How To Marry Your Husband (8 page)

Chapter Ten: The Bride

Some girls are born to be brides and some girls have to work a lot harder at it, Olivia soon comes to discover. First of all, she isn’t a meringue bride and she doesn’t like fuss. She pays no store to bridesmaids, best men or the thought of having to clutch a posy of flowers throughout her special day. After all, if they aren’t going to have bridesmaids, where on earth is she going to stuff any flowers while she is saying the magic words. Up her knicker leg? She thinks not.

So flowers are out, which saves a bit of money at least. She’ll have flowers in the reception instead. That way tricky Auntie Paula won’t be able to complain too much. Though, if Olivia isn’t going for the traditional bridesmaid/best man/being given away option, then Auntie Paula will have a long list of complaints to raise which will for her be far more important than flowers, or the lack of them.

Maybe she shouldn’t invite Auntie Paula at all? The thought crosses her mind before being firmly put into the Impossible Bin. Auntie Paula and Auntie Jenny will absolutely have to be there. Olivia’s mother will never forgive her if they aren’t. They are the only family who are coming, as Olivia doesn’t think much of her cousins who – to her mind – have always been very scathing about every single one of her life choices. She has no intention of giving them the chance to set about Kieran. The aunts in tandem are bad enough – so her husband-to-be will have plenty to deal with, just with them.

The fact her mother says nothing when Olivia tells her the guest list is sticking to a very small and select group of friends and family shows her just how much a bride is allowed to get away with. If this was an ordinary party – without the wedding – the cousins would have to be there, and Olivia would have to bite her lip and smile, however falsely, when one of the dreaded trio drifted anywhere near her.

Why does she have to be the only girl in a whole generation? It simply isn’t fair, and she suspects her cousins don’t much like the fact either. There, at least, they have something in common, however tenuous. Miracles will never cease!

Of all the good things about being a bride-to-be however, including the ability to choose exactly how the day itself will turn out (with reference to her fiancé of course, always), Olivia loves this joy the most: the joy of the Bridal magazine. The moment the ring is on her finger, she experiences an overwhelming desire to browse through pictures of women in bridal dresses on an almost daily basis. Lots of women and as quickly as possible. Maybe it’s something they add to the engagement ring?

Anyway, the very next working day after the engagement, Olivia nips into town at lunchtime and buys five wedding magazines. She would have bought six but thinks this is probably overdoing it. All that afternoon at work, she keeps on stroking their packaging in her shopping bag, longing to rip them open and devour the contents. It isn’t a great idea at work though, not with the amount of typing she’s supposed to do before she departs for the day.

With her inbox significantly depleted, Olivia finally leaves work at just after 6pm and is at Kieran’s by 7pm. She rushes inside, gives her fiancé a swift but passionate kiss, ignores the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen (a miracle in itself), and hotfoots it to the living room, clutching her bag to her chest.

Once there, Olivia rips off the wrapping of the first and thickest of her precious magazines and begins to flick through, a smile on her face.

“What’s that?” Kieran asks as he strolls in a few minutes later with a steaming – and welcome – cup of Nescafe.

She looks up at him from her rapture on the sofa. “Wedding magazines – aren’t they wonderful!”

As an example of the strange bliss Olivia is experiencing, she shows him the spread of photos she’s looking at: all happy brides on summer days flowing over meadows in dresses of lace and satin.

“Look how beautiful they all are,” she enthuses.

Kieran laughs, and gives the pages nothing more than a cursory glance before depositing her coffee on the table and kissing her. “You may be right, but none of them are a patch on you. On our wedding day, you’ll look as stunning as always, I promise you.”

“Ha! Smoothie!” she teases. “You were never like this when I met you.”

“That’s because I was struck dumb with wonder,” he teases back and then his gaze falls to her bag. “How many magazines did you buy?”

“Just five,” Olivia says, closing the one she’s reading and clutching it to her as if to protect it. “It would have been six, but I thought that might be overkill.”

“Hmm, yes, maybe. Though won’t it just be confusing, having so many of these?”

She shakes her head firmly. “I’m getting ideas. It’s always good to keep the options open. You know how you like to keep all the options open!”

It’s true. Olivia is a woman who makes decisions quickly and then carries them out. If they end up being wrong, she’ll simply remake the decision and do something else. On the other hand, Kieran likes to understand and mull over all the possibilities and ramifications until the very last minute. In the beginning, this trait drives her mad, but she’s got used to it now – and actually on a few occasions it’s saved the wasted time of an initial wrong decision.

“And the other thing,” she continues, “is I’m loving flicking through these. Being engaged to be married won’t happen again – hopefully! – and I’m going to make the most of it by indulging in all my secret girly fantasies.”

This time, Kieran’s grin is wider. “Tell me more,” he says.

***

No matter what her loved one thinks, there’s something strangely gripping about the glamour and romance of getting married. Olivia doesn’t do romance in her life – in fact Kieran is far more romantic than she is. This was proved beyond all past and future doubt at their first ever Christmas being together. Kieran’s card to her was full of hearts, sparkle and flowers and he’d written inside it how much he loved her and loved being with her, and how happy she made him, and how much he was going to spend all his life making her happy.

In fact, it was the most he’d ever either written or said at any one time, Olivia is sure, and she’d been so startled, she began laughing as she read it.

Kieran looked most put out – as well he might. “What’s going on? Don’t you like your card?”

Olivia shook her head, still laughing. “No, it’s not that. I love it, really I do! It just wasn’t what I expected from you.”

Kieran harrumphed. “Because you don’t think men are romantic?”

“I’m sure you are, but you never say a word from one day to another so it’s hard to say!”

“Harsh, but fair,” he conceded. “Though we can be romantic without words, you know.”

Olivia gave him a cheeky wink. “I’ll believe you, thousands wouldn’t. But I’m not laughing because of that. Not really. I’m laughing because you’ve not opened
my
card to
you
yet.’

Then she collapsed on the sofa, clutching her stomach and trying not to get hysterical. He gave her a mock-stern look, grabbed her card and opened it. On her card to him was a picture of an enormously fat Santa failing to squeeze into a wobbly chimney pot.

Inside it, she’d written:
Happy Christmas, Fishface! Love you loads!

The look on his face only made her laugh all the more, and he leapt on top of her and tickled her into submission, which didn’t take long. “Mine’s romantic too!” she shrieked but he only tickled her all the more. “Pax! Pax! I’ll wet myself if you keep tickling me. Don’t you like my card?”

“I love it – it’s very …”

“… romantic?”

“… heartfelt,” he completed the sentence and finally took pity on her by stopping the tickle routine. “Plus it sums us up perfectly. I’m a deeply emotional and romantic individual tied forever to a woman who does nothing but mock him. What’s this about having a fishface? I have no such thing.”

Kieran demonstrated his lack of fishiness by opening and closing his mouth in a round O shape, which made Olivia feel she’d won the argument. “Stop it! You’ll definitely make me wet myself if you do that. It’s still funny though!”

From then on, Olivia has been happy to be cast in the role of the unromantic one in their relationship. Now, however, as she turns the pages of romance and glamour in the wedding magazines, she catches a glimpse of what other women must aspire to. This time it doesn’t feel as unobtainable as it usually is.

It must be the effect of being engaged – perhaps the marriage proposal has changed everything in a way she’s not thought possible before – not in terms of her outer style which will be much as it usually is and which the wedding dress she chooses definitely suits. But maybe something has changed inside – a sea-change at a deep level she’s not explored before. It definitely feels as if she and Kieran have taken a huge leap into adulthood, or as near as they ever come to it, just because they’re getting married.

Why should this be the case? Loads of other people, and certainly loads of their own friends, haven’t bothered with getting married, and in this day and age there’s no need to. But it’s still true Olivia feels differently now, almost as if everything she and Kieran have done up to now has been a kind of rehearsal and now the curtain is opening onto the real play.

A week or so later, Olivia decides to see what Kieran thinks about it.

“Do you think being engaged and getting married has changed stuff,” she muses apropos of nothing else they’ve been discussing one Saturday morning as they share a slice of burnt toast. “I mean between us. Not in a bad way, but in a good way.”

Kieran gives her a puzzled look. “Have you been reading those wedding magazines again? I did try to warn you …”

“No! Well, yes, but this is something separate. I feel much more adult since we got engaged. Is that just me being weird? And don’t say anything rude or I’ll grab the last slice of toast, I promise you!”

“Me? Rude? Never!” Kieran pauses and rocks back on his chair as he considers the question. Olivia has got used to this over the time they’ve been together. Kieran likes to think things through before he gives a reply to anything, whereas she’ll leap in with her opinion the moment the questioner has stopped talking and sometimes before, to her shame.

“Yes, you might be right,” he says at last just when Olivia is beginning to wonder if he may have fallen into a trance. “It’s the next step in being an adult, isn’t it? I love you and you love me, so we get married. It’s a public statement of commitment which matches our private relationship and how we are together. We’re going to stand up together in your mother’s church and commit ourselves to each other forever, and I’m going to mean every word of it. I know I’m going to be nervous, but I can’t wait. It’s the beginning of something else for us, isn’t it? Something special. And if that isn’t being adult, then I don’t know what is.”

Olivia gapes at her fiancé. She’s never heard him say so much before or say anything so totally lovely. He is – though with her how can he be otherwise? – a man of few words. Well, he must have been saving them all up for now because she can feel her eyes fill with tears she’s desperately trying to blink away.

All but dropping her cup, she launches herself across the table and hugs him. “Darling, that’s so lovely! I really do love you too. That’s such a wonderful thing to say, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, patting her shoulder. He isn’t a great one for hugging either though he’s learning. “You’re not crying, are you?”

“No,” she says, wiping her hand across her eyes. “It’s liquid smiling.”

The rumble of his answering laughter makes her smile again.

“Women!” he says with a sigh. “Why do you always cry when you’re happy? I think you might have been right the first time – you’re definitely weird.”

She probably is too, Olivia thinks later. Which of course makes her a perfect match for Kieran.

His words stay with her all week, and she finds herself thinking about the upcoming wedding in a different way. It’s not about all the paraphernalia associated with the event: dress; shoes; hair; make-up. It’s about Kieran and how much she loves him.

She’s going to be
Kieran’s
wife, not just any wife. And being Kieran’s wife is special, as special as he is. It’s all about them, it isn’t about glitter and lace. What really matters is the two of them getting married, and anything else is just icing on the cake. Pun intended, sort of, she thinks.

Yes, they will still have things to organise, but now they will be second fiddle to the importance of
their
marriage. This approach makes everything a lot clearer.

Kieran certainly has his plus points. Marrying him can’t come soon enough.

Chapter Eleven: The Groom

It’s odd how once a couple us engaged to be married, from that moment on the focus is almost entirely on the bride, and never on the groom. Who decides this? And whoever it is, haven’t they woken up to the modern age? Everything is equal now, or supposed to be. So it annoys Olivia that everything she reads or listens to is focused on things bridal, and not on things groomal – if that’s even a word. And even then it’s always about either the groom’s waistcoat or his speech. Don’t the men have anything else to do?

“Do you want a waistcoat, darling?” Olivia asks her loved one at the next opportunity. Which is a Friday night with their usual pizza and Pepsi take-away.

Kieran swallows his slice of garlic bread and frowns. “Why? Is it the latest thing? Do you want me to look like a waiter?”

“No! You’re mad. You know that, don’t you? No, it’s all being a groom seems to be about: waistcoats and speeches. Would you like a waistcoat at the wedding?”

“Not really. Do you need me to be colour-coordinated or something?”

Olivia shakes her head. “No way. I think it should be up to you what you want to wear at your own wedding. Though I suppose it would be nice to have something in green. To go with my eyes.”

Kieran turns pale. “I don’t think I’m modern enough for a green suit. I was hoping for something classy in dark grey.”

“Sounds good,” Olivia agrees. “What about a green cravat, or a handkerchief in your top pocket?”

“I’ll take the handkerchief. Now, I know in Girl World, green comes in different shades. Which sort of green did you want?”

“Dark green. Maybe olive green. How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” he nods. “I’ll get on to it.”

Olivia smiles and a few moments of happy pizza munching pass by. She still wants Kieran to feel part of it all though, and it’s possible the choice of suit and handkerchief may not be enough.

“Is there something else you’d like to be involved in? This wedding is about both of us, not just me.”

He smiles. “Well, now you mention it, there is one thing I’d be happy to organise.”

“Great! What is it?”

“The photographer. It’s what I’m interested in, so it makes sense.”

It does indeed. Kieran has been fascinated by photography ever since she’s known him and in fact has a degree in Photographic Sciences from one of the London Universities. His dissertation focused on the use of light and darkness on the streets of London, and he’d spent several evenings photographing her in a series of interesting hooker outfits draped in a sexy manner around the local lampposts. They’d been doing fine until the police car drove past just as Olivia was thrusting her chest out as far as she could (which isn’t actually that far) whilst clutching the lamppost in what she hoped was a provocative fashion.

She must have been doing okay with it as a few minutes later the police car drove round again. And then again. At which point it stopped and the door began to open.

“Darling?” she piped up. “I think we’ve been spotted.”

“What? Who?” he muttered back, intent on getting as many shots as he possibly could. Once Kieran started taking photographs, he couldn’t be interrupted at any level. Not even by herself.

“Over there.” She pointed at the two policemen making their way across the road towards them. “I think they might be wanting a word.”

Kieran sighed as she started to try to make herself look more presentable. This wasn’t easy in a pair of 1970s hot pants and a top so skimpy it could have been gossamer, but being a trouper she did her best.

“Hello!” she trilled in her most welcoming and normal tone of voice just as Kieran stood upright from his crouching Professional Photographer position and turned round. “Can we help you?”

Half of her hoped one of the officers would say something really clichéd like “what on earth do we have here then?” Sadly, they didn’t so there was another dream shattered, oh well.

“Good evening, sir, miss,” the taller one said. “May we ask what you’re doing?”

A reasonable request, but Olivia was convinced Kieran’s perfectly accurate explanation wasn’t going to do the trick. Sure enough, after he’d told them what he was doing, neither of them looked as if they believed a word of it.

She was wondering who she would make her one phone call to from the local police station if they were arrested when the shorter policeman caught sight of Kieran’s equipment. His
photographic
equipment – it wasn’t
that
sort of assignment. It was way too cold a night anyway.

“Isn’t that the latest Nikon?” the officer asked.

From that moment on, everything was absolutely fine. The camera-loving policeman and Kieran chattered away for ten minutes about light and shadow, perspective and line whilst Olivia and the other officer smiled politely at each other and tried to look like they were both having a good time. Though actually, she thought the other office might be a leg man so he was probably having a better time than her.

The whole experience ended with the policemen wishing them both luck and driving away to whatever crime might be committed that night. Two weeks later, Kieran got an A* for his “Light and Shadow on London Streets” dissertation and had been dining out on the story ever since.

Olivia threw away those hot pants and never questioned her loved one’s commitment to his art again.

Now, the look on Kieran’s face at the prospect of investigating the wedding photography makes her wish she’d raised the subject with him before.

“That would be great,” he says, eyes shining.

That’s settled then.

Once Kieran gets the bit between his teeth, he really runs with it. Within two or three days, he’s gathered a portfolio of work from local photographers, all of whom are free on The Day, and has narrowed them down to a shortlist of three to discuss with her. They all have letters after their names which Kieran says makes them reliable in the world of photography. She can’t for the life of her remember what the letters stand for but she can always rely on Kieran.

Together the two of them flick through shots of smiling couples posing across sunny lawns and in front of historic homes. One pair even have a moody shot in front of a picture of an ancestor Olivia is absolutely sure has nothing to do with them. Is there a company somewhere who hire out assorted ancestor art? A kind of Ancestors-to-Go? If not, there is an opportunity missed …

“What do you think?” Kieran asks her as they finish flicking through the last portfolio. “They’re all good, but do you have a favourite?”

Olivia gives his question a few moments’ thought – this will impress him as usually she responds entirely with instinct.

“I really love this one’s photos,” she says at last, turning to the second of the portfolios. “They’re quirky and fun, and I love the way the light is.”

“Yes, you’re right. This man knows what he’s doing, and he’s the one I’d like too, if he’s still free. I’m impressed, by the way. You must have been listening to me or at last something of my photography wisdom is rubbing off on you.”

“Cheeky devil!” Olivia protests. “I always listen to you. Every word, I promise.”

His eyebrow rises and Olivia smiles back with as much innocence as she can manage – which isn’t much, but hey a girl still has to try.

A week later, and the photographer – whose name is Steve - has invited them both to a practice photo shoot in preparation for their big day. He adds that they can use one of the shots as an engagement photo in their wedding album if they want to. Olivia isn’t sure, as they’ve already had their engagement at Christmas, but she can definitely see the sense of a practice run, as can Kieran.

Olivia has never realised it before – heck she’s never even thought about it – but apparently there is a right way and a wrong way to stand for your wedding photographs. The trick is to stand with one foot slightly in front of the other as if you were about to step forward and then any picture will look much more natural. Steve makes a joke about it when they first arrive at his house and says it’s the best tip he can give them, along with the importance of relaxing and being themselves.

Olivia is pleased he’s mentioned this as whilst she herself never has any problem with being who she is, Kieran absolutely hates having his picture taken and will do anything to try and avoid the camera. Maybe that’s why he loves taking pictures so much – it’s a way to stay out of the limelight.

Right now, the two of them are walking through the nearby woods and having their pictures taken every now and again by Steve. It’s very informal but Kieran definitely isn’t as uptight as he’s been earlier on. Whilst Steve was pouring them coffee and trying to get to know them and what they ideally wanted for their wedding day, it was Olivia who’d had to do all the talking. Kieran just nodded a couple of times when she’d turned to him for confirmation or when Steve had asked a question.

How uncomfortable Olivia feels whenever Kieran gets shy. She always fears that other people – people who don’t know them – think she’s a loud-mouthed cow who never lets her fiancé get the proverbial word in edgeways. When in fact all she’s doing is attempting to cover for his silence and give him time to work out the answer he wants to say. But the way conversation is, the moment for Kieran to give his opinion on something once he’s worked it out never comes, as the discussion will have moved on by then.

She’ll have to learn how to cope with it all when she’s older and wiser – well, wiser anyway. She doesn’t actually fancy
older
.

Still, they’re passing through the woods, and the evening is light and warm, and it’s lovely just to walk and hold hands whilst Steve takes pictures. After ten minutes or so, Steve gets them to sit down on a small bench with their arms around each other. While he’s snapping away, Kieran tickles her neck and Olivia gets the giggles, which makes Kieran laugh too.

“Perfect!” Steve says. “That’s just perfect.”

When he’s finished, he hunkers down in front of the bench and talks for a while about the kind of pictures they will need on the day, and what he would suggest now he’s met them. Once he moves onto the technical side, Olivia leaves it to Kieran, who is far more animated now he can discuss cameras and lighting and perspective, rather than how many family versus couple pictures they may need.

By the time they leave, taking the half-hour drive home in comfortable silence, Olivia is thrilled by the way she and Kieran have achieved a task together. It’s one of the most important aspects of getting married, after all.

“Steve seemed good, I liked him,” she says apropos of nothing as she and Kieran sort out fish and chips for supper. A girl doesn’t have to be on a diet all the time, does she?

“Yes,” her fiancé agrees as he switches on the kettle and reaches for the mugs. “The shots he had out on the table for us to flick through were very good – though of course he wouldn’t put any bad ones out, would he? But you’re right, I liked him. He understood what we want on the day.”

She nods. “One less thing to worry about.”

Kieran turns towards her with a frown. “You’re not worried, are you? Getting married is supposed to be enjoyable, not a chore.”

She leans forward and kisses him. “It
is
enjoyable. I want nothing more in the whole damn world than to marry you. That’s why I’d really love it to be perfect – because I love you so much.”

He hugs her. “I love you too,” he says. “You know that. Always. But the fact is the wedding isn’t going to be perfect. I’m sure at least one or two things will go wrong – they always do. It’s the way the world is. But as long as you’re there and I’m there, plus a priest, then everything else is secondary, as far as I’m concerned. Well, apart from your mother. She has to be there, or I’ll never be forgiven.”

“Ha! That’s true, thank you for that,” Olivia says. “It’s no show without Mother. Oh, and there’s other good news too – we have a back-up plan.”

“We do?”

“Yes, if the vicar doesn’t turn up, don’t forget my uncle’s coming too, which means there’s a spare priest in the congregation, just in case.”

“All sorted then,” Kieran says. “Absolutely no need for worry.”

And Olivia can’t help but agree.