17. Gully
Gully
T he day of Ivy’s funeral had been full of the promise of rain. Today was entirely the opposite. We had weak sunshine, the sky matching that of dawn on a fine day, and there was zero chance of rain according to the forecast, but no one really paid much attention to that, not if you were from the island.
I was in the Puffin Inn, even though it wasn’t open yet and it was before noon. My brothers, both dressed in suits, sat at a table with me, glasses of whisky in hand, both surprisingly free from the stains of baby sick and the smell of stale milk.
The children – there were six between us now – were being looked after by our mam, Grayson, Aunt Marie and Clover for the day, because today was the day when Iris and I were getting married.
“I can’t believe we’ve managed to get someone to agree to marry you without having to pay them.” Finn sat back, almost toppling his stool over, which would’ve been hilarious had it happened. “And she’s sane.”
“Relatively sane. More sane since Rory’s slept for more than three hours at a time. That was hard.” We’d ended up taking shifts so we both got some sleep. I was currently in awe of how Finn and Ruby had managed to get pregnant when Elias was only two months old. I had no idea how that’d happened.
“Plain sailing from now then.” Roe had already confessed he hadn’t slept at all, which was nothing new for him to pull an all-nighter. “Emmy’s much better at sleeping that Calla though, last night was a one off.”
Finn shook his head. “Look at us. Discussing the sleeping patterns of our offspring. What happened?”
I sipped my whisky. “Life. Not sure I’d change it.”
Footsteps came from behind the bar and Amelie swung round with the whisky bottle. “You’re all allowed one tiny top up and then that’s it until after the ceremony.”
“Who’s said that?” Finn narrowed his eyes.
“Me. The landlady. Friend of your wives.” Her eyes glistened dangerously. “And you all had your pass for Gully’s stag do.”
I groaned at the memory. I’d needed two days to recover from that. In fact, I’d been in a worse state than Iris after twelve hours of labour.
“You’ve known us far longer than the girls - ” Finn was trying, bless him.
“I have. I think I actually wiped your arses when you were still in nappies and I have some amazing photos of when you were toddlers and running round Grant and Marie’s Oxford house with no clothes on. I’m more than happy to share them on the noticeboard if you piss me off.” She smiled sweetly at us. “And you have twenty minutes before the pub opens and then another thirty before you start the walk up to the church.”
We were walking from the Puffin Inn to the church in much the same way we had the day of Ivy’s funeral, only this time, I’d be holding Ivy’s niece rather than carrying a coffin. Finn had found it a little morbid at first, but he’d gotten it after a couple of days of avoiding me.
The whole town would be there, as well as the majority of our Callaghan and Green cousins, which had meant everywhere was booked up room wise, including most of Roman’s hotel. We weren’t having anything too formal though. The ceremony would be standard, a few extra songs that Iris didn’t know about, but would hopefully thank me for later, and then back to the pub for food and drinks, with it carrying on for as long as people wanted. There wasn’t a band or DJ, but there would be singing and I’d already seen my guitar somewhere behind the bar.
“Ready for it?” Roe grinned at me.
I nodded. “Very.”
“Let’s hope she doesn’t get cold feet.”
She didn’t. She was late though, but only by five minutes. The path to the church was lined with Puffin Bay residents and some of the Callaghan and Green cousins, especially the ones with children too young to sit through a service. I heard some of the male Welsh voice choir start up singing, their voices carrying into the church, then the same song was picked up inside as Iris walked in.
Her dress was simple and white, and she’d chosen a veil, although it wasn’t over her face. She carried calla lilies and red roses, daffodils threaded between them, the stems wrapped in strings of ivy. The church had been decorated in the same flowers, greens and whites and yellows and reds.
“Don’t think of crying.” Roe elbowed me, passing me a tissue.
I shook my head, wondering if anyone would notice me murdering him later, but then I was too distracted by Iris and her smile that was for only me.
Our daughter gave a gurgle that made everyone laugh, her Uncle Finn amusing her to stop her from wanting mummy right now.
I didn’t notice the bridesmaids until I saw the photos, Ruby, Freya and Elsie, all dressed in emerald green, because there was one person I could see.
The service wasn’t long. We said our vows without playing around with them, and there were songs that Iris wasn’t expecting, particularly the one that had her name as the title that I’d always been able to sing. Iris hadn’t know that the nights when I’d ‘nipped to the Puffin Inn for a pint’ had actually been to rehearse the song, giving it a Welsh twist.
It was met with a mixture of laughter and tears, which I was going to take as a good sign. We walked back down the aisle, Rory in my arms trying to pull at her mother’s veil, and then totally getting in the way of a kiss in the archway.
We managed it anyway.
We managed to stay awake through the rest of the day, even though Finn and Roe both snuck away for power naps, and we managed to laugh through the speeches, Iris giving her own, which included a toast to her sister for the legacy she’d passed on.
Which left us with a wedding night and a five-month-old baby, which didn’t seem like two things which would gel okay, so for the first time since she was born, Rory wasn’t staying with us. Instead she was at Ruby and Finn’s in the same room as my mam, who’d volunteered it as our wedding gift – or one of them. We’d had a few practices at our wedding night, making sure that everything worked (it did) and that we could be quiet enough to not wake up Rory (we could), although there was no way we could do it in our bedroom while Rory was in there, so we’d been using the spare room next door, taking the baby monitor with us, or the shower.
“It’s really strange walking in here without Rory.” Iris stopped in the hallway, taking off her shoes. “It feels too quiet.”
I nodded, agreeing completely. “We can go back and get her if you want.”
She paused, thinking about it. “No. There’s got to be a first night without her and this should be it. This night should be for us.”
I smiled, knowing that my grin was hiding a lot underneath.
“You want to go and get her, don’t you?”
I nodded. “Kind of. I mean, she’s fine and safe at Finn’s with my mam, and Finn’s place is really familiar to her.”
Iris put her arms around my neck, pulling her body closer to mine. “Let’s make a call on it in another hour or so.”
“Agreed.” I kissed her, which I’d been doing all day, but not for this long or this deep.
The kiss morphed quickly into more, my hands exploring over her dress, her veil long since having been stolen by one of the cousin’s kids, probably Eliza. I lifted her up in my arms and carried her up the stairs.
“I remember the first day you came here and I showed you round.” I headed straight for our bedroom, no need for a tour this time.
“And I never left.” She laughed as I almost dropped her down onto the mattress. The bedroom was filled with clothes and make-up, this being the place where Iris and her bridesmaids had gotten ready.
“That was kind of the plan.” I pulled off my tie that had managed to outlast the day by some miracle.
Her hands lifted to undo the buttons of my shirt, pulling it away at the same time as my morning suit jacket, her eyes absorbing what she could see in the light of my body.
“I don’t think it’s going to be that easy to get your dress off.” I had no idea where to start.
Iris giggled, sitting up and turning round. “Start at the top. There’s about a hundred buttons.”
It was like opening a very well wrapped Christmas present, each button exposing more of her silky soft skin, each exposed inch kissed before the air could cool it.
I slowed it down, because there was only one first night of being married, only one time I’d get to take the wedding dress off my wife, and I was going to make sure I could remember every second of this.
“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” I guided her off the bed so we were standing and turned her round, the dress still covering her front.
“This dress - ”
“The dress has nothing to do with it.” I put my hands on the straps of her dress and moved them slowly off her shoulders, more flawless flesh on display for my eyes, the material sliding over her breasts, changed with pregnancy, changed with feeding our daughter, still as fucking gorgeous.
“You still look at me the same.” She said it was if she was surprised.
“I always will.”
She laughed, her tits moving so I had to hold them, make sure they weren’t injured. Yes, I was that puerile sometimes.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“It’s part of my charm.” I shifted myself up by kissing her neck, her collar bone, pressing her back onto the bed, her dress now on the floor, leaving her in just a tiny pair of underwear which I disposed of without lifting my head from her breast, and then I was free to explore the rest of her inches, telling her how much I loved each one, how much I loved her.
I made her come first with my head between her legs, my cock hard and angry, feeling punished because I was making him wait his turn, then I worked my way back over her, entering her sweet cunt slowly at first, letting her get used to the size of me, letting me get used to the feel of her.
It felt different tonight. Maybe it was because we’d had a baby together, maybe it was because we were now married, or maybe because it was just how it was meant to be. Her arms wrapped round me, her eyes stayed on mine as I rocked us both to an orgasm that felt like the force of a major earthquake, but this time it put all the pieces back where they should be.
“I love you, Gulliver Holland.” Those were her first words when she caught her breath, her hand on the back of my neck, her legs still wrapped around mine. “I always will.”
“That’s good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
“Me neither.”
We slept, somehow finding it easier than we thought without Aurora, and even managing time for round two in the early hours of the morning and again in the kitchen while we were making coffee, the dawn already there.
The other dawn arrived a couple of hours later, smiling and babbling, happy with her nana overnight but very pleased to see her mamma.
I knew how she felt.
We were both lucky.