He opened the front door and stepped out, turning back to watch her face, his arm out ready to take her hand and guide her over the cobbles.
‘Oh, Dad!’ Merrin felt her heart swell and her stomach fold with love for this man. The old open-top horse cart that lived in the boat shed, the one with the horse-hair-stuffed seats and the dodgy cracked paintwork that she and the girls had clambered over, camped on and climbed up when they were small, had been repainted, polished, restored and now stood in front of their home, covered in flowers! Nancy Cardy’s old carthorse Daisy, who lived up on Grange Farm, was harnessed in place, and none other than Jarvis himself sat on the leather-mounted seat with the reins in his hand, ready to drive her to the church.
‘Jarvis! This is amazing! I can’t believe it! Thank you!’
He gave a small nod and kept his eyes on Daisy. She understood his slight awkwardness, having been enlightened by the gang earlier that he might still have feelings for her. Not that Jarvis or his feelings could concern her today of all days.
‘Dad! Oh, my goodness, it looks beautiful!’ She walked forward in her kitten-heeled shoes, holding the hem of her skirt up with one hand and gripping her simple lily-of-the-valley bouquet in the other, before letting her dress go and running her hands over the multicoloured wild flowers. Long lengths of variegated ivy and snaking leaf garlands had been braided and affixed to the sides of the carriage, the harness, the spokes of the wide wheels and anywhere they could be attached. Even the old clodhopper Daisy had flowers painted on her bridle – the work, she suspected, of the artistic Nancy.
‘We can’t have our girl walking to the church; you will travel in style!’ Her mum clapped.
‘I really will! I love you all so much!’ Happiness spun her in a cloud of joy that was sweet, perfumed and glorious. She breathed it in, knowing there would rarely be moments like this in her life, when everything was perfect.
‘And we love you,’ her mother called in response.
Bella fetched the small, rickety wooden stepladder from the side alleyway and the photographer continued to snap as Merrin hitched up her skirt and used the ladder to climb up on to the fat pillows that had been placed on the bed of the wooden cart. Sitting up straight with her legs now dangling over the edge, she looked at the view out over the bay where the sun, high in the sky, sent diamonds to dapple the sea.
‘Are you coming up, Dad?’ She patted the pillow by her side.
‘’Course, but I thought I’d sit up with Jarv.’ He made his way to the front and climbed up. Adept as he was at stepping on and off ladders on boats whilst rolling on the sea, this short hoick up to the driver’s bench was a doddle, even for a man trussed up like a turkey.
‘Don’t worry, Merry!’ Bella climbed the ladder next and took up a spot at the back of the cart. ‘We won’t let you take your trip to the gallows alone!’
Before Merrin had a chance to question the plan, her gran was being shoved, bottom first, up on to the cart by Ruby. Next came her mum and, finally, her sister, until all the women were settled on pillows, sitting in a sea of floaty lilac silk, the soft reams of her ivory taffeta gown, all set off with the abundance of flowers in their hair, held in their hands and looped around the cart itself.
Their laughter was loud and drawn from the deep wells of happiness inside them. This was some day! The photographer stood on the lane and clicked like crazy, capturing the sight of the cart in all its glory, trundling down the lane with its raucous, floral-framed crew.
Locals and tourists alike – one of whom looked a lot like Aunty Margaret, sporting a rather dazzling fascinator as she made her way to the church – stopped to wave or stare.
‘I’m getting married!’ Merrin shouted out before falling backwards into her bridesmaids and kin, who captured her arms and kissed her face. She lay looking up at the blue sky with nary a cloud to spoil the view and knew that she had never been happier than she was at that precise moment.
Word seemed to travel ahead that the bride was en route and the residents of Port Charles who were not already in the pretty church at the top of the hill awaiting her arrival came out on to the streets to call her name or wave. It was big news in their little village that one of their own, a Kellow girl no less, was marrying the boy from the big house.
‘Look, Merry!’ Bella pointed as she pushed her friend up into a sitting position. The side of the Old Boat Shed by the slipway had been decked with a large banner that read ‘Merry & Digby’ and had a large love heart painted beside the words. She bit her lip; the love, gestures and supreme effort, all for her, were almost overwhelming. She let her head hang down and breathed slowly through her nose, feeling a little light-headed and wishing that she, too, had necked a hefty bacon sandwich before leaving.
‘I . . . I don’t know what to say,’ she mumbled.
‘You don’t have to say anything, love, just you enjoy it!’ Her gran beamed and waved to some of the onlookers as though she were the bride. Her mum wiped her eyes and nose with her lace-edged handkerchief.
The troupe inelegantly alighted at the bottom of the hill to spare Daisy the effort of travelling up it with a heavy load, and walked en masse up the street to the entrance of the church. The bells rang out loudly and strangers gathered on the kerbside to watch Merrin and her entourage, each holding up a section of her skirt, pass. The situation was as ridiculous as it looked and Merrin found the whole charade amusing.
‘I feel like a queen!’ she giggled.
‘Today you are a queen!’ Ruby replied.
With all the fun and their unusual arrival at the church most of her nerves had disappeared and, if anything, she felt more eager than ever to get on with it.