Short Story: The Wedding

Short Story: The Wedding

I have been to a lot of weddings recently. My mates have all decided they are old enough to settle down and my old girl friends find Mister Right and invite me along to witness how Mister Wrong I was. Most of them don’t expect me to go but I do. I haven’t got much of a social calender and it is usually a good day out and a slap up meal - all for the price of a fish slice.

This one was a tad different. It was Susan’s, she is a cousin. She’s not close mind but she was good to my Mum and Mum was fond of her so I went along. The invitation said to Tom and partner - well, hard luck, poor Tom just happened to be partnerless just then. If I had anything better to do I wouldn’t have gone along to mix with a shower of blowsy aunties and uncles fidgeting in tight suits and choking collars and ties to witness the wedding of some bint I hardly remember to some poor guy I had never met. But I didn’t, so I did.

I was late on parade at the church - couldn’t find the bloody place and then couldn’t find anywhere to park - so I was pushed in at the back just as the bride was arriving. Like everyone else I gave her the once over - very regal in her swirls of white - and then I idly glanced down the aisle to have my first look at the bridegroom, who had ambled onto centre stage and stood casting anxious glances over his shoulder at his advancing doom.

But I knew this guy. I’d seen him before. It took a moment for the cogs to whirr before I placed him. And then I thought I had better run through the memory bank again - just to double check. No change, same surprising conclusion.

I once had a girl friend called Felicity. We knocked around together for months. It was a platonic friendship - no matter how I tried it was platonic. But she was a good-looking girl and good company and had a well paid job so she always paid her corner, so I put up with her in the hope that she would see the error of her ways and give way to my obvious charms or failing that some other bird I fancied might turn up. Neither turned up. Felicity met her Mister Right and gave me the heave-ho.

I was invited to the wedding and out of sheer cussedness I called her bluff and went along. She was marrying some cove called Dave Smith. I hadn’t met him or seen him before but I wasn’t surprised to find that he was a stocky little fellow who in a few years would be like a barrel. What do nice looking girls see in gargoyles like him - I bet he has a hairy back.

That had been just over a year ago. I hadn’t seen Felicity or Dave since but they did send me a Christmas card.

You may wonder why, in the midst of cousin Susan’s arrival for her wedding to Dave Smart, I should wander off to reminiscence of Felicity and Dave Smith’s nuptials. The reason was simple. The man waiting at the altar for Susan was the same stocky little fellow who had wed Felicity.

It gave me quite a shock and put me in a spot. I am all for minding my own business but I did feel that because the victim was family I should, perhaps, mention the matter. But then again family didn’t cut much ice with me. When the day was over it was doubtful if I would see any of that lot for years. On the other hand this bigamous chimp had stolen my Felicity away and if I were to expose him Susan’s old man and her thug brothers would give the bastard the beating he deserved. And Felicity would without doubt divorce him, weep in my arms as she expressed her gratitude and there is no saying where weeping in my arms might lead to.

I had been to enough weddings to know that I would get my chance to cry foul. That would cast a mighty spanner in the works. I visualised all heads swivelling in my direction. Susan might scream - she might faint. And then there would be uproar and I would need to be damn sure I was right. Susan’s dad and brothers wouldn’t take kindly to my intervention - eventually they might but on balance I guessed that they might opt for a bit of GBH in the short term and start asking questions later.

I was in a dilemma and no mistake.

I was well back in the congregation and really hadn’t had a close look at this Dave. Maybe I was wrong. If I was I would be crucified.

But I knew I wasn’t wrong. The Dave who was at that moment getting hitched to Susan was the same Dave who was married to Felicity. No doubt!

What with all the internal strife we came to the bit where the vicar asked us to speak now or for ever hold our peace with alarming speed. There is always an anxious moment in every service when everyone dreads some nutter taking the invitation seriously. In that service the vicar let the question hang in the air for a worryingly long time. Did he suspect that something was amiss? Had some divine spirit whispered in his ear that I stood in the crowd, the bearer of dire tidings? Either way he gave up on me and droned on.

I had a good close look at Dave when, grinning, he led poor Susan down the aisle.

When we were outside I left them to their photography session and dashed back to the car.

My telephone book was in the dash. When Felicity and Dave had sent their Christmas card they had put a little sticker on the card with their address and telephone number - no doubt so that I would know where to send my card to.

I had peeled off the little sticker and re-stuck it in my book. I hadn’t expected to need it but you never know. And sure enough ‘you never know’ had turned up trumps for once in its life.

“Hello.”

“Felicity?” I asked although I would have known her voice anywhere.

“Yes - who’s this?”

“Tom.”

“Tom?” She made a hugely unflattering question of it.

“Tom Walker,” I explained peevishly.

“Tom Walker?” She was getting on my tits but she saved herself by adding, “Oh Tom. What a surprise. How nice to hear from you.”

“How are things?” I prepared myself for a tale of woe although she had managed to sound surprisingly cheerful up to now.

“Super,” she crowed. She was always a good actress. “I’d recommend marriage to anyone. Are you married yet?”

“Not yet,” I said, “But I am actually at a wedding today. A cousin.”

“And you took time to ring me. I am flattered. Got a girlfriend?” Felicity was never one to be deflected by a change of subject.

“Yeah, of course,” I chuckled.

“Is this the one?”

“Bit early to say,” I replied. “Lovely girl, an actress but we’ve only been going out together for a few weeks.”

“That’s long enough. One look at my Dave was enough for me. An actress you say, would I knew her? Off the telly?”

“No, no she’s only young. She’s still in rep but with her looks and talent she’ll go far. How is Dave?”

“Super. He’s away at a conference in Leeds at the moment. I’m off to the States tomorrow - I’m hoping he’ll be home before I go.”

Poor cow, I thought. “Dave going with you?”

“No, no it’s just a dreary working trip.”

“Lovely jetting around the world at someone else’s expense,” I said. Felicity is a high flyer in every way and is always jetting off to some exotic location.

“It’s just work. It gets a bit wearing actually,” she said and it sounded like she might be stifling a yawn.

Bollocks, I thought. “And Dave?” I was trying not to get diverted. “Still in insurance?”

“Finance,” she corrected with a slight chill. “He’s with Fortune Finance and doing very well. He’s always off somewhere or other. We are a bit like ships that pass in the night.”

Bloody right, I thought.

“Did you want anything particular?” Felicity ignored my thought.

“No, not really. Just thought of you and Dave and gave a ring on the spur of the moment. It would be a shame to lose touch.”

“Of course it would, Tom. It’s been lovely to hear from you but I’m in the midst of packing and your little actress will be wondering where you are. I’ll tell Dave you rang - if he’s back before I go. I’ve got your number and I’ll give you a ring when I get back. We can have a long chat then.”

“Have a nice trip, Felicity. You have my number?” I knew she had just said so but that could have been just letting me down gently. And I wanted her to know how to get in touch when she needed a shoulder to cry on.

“Yes it was in your Christmas card.”

So it was. I’d forgotten. I had shown them they weren’t the only ones with sticky labels.

“‘Bye then,” we said in unison and she was gone.

Poor girl! I pictured her waiting vainly for her man’s return and then jetting off around the world alone. And what would he be up to? The bastard would be honeymooning with that other poor cow, Susan.

The more I thought about it the angrier I got. The more I drank the angrier I got. I’d shaken Dave’s hand and looked him searchingly in the eye but the sod just smiled and kidded on he had never seen me before. I bet he was shit scared though when he saw me there. But he was a good actor, I’ll give him that. I suppose he would have to be to be a con man and a bigamist.

We had all the speeches and the usual back slapping crap and I got more and more disgusted. I was getting a little drunk and I was regretting the lack of backbone which had prevented me saying my piece in church. Still it wasn’t too late. It was actually, but I was getting pissed and ‘it isn’t too late’ is the sort of crap you say to yourself when you are pissed.

When I spotted Dave heading for the bog I didn’t hesitate before trotting after him.

I let him finish his business and timed my own so we both turned away doing up our flies at the same time.

“Having a good time?” He smiled.

I couldn’t think of a gentle way of introducing my subject so I just said. “I’ve just been on the phone to Felicity. She tells me you’re in Leeds.”

“Felicity?” The cheeky bastard never even flinched.

“Your wife,” I reminded him coldly.

That wiped the smile off his face. I hadn’t realised that without his smile he was a tough looking customer. I had the first qualm of doubt about my decision to come clean.

“What’s going on?” The question did not come from Dave but from his brother, the best man, who had just come in and I noticed at a glance that he wasn’t smiling either.

“This little git is saying I’m married already,’ Dave summed up the situation succinctly. “Just ignore him, he’s obviously a nut case.”

Sandwiched as I was between this threatening pair I tended to favour the motion that they just push off and ignore me.

The best man, however, had other ideas and punched me painfully on the nose. Dave Smart or Smith or whatever he called himself was unfortunately one of those guys who doesn’t like to be left out of a fight and clouted me too. They had by then both got the feel for the job and fell to with gusto.

I came to in one of the cubicles. I was sore and tried to grimace but that made my face hurt more. I woozily rose and peered out. Coast clear so I staggered over to the mirror and peered at the damage.

My left eye was closed. My nose was bleeding freely and there was a painful split in my lip from which the blood flowed down my chin to join the main stream from my nose and then they both cascaded onto my new shirt and tie and my best suit. As I poked my tongue along my teeth to see if they were all there I grabbed a handful of paper towels and tried to block the blood flowing onto my best gear.

I became aware that my phone was ringing. Automatically I answered it.

“Tom?”

“Yesh,” I said and splattered blood on my mobile.

“It’s Dave. Flic said you phoned.”

The damn cheek of the man. I didn’t know how he got my number. Yes I did. He’d had the nerve to phone Felicity from this wedding fiasco and she would have said, ‘Oh, Dave Darling, I’ve just had a call from Tom Walker.’ ‘That bloody waster, I don’t want him pestering you. Give me his number and I’ll tell him to get lost’. That was how it had happened, but did he really think he could con me like that. I headed for the main door back into the reception room.

“Thought you were in Leeds,” I said coldly.

“Just got home - had to see my Flic before she jetted off.”

I had reached the door and opened it a crack. I put my good eye to the gap and peered around.

“She’ll be pleased,” I said into the phone.

“I was surprised you phoned. You know how we old married men worry about old flames trying to rekindle old fires.” The cheeky bastard thinks I’m after his Flic - like I fancy that stuck up bitch.

I finally homed in on Dave. He was chatting to one of the bridesmaids - and there was no sign of a mobile.

I think I may have given a girlish scream as I dashed back to my sanctuary. Whatever I did it startled Dave on the phone. He hadn’t guessed that I cared so much.

“What, Tom? Please don’t be offended, old man. Flic and I would love to keep in touch.”

I got back into the safety of my cubicle. I held my bleeding head in my bloody hand and groaned.

“Tom? Tom? Are you all right?”

“Sure, Dave.” I could have explained to him that because of a titchy misunderstanding I was besieged in a bog while two clans of homicidal maniacs waited for me to try to make a run for it. But it was none of his business so I just said, “Sure, Dave. I’m just grand, I’m just great, I’m just tickety-boo.”

2500 words.