The Harder They Fall (36 page)

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Evidently, the congregation shared his view, for many of them gasped and murmured, and she could hear their words, but best of all was when James turned his head to watch Josh pass her to her father to give away. She held Josh’s gaze for a moment, a lifetime of love cascading across the small space between them. He nodded—an almost imperceptible movement—and walked to his seat, next to George, who took his hand and squeezed it in silent congratulation. He released it, expecting Josh to move away; instead he laced their fingers together and they stayed that way for the rest of the ceremony.

It was now apparent how subtle the difference was in the bride’s gown and the bridesmaids’ dresses. Eleanor’s gown had looked white as she walked down the aisle, but now, as Charlotte, Tilly and Ashleigh moved away, that slightest hint of blue was set off by the barely lemon hue of theirs. Later, the more observant of the guests noticed that James was wearing a blue cravat, whereas Oliver was wearing a yellow one, but for now, their backs were turned, as Father Mallick began the ceremony with the usual declaration:

“James and Eleanor, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?”

“Thank you for flying with Turkish Airlines,” the captain finished, as the seatbelt sign switched off and passengers began to gather their belongings together. Dan and Andy were first at the doors, out of the economy passengers at any rate, and almost ran through the terminal. They jogged back to the car—a good ten minutes across the enormous car park—and they were on their way.

“James Tobias Johnson Brown, do you take Eleanor Jane Davenport, to be your wife…”

Even if they had wanted to write their own vows, Eleanor’s mother had decreed that it wasn’t ‘Catholic’ enough, but they didn’t mind, for they’d said all that needed to be said already. This was merely the formality.

“…all the days of your life?”

“I do.”

“Eleanor Jane Davenport, do you take James Tobias Johnson Brown…”

The only difference was going to be the omission of any form of ‘you may now kiss the bride’ at the end, because public displays of affection did not fit with James’s Buddhist beliefs—apparently something his mother didn’t hold with.

“…all the days of your life?”

“I do.”

Next came the declaration of consent, followed by the blessing of the rings, and the congregation of guests let out a unified ‘Ahhhh’ when little Oliver, the best man, gave the rings to Father Mallick.

“Eleanor, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity.”

Mrs. Davenport had, however, given James permission to leave off ‘in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit’.

“James, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity.” Eleanor completed the sentence.

Prayers followed, and Eleanor’s cousin took her position at her harp once more.

“That’s got to be the shortest Catholic wedding ever,” Josh whispered to George.

“I know!” George whispered back, both receiving a glare from the bride’s mother, in the pew in front. After that they remained quiet, as the bride and groom signed the register and returned to the altar, making their way back down the aisle and out into the fresh air soon after. The congregation filed out of the tiny nineteenth century chapel, into the Victorian rose gardens that surrounded it, stopping to congratulate the newly-weds, and whichever parents they were familiar with. Charlotte, Tilly and Ashleigh stood around trying to look glamorous yet discreet, whilst Oliver went tearing around the grounds in pursuit of his new cousins.

Now it was time for the photos, and the photographer was already herding people into makeshift groups to get some ‘natural shots’, before the formal ones of the bride and groom, the bridal party, the couple and their parents, Eleanor and her multitude of siblings, followed by any other combinations they wanted. They were saving the big one until last, even though they were still depleted in number.

Andy was taking a turn behind the wheel, and had to admit he rather liked Dan’s new 4x4. With its gas-guzzling turbo kick, it didn’t perform too badly, although they were still half an hour away from the motorway turn-off, and they’d been pushing it as fast as they dared, having stopped off just long enough to grab a sandwich and a coffee. Dan’s SatNav was proving to be highly accurate at picking up speed traps, so they had made very good time indeed and were optimistic they would make it for the start of the evening reception.

“Right, you move in a bit there, darlin’,” the photographer said, pushing Jess’s hip. “That’s it. And if you come this way, just a little,” he pulled Adele’s shoulder. Shaunna was obviously giving off a ‘touch me and you die’ vibe, so he just nodded at her and Kris. “Great stuff, and you mate…” This was directed at Josh, whom he signalled to also move forward, so that he was level with Adele and now standing more or less in front of George, who ran a finger down his spine and made him shiver. He turned around and gave him something between a warning glance and permission to continue.

“Lovely,” the photographer said, taking his position up in front of them and snapping several shots while they chatted, then one final ‘smile’ pose, although it was Shaunna who’d got them all laughing, as the photographer made his way around the group, imitating him in a gruff, dirty-old-man kind of voice, saying things like, “That’s it love, just a touch more, let me see a peep of those nipples, oh yes, that’s the one. Lovely!” James was trying his best to keep a straight face, but in the end he couldn’t help himself.

The wedding guests were starting to make their way back to their cars now, and with the photos finally complete, James and Eleanor departed in the blue vintage Rolls Royce, with its pale blue ribbons and lemon flowers, off to a local hotel, where they were to be spending their first night as husband and wife. Mr. and Mrs. Brown senior were looking after the boys until tomorrow, which is to say that Mrs. Brown would be looking after them, with the occasional and stern advice of Mr. Brown in respect of his eldest grandson, who was to be permitted to attend the early part of the evening, providing he first had a nap. The friends were all heading home to change, then meeting at a pub near the reception venue: the old Irish club that was, these days, somewhat more tasteful and discerning in the functions it allowed within its walls, but still hadn’t quite lost its ‘Irishness’ and was thus perfect as far as all Davenport extended family members were concerned.

Dan and Andy missed Adele by a matter of minutes, for as she took off in a taxi going one way, they turned into the other end of the street, and pulled up outside the flat.

“I’ve never, ever been this pleased to be home,” Dan said, stretching and knocking arms with his brother, who was doing the exact same thing.

“I’m OK to get ready here, aren’t I? I really don’t want to see Jess yet.”

“No worries, bro,” Dan assured him, as they made their way inside, to where Alice was already entrenched in her knitting, and little Shaunna was happily eating a plate of jam sandwich fingers.

“Addy!” she shouted gleefully, waving one of the mini sandwiches in the air. Dan went straight over and gave her a hug.

“Hello, baby girl,” he said, kissing her on the head. “I’ve missed you.”

“Addy!” Shaunna called out again, this time directing her sandwich at Andy.

“Hiya,” he said.

“Hiya,” she repeated and offered him a big jammy grin. She held out the sandwich to him and he pretended to chew the end of it.

“Hi, Alice. How’s things?” Dan asked, wiping the jam off his hands and onto the jeans he’d been wearing for the past two days.

“Very well, thank you, Dan,” Alice said, dabbing her nose with a tissue.

“Sorry about the smell. We’ve been travelling for the best part of eighteen hours.”

“Oh no, it’s perfectly fine,” she said. “Although I have dropped a stitch or two in my haste.” She smiled, Dan assumed from the crinkles around her eyes. She was now trying, and failing, to re-loop the stitches onto the needle one-handed.

“Well, we’re going to be out of your way again soon,” he assured her, picking up his bag and heading for the bedroom. Andy followed.

“I’m gonna have to borrow some clothes.”

“Yeah. In there,” Dan indicated to the wardrobe furthest to the left. “Anything except the white brushed denim shirt and black pants hanging next to it. I’m taking first dibs on the shower.”

Andy nodded in thanks and started searching through the array of shirts in the wardrobe, many fitting the description of the excepted item, although only one had trousers hanging next to it. He found a blue shirt and pulled it free of the rail, only to discover it was missing a button. He tried a pink one (which would look ridiculous on him), but that had a lipstick mark on the collar. The grey shirt had a torn pocket, the red one was stained with something he didn’t want to guess at, and the stripy one was creased to the point that the stripes looked like the readings from the ECG he’d had after a nasty brush with a Portuguese man o’ war a few years back. He huffed, selected a white shirt at random, checked it for flaws and laid it on the bed. Next for some trousers, although he could already see what was going to happen here.

Dan emerged from the bathroom, the beard he’d been sporting for the past week gone, his hair curling into slight ringlets, as it was a bit longer than he usually kept it.

“Ah, fuck. See if you can find me a shirt that isn’t white, will you?” Andy asked, exchanging places with his brother. He showered as quickly as he could, and impressively managed to shave without cutting himself, then returned to the bedroom, where Dan was dressed and slipping on some shoes.

“No shirts that aren’t white,” he said. “What’s wrong with that one, anyway?”

“You’ll see in a minute.”

Andy took the clothes back to the bathroom. He was still damp, so it was a bit of a struggle to get into them, although Dan was slightly broader, which helped. He returned to the bedroom, pulling the belt from his jeans.

“Yeah. See what you mean, bro,” Dan chuckled. They stood in front of the mirror and looked at each other’s reflections, the only real difference being Andy’s ear-ring and their hair, which was far less distinct than usual.

“Let’s see what Alice has to say,” Andy suggested, poking his belt through the loops of the trousers and securing them, before splashing on some cologne. He followed Dan through to the lounge and they stopped next to each other in front of Alice. Shaunna tilted her head on one side and frowned.

“Addy?”

“Oh my goodness!” Alice said. “How fortunate for me that you smell more different than you look.”

“We’re screwed,” Dan said.

“Yep,” Andy nodded, “although looking like you is about the only way
I
will be tonight.”

Alice, luckily, didn’t catch the gist and just bid them a good evening. They’d decided to walk to the club, as it wasn’t far away and they were fed up with sitting in passenger transport. Neither had brought a jacket, but it was a warm evening for the time of year and it didn’t take them long to reach their destination, with Dan telling Andy a dreadfully longwinded story about a girl he once dated who had worked in the Irish club, other than on Thursday nights, when she was a lap dancer who went by the name of Kayleigh Ukulele.

“I didn’t know you drank in the Irish club,” Andy said, as they crossed the road.

“I didn’t,” Dan replied, with a little cough to cover his embarrassment. “Of course, we don’t need to mention Ms. Ukulele to Adele.”

“No, of course we don’t, bro,” Andy grinned, but then his face dropped, and he slowed right down. Dan followed his brother’s gaze, across to where Jess was dismounting a motorbike and removing her helmet. Andy lunged forward and Dan grabbed him with lightning-fast reflexes.

“Don’t, Andy. Let it go,” he said, holding on with every bit of strength he had.

“I’m going to kill him,” Andy snarled, fighting to free himself. Jess leaned in and said something to the man on the bike, whom Andy had correctly assumed was Rob. She waved, as he revved and roared out of the car park, down the road and right past them.

“I swear, I’m going to fucking kill him,” Andy repeated, shaking loose of his brother’s grasp.

“Come on.” Dan walked in the opposite direction, away from the club. “Let’s go and have a pint round the corner, give you a chance to calm down.”

Andy followed, still grunting and growling, animal-like. He was barely containing his anger, and Dan took him down the side of the pub, telling him to stay where he was while he went inside and bought the drinks, thinking it would be OK to leave him unsupervised for five minutes. However, when he returned, he found Andy kicking the hell out of one of the pub’s wheelie bins, and all because he’d caught his sleeve on it. Dan stepped in between.

“Enough,” he said. “You’ll get yourself arrested if you don’t watch it.” Andy backed off; Dan handed him his pint and he downed it in one.

“Let’s go.”

“No.”

“I’m ready to talk to her now.”

“Ha! Do you really think that’s a wise move? This is Ellie’s wedding, in case that testosterone infused brain of yours has forgotten.”

Andy was still spoiling for a fight, but Dan’s words had filtered through the rage sufficiently for him to get it back in check. His panting slowed and he pushed his hands into his pockets.

“Better?”

“A little. Just hurry up with that fucking pint.”

Dan was drinking as fast as he could, but he still wasn’t back to full health and ended up passing half of it to Andy, who necked it and launched the glass across the car park. Dan grabbed him by the arm.

“Come on.”

On the way back, he sent Josh a message with a brief explanation and asked him to meet them outside. He was waiting at the entrance to the car park when they arrived.

“Josh. Good to see you, mate,” Dan said, clapping him on the back. “You too, George,” he added, spotting him standing a few yards away.

Josh nodded an acknowledgement, but was already weighing up Andy’s state of mind. He wasn’t sure there was much he could do without a punchbag or some other form of physical outlet, but he was going to have to try. He stepped to Andy’s side and spoke so quietly that neither of the other two men heard what he said. Andy shrugged and turned away, walking with Josh, slowly, across the road to a stretch of grass verge. George walked over to Dan and they watched, from a distance.