35
One year later
Ben
The venue couldn’t be more beautiful, and with it being the height of the Australian summer, the weather is glorious.
If anything, it might be a little too hot for us pasty white English folk.
Mum is already sunburnt, Dad has taken to wearing a large Panama hat, and Hugh is doused in sunscreen, so he looks like a ghost. Fortunately, while I am getting myself ready, Hugh is using the small electric fan he bought, and he’s trying to cool me off while Simon is straightening my tie.
‘I can’t believe you’re getting married in Australia!’ says Hugh, and then Poppy pokes her head around the door.
‘Hugh, I need a hand with Elsie. She just did the smelliest poo I think the world has ever seen. I can’t change it. Even Mum took one look at it and left the room in disgust. Sorry, brother dearest, you look great.’
‘Thanks, Sis.’
‘Sorry, Ben, but duty calls,’ says Hugh, turning the fan off.
‘It’s all right, go take care of my niece.’
‘And goddaughter.’
‘And goddaughter. Good luck with the smelly poo!’
‘I don’t know what’s happened to her,’ says Poppy. ‘But since we arrived in Australia, it’s like her bottom has been on overdrive.’
‘I know what you mean,’ says Simon. ‘I’ve been trumping like mad since we landed.’
‘I’m sure Abs loves that,’ I say, as Hugh and Poppy disappear.
‘Actually, she’s fine. Since the engagement, it’s like we know that this is it now, so all bets are off. The other day I was in the shower, she walked in, sat on the toilet and went poo!’
‘While you were in the shower?’
‘While I was in the shower.’
‘Blimey! You’re like an old married couple.’
‘Who’s like an old married couple?’ says Will, walking into the room.
‘Simon was just saying that he and Abigail poo in front of each other nowadays.’
‘That’s lovely,’ says a disgusted Will, who is the last remaining singleton of the group. He remains firmly single, dedicated to his business, fitness and definitely not settling down.
‘How’s everything looking outside?’ I ask Will, my best man.
‘It’s looking perfect, mate, so don’t worry. Everything is in hand.’
‘Right, thanks,’ I say because it is my wedding day, and I want everything to go off without a hitch. People have flown across the world for this day, and Saskia has friends and family that have come from across Australia. I need it to be perfect.
The past year since our first kiss at Heathrow Airport has felt like a dream.
After a few days of locking ourselves away in my bedroom – only coming out for tea and toast – it was decided that Saskia was going to move to London.
She managed to secure a working visa, and so within a few months, she had moved into the flat, was working at a coffee shop in Clapham, and we were officially living together.
She also started working with Simon on a few videos because, as it turned out, being used to performing on stage made her a natural in front of the camera.
They have been working on projects together ever since.
So, with her bringing in some money, there was no need to replace Simon in the flat, and we were able to use his bedroom as a guest room/office/music studio for Saskia.
Our relationship from the first moment felt so easy, and within a month I knew I was going to propose to her.
We went on a holiday back to Australia for a few weeks, and that’s where I proposed – under the Harbour Bridge in Sydney – and we arranged to get married over Christmas.
I felt like she had made a huge sacrifice in moving across the world to live with me, so we could get married wherever she wanted, and as it turned out, it was in Sydney.
Hence, why I am now standing in a place called The Boathouse in Shelly Beach, and I am about to get married to Saskia – almost exactly a year to the date of our first kiss.
I am standing on the soft golden sand of the beach, waiting for Saskia to arrive, and I have to admit that after the Saffy disaster, my shocking blind dates, and even my relationship with Jemma, I could never have imagined a year ago that today I would be here.
The location is stunning, and I am surrounded by my closest family and friends, waiting for the love of my life.
They have set up chairs on the beach, and behind me is a white wooden arch where the female officiant, a lovely woman named Beth, will soon declare us husband and wife.
I have had many surreal moments in my life, but this will surely go down in the number one spot.
Number two: flying across the world to meet Saskia and then finding out that she had flown across the world to meet me.
Number three: being attacked by Saffy with a ball of burrata cheese at an Italian restaurant.
Number four: probably the time I was at a cafe in Soho, and I found myself sitting next to Sir Paul McCartney.
I thought about saying something, perhaps asking for a photo, but he was gone before I made a decision.
Still, to this day, no-one believes it happened.
I did take a quick snap as he walked away, but as Simon said when I showed him the photo as evidence, it could literally be any old bloke.
Will is next to me, looking dashing in his suit and a pair of flip-flops – or thongs as the Australians call them.
Next to him are Simon and then Hugh. In our front row are Poppy, holding baby Elsie, who is looking adorable in a flowery dress with a matching hat to keep the sun off her face, Abigail, Mum, and finally Dad – with his extra-large Panama hat.
The rest of the seats are filled with Saskia’s friends and family, which is no surprise because when you tell people you are getting married in Sydney, over Christmas, when the cost of flights and accommodation is at a premium, people tend to be otherwise engaged.
Fortunately, everyone I really wanted to be here could make it.
The music we picked out – Ben Folds, ‘The Luckiest’, which is from my favourite film, About Time , which Saskia hadn’t seen before, but which we watched the first week we were together, and it soon became ‘our film’ – starts playing for the beginning of the ceremony.
I feel my heart fluttering in my chest, and then for the first time since the day before, I see her.
First, I see Jess, quite pregnant now, which was a nightmare for dresses apparently, then Saskia’s flower girl, Ava, who is only ten and looks adorable in her dress, holding a bouquet in front of her.
Next is Saskia’s cousin, Hannah, who only flew in last night from Brisbane.
As soon as we see her, Will leans towards me.
‘Who the fuck is that?’ he whispers.
‘Saskia’s cousin, Hannah.’
‘She’s gorgeous.’
‘She’s a swimsuit model.’
‘You didn’t think to mention that Saskia had a swimsuit model for a cousin?’
‘Not really the time for this conversation, mate.’
‘Right, sorry,’ whispers Will, as I finally get to see Saskia properly for the first time.
She is being walked down the aisle by Brian, who is not wearing a kilt, and is instead wearing the rather debonair suit we picked out for him.
He even agreed to get a haircut, trim his beard, and wear underwear, if it meant giving Saskia away.
With ‘The Luckiest’ playing, Saskia walking towards me in a stunning white dress, smiling like the happiest woman in the entire world, I can’t help a few tears that leak out and down my face.
I quickly wipe them away as Saskia reaches me.
She turns to Brian, gives him a hug, and then he looks at me.
‘Take good care of her, mate. She’s bloody precious cargo, eh.’
‘Will do, Brian,’ I reply before we shake hands, he steps back, and Saskia looks at me.
‘G’day, Beno,’ she says, and I have never loved her more than at this moment.
‘G’day, Saso,’ I reply, and then we both turn towards Beth, who will start the ceremony.
This is it. We are going to get married, and I have this thought in my head: What if I had never sent that email or hadn’t been rushing and sent it to the correct Saskia Conway? Would I still be standing here today?