Any Lawful Impediment

This short story appeared in the Sunday Express magazine S last year. They specifically wanted a story about weddings and because of the name of my first book, asked me to write this. I can write about other things – honest – as anyone who reads My Single Friend will testify. There’s not a wedding dress in sight!

I used to love a good wedding. I was sold on the fabulousness of the occasion when my Aunt Maggie and Uncle Pete attempted to re-create the final scene from Dirty Dancing at my cousin Diane’s reception six years ago. Poor Uncle Pete has had a permanently slipped disc since.

The days when I really appreciated weddings were, however, before I was a guest at this one. Today, I am in the fifth row of a chocolate box village church surrounded by my oldest friends and sister Jessica, wearing the most elaborate hat outside the Notting Hill Carnival.
My problem is not with any of them. My problem is to do with the person standing at the altar: Will Stoppard. Successful barrister. Karaoke enthusiast. And love of my life. Which is a pity given that he’s waiting to marry a woman who is beautiful, enchanting, generous and, I’d always believed, totally right for him in every way but one. She’s not me.

‘Christ, you’d think he was waiting to be beheaded to look at his face!’ giggles Jess as the feathers on her hat start moulting again.

‘Oh, he’ll be all right,’ I smile shakily.

When Will first brought Melissa home to meet me – his flatmate, best friend and fellow red wine devotee – I could see she’d made a big impression on him. More so than the others who’d fallen for his killer combination: unfeasibly good looks, unassuming charm and brilliant line in self-deprecating humour.

It was perhaps because they were so perfect for each other that, when I began to realise that – Oh God! – I too was in love with him, it was painfully clear that there wasn’t a lot I could do about it. Not while they were together. I convinced myself it would only be a matter of time before Melissa went the same way as the others and, when the inevitable happened, I planned to step out from the shadows and declare my love.

Only the inevitable never did happen. And here I am, three years later, hoping I’ve trowelled on enough Touche Eclat to ensure it’s not completely obvious I’ve spent all night weeping.

There’s a clattering at the back of the church and everyone turns round to see Will’s cousin Karina tottering down the aisle wearing the sort of hemline Venus Williams might sport for a Wimbledon final. Jess flashes me a look. I glance at my watch.

It’s ten past two. She’s ten minutes late. My heart starts thumping wildly. Maybe she’s not coming. Maybe it’s not going to happen after all. Maybe . . .

A couple of people turn round, prompting a domino effect. I turn too, long enough to see that Melissa looks more dazzling than ever, a vision of soft, blonde ringlets and tanned skin against the ivory of her simple - and simply stunning – dress.

‘She looks fab,’ whispers Jess. ‘Those plungy necklines are bang on trend, you know.’

I can’t bring myself to smile this time. Instead, the events of last night ricochet round my brain, forcing hot, unwelcome tears into my eyes.

Last night, Will turned up at my flat.

It wasn’t entirely unexpected as he and Melissa wanted to spend the night apart and, being his best friend, I was the obvious choice of companion for a few quiet drinks. I did as always and maintained my perfect doll’s face, the one that doesn’t betray – not for a second – the fact that every cell in my body is exploding with love for him.

Instead, we joked, talked about old times and drank more than we should. I know this because, when I stood to go to the loo, I tripped over the strap of my handbag and almost catapulted myself across the bar in a move a Bond girl would have needed a stunt double for.

When we stopped laughing, Will told me something that almost made my heart stop. Melissa has been having an affair.

I shook my head, unable to believe him.    He looked down at his hands and nodded. ‘It’s true. But it’s over.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes. I mean, I think so.’

Will had forgiven her. We all make mistakes. And there was no doubt she was sorry, he felt sure of it. So why did he still look so sad?

He closed his eyes for a second.

‘I don’t know if I love her any more. She’s not who I thought she was. She’s not like . . . not like . . . ’

Then something happened that I honestly never expected. He kissed me. At the first touch of his lips, fireworks filled my body and I found myself tasting him, smelling him, devouring him. I was as dizzy with lust as I was pure, wholesome love.

Yet, I pulled away.

‘You’re . . .  you’re just getting cold feet, Will,’ I croaked.
I don’t know why I said this. A misplaced sense of female solidarity. A determination to do the right thing. A moment of madness?

I replay the kiss as the colour and sound of the ceremony washes over me and my eyes burn into Will’s back, imploring him to turn and look at me one last time before I lose him forever.

I don’t really listen to the service. I certainly don’t hear any of it. Except for one part . . .

If any person present knows of any lawful impediment to this marriage, he or she should declare it now.

As adrenalin floods through my veins, I do the most reckless, terrible and necessary thing I’ve ever done. With trembling legs I stand up and I summon, from somewhere, the power of speech. Then I shout out the only two words I can.

‘I do.’

The congregation gasps. Jess grabs my elbow in shock. Will spins around to meet my gaze. And I know, one way or another, that nothing will ever be the same again.