest, they would have been academic. Thank you. Really”

Another hug, and she was away, so right in her skin at last that I found my earlier memories of her fading. What a world. As she went, she called back with a grin, “Don’t get too pissed tonight!”

There was a quiet cough at my shoulder, and I turned to find Cathy and Nell staring after Mrs Woodruff. Nell found her voice first.

“Was that who we think it was?”

I just nodded; no more needed saying.

We were, indeed, pissed, just a little, as several people gathered on stage, including Annie and Steph, to make some decent sounds that people could get up and dance to. I kept my counsel to myself, though. The morning would bring more than another day.

Simon had offered his own bedroom to change in, and while I wasn’t in white, three of my girls had found matching dresses that went to a size big enough for Gemma. Once ready, I walked quietly to the side door of the church, which was now full of some slightly hungover campers, as well as locals. We had managed, with Simon’s help, to keep the appropriate pews empty, and as I waited at the door and adjusted my circlet of flowers, a confused Diane, wearing a camping sun hat, was led out by one of her colleagues. She looked me up and down, as Gemma, Charlie and Tiff grinned, and I waved at them.

“Girl needs a chance to be a bridesmaid, Di. Can’t imagine three finer”

Di was clearly struggling to take it in.

“I am honoured, Deb, but you could have given me some warning. Anyway, not exactly a maid, am I?”

I took a second to spot her misunderstanding, then shook my head.

“What? Oh! No, not you. Three’s enough. And the Matron’s just arrived. Hiya, Rosie! Cut it fine, why don’t you?”

My sister had indeed only just arrived, and while she was not wearing her patch, she still bore a pin badge of her colours. She turned a glare on Diane, but there was a twinkle hiding, that of my sister when she had taught me how to play Pooh sticks.

“Copper”

Diane wasn’t one to take the backward step.

“Wildcat”

Rosie’s twinkle couldn’t be hidden, and she walked right into a hug with Di.

“Just the once, aye, and no photos! You ready, Deb?”

“Think so”

My voice must have wobbled a little, because she simply stepped over to me, taking both of my hands in hers.

“No. Are you fucking ready for this? Do it or say fuck it, but choose now”

As if the player had been listening, the organ started up with the traditional Mendelssohn. Memories of a stupid night out with him, so many years ago. Eating chips by the Taff. That first kiss. There was only one possible decision, and I gave Rosie my answer.

“Then it is ‘Fuck it, let’s do it’, then. Come on, girls”

Di started to follow us, but Rosie stopped her, just as Jon turned up. Rosie’s tone was almost rude.

“No. Not you. Not yet”

Rosie led me in, Paul standing by Frank, Di and Jon now following us, as Jon’s own intended entered from the door I had been waiting outside. The choir had started up as the organ stopped playing, and it was ‘Saucy Sailor’, just the very song, and as the singers, who were astonishingly good, finished on Dad’s favourite words, words sung by him in an old Commer van, words sung by me to a frightened girl in a tent, Simon was grinning as if he had just won the lottery.

“Dearly beloved, and I never tire of hearing and saying those words. I am fortunate indeed to have found a place in this world that allows me such joy in my work, and today it is another moment of such delight. I am aware that this may be a surprise to many of you, but this morning I ask you if you will stay to witness the joyful union of Deborah and Francis, and that of Jonathon and Rhys. If you feel that such is not for you, then our kitchen remains open, and there are refreshments available at reasonable prices before we begin the day’s customary festivities”

I saw a couple of people walk out at that point, but screw them. We don’t give a single pin, me boys, do we? Simon continued, but I was less conscious of his words than I was of Frank’s hand in mine.

“I have been fortunate indeed to preside over the marriages of many of you, but each remains a wonder to me, a true sacrament of the highest. That two people should find each other, should enjoy love and companionship through life, is precisely what our Lord intended when He created us, but it is made even brighter by its sharing. That is what today is all about: sharing, declaring one’s love to others, spreading joy throughout. Now, I have spoken for too long, and there are four people before me with important and wondrous things to experience…”

He turned to me first.

“Do you, Deborah Petrie Wells…”

Then to Frank, then Jon, then Rhys, our two ceremonies being carried out simultaneously. At one point, Simon started feigning confusion.

“Who is marrying whom here? Is it you to Frank, Elaine?”

That woman just laughed.

“You’re doing the marrying, vicar: sort it out or we’ll call Pat up!”

Such a happy smile from him at that one, and I realised how well these people knew each other, how well they all loved and cared. He was back on track, seamlessly, and the finale was traditional.

“Let him forever hold his peace”

“I now pronounce”

“You may kiss”

There were photos and bouquet-throwing, multiple congratulations, and all the way through it, that choir was harmonising its way through Welsh hymns and finishing with a song I had always found more than a little hackneyed, but they gave ‘Unchained Melody’ such a rendition that I couldn’t help but cry. Rosie was off far too quickly, but there was music coming from the outdoor stage now, as the band tuned up. Our little party fed quickly from the catering set up in the hall, before Simon called four of us onto the dance floor.

“Not the most traditional of wedding dances, but! Take it away, my friends”

Two waltzes, one of them (I asked later) called ‘Fanny Power’ and the other ‘Dream Waltz’, the practice session I had been given by Steve helping only just about enough, while Jon and Rhys had a mock domestic argument over who should lead, before applause, and a very well-endowed woman calling out “Square sets for La Russe!”

I danced with my husband, I danced with Paul and Sparky in turn, with all of my various girls’ men, with Simon, with the huge Steve, with Diane’s Dad and Elaine’s cousin, so many others, and we drank beer and tea, snacked on fruit or pastries (Gemma doing a roaring trade) until the light began to fade, just a little.

There was a raffle, the money going to a trans kids’ charity as well as to an electric wheelchair for one of Diane’s friends, I spent time between her sessions on stage sharing memories (and making more) with Steph Woodruff, and at no point did I think of Cooper, throughout that day and subsequent night.

It was an amazing evening, for after the dancing had finished, and the various ‘strangers’ had departed for home or pub, my group was simply asked to join the rest in the hall, where it took off to another plane entirely.

My memories ended up very, very mixed, because that rule about defining ‘too pissed’ was being stretched to its limit, but what I do remember is mostly musical. That Annie, on a flute that she was playing in Ian Anderson style, with her husband on guitar, and the former ginger misery on both ordinary and electric violin, Elaine’s cousin on vocals as powerful as any rock singer, tore into Locomotive Breath, Enter Sandman and Whole Lotta Love, and I simply had to get up and rock out, which seemed to be an extremely popular choice, and after it had all finished, I rocked out with Frank, as he did inside me, and that bit I did remember so, so well the next day.

We left it until the afternoon to depart, but Paul had been counting his units like a good copper should, and once we were packed up, and the farewells given and received, we pulled out of the field for the short drive to the airport, where our plane was only twenty minutes late on departure.

I sat in the window seat as we droned off to the Southwest, memories coming and going in my drowsy mind. There had been a moment when three young men had sat talking, before separating and going back to Nell, Cathy and Gemma. I had received a text from Kim that morning:

Congrats Mrs Bunn the Baker! Phil taken hint! Need ur vicar details!

We caught up the delay in the flight, and our transfer taxi was waiting for us, the air feeling blisteringly hot as we walked the short distance from airport to car. The traffic was heavy in places, but our driver knew his way, and it wasn’t long before he dropped us off at a small hotel.

The sign read ‘Two Canny Lads’, a rainbow flag flying over the door. As Frank settled the fare, I looked around, seeing many more rainbows, before he took my hand as we walked in and up to the reception desk. A local woman called through an open door.

“Your guests are here!”

Two men, two familiar faces, came round the end of the counter to greet us. I kissed them both, and, to my astonishment, so did Frank, who grinned.

“Hi, I’m Frank. You two must be Graham and Malcolm. I think you both know my wife Debbie”