he opens the door, a sleek red car hurtles towards him through the deluge, then swerves at the last moment, pulling up next to his.
Will Taylor opens his window and grins. ‘Careful, Danny Boy, might get a few drops of rain on your head and spoil the lovely locks. Then you’ll be banned from the wedding photographs, leaving just handsome me.’
Dan laughs. ‘Good try, William, but no contest. I’m so the best man,’ he replies.
Inhaling the briny tang in the air, Dan links arms with Geri and they slowly negotiate the gritty puddles in the car park. They are overtaken by Will and Penny and another man in a suit, his face hidden by a black umbrella.
Dan steps into the dimly lit porch. The fusty smell strikes like a familiar soft slap. A blend of incense and aged parchment, taking him back. ‘Reminds me of when I was an altar boy. Every bloody time.’
Will shakes his umbrella and grins. ‘You were an altar boy? You’re joking, Dan. What about the opium of the masses? And the bloody rest. Think you owe me a few pints for all those pub rants I had to endure.’
Dan wonders why he mentioned it. ‘Strange but true. At primary school. Before we went to St Mark’s.’
‘Pretty boy with dark curls in a cassock? Yup, I can picture that.’ Will stretches his wide shoulders and wipes the drops of rain from his close-cropped brown hair. ‘It’s bloody freezing in here. Think we’re the first to arrive. Where the hell is Nick? His brother’s old Merc was right behind us when we left the hotel.’
Geri tucks a soft afro curl behind her ear and steps towards Penny. ‘Hi, Penny,’ she says, kissing her cheek. ‘You look nice; red is definitely your colour. Love the dress coat, bet it’s silk. I had intended to take off this ugly old thing, but …’
Penny blinks and shakes her head almost imperceptibly. ‘Maybe it’ll be warmer inside.’ Then after a moment, ‘Great hat; it suits you.’
Geri rubs her stomach. ‘Thanks, thought it would distract from, well, this,’ she replies with a happy grin.
Penny nods but falls silent. ‘Oh, do you know …?’ she starts eventually, turning to the tall man reading desiccated messages on a cork noticeboard.
‘Sorry!’ Will says. He unbuttons his jacket, which looks a little too tight. ‘I forgot you two hadn’t met. This is Sebastian, my little bro. Seb, this is Geri, Dan’s much better half.’ He looks at Dan. ‘You remember Seb, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, of course.’ Gazing for a moment, Dan takes in Seb’s sharp cheekbones and shock of brown hair. Bloody hell, time flies. The fair-haired slender youth’s now a broad handsome man. He shakes his hand. ‘Long time, though. The swimmer!’
‘Yup, that’s me. Shall we go in?’
Though the church is dank and cold, a surge of heat sweeps Dan’s chest. The empty silence is broken by the echo of their heels and muffled barking from outside. Will strides noisily ahead, lowering his body by the knee at the altar and making the sign of the cross with a flourish. He looks back with a grin. Seb follows with Dan bringing up the rear, shaking his head, but smiling.
Thrown back to the pretty boy with dark curls in a cassock, Dan listens absently to the two brothers banter for a while. When his racing heart finally steadies, he joins Geri and Penny.
Penny is taking off her thin coat and folding it carefully on her lap. ‘So I feel the benefit, as my mum always says,’ she says quietly. ‘And mums are generally right about everything, aren’t they?’ she adds with a small smile.
Geri laughs brightly. ‘Heard that one too. I’ll be saying it soon! God, Penny, you’re so slim. You make me look like an elephant. It would’ve been nice to splash out on a new outfit, but there isn’t much point until this little monster makes an appearance.’ She holds out a patent-clad foot. ‘I bought shoes to die for, though. Now, they are compulsory for a wedding! Dan loves them, don’t you, Dan?’
‘Yup, guilty as charged.’
The hum of conversation around them increases, but they lapse into silence, turning each time a blast of moist air alerts them to a new guest’s arrival.
‘He’s very dishy,’ Geri eventually comments, nodding towards Seb. ‘Your brother-in-law. Sebastian, is it? He’ll make Nick look bite-size! Surely he’s spoken for?’
Penny doesn’t answer, her large eyes are glassy and far away. Then she turns to Geri with a small jerk. ‘Oh, sorry, no, they’ve just split up. She’s French.’
‘French, eh?’ Dan says with a grin. ‘I’d better find out more.’
Shaking himself back to today, Dan returns to the chancel step. Standing next to Will, he studies the damp people slowly filling the church. His gaze catches the photographer. Almost invisible, he’s taking snaps of the guests, some standing in groups, wearing heels and hats, hushing greetings and discussing the rain, he supposes, others hitching along the wooden pews and studying the Order of Service as they wait for a familiar face. His eyes rest on Seb Taylor sitting on the front bench. His arms are folded, his long legs stretched out. He’s looking back at him through striking blue eyes.
‘So, you remember the swimming at St Mark’s?’ he asks.
Dan feels himself flushing from the intensity of Seb’s gaze. ‘Not much,’ he says with a small laugh. ‘The disgusting pool mainly. Full of urine, sweat and sh—’ Bloody hell, he’s sounding like his dad. ‘Other things one doesn’t like to dwell on!’ Seb’s stare is still steady, as though reading his mind. ‘Yeah, and those grubby changing rooms; no wonder everyone dived in the showers so quickly, bloody freezing in there and—’
But he’s saved from his blather by a slap on his shoulder and Will’s deep voice. ‘Bloody hell, look at the time. No priest! We’ll be relying on you to don your little cassock, Dan.’ He looks at the door and laughs. ‘And where’s the bloody groom? His mum isn’t here either. We’ll know who to blame if Nick’s done a runner.’
Nick
Staring at the ribbon caught up in the windscreen wipers, Nick Quinn taps his foot. Patrick has decorated the vintage Mercedes; white ribbon on the bonnet and bumper, silk flowers on the dashboard. The handsome car was bought new by their father years ago and passed to Patrick on his eighteenth birthday. He frowns, sure he remembers his dad handing over the keys, though with the fifteen-year age gap, he’d have only been three.
‘Why don’t we hire a car for you and your family like everyone else does?’ Lisa asked when they started their wedding plans.
‘Oh, it’s family tradition,’ he replied with a shrug. ‘The Merc is pristine. It’ll look great.’
But it’s Patrick’s lore really. He doesn’t like change. ‘But we always have a turkey roast at Easter!’ he’ll say if their mum suggests something new.
As Patrick negotiates the sodden streets of Aberystwyth, Nick glances at his brother’s greying hair, wondering how he’ll cope this Easter if he isn’t there. Christmas
