His 'n' Hers (19 page)

We’re at the top of the Empire State Building. Alison is looking out through the put-the-money-in-the-slot binoculars across Manhattan. I’m reading our guidebook to New York.

‘According to the guidebook, the Empire State Building is a hundred and three floors high,’ I tell Alison.

‘Really?’ she says vaguely.

‘It’s 1472 feet tall from the top of the TV mast to the ground.’

‘Fascinating.’

‘The volume of the building is thirty-seven million cubic feet.’

‘Amazing.’

‘And it took seven million man-hours to construct.’

‘Mind-boggling.’

‘You’re being sarcastic now,’ I tell her. ‘You should be impressed by the facts at my fingertips.’

‘I am. But how about this one? There’s this girl, let’s for the sake of argument call her Alison Smith—’

‘A likely name.’

‘Well, this Alison Smith girl is, was and will always be in love with you. How’s that for a fact, Mr Owen?’

‘It’s a good one,’ I say, laughing. ‘But if we’re being sickeningly cute let me give you a fact of my own. There’s this guy, let’s call him for the sake of argument Jim Owen—’

‘A likely name.’

‘Well, this Jim Owen guy thinks that you are officially the best thing since sliced bread. How’s that for a fact?’

‘Brilliant,’ she replies. ‘A girl can never tire of hearing those kinds of facts when they really mean something.’

Today is the day of the wedding. And Alison and I have just arrived in Birmingham. We’re not due at the register office for another two hours. So, as we planned on the way up on the train, we get a cab to Selly Oak and have lunch at the Varsity, which, to our disappointment, has undergone a refurbishment. Afterwards we take a walk down to the university and sit on a bench outside the library. To the left of us is the beautiful ivy-covered building of the arts faculty, ahead is the clock tower and University Square, where in summer my friends and I would lie on our backs and attempt to get to grips with books on quantitative economics. Being here brings back all the memories.

‘It’s been a long journey,’ says Alison wistfully.

‘What?’ I joke. ‘From the city centre to the campus?’

‘No, from first meeting you at university to where we are now. I mean – 1989 – it seems like yesterday. I can still remember how I thought about the world, how I thought my life would be, how I first felt about you. All those memories are still fresh in my mind. It doesn’t feel like so much time can have passed so quickly, does it? Look at us. Here we are, years later, you an accountant, me working in publishing, and the two of us about to get married.’ Alison lights a cigarette. ‘If the student me could see me now I think she’d be quite pleased.’ She pauses for a drag on her cigarette. ‘She’d be a bit disappointed I’d never got round to writing that great novel I was convinced I had in me but she’d be impressed that I work in publishing. Relationships-wise, I think she’d be happy that I’d found love. I think while she put on a brave face about finding the right person for her, she always thought that the right person might not be out there or, if he was, that he’d never find her. I think she’d be surprised that she’d found it with the Boy Who Dresses Differently because she would have assumed that he wasn’t her type. What about you?’

‘I think student me would be a bit disappointed. I think he had big plans for the rest of his life. A lot of things he wanted to achieve, dreams he wanted to pursue. I know for a fact that he certainly didn’t want to end up in accountancy.’

‘Oh, that’s really sad,’ says Alison.

‘It is a bit,’ I reply. ‘But on the other hand I think he’d be quite chuffed with the money he’s earning.’

‘Would he think you’d sold out?’

‘He’s a student. Of course he’d think I’d sold out. I think he’d be really annoyed for a while . . . at least until I explained to him that he was never going to be a rock star. I think he’d realise I’d done the best with the skills he’d got.’

‘And what about me? What would he think about you still being with Damon’s girlfriend after four years?’

‘He’d be surprised it’s lasted this long. I think he’d be a little bit scared at the thought of being with someone for that long. But at the same time he’d be relieved because I don’t think he wanted to go through life alone.’

‘Yes, but what about me?’

‘What would he think of you? He’d think, Yes, you’re all right.’

‘Only all right?’

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I think he’d play it cool.’

‘But what would he
really
think about me?’ asks Alison, carefully flicking the ash from her cigarette. ‘You know, when he’s alone at night thinking about life.’

‘He’d think he’d done better than he ever deserved.’

We’re now standing in the room where we’re going to get married. It’s painted cream, and there are long velvet curtains at either side of the huge window in front of us. It is filled with enough plastic chairs to seat at least forty or fifty people. It seems a bit empty because there are only three of us here.

‘I’m sorry,’ I explain to the registrar. ‘We haven’t brought any witnesses with us.’

The registrar smiles. ‘Don’t worry. You’re not the first and I’m sure you won’t be the last. I’ll just go and get some.’

She disappears and returns, moments later, with a young man in a security-guard uniform and a well-dressed elderly woman in a hat.

‘This is Daniel, our security guard,’ says the registrar. ‘Most people who work here have been witnesses at some point, but Daniel’s new so I thought he’d like a go.’

Alison and I shake hands with him.

‘I’ve never done this before,’ he says.

‘Neither have we,’ I reply.

‘And this lady who’s volunteered,’ says the registrar, ‘is due to get married after you.’

‘Call me Marjorie,’ she says, offering her hand.

‘Thanks for doing this,’ says Alison. ‘I hope your husband-to-be doesn’t mind.’

‘He thinks the whole thing’s hilarious. Just out of curiosity, why haven’t you got any witnesses?’

‘It’s just one of those things,’ says Alison in reply.

‘Okay, then,’ says the registrar. ‘Now the witnesses are present let’s begin.’

I cough nervously and Alison looks at me. I just know I can’t go through with this. I can feel in my bones that this is going to be a huge mistake.

‘Do you mind hanging on a second?’ I say to the registrar. ‘I just need to talk to my girlfriend before we go any further.’

I grab Alison’s hand, lead her to the back of the room and take a deep breath. ‘You know I love you, don’t you?’

‘You’re having second thoughts, aren’t you?’ asks Alison. ‘I knew you would.’

‘I’m not at all,’ I tell her. ‘I just want to make sure you’re happy about doing it like this. You know, your mum and dad aren’t here. Your friends aren’t here. It’s just you, me, the registrar and two people we’ve never met before.’

‘That’s fine by me,’ she says. ‘I’ve never wanted a big wedding. I’m not sure that before I met you I even wanted to get married. But what I do know is this, I love you and getting married to you is the best thing I could possibly do.’

‘Is there a problem?’ asks the registrar, who has now walked down to our end of the room.

‘No,’ I reply. ‘We were just sorting out a few details.’ I look at Alison and smile. ‘We’re ready when you are.’

And with that we walk back up to the front of the room, the registrar does what she has to do, Alison and I say, ‘I will,’ at the appropriate points in the ceremony, and it’s over and done with. We’re married.