Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
Gwen
G wen had never been to a posh wedding in her life. But then she’d never been to a wedding before, unless she counted her auntie’s wedding when she was four. She couldn’t recall anything, and without the pictures of her in a poofy pink dress, Gwen would vehemently deny ever attending a wedding.
For a virgin wedding attender, she thought she’d hit the motherlode.
Gwen wasn’t wearing her own clothes, not even her underwear was her own. The underwear set was brand new, but she hadn’t bought it. The dress arrived that morning with a note that said it would need to be returned only if she didn’t like it. If she liked it, she could keep it.
The shoes were new, but she hadn’t bought those either. Not even her eyelashes were her own.
Erica introduced Gwen to spray tans. The naked kind. When she held her breasts in her hands the previous morning in a gorgeous room with original features at Edward Hall, she thought she’d be stuck with hand prints forever. But they knew what they were doing. Erica’s assistant Yanny also demonstrated his knowledge by asking her all about her fashion likes and dislikes. He never asked her dress size, but he enquired about her shoe size.
She possessed the most even healthy glow of a tan that could have been photoshopped on her. The clutch was to die for and she would wrestle Yanny to the death to be able to keep it.
Four women met her three days before, knowing nothing about her, befriended her and included her in the wedding of the decade. Gwen felt unworthy but was there with bells on.
Everyone she saw as she walked to the church in fabulous high heeled dusky pink sandals were in their finery.
Someone who she had never met before arrived at her home at seven o’clock and dressed her, then they applied make up and did her hair. The treatment she received was fit for a movie star, and the transformation almost brought her to tears. Gwen didn’t because the person glared at her as her eyes welled when they shoved her in front of the mirror to see if she was happy.
Gwen snapped out of her emotional episode and grinned at her dresser. The stranger nodded her head, wheeled her bag of tricks out of her home. Gwen suspected she would never see her again in her life. It seemed as though a fairy godmother had been sent.
She wore a form fitting deep pink, almost purple dress that was crinkled on purpose, ruche at the waist with the hem hitting her knee. It didn’t allow for a long stride but then in sky scraper heels, Gwen wasn’t moving at a speed fast enough to care. She wore a matching deep pink fascinator with swirls and feathers that sat stylishly on the left side of her head. She made a mental note to sit at the end of the pew on the left side of the church so she didn’t poke anyone’s eye out. The dress had no sleeves, and a high neck. Gwen also had a loose soft cashmere wrap that dangled from her elbows. The dresser gave her satin gloves that ended at the wrists and told her they were optional.
Gwen was wearing them.
Gwen was surprised that the church was so big on such a small island. In fact, it appeared out of proportion compared to the nearby buildings. The graveyard to the right was enormous and she should see on the far left the vicarage which looked welcoming, gorgeous and big. Too big for one person to live in.
Shaking off her judgemental thoughts she looked back up at the front of the church and shuffled forward in line to go inside. She doubted she needed a wrap as the day was so warm but then she didn’t know the island and the temperature could drop later for all she knew. As soon as she entered the space between the outer doors and the inner doors, she could hear the murmurings of the congregation and the soft notes from the organ’s music. Teenagers distributed booklets that she assumed were the order of service. When it came time for her to take one, the lad inquired about her role as bride or groom.
“What?” she asked.
“Are you on the bride’s side or the groom’s side?” he asked.
Looking into the main part of the church she couldn’t see anyone she recognised.
“Um, I don’t know. Is there an undecided section?”
The lad smirked at her but not unkindly.
“There are loads of undecideds here, included undecided if they should be here at all,” he replied.
Taking a closer look at him, she wondered how old he was.
“Are you related to the bride or groom?” she asked.
“Neither. Miss Riley teaches me at the school. Luke was kind to me, but Miss Riley had a lot of influence over my attitude in school. All the Turners have,” he added.
“Come on, what’s the holdup, I’ve just seen the bride is on her way,” someone called out behind them.
Gwen looked to her left to see two ushers helping people. She wasn’t holding up the line.
“He’s always like that, ignore him,” the lad said.
“Hey,” she heard another voice.
This time, it was right in front of her, speaking in a hushed tone.
Gwen looked over the tall lad’s shoulder to see Keith. She felt her blush start at her neck and then spread all over her body in a flash.
She hadn’t spoken to him since he helped her home after getting hammered with the girls.
“I’ll take Gwen to her seat,” Keith said.
Gwen looked back to the lad, and she nodded at him. He grinned at her in reply and then spoke to the person behind her.
Keith hovered his hand at the base of her spine but didn’t touch her. The gentlemanly gesture eased her potential embarrassment of something she might have said. It wasn’t a case of her completely forgetting that night, but rather her uncertainty about how she interacted with him and the impression he formed of her.
“Do I need to apologise?” Gwen asked as they shuffled down the centre aisle.
Keith turned his head and looked down at her just as she turned her head and looked up. She saw the amused sparkle in his eyes.
“You were the perfect drunk, Gwen. Nothing to worry about.”
“Okay,” she replied and folded her lips in.
“You’re here behind the girls, they wanted you with them,” he said pointing to the third row back from the front.
The pew in front was empty and the front pew she assumed was the bride’s parents and grandparents.
“Okay,” she said. “Thank you, Keith.”
“See ya later,” he said and gave her a nod before he stalked down the centre aisle and away.
Gwen sat down and faced front gazing at the glorious wall of lavender. The lavender bushels were eight feet high and densely packed. It had the same width.
Bumblebees had found their way into the church and bounced around the flowers. The row she sat on was also empty. She felt a fraud at a wedding where she was neither bride nor groom, no plus one or a group of friends she knew.
It was like waking up from a coma where everyone knew her but she didn’t know them.
A few minutes later the loud bang signalled the inner doors were closed, and a hush fell over the congregation. Five lads appeared at the end of the pew and filed in next to her.
“I’m Kenny, head usher of the younger generation,” he said as he sat and plonked his order of service in the pouch attached the pew in front of her.
“Hello, Kenny. I’m Gwen.”
“Kenny, you’re in my seat. Lads shift up, make room,” a voice said.
By that point, Gwen had recognised Keith and directed her gaze towards him. The lads had stood and shuffled his way, into the aisle and then Keith came in and sat next to her. His thigh was flush with hers and she shifted as far to the left as she could until the tall side of the pew stopped her journey. The lads shifted back in and Keith shifted next to her tighter so they could all fit.
Where before he was wearing trousers, shirt, waistcoat and cravat, he now had a morning coat. Gwen considered persuading him to wear the outfit at all times, regardless of his job. She didn’t know a thing about him but sitting thigh to thigh with the handsome man, she wanted to know everything.
Gwen also knew she would not ask the questions. She’d learned to stay away from any romantic entanglements. She needed to concentrate on her new job.
“What’s your role today?” Gwen asked, instantly breaking her vow of not asking questions.
Being chatty was a part of her nature.
“I’m head of the ushers of the older generation as Kenny puts it. It basically means I need to make sure none of the Turner boys get hammered before five o’clock and Luke doesn’t touch anything more than a sip of champagne until he’s on his honeymoon,” Keith replied.
“Wow, is this a dry wedding?”
Keith looked down at her eyes then up to her fascinator and then back to her eyes. He mouthed fuck no and then dazzled her with a smile.
“I can’t go into detail, loose lips and all that. You’re also a chatty drunk. So while I’m not making sure you don’t drink because you are a happy chatty drunk I can’t let the secret out the bag. But I’ll happily tell you later tonight.”
“All right,” she said, knowing full well she wouldn’t be at the wedding later.
Once the speeches were over she’d be out of there and leave them to family and friends. Friends they’d known longer than three days.
Gwen looked back to the front to see the vicar come to the front, holding a bible open in her splayed palms. She stared down the aisle towards the closed doors. From the right, Luke and Archer came through an open doorway and took their places next to two other men.
“Do you need me to narrate what’s going on right now?” Keith asked.
“That would be great. I think I met them the other night but don’t know who is who.”
“The nervous one is Luke, the groom. The grinning one is Archer. Next to Archer is Jason, another Turner brother, and next to him is Nate who is married with the youngest Turner sibling, Daisy.”
“Right,” Gwen said.
She had a vague recollection of the run down in the pub.
“All rise,” the vicar said with a sure voice.
Gwen swiftly looked to Luke and then to the doors to see who was walking down the aisle. All eyes went to the doors as they opened and in came two elderly women. They were throwing petals over the floor and the nearest people in the pews left and right.
“Freya wanted flower girls but the only girls in the family are too young, so the grandmothers stepped in.”
“That is so cool,” Gwen whispered as she saw them approach the pew at the front and slipped in.
Then came the bridesmaids.
Gwen knew the plan of them wearing their wedding dresses but it seemed the congregation didn’t. Gasps of awe and shock mingled with laughter. They filed past and slipped into the pew in front of Gwen. All three of them turned and squeezed Gwen’s hand.
She squeezed back.
Then the doors closed.
“I’ve never been to a wedding before. I can feel the excitement in the air. Is it always like this?” Gwen asked.
Gwen looked to the guys and saw them staring at their wives. They too didn’t seem to know what they were going to wear either and if looks could portray pure sex, all three of them had it in spades.
“I went to my sister’s wedding, Heidi, when she married Jason and it was small, so not many people to create the atmosphere.”
“Those men look like they’re going to haul their wives away before Luke and Freya get married.”
“I know. It’s sickening,” Keith said.
Gwen heard the humour in his voice but he was right. Their open display of love towards their wives was sickeningly beautiful.
The atmosphere transformed the moment the organ player stopped the tune she played and switched to the wedding march. As a crowd they all turned as one. Out of the corner of her eye Gwen could see Luke had remained face front. The vicar glanced at him and smiled, then trained her eyes on the double doors at the end of the aisle.
The loud heavy clunk of the bolts echoed and there standing next to her well-dressed father in a morning suit was Freya.
She looked spectacular and not just because of the happiest grin Gwen only ever saw on four-year-olds eating their favourite treat. Everything about her shone. From her almost transparent veil and tiara to her satin cloak with tiny specs of purple that complemented the wall of lavender to her seemingly understated dress. A wave of gasps echoed around including Gwen’s.
“She looks magical,” Gwen whispered.
“She sure does,” Keith replied, his head rubbernecked back over his shoulder.
Gwen noted he must be uncomfortable in that position and wondered why he didn’t turn completely. Then she realised why. She had hold of his arm in both her hands clinging on.
“Oh I’m sorry,” Gwen said and dropped her hands immediately.
“That’s okay. I like you were caught up in the moment and hung onto me.”
Gwen didn’t know how to respond to his comment and focused on the bride.
Freya started strolling, smiling left and right. More like grinning. Gwen looked back to the front after Keith nudged her to look. Archer was giving Luke a stern glare and eventually Luke turned around. For a moment everything stayed still, including Freya. She stopped dead half way down the aisle staring at Luke. He stared back and then he was on the move. Towards her. Eating up the distance with his long legs. Freya let go of her father’s arm and hurried to him and they met at the end of Gwen’s aisle.
And kissed.
Luke’s hands were on her neck, thumbs stroking her cheeks and he gave her a hard kiss over her veil.
A ripple of laughter rang out.
“I suppose I’m no longer needed,” Freya’s father muttered.
“I’m sorry,” Luke said. “I didn’t think you’d come and then when I saw you I needed to make sure you were real.”
“That’s okay,” Freya replied.
“I’ll go back to my position. Carry on,” Luke said.
A burst of laughter rang out in the rows around Freya, Luke, and Freya’s father, and then a tittering of what did he say? In the rows further back.
Luke strode back to his spot to slaps on the back from his brothers. Freya rolled her shoulders, grinned at her bridesmaids and took her father’s arm.
“That’s the most romantic scene I’ve ever witnessed.”
Keith didn’t answer her, so she turned to look at him to see him staring at her. He still didn’t say anything, just nodded and faced forward. Only then did she notice that he was clutching her bicep with his hand. Not hard as she barely noticed his fingers on her arm. But now she’d noticed she felt the heat.
Gwen pulled away when she realised she was clutching on to Keith, but he kept his hand there for moments longer until they were asked to sit.