Twenty-two years earlier…
Amanda found herself wondering if Claude had a second name. It was nerves, pure and simple, the morning of her wedding. The day that should have been the happiest in her life and all she felt was grief. They had buried her father two days earlier. The little grave, where her mother waited, seemed much too small for two, but it was what he would have wanted. Linda had hardly said a word since the funeral. Shock, Amanda supposed, it was all so sudden and now they were barrelling into her wedding day; it felt as if they were hurtling along with no brakes.
‘So, ve agreed, ve vill go high to give you another inch or two, but not so high the groom is looking too much a shortie,’ Claude said as he took strands of her hair upwards, inspecting it as if he’d never seen such a terrible mess. ‘Non, non, non. This vill never do, it is the hair of a volfhound,’ he was waving his hands theatrically. ‘I can’t vork on this, today,’ he placed the back of his hand over his eyes and forehead, as though he might go into meltdown. Amanda could feel all stares upon her. She darted her eyes about the mirror, keeping her body rigid, as though Claude might yet resort to a guillotine to rectify the mess. ‘Vax,’ he screamed. ‘Vax, I need vax,’ he was shouting orders at the scurrying junior stylists. ‘How could you expect me to vork on this… this…’ He wrinkled his nose, looking down at Amanda’s offending tresses.
The girl who took her back to the washing and conditioning area was a mouse, a lovely mouse, but she could see that Amanda was already teetering on the edge of disintegration. Across the salon, Claude hopped with temper, ‘Imbeciles, I am surrounded by vork-shy, vomen. I am an artist, creative…’ He darted behind a curtain covered in glinting silver stars and Amanda made a mental note never to come here without having her hair in tiptop condition first. It was cleaning for the cleaner, barking for the dog, but it was the cost of being lucky enough to be here in the first place.
‘Don’t be minding him. Sure, your hair is just lovely, this is Claude’s way of getting at the juniors.’ Then she smiled conspiratorially, ‘It’s not you, it’s us!’
‘Crikey, I’m just so nervous about everything today,’ Amanda said as she sank down in the chair and let the girl rescue her hair so Claude could do his magic.
And he did, everyone said she was the most beautiful bride, even if her stomach growled louder than a bear after hibernation.
In some ways, it was a terrible thing to admit, but Amanda felt her wedding ceremony, the church bit at least, passed over her in much the same way as her father’s funeral had. Linda understood, she had smiled and stood in for photographs and waited for as long as it was decent and then she slipped away. Amanda knew she hadn’t the heart to stick it out without him at her side.
Hugo Lennox walked her dutifully up the aisle and she caught sight of Nicola, Clarissa and Megan. They all smiled at her, if not with the kind of love that she would have had if her parents were there, but with a great dollop of encouragement. They wanted the wedding to be a success. They were her friends now and, in some ways, she had a feeling that her day was their day. They’d invested hours with her, picking out everything so it would be perfect. Nicola in particular had taken over all the details that Amanda knew would have driven her to distraction. ‘All you need to do is be thin and gorgeous on the day,’ she said every time Amanda gushed her thanks. In the planning, she’d just known it would be fabulous, but with the passing of her dad, well, fabulous just wasn’t so important any more.
Today, she had stood at the top of the aisle thinking of weddings and funerals and how people marked them out with rite and ritual. To be fair, the cathedral was a more gothic and impressive aisle than little St. Brid’s where her father’s funeral played out. Every so often, she’d looked across at Richard, just to check that this was really happening. And there he was, standing next to her, looking more handsome than she’d ever seen him, but he never returned her glance. Perhaps he was nervous too? His smile was set as if it was rictus, as though he might never return to the carefree playboy she fell in love with. Amanda was glad when the ceremony was over, she couldn’t escape quickly enough to have a little cry.
Amanda had decided, the day of the funeral, that if her dad couldn’t come along to her wedding, the least she could do was visit her parents grave on her wedding day. They would pass by the graveyard on their way to the reception in Dodder Castle.
‘Not today,’ Richard said when she asked the driver to pull in for just a moment.
‘Oh, Richard, I won’t take long, I just wanted to stand at their grave for a moment, I’ll feel better going into the reception then, as if they’ll know they’ve been included.’
‘Amanda, listen to yourself.’ Richard’s voice was gentle but firm. ‘We’ve done this, we’ve spent our week sorting out the funeral, when we should have been…’ He bit his lip, maybe he knew that she was about to cry again. ‘Amanda, it’ll just upset you more. I’m thinking of you, really. Your dad wouldn’t want to see you upset today, you’ve done all you can for him, but this is our day.’ He sighed, looked out the window, they were speeding by the graveyard now and he turned towards her. ‘This is our day and we need to get back to the reception, people are waiting for us to arrive.’
‘I…’ Amanda strained to catch sight of her parents’ grave, she picked out the tallest yew trees and knew they were nestled just beyond them. ‘I suppose you’re right. It was a silly idea and my dad wouldn’t want me upset.’ She took a deep breath, she would not cry. She would not be one of those brides who spent the day bawling like a baby. The yew trees were passing out of site. She decided she would go back tomorrow, early, before any of their guests had risen from their beds, and she would sit at her parents’ grave and tell them all about her fabulous wedding day.