Thirty-Seven
‘I’ll translate,’ Ethel said as the registrar stood and opened her book.
Greta looked at Jonas with big eyes and repeated everything the registrar said.
‘I pledge my love and loyalty to you,’ Ethel whispered. ‘As enduring as the mountains and as deep as the fjords.’
How beautiful.
‘With this oath ring, I vow to stand by your side, through storm and calm, now and forever.’
They kissed and then Greta put his wedding ring on the wrong hand.Eek!Third fingerlefthand I telepathically communicated, hoping the registrar would correct the situation before there were any awkward laughs. But she didn’t. She went straight on to Jonas, who had tears in his eyes and had stopped to take a breath. Henrik put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and Jonas struggled through his vows, smiling with relief once he got to the ring. Which he also placed on the wrong hand.
‘Left hand,’ I whispered to Ethel, thinking she was in the best position to intercept. The marriage might not count if the ritual was wrong.
‘What? No, it’s right.’
‘The ring should be on the left hand,’ I insisted, trying to help.
‘Not for us,’ she whispered, holding up her wrinkled right hand, a gold band firmly wedged on the third finger.
I stopped, surprised. Well, that was as good a reason as any to marry a Norwegian. My English wedding finger was far too sensitive to have another ring on it anytime soon. Possibly ever.
The registrar said something in a loud jolly voice and Jonas dipped Greta down for a glamorous Hollywood kiss. I couldn’t help but have a little tear at that myself, as everyone cheered and Tore launched into ‘Romeo and Juliet’ by Dire Straits.
The new Mr and Mrs Nilsen danced their way down the aisle, smiling and waving and kissing. Henrik ushered the little bridesmaids out in front of him, blowing Ethel a kiss as he walked past, and Greta’s mum and dad linked arms to complete the bridal party.
‘I loved that,’ I said, relieved that I’d survived the ceremony without having a breakdown. ‘What a gorgeous couple.’
‘They are very much in love. And now it seems Henrik is smitten, too.’
‘Does it?’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen him blow a kiss to anyone in his whole life.’
‘That was to you, Ethel, surely.’ She looked at me, archly. ‘Wasn’t it? To both of us then.’
‘I know my nephew, and public displays of affection arenot his thing,’ she said.
We followed the crowd to a second clearing in the woods, where three giant tipis had been erected. Two were packed with long trestle tables and decorated with fairy lights and flowers, and the third was a bar, with a dance floor and soft seating. The floor was covered in cowskin rugs and a table of champagne greeted us. I took two glasses and followed Ethel as she strutted with her stick towards the biggest of the chairs and flopped herself down.
‘Champagne for the lady,’ I said, offering her a glass.
‘Not for me, thank you, I don’t drink anymore.’
‘Oh, sorry, shall I get you something else?’
‘Not for now – you’re OK.’
There weren’t any tables close by, so I stood there like a lemon, double parked, and tried to drink one of the champagnes as quickly as possible, so I didn’t look like an alcoholic.
‘My two favourite ladies.’ Henrik appeared with a big smile and kissed Ethel on both cheeks. ‘One who is obviously very thirsty.’
‘It’s a special occasion,’ I said with a shrug as he kissed me too. I didn’t mind being champagne-shamed, but two small kisses weren’t enough. I felt drawn towards him and had to control myself as his aftershave swept over me. The scent reminded me of our game of naked Twister the night before. Our bodies touching as we pretended to concentrate. Henrik’s attempt atleft hand, red,had been our undoing and we’d collapsed in a heap of giggles, with me on top, just how he likes it.
‘It is a special occasion,’ he said, repeating it back to me and staring into my eyes.
‘OK, OK, I think we’ve established that,’ Ethel said, rolling her eyes.
