Before Merrin had a chance to question the plan, her gran was being shoved, bottom first, up on to the cart by Ruby. Next came her mum and, finally, her sister, until all the women were settled on pillows, sitting in a sea of floaty lilac silk, the soft reams of her ivory taffeta gown, all set off with the abundance of flowers in their hair, held in their hands and looped around the cart itself.
Their laughter was loud and drawn from the deep wells of happiness inside them. This was some day! The photographer stood on the lane and clicked like crazy, capturing the sight of the cart in all its glory, trundling down the lane with its raucous, floral-framed crew.
Locals and tourists alike – one of whom looked a lot like Aunty Margaret, sporting a rather dazzling fascinator as she made her way to the church – stopped to wave or stare.
‘I’m getting married!’ Merrin shouted out before falling backwards into her bridesmaids and kin, who captured her arms and kissed her face. She lay looking up at the blue sky with nary a cloud to spoil the view and knew that she had never been happier than she was at that precise moment.
Word seemed to travel ahead that the bride was en route and the residents of Port Charles who were not already in the pretty church at the top of the hill awaiting her arrival came out on to the streets to call her name or wave. It was big news in their little village that one of their own, a Kellow girl no less, was marrying the boy from the big house.
‘Look, Merry!’ Bella pointed as she pushed her friend up into a sitting position. The side of the Old Boat Shed by the slipway had been decked with a large banner that read ‘Merry & Digby’ and had a large love heart painted beside the words. She bit her lip; the love, gestures and supreme effort, all for her, were almost overwhelming. She let her head hang down and breathed slowly through her nose, feeling a little light-headed and wishing that she, too, had necked a hefty bacon sandwich before leaving.
‘I . . . I don’t know what to say,’ she mumbled.
‘You don’t have to say anything, love, just you enjoy it!’ Her gran beamed and waved to some of the onlookers as though she were the bride. Her mum wiped her eyes and nose with her lace-edged handkerchief.
The troupe inelegantly alighted at the bottom of the hill to spare Daisy the effort of travelling up it with a heavy load, and walked en masse up the street to the entrance of the church. The bells rang out loudly and strangers gathered on the kerbside to watch Merrin and her entourage, each holding up a section of her skirt, pass. The situation was as ridiculous as it looked and Merrin found the whole charade amusing.
‘I feel like a queen!’ she giggled.
‘Today you are a queen!’ Ruby replied.
With all the fun and their unusual arrival at the church most of her nerves had disappeared and, if anything, she felt more eager than ever to get on with it.
‘He’s in there! I haven’t seen him for twenty-four hours and he’s in that building!’ She clamped her teeth and jumped on the spot, making her heels click clack on the tarmac, knowing that in mere minutes Digby would turn and she would smile at him, just as she had imagined.
‘Calm down, love! We don’t want him to think you’re too keen!’ Ruby advised.
‘She’s marrying him, you daft cow, how much keener can she be?’ Bella tutted. ‘Look at her! She’s beaming. If I, on the other hand, was about to make a lifelong commitment, I would be shit scared.’
‘All right, you two, settle down!’ Heather Kellow kept the peace the way she had since they’d all been at playschool, when regular fights would break out between them, usually over Play-Doh or whose turn it was to go on the trike. ‘Right, this is where we leave you, my darling.’ Her mum kissed Merrin softly on the cheek and ran her fingertips under her chin. ‘My amazing girl. May you and Digby be as happy as your daddy and me. That’s all I want for you. All I’ve ever wanted for you.’
‘And walk carefully up the aisle – don’t bloody fall over!’ Her gran offered the sage advice as she linked arms with her daughter-in-law, and the two women disappeared inside the wide oak door. Merrin watched them walk away slowly, with a small reluctance to their gait and leaving a kind of sorrow in their wake. And she understood.
The girls fell silent and took up their place behind Merrin as her dad stood by her side. She brought her bouquet to her nose and inhaled the sweet scent of lily of the valley.
‘I’m going to keep this for ever, preserve it. It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Dad?’ She held it out so they could both admire it.
‘It is, my love, but no flower can match you today, none. Digby is a lucky man and if he treats you right, he’ll be my son.’
‘Oh, Dad!’ She slipped her arm through his and, with her heart full, waited patiently, as instructed by the vicar, for her musical cue: the opening bars of Beethoven’s ‘Ode to Joy’ – Digby’s mother had insisted on the tune.
Her dad patted her hand and rocked on his heels nervously as the vicar appeared on the front step.
‘Flippin’ ’eck,’ she heard Bella say softly. ‘Oh Lord above, help me. I think I might fancy the vicar!’
‘Well, you would, Bells, he’s wearing trousers,’ Ruby whispered back.
‘He’s wearing a frock, actually,’ Bella corrected.
‘Not that that’d stop you,’ Ruby whispered. ‘We all remember the incident in The Loft nightclub.’
‘It was dark!’ Bella hissed. ‘And she was very persuasive.’
Merrin swallowed her laughter; this was not the time or place for such discussions. Yes, she liked a laugh with her girls, but this was her wedding day and she felt the full, glorious weight of it.
The Reverend Pimm walked slowly towards her, stopping once and clasping his hands in front of him. She smiled at the man who had given her and Digby lessons in married life once a week over six weeks. They had sat side by side in his study and he had asked questions she knew they couldn’t get wrong, because she loved the boy and only had to tell the truth. His words were fresh in her thoughts.
‘Communication is key to everything. It’s vital you are able to speak your mind and say how you feel. Not every day will feel like your honeymoon; there will be days when compromise will be the order of the day.’
Digby had laughed, reached over and squeezed her hand.
‘Hi!’ she mouthed, and pulled an excited face at the vicar.
It was only as he drew closer that she could see he wasn’t smiling. He looked, to steal a phrase from Ruby, shit scared . . . Merrin wondered if he might be feeling ill.
‘You all right, Vicar?’ she asked brightly. ‘You’re a bit pale.’
‘Am I . . . ? Oh yes, yes, I’m quite well, almost. I mean, I’m not ill, no.’ His flustered response caused snickers from her bridesmaids.
‘Good luck, Merry!’ came a call from the church gates. ‘Ooh, we’re running late, had to wait for the post van! Sorry, Vicar! But as long as we’re in before you, that’s all that matters, love, isn’t it?’ Mrs Everit from the village shop called out as she hurried up the path to the church wearing a large straw hat and her Sunday-best dress; behind her, her husband tripped as he tried to keep up while also tying his navy-blue tie.
‘Thank you, Mrs Everit, Mr Everit, and no worries. See you both later!’ Merrin waved.