A Very Special Wedding

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It is never too late to find true love...
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trevorm
trevorm
273 Followers

I was definitely no spring chicken, anybody could see that. I was only two years away from retirement age, which made what was happening to me all the more amazing. You see, I was about to be married... for the first time in my life.

The church was waiting for us. The flowers had arrived. A huge feathery hat and a lightweight cream suit I had made myself were hanging on the back of my bedroom door. It was June, warm and summery. I was to be a June bride. It would complete the dream.

There was a buffet lunch already laid out in the smaller function room of our local pub and I was wondering just how in the world I ever got to this point in my life. I mean, whoever would have thought it? After a lifetime of looking after others, I thought my opportunity had long passed me by and now here I was, on the threshold.

Hard as it was for me to believe, in about an hour from now, Tommy would be waiting for me at the altar. My brother, David, was waiting in the kitchen ready to whisk me off to the church in his car, for it was he who was to give me away.

And still the ghost of my mother was all around, in every room, imbued in the plaster and the wallpaper was her voice, still speaking to me, chivvying me along. It was as if she had never left the house that I had inherited from her.

Tommy had come into my life when I was called upon to look after his terminally-ill wife, Diane.

I've looked after people all my life. It's what I do. It's what I've always done and I love it, even though it has sometimes been at the expense of a social life and relationships. I don't regret any of it. I can remember when I was not an old person, probably no more than thirty take-away twenty-four, ever since I'd been given a nurse's outfit one Christmas, playing hospitals with my dolls, bandaging our cocker spaniel's leg, rescuing injured birds if I saw them hopping around in the garden, trying to fly back up into a tree.

Now the sound of my mother's voice speaking to someone, came to my ears across the lawn at the back of our house: "Oh, that's our Glenys playing at being a nurse again. It's all she seems to want to do. I'm sure that's what she'll be one day. It's her calling."

I can also remember her saying to me once: "Well, you might not win any beauty contests, Glenys, but you've got a lovely, caring nature and I'm sure you'll blossom one day."

Of course, Mum had not intended her remark to upset me, at least the bit about not winning any beauty contests. She was just plain spoken, that was her way, and she never said anything that wasn't a truth. I knew I wasn't the prettiest picture in the book so I didn't need reminding of it. I hated my nose because I thought it on the large side, and at the time I used to comfort-eat to compensate for my insecurity about how I looked.

I put on weight at an alarming rate. I remember one day looking at myself in the mirror and realizing how unsightly I'd become. I looked dumpy and fat, I felt dumpy and fat and by golly, I was dumpy and fat. I threw myself onto the bed, buried my face in the pillow and cried.

Anyway, despite my mother's words, I never did blossom. In fact, I think I probably got plainer as my life went on.

It soon became obvious when my father had a stroke that I'd be the one to look after him because Mum wasn't too well either and couldn't cope. So I gave up my nursing career at the hospital and did just that.

When eventually both my parents passed away I was able to go back to the hospital to resume my career in nursing again. But things had changed.

There was a lack of morale in the NHS and even the wards began to look run down. I became disillusioned and left to take up work with an agency as a mobile carer, driving around all over the place, getting sick people up in the mornings, putting them to bed at night, making sure they were clean and comfortable and taking the correct medication.

I may have blossomed in my work, but it didn't happen for me physically. I became resigned to my fate, believing my vocation, looking after others was what I was meant to do in life. It was my 'calling'.

Sometimes I would cook for people too, just a few specials. Tommy and Diane were two such people.

Diane and I hit it off immediately. Whenever I called in on her she would shoo the cat off her lap and say: "Off you go, Toby. My angel has come to see me."

I just laughed and said, "You should be so lucky!" and we just went from there.

We used to have a good laugh all the time. I was looking after her. We hardly ever discussed the future, what was going to happen, although we both knew.

There was only one thing that worried her...

"I don't know what Tommy will do when I'm gone. He's no good at being on his own."

"He'll manage, Diane. He's a man, they always get by."

"Not all of them, not my Tommy."

"He will. Anyway, he's not going to be on his own, is he? We're going to have you right as rain soon, you'll see."

And then she'd do her little chuckle and say, "Yes, and pigs might fly, dear. I have to face facts, Glenys. I know this thing's going to get me in the end, so there's no need to pretend on my account, honestly."

I must have given something away in my expression just at that moment, because I felt so sad for her. I felt like I was letting her down by not helping her to believe she was going to get better.

"It's all right," she said. "I'm not afraid for myself, only for Tommy. I won't be here to nag him, will I? He needs someone to chivvy him along all the time. I bet he'll never do any washing, or eat properly, or have a shave, get his hair cut."

And we'd burst into laughter at the thought of Tommy with a beard and long hair, possibly getting to look a bit like Catweazle. Her humour and humility were amazing.

"You've got your family," I reminded her once. "I'm sure they'll rally round."

Diane and Tommy had two daughters and two son-in-laws and seventy-five grand.........

"I know they will," Diane said, seriously. "But promise you'll keep an eye on him for me. You'll know he's all right all the time he's moaning to himself. I always knew if ever he was feeling under the weather. He'd go quiet, go into his shell. And I also knew when he was getting better too, on the 'up' – he'd start grumbling about things again."

Time passed and with it so did Diane. I had known for some time her illness was terminal, but I was determined to keep her spirits up right to the end and I didn't want her feeling sorry for herself, even though I certainly would have felt sorry for myself in her situation. There were times when I cried for her, although naturally I never let her see that. Anyway, that sweet and strong lady never let me down.

I thought it best under the circumstances to keep away for a few weeks, give Tommy some space to grieve in private, although I didn't want him to think I wasn't caring and thinking about him. It's always difficult to strike the right balance in that situation.

A couple of weeks went by and I happened to be in the vicinity paying a visit to a woman who had recently come under my care and needed some home help now her husband had passed on rather suddenly and so I thought I'd pay Tommy a visit.

I thought it might be about the right time to do so. Hopefully he would have had enough time and space and I wouldn't be intruding too much.

I was shocked when Tommy opened the door to me. He looked thin and drawn. I couldn't believe the difference in him, the fact that he could have got into that state in such a short time. I had the horrible feeling that maybe he himself was seriously ill and had been for some time but keeping quiet about it. One thing for certain, or rather, two things... he looked in need of a good meal, and an even better scrub.

But after speaking to him for a while, I was convinced that his problem was emotional. He'd allowed himself to get run down and he was obviously depressed. Now I regretted not calling on Tommy earlier, in fact I felt awful about it.

And yet before I could say "hello" he'd pulled me inside and shooed the cat off the chair and sat me down. Out came the best china. "A nice cup of tea," he insisted. "But I'm afraid I don't have any cake to offer you, just a few biscuits."

I told him that was fine and the next thing Toby had hopped up into my lap. I sat there and looked around while Tommy made the tea, glancing at the pictures of Tommy and Diane in happier times. A lump came to my throat.

There's no more inviting sound to one's ears than the chink of cups and saucers coming from a kitchen. The sounds of someone making a cup of tea are always so cheering. The room did look a little untidy and needed a good dusting, but that was only to be expected.

Within five minutes Tommy had brought in a tray with two cups and saucers, a pot of tea, a small jug of milk and some digestive biscuits. He began pouring and said: "We've really missed you, Miss Gilmore. I..."

"Oh please... call me Glenys."

For a second, my heart had gone into my mouth. When Tommy had said "we" I thought he meant Diane and him. But he saw my confusion immediately and gestured towards Toby, who was curling up in my lap and making himself comfortable. I felt myself blushing as I took the cup of tea held out to me.

"I've missed him too," I said, with a smile. "I see you're growing a beard, Tommy."

"It's not really a beard, Miss... Er... I mean, Glenys. I'm just forgetting to shave these days." He rubbed his chin and the greying whiskers that were a bit too long to be called 'stubble'.

"I hope you're not letting yourself go, young man. And you look as if you could do with a good meal inside you."

I instantly regretted what I'd said. I only meant to sound 'caring', but it all came out like I was nagging him, being a busybody. I bit by tongue and hoped for the best.

"I don't know what Diane would say," Tommy said, smiling.

I breathed a little easier and thanked my lucky stars. "I do, and I can bet it wouldn't be very complimentary either." And at that we both laughed, realizing the truth in what I'd just said.

He took me into the garden and showed me the roses he'd planted in Diane's memory and the vegetables he was growing.

"I could do with you coming over to cook a Sunday roast like you used to," he said. "I really miss that. And it would use some of the vegetables up. There's too many for just the likes of me."

For one reason or another, I found myself blurting out: "Well, I think I could manage that... What about this Sunday?"

It just went on from there. After a while I began to spend all my Sundays at Tommy's house, with the cat winding itself round my legs and various grandchildren racing about. I'd tell him all about my week and he'd tell me about his. We seemed to get along very well and became very comfortable together.

"There's a concert next Saturday... at the village hall. What do you think?"

"What do I think about what?" I said

"Would you like to come with me?"

Without really giving it any thought, I heard myself saying 'Yes, that would be nice."

Tommy blushed. "Really..?" He looked surprised. "If you like, we could go for a meal first. That would go some way to thanking you for all the lovely meals you made for Diane in the past, and the lovely Sunday roasts you've cooked for me the last couple of weeks."

I couldn't even remember the last time I was taken out for a meal, or taken out full stop. I was really excited about it.

Even the outings turned into a regular occurrence, not that I was complaining, mind. Saturdays we were always going off out somewhere – to see a show, have a meal, go to the pictures, or just to the pub for a drink. We always did something. Tommy's company was charming, he was witty and fun, and never embarrassed me and I always felt comfortable with him.

I'd noticed a spring in my step ever since Tommy and I had started going out and getting together. His company perked me up no end and I liked to think I did the same for him. He was certainly taking a pride in his appearance now, and he looked fuller in the face and happier. He'd put on weight, but only in a healthy sense and he seemed to glow. I liked to think that I was the main reason for the improvement in his well-being. I think we were the tonic for each other that we both needed.

I was taking an interest in my appearance too, visiting stores and buying new clothes, having my hair done more regularly, and even considering having my teeth whitened, because, yes, I'm pleased to say I still had most of my own left. But the cost was the stumbling block and I had to content myself by giving them an extra clean with 'whitening' powder now and again.

One evening I'd come back home after a night out with Tommy and stared at myself in the bedroom mirror. There was a definite change in me.

My mother's banter about my plainness did not seem so resonant now. I think I looked quite presentable, and while I would never be what one would call 'pretty', I felt attractive inside my new veneer, the 'new' me. And another thing, something I hadn't really wanted to dwell on or consider before because of putting the 'mockers' on things, was that I felt I was falling love. Surely that was ridiculous at my age, wasn't it?

But I noticed the change in Tommy too. He was looking after himself, taking a pride in his appearance, and he looked fitter. He'd lost that 'gaunt' look of a few weeks ago and probably the best news of all, he seemed very happy to have me around. He was humming and whistling, and he'd started moaning about the price of beer, petrol and the amount of litter that was ever growing on our sidewalks and verges, a pet hate of his, and so, if Diane's words were to be believed, Tommy was getting to be his old self again.

One day he sat me down, my hands in his. "With the greatest respect to my Diane," he began, "because I can't pretend she never existed, there's something I want to ask you."

And that's how Tommy popped the question. I supposed it wasn't completely unexpected, but given my age and my lack of success in love in the past, I was absolutely thrilled.

"That is, if you'll have me," he added, because I hadn't been able to answer him yet. I was still taking it in, wondering if I had heard Tommy correctly.

"Oh Tommy," I said. "Of course, I would be delighted to be your wife."

And of course I meant every word of it, and yet I still felt guilty having accepted his proposal. I wondered if Diane would have approved? Would she at this moment in time be watching down on us? Well, she had told me to keep an eye on Tommy, hadn't she? Though, I'm not sure whether she meant me to take things this far.

And then he said the most magical and beautiful of words I'd ever heard in my life: "The fact is, Glenys... the fact of the matter is... I've grown to love you. I want to look after you forever."

I didn't know what to say, but I just blurted out something that I thought made sense.

"I thought that was my job, Tommy... looking after people."

"Well, you can. You can look after me and I can look after you. How's that sound?"

I was overcome. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. He took me in his arms and kissed me. It was the first time I'd been kissed properly by a man.

"I don't want any silly tears from you now," he said. "Your eye-shadow will smudge and your eyes will get all bloodshot."

I laughed and he held me close and hugged me and kissed me again and I felt swept off my feet. Was this really happening to me..? Was I dreaming?

I wondered what it would me like to iron a man's shirts, that is, a man who I was actually married to. Not much different from doing it for someone I wasn't married to I supposed. It's just that the thought at that moment made me very happy. It would be nice to share the washing and wiping up instead of doing it on my own, to have help with the weekly shopping, do a bit of gardening together. To share decisions every day. And to open and enjoy a bottle of wine together, sit in the garden in the sunshine enjoying a barbeque.

What would it be like to live in the same house as a man, share a bathroom and a bed with him? To listen to someone's breath so close to my own in the middle of the night.

Oh yes, I've listened to people breathing in the night before, but always with them in the bed and me in the chair at their side, holding their hand waiting for some change. Sitting silently, watchfully. I've done that many, many times. But this time we would be lying side by side and maybe he'd put out his arms to hold me. And how would I feel about that, I wondered?

My heart fluttered deliciously as I took the cream suit from the back of my bedroom door and put it on. I perched the big, feathery hat on my head. When I put on my lispstick, I could see in the mirror that my eyes were sparkling and I said, "Thanks, Mum... You were right after all." I felt a lump come to my throat and then added: "And thank you, too, Diane... I promise to look after him for you."

There was a knock on the bedroom door.

"You all right in there?" I heard a voice say. It was my brother. "I thought I heard you talking to someone."

"Come in, David." He did, and then I said, "You must have been imagining things. Now, just who on earth would I be talking to, do you suppose?"

"It's ten to three, I just thought we ought to be getting a move on and..."

David stopped mid-sentence. I turned away from the mirror to look at him. He looked genuinely gobsmacked.

"Oh, my... Gladys, you look radiant, stunning... absolutely beautiful, girl."

Girl? It was a long time since anyone had called me that. And yet I did feel young, radiant and beautiful. I felt so high I could not speak at that moment. I was taken aback. My brother crooked his arm and I moved towards him.

"You don't look so bad yourself," I said, kissing his cheek.

"Your carriage awaits, madam."

I put my arm through his. His manner and bearing so much reminded me of our father. There was nobody more suited to give me away on my 'special' day.

We made our way downstairs. I gathered up the boquet of flowers from the kitchen table and we went out into the hallway. "Break a leg, sis!" said my brother, squeezing my arm as we went out the front door. "No going back now."

I didn't want to go back. I wanted to move forward. My heart was fluttering with excitement and I realized that perhaps what was happening to me right now was meant to be after all. It was the way God had planned it. We arrived at the church a couple of minutes before three. At the porch entrance that led through to the pathway up to the church, David clutched my arm and whispered in my ear: "This is it, Gelnys... go and knock 'em bandy, girl. You look lovely!"

I took a deep breath. The church was full of well-wishers, Family, friends and acquaintances I'd made through my work. But especially noticeable, were two happy stepdaughters-to-be, their husbands and seven-five lovely grand....... My heart sang silently as they all turned to look at me walking down the aisle. I was tingling all over. Waiting at the altar was Tommy and at his side, his best man and brother, Bill, turning their heads to take a peek as I took the final steps to a very special wedding.

trevorm
trevorm
273 Followers
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  • COMMENTS
5 Comments
chytownchytownover 1 year ago

*****Very enjoyable loving read. Thanks for sharing.

PostScriptorPostScriptoralmost 12 years ago
A lovely story!

Enjoyed it so much! Don't we wish that all stories that have sadness at some point, i.e. Diane dying, could end as happily as this one. Short and sweet.

Rossini12Rossini12almost 12 years ago
A beautiful story.

What a nice change from most of the stories found in here! I imagined your protagonist to be much like the singer, Susan Boyle, who changed so much and, happily, after she settled down to the fame she well deserved. It shows that there is a good life for everyone, somewhere. Well done.

Sidney43Sidney43almost 12 years ago

Loved every word of your story. A kind and gentle person who cared for others and who found someone to care for her, probably what most people want in life, but not all find it.

AlwaysrainingAlwaysrainingalmost 12 years ago
A moving gentle story

What a brilliant, gentle story. It really touched on all the emotions within a woman who lived a single life devoted to others, and its late reward. I had to blink back a tear! Wonderful. Thanks.

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