“Aiden. Siobhan.” She looked at me, then back to her sister and brother. “Did you know?”
I nodded. Bernadette couldn’t hold water. Marie had been out in the village with Max and Jackson when Bernie had been on the phone to her parents and siblings and completely given the game away.
To be fair to her, she took the shit that could’ve been lobbed Marie’s way, removing the heat from the loss of the wedding event of the year.
But that conversation led to conversations between me and Marie’s dad, a few threats and a couple of demands. It was always worse negotiating with another lawyer. Her parents couldn’t be here, a court case stopping Joseph and her mum was booked in for a small operation which meant flying was out of the question, but her big brother, Aiden, and littlest sister had been able to make it.
She stepped over to them, accepting big hugs amongst words about not ruining her make-up or hair, then demanding when they got to London and making threats towards Bernadette.
My parents were there too, although I was already aware that they would be. They’d been round the corner as the limo had pulled up, waiting for us to get out and for Marie to see her siblings.
She turned around and shook her head at me. “Was this you?”
I shrugged. “A bit of me. A bit of Bernadette. Mainly the fact your sister is incapable of keeping a secret.”
“I’ll have you all later.” She turned back to Aiden and Siobhan. “You need to meet the hooligans. Kids, come here.”
The four of them edged close, a little shy. Callum was holding Max’s hand, dressed in the same smart trousers and a shirt likehis older brothers. Claire grabbed Marie’s hand for a second, but found herself being scooped up in a hug from Marie’s sister.
“Told you she wouldn’t be mad.” Bernie sidled up to me.
“What about the other brothers and sisters? Won’t they want to be here?”
“There are nine of us. There are going to be a lot of weddings. Plus there’ll be weddings of all the kids we’ll produce in the future, so even more weddings. They’ll think Marie’s a hero for not subjecting us to one now. We need to get everyone moving though. How are we playing this?” Suddenly I was nervous. I’d asked so much of her. Me, a mess of a man and his four kids who were wild and thought no one could love them. She had her own money and her own career, what could she possibly want me for?
Bernie brushed my shoulder as if tidying me up. “Take Jackson and Max in with you. Give Max the rings to hold. I’ll get her to walk in with Aiden and Siobhan’s got hold of Callum now so that’s him taken care of for the next week. She likes babies.” She shook her head. “Siobhan’s like our mother. She had nine of us but she’d have had more if she could’ve. The only way you’re getting away with depriving her of a big Irish wedding today is because you come with four ready-made grandkids for her to spoil, and she totally bought the explanation that this was a quick wedding to help the kids feel more settled.”
“It was true. Sort of.”
Bernie shook her head. “Get in with you. Be the groom.”
“What if she changes her mind?” I looked over to where Marie was standing with her brother, a stranger they’d stopped taking photographs of them together. Her eyes landed on me and I received a smile that eradicated those nerves.
“Yeah, not going to happen. She’s besotted. Get your arse inside. We need to get this show on the road.” Bernadette actually gave me a small push.
“Going. Max, Jackson, are you ready?” They came straight away for once, maybe for the first time.
Probably for the last.
We waited at the top of a makeshift aisle, the celebrant standing there smiling, along with an official from the registry office who would make sure the wedding certificate was signed and all was in good order.
I waited and waited, or so it felt, my mind racing through a thousand different scenarios where Marie saw sense and changed her mind.
None were accurate.
“She’s here.” Max had been waiting, expression serious as if he was worried too. “She’ll be our step-mum now.”
“Don’t let her hear you call her that. She hates it.” Jackson was shifting from side to side on his feet, unable to stand still.
I’d caught him trying to climb on someone’s motorbike parked near our new house yesterday. I feared for his teenage years.
She walked up the aisle holding Claire’s hand, her other arm linked through her brother’s, who looked as proud as a dog with three tails. Her hair was half pinned up, half down, the curls full and wild, because she’d said there was no point trying to tame them. It wouldn’t work.
A little like her.
“Look after her,” her older brother had the sense to keep his voice very low so she couldn’t hear it. “She’s not always as tough as she looks. And if you hurt her, I know a guy in the East End who’ll cut your bollocks off and feed them to the eels in the Thames.”
“Gotcha.” I wasn’t sure eels ate bollocks but now wasn’t the time to debate that fact.
