Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Harry pinned his eyes on the hill. What on earth did Margaret mean, ‘quite the entrance’?
‘You know anything about what’s going on?’ he asked.
Ben shook his head.
‘Looks like the rest of the guests are here,’ he said.
The tractor appeared once again. As it drew near, more familiar faces shone back at Harry. He couldn’t remember inviting half of them, probably hadn’t.
‘Thought we said this wasn’t going to be a big event?’ Ben laughed.
Harry sighed through a smile.
‘There’s going to be even more at the reception. No idea where they’ll go, though. Mandy was confident everyone would fit.’
‘We’ll all just spill out into the bar, I guess,’ said Ben.
Soon everyone was sat down. All they were waiting for now was the arrival of Liz and Grace.
When they eventually arrived, they did so in a way that Harry, in a month of Sundays, would have never guessed.
A huge, black shire horse came into view at the top of the hill.
For a moment, Harry simply stared, unable to find the words.
‘That’s ... that’s Harry,’ he eventually said, barely able to believe what they were all witnessing.
Leading the horse was Grace’s dad, Arthur, along with his old friend, Phil. Both were dressed to the nines. They were men who’d lived in the Dales their whole lives, and when they did put on a suit, they gave the impression they were dressed for an impending visit by royalty.
Atop the horse, were Grace and Liz, sat close together, both dressed in white, both riding side saddle. Judging by the laughter rolling down the hill before them, they were having the best time. As they drew closer, Harry could see flowers in their hair.
‘How did they keep this a secret?’ Ben asked.
Harry could give no reply. And even as he tried to, something else came into view behind Grace and Liz.
‘And here come the bride’s maids,’ he said.
Jen was striding out, wearing a green dress that seemed to have somehow been woven from the dale itself. In her hand she was holding the reins of a chestnut brown pony. Sat regally on the pony, and dressed to match Jen, was a young girl.
Harry searched for Matt in the crowd. He found him, sat with his wife, Joan, beaming as their daughter, Mary-Ann, rode towards them.
Everyone watched as the horse and pony made their way. Then, as they reached the bottom of the hill, and started to make their final approach, a shadow cast itself over Harry, and he turned to see that Margaret standing over them.
‘On your feet, you two,’ she said. ‘It’s show time!’
Harry and Ben stood up.
‘Here we go,’ Ben said.
Harry and Ben watched as Grace and Liz, and Jen and Mary-Ann, left Harry the shire horse, and the pony, with Phil, and gathered at the far end of the aisle. Liz, Harry knew, had asked Arthur to walk her down the aisle, as well as Grace. He’d accepted immediately, and with a few tears shed by both.
Then soft music started to play, and with all eyes upon them, they began to walk slowly down the aisle.
All Harry could see, all he cared about, was the smile on Grace’s face, and the sparkle of magic in her eyes.
As far as he was concerned, she looked beautiful whatever she wore, be that jeans and one of his jumpers, a waxed jacket and Wellington boots with a gun under her arm, or something a little more fancy, when they managed to get their act together and actually go out somewhere swish for the night.
Not that that happened very often; something he decided there and then, he’d need to rectify.
Right now, though, he’d never seen the like.
He searched for the words to describe how she looked, something that could, at the very least, capture the vision before him.
In the end, he gave up. It didn’t matter.
Sometimes, words simply weren’t enough. This was more than just a visual experience.
For Harry, it seemed as though his whole being was witnessing something that no part of him could fully comprehend, and neither would it ever, either.
Arthur led Grace to Harry, and Liz to Ben, and stepped back just a little, so that he wouldn’t be caught up in proceedings. Then, with a wink at Harry, Grace turned to stare back up the aisle, and sent out a sharp, bright whistle.
Harry was fairly sure nothing could surprise him now, especially after having watched a shire horse bring his own bride, and his brother’s, down the hill. That was until, in response to Grace’s whistle, a small pack of dogs trotted down the aisle.
With everyone watching them as they padded past, Smudge, Fly, Jess, and Arthur’s dog, Molly, came to heel.
‘Cheese!’ called Mary-Ann, and a golden ball of furry nonsense threw itself out of one of the rows of chairs, and pelted down the aisle to join them.
She threw herself into Mary-Ann’s arms and licked her cheek.
Mary-Ann giggled, then placed the dog gently onto the ground, where she sat, good as gold, beside her mum, Smudge.
‘Well, I think that’s everyone,’ said Margaret, then looked at Jen and added, ‘Unless Steve’s joining us as well?’
‘Too busy keeping an eye on the sofa,’ Jen said.
Margaret turned her attention to the whole gathering.
‘Well, good afternoon, everyone!’ she said. ‘It gives me a huge amount of pleasure to welcome you all to this beautiful place, surrounded as we are by family, friends, and a good number of sheep wondering just what on earth is going on, to celebrate not just one marriage, but two.’
Harry laughed, and wasn’t the only one.
‘Now, I’ve attended a good number of weddings over the years, and taken part in plenty, too.
I can honestly say, however, that this is the first time I’ve stood before two brides, two grooms, five dogs, and enough police officers to arrest the entire congregation if things get out of hand. So, you’ve been warned!’
A ripple of laughter moved through the guests.
‘Today, though, isn’t about keeping the Dale safe, making sure the rabbit population isn’t getting out of hand, or any of the other myriad things that have occupied these four people for far too long.
It’s about finding the person who makes the world feel a little more like home, no matter what life throws at you.
And if you want me to be soppy about it all, it’s about love, plain and simple. ’
Harry half expected to hear more laughter. Instead, there was only respectful silence.
‘This is a special place,’ Margaret continued. ‘And I have no doubt that Anna is smiling down on us all.’
‘Oh, she is,’ came the soft, highland lilt of Gordy’s voice from somewhere behind Harry, and he saw his own smile reflected in the one on Grace’s face.
And from that moment, Harry was lost. He knew that he and Ben were surrounded by friends, that Margaret was speaking, first to everyone gathered as witnesses, and then to him and Grace, and to Ben and Liz.
He heard music and singing, listened to a reading by Arthur and another by Gordy, and only just managed to keep the tears he felt welling up, from falling freely.
He threw himself into the pools of Grace’s eyes as Margaret handed over the rings, and they listened to Ben and Liz exchange their vows.
Simple words, and deep. The silence which followed them was enough, it seemed, to still even the sheep on the hills for a respectful moment or two.
Then Harry had a ring in his hand, and was ready to slip it onto Grace’s finger.
Grace let out the faintest gasp.
‘That’s ...’
Arthur leaned in close and whispered, ‘It’s your mum’s, Grace. And Harry’s got mine.’
‘But ...’
Arthur stepped back, smiling.
Harry could hear his heart thumping hard. And yet, he was calm. Even more so, because, to his own monumental surprise, he could remember the vows he’d written as clear as day.
‘Grace, you make the good days better and the bad days bearable. You are my lover, my best friend, you are my home, and the person I want beside me for the rest of my life. I promise to love you, support you, and to never stop being grateful that, even with this face of mine, you chose me.’
As gentle laughter took to the air, Harry slipped the ring fully onto Grace’s finger.
Margaret handed Grace the ring for Harry. She took it, held it for a moment, glanced at Arthur, then took Harry’s hand.
‘Harry, you make me feel safe, loved, and never alone. You’re gruff, stubborn, and bloody-minded, and there’s no one else I’d rather spend my life with. I promise to stand beside you, laugh with you, argue with you occasionally, and to love every scar on that face of yours for the rest of my days.’
The laughter this time was louder, and Grace pushed her father’s wedding ring on to Harry’s finger.
‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ Margaret bellowed. ‘Kiss the brides, for goodness sake!’
Harry lifted a hand to Grace’s face. He held it in her own, both wedding rings glinting.
‘I love you,’ Harry said.
‘Ditto,’ said Grace.
And they kissed.