The Two Lives of Lydia Bird(76)
Music begins to play. There’s a pianist and as soon as he begins to sing a Beatles track I realize it’s Jonah. Of course it’s Jonah: who else would we ask to sing at our wedding?
People turn to see us, a change in atmosphere from relaxed to breath-held, a rustle of expectant voices, the excitement palpable. I’m bathed in shafts of warm sunlight and up ahead I can see Freddie’s back turned towards me. All around me I spy familiar faces: my work people, Phil and Susan beaming as if I’m their own child, Dawn tearful, Ryan almost on the verge too by the looks of him. Julia RSVP’d as soon as I sent out the invites to let me know she couldn’t make it; they’re visiting family in Ghana for her brother’s sixtieth birthday celebrations.
Jonah sings of love and wonderful roses, and Auntie June catches hold of Mum’s hand for a second and gives me a little thumbs-up as we pass. Even my cousin Lucy manages to raise a smile from beneath her massive coral hat. I daren’t look who’s behind her, but whoever it is isn’t going to see a thing. Freddie’s family have gathered on the other side – distant relatives I’m less familiar with who always turn up at the promise of a free dinner – and the lads from the pub have scrubbed up in their suits that probably do service at weddings, funerals and job interviews. His mum is up front in a vibrant orangey-red dress that’s more beach wedding than barn, but it doesn’t matter because I’m almost level with Freddie now and he’s turning to look at me. Oh, my heart. I step forward alone as his eyes sweep down the length of me and then back up to hold my gaze, and I’m so slammed by emotion that it’s a wonder I stay on my feet.
‘You’re here,’ he whispers as if he knows how far I’ve travelled to be here, and even though it’s no doubt off-script he leans in and kisses me, his lips warm against mine.
‘And you’re here,’ I murmur, full of wonder. He holds my hand and I don’t want to let go.
His laugh is soft, his words for my ears only. ‘As if I’d be anywhere else.’
The celebrant clears her throat, ready to begin, and we listen as she welcomes everyone, telling them how thrilled we are they’re here to share in our most special of days. She tells them we’ve chosen to write our own vows, which I nod along to, and then her words actually sink in and I realize that I’ve no clue what I was going to say. Panic flutters, a paper moth in my throat. I swallow it down as the celebrant turns to Freddie with a smile; at least he is to go first.
Freddie clears his throat, and then he clears it again for good measure. It’s pin-drop quiet. For once his nerves are written all over his face.
‘To be honest,’ he says, ‘I’ve struggled to know what to say today. Jonah’s always been the wordsmith.’ He turns to glance at Jonah over his shoulder. ‘I even asked him for help with this, but he said it’s the one bit of homework I need to do for myself.’
People laugh softly, Jonah too as he shrugs in acknowledgement. He catches my eye, a fraction of a second at most, the ghost of an apology for the things he said on my hen night. I feel a jolt because in my waking life I’m already missing him, wondering if LA will become his permanent home.
Freddie waits for silence before he refocuses on me.
‘Lyds, you were fourteen when I first saw you, all blonde hair and legs that went on for ever, and there I was with a BMX and a dodgy set of highlights put in by my mother.’ He glances behind him at his mum this time as people laugh again. For a nervous man, he’s already got the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand.
‘Christ knows why you –’ He breaks off and hastily apologizes to the celebrant, who inclines her head, gracious even though this isn’t a religious ceremony. ‘I mean, God only knows why –’ He stops again and the celebrant does the tiniest of eye-rolls as people laugh under their breath. Freddie waits for them to settle before he ploughs on.
‘What I’m trying to say, in my own way and without swearing this time, is that I have no clue why you said yes to me, or how I’ve managed to hang on to you all these years. You’re smarter than me and you’re kinder than me. You’re so far out of my league that it’s not even funny. But still you said yes, and that makes me the luckiest man alive.’
His words are perfect because they are his.
‘I know I drive you nuts sometimes, but I promise you this much: we’re for ever, you and me. I’ll always look after you. I’ll make sure you wear sun cream and on cold mornings I’ll button your winter coat. You light my world up, Lydia Bird, I don’t want to do life without you.’
Oh Freddie, I think, if only you knew. That’s the deal we make when we love someone, isn’t it? Somewhere along the path one person is always going to have to find a way to carry on without the other. Looking at Freddie now, I draw some small solace from the fact that he never had to know such heartbreak as I have in my waking world.
I’m struggling to hold it together. I can see Elle out of the corner of my eye; tears have streaked her make-up. I won’t let myself cry. I can’t. I need to speak clearly, to say the things I never got to say.
‘Freddie.’ I test out my voice for steadiness. It isn’t perfect. I swallow hard, clear my throat, and Freddie must be able to tell how close I am to falling apart because he reaches for my hand. There’s a few moments’ silence between us and in the room all around us. Everyone waits and I take a few calming breaths because these words matter more than any I’ve ever spoken.