‘He’s in there! I haven’t seen him for twenty-four hours and he’s in that building!’ She clamped her teeth and jumped on the spot, making her heels click clack on the tarmac, knowing that in mere minutes Digby would turn and she would smile at him, just as she had imagined.
‘Calm down, love! We don’t want him to think you’re too keen!’ Ruby advised.
‘She’s marrying him, you daft cow, how much keener can she be?’ Bella tutted. ‘Look at her! She’s beaming. If I, on the other hand, was about to make a lifelong commitment, I would be shit scared.’
‘All right, you two, settle down!’ Heather Kellow kept the peace the way she had since they’d all been at playschool, when regular fights would break out between them, usually over Play-Doh or whose turn it was to go on the trike. ‘Right, this is where we leave you, my darling.’ Her mum kissed Merrin softly on the cheek and ran her fingertips under her chin. ‘My amazing girl. May you and Digby be as happy as your daddy and me. That’s all I want for you. All I’ve ever wanted for you.’
‘And walk carefully up the aisle – don’t bloody fall over!’ Her gran offered the sage advice as she linked arms with her daughter-in-law, and the two women disappeared inside the wide oak door. Merrin watched them walk away slowly, with a small reluctance to their gait and leaving a kind of sorrow in their wake. And she understood.
The girls fell silent and took up their place behind Merrin as her dad stood by her side. She brought her bouquet to her nose and inhaled the sweet scent of lily of the valley.
‘I’m going to keep this for ever, preserve it. It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Dad?’ She held it out so they could both admire it.
‘It is, my love, but no flower can match you today, none. Digby is a lucky man and if he treats you right, he’ll be my son.’
‘Oh, Dad!’ She slipped her arm through his and, with her heart full, waited patiently, as instructed by the vicar, for her musical cue: the opening bars of Beethoven’s ‘Ode to Joy’ – Digby’s mother had insisted on the tune.
Her dad patted her hand and rocked on his heels nervously as the vicar appeared on the front step.
‘Flippin’ ’eck,’ she heard Bella say softly. ‘Oh Lord above, help me. I think I might fancy the vicar!’
‘Well, you would, Bells, he’s wearing trousers,’ Ruby whispered back.
‘He’s wearing a frock, actually,’ Bella corrected.
‘Not that that’d stop you,’ Ruby whispered. ‘We all remember the incident in The Loft nightclub.’
‘It was dark!’ Bella hissed. ‘And she was very persuasive.’
Merrin swallowed her laughter; this was not the time or place for such discussions. Yes, she liked a laugh with her girls, but this was her wedding day and she felt the full, glorious weight of it.
The Reverend Pimm walked slowly towards her, stopping once and clasping his hands in front of him. She smiled at the man who had given her and Digby lessons in married life once a week over six weeks. They had sat side by side in his study and he had asked questions she knew they couldn’t get wrong, because she loved the boy and only had to tell the truth. His words were fresh in her thoughts.
‘Communication is key to everything. It’s vital you are able to speak your mind and say how you feel. Not every day will feel like your honeymoon; there will be days when compromise will be the order of the day.’
Digby had laughed, reached over and squeezed her hand.
‘Hi!’ she mouthed, and pulled an excited face at the vicar.
It was only as he drew closer that she could see he wasn’t smiling. He looked, to steal a phrase from Ruby, shit scared . . . Merrin wondered if he might be feeling ill.
‘You all right, Vicar?’ she asked brightly. ‘You’re a bit pale.’
‘Am I . . . ? Oh yes, yes, I’m quite well, almost. I mean, I’m not ill, no.’ His flustered response caused snickers from her bridesmaids.
‘Good luck, Merry!’ came a call from the church gates. ‘Ooh, we’re running late, had to wait for the post van! Sorry, Vicar! But as long as we’re in before you, that’s all that matters, love, isn’t it?’ Mrs Everit from the village shop called out as she hurried up the path to the church wearing a large straw hat and her Sunday-best dress; behind her, her husband tripped as he tried to keep up while also tying his navy-blue tie.
‘Thank you, Mrs Everit, Mr Everit, and no worries. See you both later!’ Merrin waved.
‘Have you got the nerves, Vicar? Must be quite an occasion for you – not every day we get a wedding like this in Port Charles, eh?’ Merrin’s dad stood tall, smoothing the lapels of his morning coat and pushing out his chin, shining with pride and giving no hint of the discomfort he had complained of earlier in the day.
The Reverend Pimm stepped forward and placed his hand on her arm. ‘Merrin, I need you to come with me.’ His eyes held hers and his tone was kindly.
‘Oh, I thought I waited here with my dad and the girls until I heard the music and then walked in, like we practised.’
The vicar swallowed and nodded slowly. ‘There’s been . . .’ He looked skyward, as if this was where the inspiration, divine or otherwise, might lurk. ‘There’s been a change of plan.’
‘Oh, okay. Do I need to wait somewhere else?’ She was a little confused, and felt her spit thicken at the prospect that something had gone wrong, but one look at the vicar’s quiet smile and her worry fled. What was it he had said during their practice? ‘Don’t aim for perfection on your day, there is always some unforeseen hiccup – think about the bigger meaning and embrace all that it brings you . . .’ She nodded, deciding to do just that and embrace all that was coming her way.
‘Yes.’ He smiled at her again. ‘If you could come with me. And you, too, Mr Kellow. The rest of the wedding party – you can wait here.’