CHAPTER 42
That was an odd time, truly odd. I had spent my entire, if compressed, academic career listening to people tell me things, explaining to them what I thought I understood, and then listening to them correct me, sometimes dismissively.

Now, I was learning how to be the one doing the telling.

Emily crowed a little over our results, as I had only got a 2:1 to her First, but her heart wasn’t in such competitiveness, and I remained proud of my brunette genius. Peter and Barbara were, of course, ecstatic at her achievement, and we all had a little dinner to celebrate the results. By ‘all’, of course, I mean nothing like my extended family, just two sets of parents and us. There had been a few hiccups with that concept, as Barbara in particular seemed to suffer from double vision when she looked at me. , That sort of confirmed me in my never-ending internal debate on whether, or how, to change myself.

I was slowly coming out of the shadows, but there were still moments when I would awake from some nightmare of weight and rough penetration to find Emily holding me, or sometimes Karen, as the nightmare took flight back to its lair. This was how I learned the real meaning of love, and how many forms it took, from the urgent totality of Em for me, to the ferocious protectiveness of my grandmother. There was a trick Val taught me, which was to imagine, every time a thought of the hellbitch stirred in me, to imagine my grandmother charging in with her old crook to lay about her; without telling Val, I turned sheepcrook into ice axe, and enough said there.

Christmas came, and the message went out: nothing expensive, but something special, so typically for Brian the ‘inexpensive’ was a basic Ford Fiesta for me, and a day training with Newcastle’s first team for Iain. He, of course, asked ‘Why not Carlisle?”

“Because that would mean training with me, and that’s hardly special, is it?”

That seemed a fair point to Iain. I don’t want to go into a list of Christmas presents, but I will say I ended up having four Christmas dinners, because Em’s parents, Iain’s parents, Nana and Kaz all insisted on doing one. I was never further from the dark days, it seemed, but May was not that far ahead and I had somewhere to go and someone to see there. Brian had taken the lead this time, as he was more than familiar with the better tailors of London, and I was whisked down there by Tom for a couple of days with the boys and some serious fitting. Brian had been most insistent.

“No, she can’t. Will you see her before the wedding? No, so she won’t see you”

What we were looking for was a tailor who was willing and able to cut and shape a suit so that while it hung properly, it didn’t follow my curves too closely. I intended to wear a sports bra for the day, so my breasts wouldn’t be too prominent. I know now that the stories people make up about this sort of thing always have the poor bloke in some lacy fluff of a dress, or at least underwear, but all I wanted was them out of the way, under control until they were back under Em’s touch.

And the day came, at last. We made our way down to the Church, Brian, Karen, Sid and I, to the scattered gravestones around the low stone building and its slate roof. The Lakeland gods had been kind to us, and the deluges of the previous few weeks had given way to sun and brilliant clouds, the light dancing on the water of the river and the falls. The fells still clung onto their grey shawls, but the valley was filled with sun and sparkle. I took my place next to Sid at the front, both of us in our morning suits beneath the open wood rafters of the old building. Brian and Karen took a moment for some quiet words, and then it was time. There was an audible straightening up from the pews, and that tune struck up on the little organ, and I knew she was behind me. Sid muttered “eyes front” and three seconds later she appeared at my side, Peter fading back into his pew and Tessa and Sally taking station.

Now, I know that my lover is beautiful, she was beautiful even when she was a fat, spotty teenager, because Emily has always shone through her skin, and Emily is what beauty is to me, but that day...

The hairdresser had left her hair down, but teased her curls so that they were almost like some Pre-Raphaelite vision of Camelot, then woven a swarm of tiny white silk flowers into them. All I can say about her dress was that it was pretty and white, because my attention was swallowed up by the green of her eyes and the rose of her shy blush.

The litany is well known, but it meant so much to me. This woman had stayed true to me, fought to find me and delivered me from a very real hell. Did I wish to cleave only to her until death us do part? There was only one answer to such a question, and she gave the same one, and Sid gave me our rings, and it was done, and I kissed her gentle lips as I knew I would never tire of doing.

I helped my wife up into the flower-covered trap behind Young Arthur’s patient pony, and we trotted along to the Inn, where the buffet Arthur and Meg had prepared earlier was waiting. They had been quite robust about it, particularly Arthur, as Meg nodded agreement.

“There is no bloody way I am missing thy wedding, Steve Jones, no way at all, no matter how many guests tha pay me for! Nothing hot, except we’ll do some STP later if people want, but tha’ll have sandwiches and corned beef slice, well, and a bit more…and I’ll put a marquee up outside if tha want.”

And he did, and the spread was a lot more than sandwiches and a thin pie; the sticky toffee pudding appeared just before the toasts and disappeared just as quickly, and after we had done our poses for the photographers amateur and professional we had the speeches.

“It was a slow day when we met Steve here, Karen and I. I had just got another load of decent books in, and she was still playing around with ripped bodices, and neither of us had anyone to read them with. The door opens, and there’s this tiny creature. Was it a brownie? An elf? No, it was a Fan, and I had someone to share my books with and a reason to keep reading. He was a loyal fan, too, with a real sense of wonder, and then he doubled our pleasures by bringing another small person to our lair, and she was one of Karen’s clan, with no literary taste at all, though somehow her professors missed that and awarded her a First.”

When the laughter eased, he continued. “There were hard times then, times that nearly broke all of us, all except that little girl, who never let go, never forgot, never stopped looking until he was found. And that boy himself, who stayed alive and somehow sane, and had the strength of character to shed those horrors as a snake sheds its skin to show us all what a good man he now is, what a great heart he has.

“I know the best man’s speech is traditionally full of jokes and rude humour, but I can’t do that. Instead, I give you two people whom I love as I love my own life; indeed, who showed me that life was there to be lived and to be loved. Ladies and gentlemen, I trust you have your glasses charged, for I give you Mr Stephen and Mrs Emily Jones! The bride and groom!”

There were more speeches, including a surprisingly touching one from Peter which embarrassed me in its praise, and then there was the traditional first dance, with the traditional tears from all the women present, which disappeared once the disco proper started, only to return once the wine took effect. Two of Emily’s cousins had the traditional dust-up outside the pub, but that was the only thing that marred the day. Sid spent part of the evening crying outside, till Roger went and collected him, and once again I had a moment of insight. The only real difference between what was done to me, and what Sid suffered, wasn’t the fact that he had been unconscious when he was raped, but that his rapists were still free. How he had ever managed to stay alive, and to keep his soul, astonished and perplexed me. I remembered that insight, that I wasn’t suffering alone, that there were so many others being hurt, and I realised that that was what gave me what others kept calling my big heart.

It would have been easy to settle into petulance, to be the victim, but I had realised I was but one of more than I could imagine. Time for some payback, time for me to nurture and protect.

Iain was wrapped round his Icelandic long-jumper girlfriend when I went back in, Simon and Roger were dancing slowly together, as were so many other couples, Tessa having snagged Young Arthur, so I relieved her parents of my bride and we headed off n the taxi to the Toffs’ wedding present to us, a flight from Manchester out to Innsbruck, whence a tram took us up the hill to Stubaital and the village of Fulpmes. The Hotel Roas’nhof was our base for two weeks, and it was the first time in the Alps for either of us. First impressions…flowers everywhere, snow-capped peaks all around, spotlessly clean and incredibly welcoming. I got some funny looks, but I was used to that, and with a little pidgin German we got the idea across, and they shrugged their shoulders and gave us a wonderful stay.

Two weeks of walking little paths through the woods, eating cakes and walking on the glacier. Cable car rides to the tops, snowball fights that ended in passionate grapples in the white stuff, tram rides down to the city to marvel at the architecture and mountain scenery, to eat more cake and walk hand in hand beside the thundering white-blue river.

Sid was so, so right.