Memory Twelve
MEMORY TWELVE
GRANT
The four weeks both dragged and went insanely quickly. I did debate going up to Gretna Green where the notice period was shorter to get married, but at the same time we were in the process of a very quick house purchase and going through a lot of crap at the house in Oxfordshire.
Tempers were lost. Tantrums were had. I nearly murdered Bernadette and made her a saint in the same day and I learned to master the art of cooking a Sunday lunch and found I was actually decent in the kitchen at cooking for my fiancée and fucking my fiancée -again in the same day.
The polished veneer of a new relationship wore off quickly given we were living in something of a pressure cooker – I learned to use one of those too – and I discovered that Marie had a fiery Celtic temper which could explode quickly when I was purposely slow or deliberately ignored the points she made.
But, unlike with my first wife, Marie made it perfectly clear how she was feeling and why and what I needed to do to stop her from being mad at me. My children heard me say sorry for the first time, they heard us row and then laugh ten minutes later and they saw that you could be cross with someone and still love them.
They heard Marie tell me she loved me in front of them and they heard me say it back, and then I started to say it to them when I read their bedtime stories or when Max read a newspaper article to me and asked some really astute questions, blowing me away with how bright he was now he wasn’t as angry and sad all the time.
Four weeks. Four semi-irritated parents. Four very excited children and an about to be sister-in-law who could definitely not keep a secret and we were pulling up in a limo outside the local registry office.
Last night had been our second in London. We’d had a pyjama party and eaten ice-cream and made dens before hanging the children’s clothes up in the playroom on the third floor, going through the events of tomorrow.
Which was now today and we were about to get married. I’d seen the bride last night, this morning and now as we got out of the limo, offering a hand so she didn’t go arse-over-tit as the train of her wedding dress was just outside of her comfort zone.
I knew things like this by now. I knew a lot by now. Like how she would always brush her hair as soon as she got out of bed in the morning; how she’d start the day with a cup of tea with just a hint of sugar, but no sugar in any drink after that; how she liked to be outside when it was drizzling because it reminded her of her Irish summers and how her hair would frizz up afterwards, which amused me but not her.
“If I think about this too much I’m going to realise how crazy we actually are.” She stepped out of the car, holding onto my hand and using her other hand to sort out the bottom of her dress.
“We’re crazy anyway, so don’t overthink it.” I helped her steady herself. Bernadette was child wrangling, although Claire had escaped from her and was standing next to Marie, gazing up at her as if she was solely responsible for how the sun had been made.
She crouched down to fix something on Claire’s hair, a flower that wasn’t quite placed right. “Are you comfortable?”
My daughter nodded. It wouldn’t have mattered if she wasn’t, she’d still be smiling. She touched the gold bracelet Marie was wearing, blue stones embedded in the metal. It’d been couriered over from her mum in New York, a something blue and new which was also bribery for agreeing to have another ceremony in the small chapel in the grounds of our house in Oxfordshire.
It hadn’t been easy, the last few weeks. We were in the midst of chaos with getting the London house ready to live in, which didn’t involve any building work, thankfully, but a lot of carpet and curtains and furniture, and starting the plans for the renovation of the Oxford home. It was being gutted, remodelled inside to have a different layout, a bigger kitchen, the annex would be an area for the kids for now, but it would be nothing like the house that Rachael had lived in, which seemed healthy, although we had created a rose garden for her, one filled with little garden ornaments and roses and lavender. When it matured, it would be something gorgeous and a way for the kids to remember their mum.
“Okay. I feel nervous. I don’t need to be fecking nervous.” She brushed her hands down her dress, a simple white dress that she’d found during a shopping trip with Claire and Amelie, the little girl who lived next door to us in Oxfordshire.
“Language.” Ironically, that was Bernie, whose mouth was never clean. “And look to your left because there’s someone here to see you.”
“You mean right,” I said. Bernie had no idea of the difference between left and right.
Marie looked in both directions and then saw what her sister was trying to point out.
“Aiden. Siobhan.” She looked at me, then back to her sister and brother. “Did you know?”
I nodded. Bernadette couldn’t hold water. Marie had been out in the village with Max and Jackson when Bernie had been on the phone to her parents and siblings and completely given the game away.
To be fair to her, she took the shit that could’ve been lobbed Marie’s way, removing the heat from the loss of the wedding event of the year.
But that conversation led to conversations between me and Marie’s dad, a few threats and a couple of demands. It was always worse negotiating with another lawyer. Her parents couldn’t be here, a court case stopping Joseph and her mum was booked in for a small operation which meant flying was out of the question, but her big brother, Aiden, and littlest sister had been able to make it.
She stepped over to them, accepting big hugs amongst words about not ruining her make-up or hair, then demanding when they got to London and making threats towards Bernadette.
My parents were there too, although I was already aware that they would be. They’d been round the corner as the limo had pulled up, waiting for us to get out and for Marie to see her siblings.
She turned around and shook her head at me. “Was this you?”
I shrugged. “A bit of me. A bit of Bernadette. Mainly the fact your sister is incapable of keeping a secret.”
“I’ll have you all later.” She turned back to Aiden and Siobhan. “You need to meet the hooligans. Kids, come here.”
The four of them edged close, a little shy. Callum was holding Max’s hand, dressed in the same smart trousers and a shirt like his older brothers. Claire grabbed Marie’s hand for a second, but found herself being scooped up in a hug from Marie’s sister.
“Told you she wouldn’t be mad.” Bernie sidled up to me.
“What about the other brothers and sisters? Won’t they want to be here?”
“There are nine of us. There are going to be a lot of weddings. Plus there’ll be weddings of all the kids we’ll produce in the future, so even more weddings. They’ll think Marie’s a hero for not subjecting us to one now. We need to get everyone moving though. How are we playing this?” Suddenly I was nervous. I’d asked so much of her. Me, a mess of a man and his four kids who were wild and thought no one could love them. She had her own money and her own career, what could she possibly want me for?
Bernie brushed my shoulder as if tidying me up. “Take Jackson and Max in with you. Give Max the rings to hold. I’ll get her to walk in with Aiden and Siobhan’s got hold of Callum now so that’s him taken care of for the next week. She likes babies.” She shook her head. “Siobhan’s like our mother. She had nine of us but she’d have had more if she could’ve. The only way you’re getting away with depriving her of a big Irish wedding today is because you come with four ready-made grandkids for her to spoil, and she totally bought the explanation that this was a quick wedding to help the kids feel more settled.”
“It was true. Sort of.”
Bernie shook her head. “Get in with you. Be the groom.”
“What if she changes her mind?” I looked over to where Marie was standing with her brother, a stranger they’d stopped taking photographs of them together. Her eyes landed on me and I received a smile that eradicated those nerves.
“Yeah, not going to happen. She’s besotted. Get your arse inside. We need to get this show on the road.” Bernadette actually gave me a small push.
“Going. Max, Jackson, are you ready?” They came straight away for once, maybe for the first time.
Probably for the last.
We waited at the top of a makeshift aisle, the celebrant standing there smiling, along with an official from the registry office who would make sure the wedding certificate was signed and all was in good order.
I waited and waited, or so it felt, my mind racing through a thousand different scenarios where Marie saw sense and changed her mind.
None were accurate.
“She’s here.” Max had been waiting, expression serious as if he was worried too. “She’ll be our step-mum now.”
“Don’t let her hear you call her that. She hates it.” Jackson was shifting from side to side on his feet, unable to stand still.
I’d caught him trying to climb on someone’s motorbike parked near our new house yesterday. I feared for his teenage years.
She walked up the aisle holding Claire’s hand, her other arm linked through her brother’s, who looked as proud as a dog with three tails. Her hair was half pinned up, half down, the curls full and wild, because she’d said there was no point trying to tame them. It wouldn’t work.
A little like her.
“Look after her,” her older brother had the sense to keep his voice very low so she couldn’t hear it. “She’s not always as tough as she looks. And if you hurt her, I know a guy in the East End who’ll cut your bollocks off and feed them to the eels in the Thames.”
“Gotcha.” I wasn’t sure eels ate bollocks but now wasn’t the time to debate that fact.
Claire found her way to her brothers, standing at the side while the ceremony was conducted. Simple and short, my children managing to hold their attention for all of it, even Callum who was rather happy in Marie’s little sister’s arms.
“I pronounce you husband and wife.” The words were final, both an end and a beginning.
“You may kiss the bride.” The celebrant gave me a huge smile and stepped back, the collective audience of our families, my kids and her sister Bernadette holding their breath.
All eyes on us. It wasn’t that we weren’t used to that, being who we were.
I held her face gently in my hands, one slipping round the back of her head, my fingers totally messing with her hair but she could tell me off later.
Then I kissed her, deep and long and without a care for the fact that my kids were watching.
There was a smattering of applause and a deliberate cough from Bernie.
I stopped the kiss. “We can carry that on later.” I made sure it was quiet enough so no one else could hear, Marie’s cheeks turning pink.
“If you’re lucky. There are six of us here now so this is officially an Irish wedding.” She let me take her hand as we turned and faced the rest of our small party, Claire the first to run to us and I scooped her up in my arms, surprised every time at how big she was getting.
Marie bent down to hug Jackson and then Max, who was smiling now, the seriousness having faded. I wondered if it was relief. He’d carried too much on his shoulders and while Marie hadn’t tried to take it away, she’d shared it with him.
He was the one I worried about most.
“Congratulations,” Aiden Green offered me his hand. “You seem to make my little sister very happy. We probably have more to discuss but it can wait until you’re more settled.”
“Thank you. I have another couple of months off work to help get things settled.” Although I’d been in the office twice during the last week, just to keep in touch and I hadn’t been there very long. “I need to get the kids settled in school and appoint an au pair.”
Aiden nodded. “I have eight siblings. I do know what it’s like.” His eyes twinkled. “Can’t imagine what it was like to be an only child.”
“Nowhere near as much fun.”
He nodded, saying no more and I wondered what stories were there that I’d (hopefully) never know about.
We headed to the restaurant we liked best for a Sunday lunch when neither of us wanted to cook, a small room reserved for us. It’d been Bernadette who’d organised it, taking away a job from Marie who was in the midst of ordering every soft furnishing known to the human race.
Bernadette was headed back to Ireland in four days. I’d actually miss her, as much as we bickered on an hourly basis she was fun to have around and the kids, especially Jackson, loved her.
But those goodbyes were on hold. I had a bride to be with.
We went home to an empty house, my parents taking the children for a night back at their place, Bernadette wrangling herself a stay there which she said was so she could help with Callum, but I knew it was so she could have a good nosy round.
“This is the only time we’ll know what it’s like to be here on our own.” Marie sat down on the huge sofa that’d been delivered three days ago, her wedding dress completely crumpled but her smile was big.
“For a while.” I sat down next to her, picking up her foot that was bare, her heels discarded as soon as we walked through the door. I pushed down on the sole with my thumbs, eliciting a moan. “One day we’ll be here on our own because they’ll have all grown up and moved away. They’ll have families of their own.”
“We have the teenage years to survive before that. And the returns home when relationships break up or they run out of money or just life.” She sat back and grinned at me again. “It’s going to be a rollercoaster.”
“What do you mean, going?”
She laughed, moving her feet away and scrambling on the sofa so she could straddle me, a cushion falling off.
“It’s been a rollercoaster since you asked me to make you a coffee.” She started to undo the buttons of my shirt, my tie long since abandoned somewhere.
“I’m still waiting for that coffee. Just saying.” I toyed with the straps of her dress, not having a clue how to get her out of it and doubting that she’d like it to be torn. “How does this thing come off?”
“Zip at the back. This is the only opportunity to do this on this sofa.”
My shirt was gone now, my cufflinks discarded onto a nearby side table, although one had already fallen off, probably to be found in another decade along with random lego bricks and hair ties.
Fumbled fingers found the zip, tugging it down and lowering the straps off her shoulders, trying to slow things down because we were alone for the first time since we’d left New York but this wasn’t likely to occur again for months if not longer.
The lazy Sunday we’d spent in bed in New York seemed like a lifetime ago already; since then we’d already made a new life, found a new home, bought more furniture than I thought necessary and I felt momentarily off kilter.
“We’ve already done so much.”
Marie paused. “We have, I suppose. There’s something I’d really like you to do though.”
“What’s that?” I was asking a stupid question. I knew exactly what she was referring to.
“Remind me what good you can do with that cock of yours.” She stood up off my lap and shucked her dress down onto the floor into a silky puddle.
That left her in just a set of lacy underwear, including stockings and a garter. I froze for a moment, wondering how the fuck had I got so lucky.
“I love you.”
She tipped her head back and laughed. “Your timing’s impeccable.”
“That wasn’t the right time to say that, was it?” I hoped it hadn’t ruined the moment.
“There’s never a wrong time to say it.” She straddled my lap again, my hands automatically going to her tits, pulling gently at the lace that was keeping me from them.
Some shuffling around and I’d lost the rest of my clothes, Marie’s bra cast aside somewhere we’d hopefully find it before a child did, and my mouth was in my joint favourite place, teasing her nipple while my hand explored between her legs, warm wetness coating my fingers and her hips angling for more.
It’d become a practiced dance now, especially at night when we didn’t know if we’d be interrupted by a child at some point, which we almost had. The bathroom was a good place to hide, as was the cupboard in the kitchen in the new house. We were creative because we had to be, but sometimes easy, half asleep sex was just as good.
I curved my fingers, finding that spot that made her eyes go to the back of her head and her head tip back. Her nipples were hard and tight, her pale skin flushed. I let her get to the point of coming and withdrew my hand making her swear.
“You can come on my cock.” I lifted her hips to where I wanted them, lining her up and then lowering her down. She liked the idea of being in control, for a little while anyway, and when I’d had enough of giving her the reins, we’d christen the rug in front of the fire, which was currently lego free.
That was the last coherent thought before everything went on instinct. Her little mewling sounds as she built her rhythm up again drove me wild, just like the grip she had on my shoulders, her nails digging in causing just the right amount of hurt.
I gave in after a minute or two, wanting to go harder, deeper, to have her under me in this home we were creating together, so I lifted her up, still inside her and stood, moving on unstable legs to the rug, placing her down carefully.
“That was skilful, but you keep interrupting my orgasm.” She pinched my arse. As a result, I bucked into her harder, lifting her knees up towards her chest.
“Let’s see if I can interrupt it this time.” I carried on a pace that I knew wasn’t sustainable for long. “Can’t believe I’m fucking my wife.”
Her hair was cascaded out over the patterned rug, the darkness contrasting against the colours, her cheeks pink and her lips parted. I burned the image onto my brain.
This woman had chosen me.
“I really do love you.” Probably bad timing again as she broke apart, her muscles clenching my cock, her back arching. “I think I love you most when you’re coming.” My words were breathless, not far from the ending myself.
“I love you too.” It was staccato, breaths between each word, her eyes on mine.
I came inside her, understanding that at some point we’d be trying to make a baby this way.
The adventure would continue.
Even beyond when we were the key players in that adventure.