Chapter Twenty Five The Vestry
The vestry was a small room behind the altar, cluttered with the accumulated detritus of centuries of religious observance.
Hymnals in various states of decay. Cassocks hanging from hooks.
A collection plate that had seen better days.
And, incongruously, a rather fine sideboard that held the Reverend Tobias’s personal port collection and an ashtray that was definitely not sanctioned by the Church of England.
Stepping in from the cold of the main chapel, this room felt distinctly tropical.
A fire burned brightly in the hearth; clearly the church knew how to look after its own when it came to heating.
James and Anastasia entered arm in arm, still glowing from the ceremony, still slightly dazed by the reality of what had just happened. I followed as a witness.
‘Right then,’ said the Reverend Tobias, rubbing his hands together. ‘Just a few formalities and you’ll be properly official. Legally binding and all that. The important bit’s done, of course; the vows, the blessing, God’s eyes and so forth, but the government does like its paperwork.’
He moved to the old oak table where the register lay open on a new page, ready for signatures. But beside it was another document, thick, bound in an official-looking cover, clearly legal in nature.
The Reverend Tobias looked at it. Looked at James. Cleared his throat.
‘Ah. Yes. About that.’ He picked up the document with the evident distaste of a man handling something unpleasant. ‘Your mother asked me to... well. Perhaps you should read it.’
James took the document. Opened it. His face changed, the happiness draining away, replaced by something I had rarely seen on him: genuine anger.
‘This is a prenup.’
‘Apparently it is merely a precaution,’ the Reverend Tobias said, his tone suggesting he didn’t believe a word of it. ‘Standard practice, your mother said. Though I must say, I haven’t seen one in forty years of conducting services here. But your mother is always... different.’
Anastasia stood very still. Her face had gone carefully blank, clearly hiding her reactions. I watched her watching James, waiting to see what he would do.
James was reading the document. His jaw tightened with each page.
‘This...’ He turned another page. ‘This is...’ Another page.
‘She wants Anastasia to sign away any claim to the family estate. The London flat. Anything I own. Everything.’ He looked up, his eyes bright with fury.
‘And she wanted her to sign it here. Now. After the ceremony, before the register. So Anastasia couldn’t say no without causing a scene. ’
‘James...’ Anastasia began.
‘No.’ His voice was quiet, but there was steel in it.
‘No. This is not how we start a marriage. With suspicion and legal documents and...’ He took a breath.
‘I just stood in front of God and everyone I know and promised to love you for the rest of my life. I meant it. Every word. And if my mother thinks that promise needs a bloody contract to back it up, then she doesn’t understand what marriage means. ’
He looked at the prenup in his hands. Then at the register, still open on the table, waiting for signatures.
Then he tore the prenup in half.
‘James!’ I stepped forward, alarmed. ‘Your mother...’
‘Can explain herself later.’ James picked up the register, the unsigned register, the legal document that would make their marriage official and tore that in half too.
The room went very quiet.
He walked to the fireplace; a small hearth where a fire burned against the vestry chill and threw both documents in.
They caught instantly, flames licking up the pages, consuming the legal language and the official stamps and all the careful provisions Elizabeth had made to protect her son from the woman she didn’t trust.
‘I love you,’ James said, turning back to Anastasia. ‘I love you with all my heart and I promise to spend the rest of my life with you. That will hopefully be enough. It’s certainly enough for me.’
Anastasia stared at him. She was always so composed, so strong and always hid her emotions. But this, this simple act of faith, this absolute trust, seemed to undo her completely.
‘You just burned the marriage register as well,’ she said.
‘Yes, not sure I meant to do that, I was caught up in the moment.’
The Reverend Tobias cleared his throat. ‘Actually...’ He moved to the sideboard and opened a drawer, producing an identical register.
‘I always keep a spare. You’d be amazed what I’ve seen in forty years.
Nervous grooms, furious mothers, one memorable incident with a runaway goat.
The Church learns to be prepared.’ He set the fresh register on the table. ‘Shall we?’
James laughed, the tension breaking. ‘You’ve thought of everything.’ He took Anastasia’s hands. ‘Well then. Let’s sign it properly this time. No more drama.’
‘Your mother is going to kill you.’
‘My mother is going to have to accept that I make my own decisions now.’ He smiled, still flushed with the satisfaction of destroying her prenup.
I watched Anastasia’s face as she processed this. Relief, certainly. Love, obviously. But something else too, something I couldn’t quite name. She looked at James as if seeing him clearly for the first time.
She started to laugh.
‘What?’ James looked worried. ‘What’s funny? Is this... are you angry? I should have asked first, I know, but I was just so furious at Mummy for trying to...’
She kissed him. Stopped his words with her lips, her hands on his face, pouring everything into it: relief, love, the absurdity of the situation, the fact that this ridiculous, wonderful man was now her husband.
‘I love you,’ she said, when she finally pulled back. ‘I have never loved anyone more.’
The Reverend Tobias, who had been watching this scene with evident delight, cleared his throat.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘I must say, that’s the most dramatic thing that’s happened in this vestry since the incident with the communion wine in 1987.
’ He moved to the sideboard and produced a bottle of port and four glasses.
‘Quite right, though. Nasty things, prenups. Never saw the point. Marriage should be about trust, not contracts.’
He poured four generous measures and handed them around.
‘Now then. Shall we have a proper toast instead? This can be our little secret.’ He raised his glass. ‘To love. Which, in my experience, rarely benefits from legal advice.’
We drank. The port was excellent: however unconventional the Reverend Tobias was, he had impeccable taste in fortified wines.
‘Elizabeth is going to be absolutely furious.’ I said with a smile, this was not going to be my problem.
‘She doesn’t need to know,’ James said. ‘Not today. Today is about us and we’ll deal with Mummy later.’
The Reverend Tobias retrieved his cigar from the ashtray, where it smouldered gently. He took a long draw, then used the glowing end to ignite the last corner of the prenup, a final piece that had fallen short of the fire.
‘There,’ he said, with satisfaction. ‘No evidence. No paperwork. Just two people who love each other, which is rather the point, isn’t it?’
‘Now then. I believe there’s a reception to attend. A hot tub to enjoy. A party to celebrate.’ He winked at James. ‘And a mother to avoid, at least until the champagne has done its work.’
James laughed and the tension that had gripped him moments before evaporated. He took Anastasia’s hand.
‘Ready, Mrs Ashworth-Pemberton?’
‘Ready,’ she said. ‘For anything.’
They walked out of the vestry together, into the chapel where the guests were waiting, where confetti would soon fly and photographs would be taken and the day would continue as if nothing unusual had happened.
No one would know. Elizabeth wouldn’t know. The guests, the ushers, the entire assembled company would assume that everything had gone according to plan.
The prenup was ashes. The register was signed. They were married, properly and legally, despite Elizabeth’s machinations.