Lie For Me

21. Chapter 21

‘This way,’ Lucy said as they trailed after a cluster of wedding guests making their way through the hotel grounds. The sun was high in the sky as guests followed small white signs staked in the ground, pointing the way to the church.

Women picked carefully over the grass to avoid getting heels stuck, and men slung jackets over their shoulders and rolled up their shirt sleeves. It was less than half a mile to walk directly through the hotel grounds to the old chapel, where the ceremony itself would take place. Lucy stopped and took off her shoes, looping the straps over her fingers and swinging them beside her, her feet revelling in the warm grass.

She wove in and out of the shade of the trees, taking relief from the sun where she could find it. Running her fingers across tall meadow grasses, she led the way along the grass path to the chapel.

They strolled in companionable silence, the industrious buzzing of bees and insects rising from the grasses and hedgerows. The sun-baked lawns gave off a sweet, earthy smell.

Jack was quiet as he wandered beside her, and Lucy thought back to what he’d shared with her at the lake the day before. She could sense his unease about attending the wedding.

‘Hey,’ she said, touching his arm as the chapel spire poked out from behind trees in the distance. ‘I don’t know if I’ve really said thank you for this, you know. I mean,’ she paused, ‘I know I’ve said I am glad you’re here and things but…I want you to know I am grateful. Thank you. It makes it so much easier, not being on my own. And I,’ she looked across at him, his eyes trained on the path at his feet, ‘I didn’t realise until yesterday that it was actually quite a big ask. So,’ she tried to end on a lighter note, ‘extra big thanks!’

Jack smiled and slipped his arm around her waist. ‘I’m happy to do it for you,’ he said, and kissed her temple.

Lucy’s heart rolled in her chest at his words and his touch. It was hot, but his hand felt like it was scorching through her dress.

After a moment, Jack murmured, ‘Been waiting for years for someone to ask me to be their fake boyfriend but no one asked.’

Lucy snorted in typical ladylike fashion and shoved him. He stumbled sideways into the meadow grasses. ‘Every summer,’ he continued, steadying himself, ‘along came the wedding season, and I thought—wait!’ He wrung his hands. ‘This could be my year!’

Lucy batted him with her shoes.

‘Oh, shut up! I was trying to actually give a serious, heartfelt thanks, but everything is always funny to you, isn’t it?’ she said, only semi-cross.

‘Not everything,’ he said, his face suddenly serious.

His pace slowed, and Lucy fell back to walk in step with him.

‘Luce,’ he said, and she angled herself to look at him as they walked along. ‘There is something I’ve been trying to tell—’

‘Coming through!’ came a shout from behind them as Greg and Dave hurried along the path.

Greg, who deserved an award for Champion Best Man Wrangler, was leading the way, with a red-faced and sweating Dave bringing up the rear. Greg was carrying both of their jackets, the rings and Dave’s speech. Dave looked a little better than when they had seen him earlier, but that wasn’t saying much. The heat was cruel to those already feeling fragile, and Dave looked like he wanted to throw up in the hedge.

‘Come on mate,’ Greg urged, as they panted past. ‘We’re late.’

Dave belched into his mouth as he lurched up to them.

‘Sorry,’ he said, shambling by. ‘Hi, Lucy.’ He flushed a darker shade of red. ‘Hi, Jake.’

‘Think he fancies you,’ whispered Jack as the boys stumbled around the curve in the path ahead.

‘And he thinks you’re called Jake,’ Lucy said. ‘Let’s not correct him. He has enough to cope with today.’

Some more guests caught up with them, and Lucy looped her arm through Jack’s.

‘C’mon, we’d better get a move on, or we’ll be late too. What was it you were going to tell me?’

The couple behind them were arguing in angry, hushed tones.

‘It was the tone of your voice,’ the woman hissed. ‘You didn’t need to say it like that.’

‘Jesus,’ came the reply, through gritted teeth, ‘can you for once just listen to what I am saying instead of trying to analyse my facial expressions and tone….’

The woman shushed him.

‘Fine. Let’s just try to enjoy the day, shall we?’

‘Go on. What is it?’ Lucy urged Jack.

‘Not now,’ Jack said, smiling at her. ‘Not the right time.’

The path opened out before them onto a lane, and across the quiet lane stood the church. Lucy couldn’t help but admire the setting Ollie and Sophie had chosen for their vows. Sitting in the middle of a neatly manicured churchyard, surrounded by a low stone wall, the church glowed in the sunlight. Copper beech and oak trees sheltered guests from the midday sun as they clustered under them, fanning themselves with hats, bags and jackets. There was no sign of Greg and Dave.

An old couple with a portly, drooling Beagle sat on a bench on the opposite side of the road, watching the entertainment provided by the arriving guests.

Heather and Mark were on the church steps, and Heather raised a hand in a half-hearted greeting.

‘Hmm, I see some sort of relations are restored,’ Jack murmured.

‘We’re doing this for Ollie,’ Lucy muttered back, pausing to shove her feet into her shoes.

Guests were slowly making their way inside, and Lucy and Jack joined the queue.

It was dark and cool as they made their way into the church. A ripple of sighs rolled back to them from the people ahead, all gasping and saying, ‘ooof, isn’t it lovely and cool in here’, ‘such a relief’, ‘good to be out of the sun for a bit,’ and the very appropriate, ‘thank god.’

The man behind them muttered, ‘Never been so happy to be in a church in my life.’

His wife muttered back, ‘Careful—you might go up in flames when you enter.’

‘Ah, the British in summer,’ Jack murmured into Lucy’s ear as they shuffled forwards. ‘Moaning all year for some sunshine and then, when it comes, moaning that it’s not the right sort of sunshine. It’s too much sunshine. It’s too hot, it’s burning the lawn, we need rain, need a spot of rain,’ Lucy was giggling, ‘need a good soaking….’

‘Yes,’ Lucy whispered back, ‘and if it had rained today, everyone would say, such a shame for the lovely couple, shame to rain on their big day, ruin the photos, the dress will get soaked, of all the days…’

‘Bride or groom?’ A perky young man with a wide grin interrupted.

‘Oh, groom, please,’ Lucy said, and he directed them where to sit.

Valerie was positioned towards the front, standing and greeting guests as the unofficial mistress of ceremonies. She has swapped her trousers and blouse for a dusky pink lace dress with a full skirt and a matching hat the size of a satellite dish. A large jewelled necklace glinted at her throat, and rings flashed on her fingers. Kathleen, the mother of the bride, stood behind her dressed in a navy suit, a small navy pillbox hat on her neat grey bob, clasping at hands as Valerie passed them on.

Lucy made to slip into a pew in the middle of the church, but Valerie beckoned them to join her, James, Heather, and Mark at the front. Lucy hesitated, one hand still on the pew, then felt Jack’s hand slide under hers, and they laced their fingers together. She stepped towards her mother.

‘Darling,’ Valerie air-kissed Lucy’s cheek, lest she muss her mother of the groom’s makeup. ‘Much better,’ she nodded at Lucy’s dress.

‘Jack.’ She clasped his hand warmly. ‘Very good to see you again.’

Lucy slid onto the pew and found herself next to Mark.

‘Hello,’ he said, ever cheerful and entirely unaware of any atmosphere.

The church had undergone the same lavender makeover as everywhere else. Clusters of lilac and white flowers adorned the ends of pews and lavender-coloured curled ribbons were festooned about the church pillars and arches. The pews were filling up fast with guests in pastel hues and all sizes and shape of hats, though nothing to rival the size of Valerie’s.

Dave stood at the front of the church, sipping a bottle of water. He actually looked quite smart with his jacket on and hair smoothed down. He avoided meeting Valerie’s gaze. Ollie joined him a moment later, looking excited and handsome (but very warm) in his morning suit with a lavender tie and pocket square. He fiddled with his tie and accepted a bottle of water from Greg, then checked his watch and took a deep breath.

A few moments passed before Lucy realised she was still holding onto Jack’s hand. She suddenly pulled hers away abruptly.

‘Sorry,’ she whispered.

Jack looked a little surprised.

‘It’s okay,’ he said, then added more quietly. ‘It was nice.’

Lucy wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly and opened her mouth to ask him to repeat himself, when the organist began to play. There was a rustle as the assembled guests rose and turned towards the doors. Ollie fiddled with his cravat and shifted his weight from foot to foot, and Dave patted his pockets again for the rings.

The heavy double doors swung slowly open, and there were Heather’s boys, Peter and Thomas, the page boys. A collective ahhh went up from around the church as they stepped forward uncertainly, nudged along by the bridesmaids behind them. Little Peter, who was barely three, looked hot and cross and kept pulling at his tiny waistcoat—Lucy could tell that wouldn’t last much longer. Thomas, a serious six-year-old, was solemn-faced and marching stiffly to a rhythm no one else could hear, little arms glued to his sides. Both were relieved to make it to the front of the aisle and fall into the waiting arms of their grandparents, where Peter began pulling at waistcoat buttons in earnest. The bridesmaids glided by in soft lavender column dresses and starched hairdos, and then everyone turned their attention back to the entrance.

There was a murmur of approval as Sophie stepped into view. She looked radiant as she stepped forward, her arm looped through her father’s, who was beaming from ear to ear. She wore a strapless bodice with a heart-shaped neckline and a bell-shaped white tulle skirt. A jewelled tiara perched on her hair, pinning her veil in place, and she carried an oversized bouquet of white roses and peonies tied with lavender ribbon. Her eyes sparkled, and though she processed slowly down the aisle in time with the music, she looked like she’d like to gather up her skirts and run to the altar.

Lucy glanced at Ollie, seeing his bride for the first time, and caught him wiping at his eyes. Greg had his hand on Ollie’s shoulder, and Dave slapped him on the back. Sophie blew Lucy a kiss as she passed and then glided up to Ollie. He looked humbled and wholly grateful to be standing beside her.

As the vicar invited everyone to be seated, there was a general shuffle and rustle around the church. Lucy glanced at Jack and saw him rub at his eyes. She squeezed his arm and stared at him questioningly, but he smiled without looking at her. She went to move her hand away, but he caught her fingers in his and held them. Lucy’s breath quickened, and she squeezed his hand back.

Ollie and Sophie stumbled over their vows with lots of eager laughter, and Ollie said, ‘I do,’ even before the vicar finished the question. Dave was actually the person who was most together in the ceremony, presenting the rings perfectly on cue. Then Heather stepped up to give a reading. Poised and confident, she flicked her dark hair over her shoulders and paused for effect and attention before she spoke.

‘A poem,’ she said, ‘on friendship and love, by Emily Bronte.’

Lucy felt a leap in her chest. She was so very aware of her hand, and Jack’s still clasped, but neither let go as Heather opened her mouth and began.

‘Love is like the wild rose-briar,

Friendship like the holly-tree—

The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms

But which will bloom most constantly?’

Heather’s voice was warm and assured as she filled the words with meaning and emotion. Lucy felt her palm sweating but sat frozen, barely breathing. She couldn’t seem to unfurl her fingers from Jack’s.

The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring,

Its summer blossoms scent the air;

Yet wait till winter comes again

And who will call the wild-briar fair?

Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now

And deck thee with the holly’s sheen,

That when December blights thy brow

He still may leave thy garland green.’

Lucy couldn’t bear it any longer, her hand in Jack’s, the reading. She felt as if everyone could read her confused thoughts. She eased her hand from Jack’s, and he didn’t protest or try to take it back. She thought it must have been an awkward moment for them both, and she fidgeted in her spot on the pew.

The vicar invited the guests to join in singing Jerusalem as he led Ollie and Sophie to sign the register. The organist struck the opening chords, and the congregation rose obediently. Lucy, an enthusiastic singer of power ballads and Disney anthems in the shower, nonetheless knew her singing had no place in public. She mumbled the words quietly to herself, while giving all appearances of belting out about satanic mills and green hills. Jack, meanwhile, was contributing a fine baritone, and Lucy twisted her neck to look at him. He stared straight forward, holding up his order of service with the words, and didn’t look at her. The hymn ended, and Valerie, in the row in front of them, turned around and nodded approvingly at Jack.

Sophie and Ollie reappeared with the vicar, who invited everyone to celebrate Ollie and Sophie as a newly married couple. There was cheering, and a wolf whistle, and the congregation broke out in applause and laughter. Ollie and Sophie raised their arms over their heads like triumphant athletes and laughed and kissed one another. Then Sophie was wiping the lipstick from Ollie’s face, and people were dabbing their eyes, and it was all over.

The strains of Natalie Cole’s, This will be (An Everlasting Love) played through the church as the happy couple made their way down the aisle, greeting and hugging people as they went. The congregation fell in behind them, people taking orders of service with them as souvenirs and as fans for the heat. Lucy turned to look at Jack before she stepped out into the aisle to follow. He was still in their seat. His brow was furrowed, and his mouth was a pinched line. She turned and went back to him as people bustled past them, eager to get back to the reception and the drinks.

‘Oh Jack, I’m so sorry,’ she said, mortified that she’d ever asked him to do this. ‘I wish I’d known. You could have said no. I’d have been fine—’

Jack shook his head and sniffed, hiding his face from her. She tentatively slid her fingers over his, and he grasped at them, turning her hand over in his, as if he was looking for clues.

‘No, it wasn’t upsetting like that,’ he said. ‘It was so…hopeful. They really,’ he sniffed and shrugged, ‘do seem to belong together.’ He held Lucy’s gaze now, his eyes dark and unfathomable. ‘It makes you wonder what’s possible, doesn’t it?’

Lucy swallowed, at a loss for words. Jack reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and she quivered at the simple intimacy of his touch.

‘Excuse me.’ It was the Vicar. ‘Would you care to join the rest of the wedding party outside? We have to set up for another wedding this afternoon.’

‘Oh yes,’ Lucy found her voice, ‘of course.’ She got to her feet, holding onto the pew to steady herself. ‘Thank you.’

As she sidled back into the aisle, she felt Jack close behind her, and then his hand was on her back against her bare skin, gently guiding her out of the church. Like any good fake boyfriend would, she told herself.

The sun hit her eyes like a flashbulb, and she stumbled slightly as they made their way into the churchyard. Jack took her hand and pulled her to him, and she leaned into him to steady herself.

‘Lucy, Jack,’ it was her mother, beckoning them urgently, ‘over here.’

The photographer wanted some shots before the bridal party left the church, and Valerie pulled them in.

‘Where have you been?’ she muttered as she prodded Lucy into a spot beside Heather on the groom’s side of the shot.

Jack was walking off to the side, but Valerie grabbed him.

‘No darling, you’re in the shot too. I don’t want the photos to look uneven,’ she said.

Valerie threw a grim glance to the bride’s side of the group, where Sophie’s three brothers and their wives laughed and jostled for space.

Valerie guided Jack into a spot behind Lucy. Sweating in the sun, the photographer instructed them all to stand angled sideways, facing into the bride and groom. It was uncomfortable being squashed so close to others in such heat, and Lucy was acutely aware of Jack pressed in behind her. She swayed forward, leaning her weight onto her toes, putting a few centimetres more between them, but she could still feel his breath on her neck.

‘Big smiles, darlings,’ Valerie murmured, through a fixed grin. ‘Do stand up straight, Lucy.’

After just a few more clicks, the bride and groom had clearly had enough and before Valerie could stop him, Ollie shouted, ‘Right, everyone back to the reception for drinks!’

A cheer went up, and Sophie hitched up her dress and bolted for the air-conditioned bridal car while the guests, fanning themselves with the order of service, puffed and panted across the road to meander to the hotel.

Released from the formalities of the ceremony, men were loosening ties and shrugging out of jackets. Jack joined them, slipping his tie into his pocket, slinging his jacket over his shoulder and rolling up his shirt sleeves. Lucy took in how his dress shirt fitted snugly across his broad shoulders, and the light blue colour highlighted his forearms.

One of the feathers in her fascinator had glued itself to her damp forehead, and she batted at it to unstick it. She swatted it rather too hard, and the fascinator lurched to the side, yanking on her hair.

‘Ouch!’ she muttered, righting the fascinator and rubbing her scalp.

Jack, strolling along in front of her, turned to see what the noise was about. Lucy avoided his gaze in the hopes it would deter him from making more comments about her headwear. He slowed to walk beside her.

‘What’s up?’

‘Nothing,’ she said, forcing a cheery smile and ignoring the burning on her scalp where hairs had been ripped out at the root. ‘Just adjusting my fascinator.’

Jack rolled his eyes.

‘Your fashion sense fascinates me, that’s for sure.’

‘This is going to be a looonng day,’Lucy sighed, as they slugged along in the heat.