‘Atta girl!’ Bella clapped.
Her sister rummaged in the cupboard, pulling out four mismatched glasses of varying shapes and sizes, into which she sloshed generous amounts of gin, topped up with slightly flat tonic. ‘Here we go!’ She handed a glass each to her mum, Bella and Merrin, before taking one herself. ‘To the bride!’
‘To the bride!’ they chorused.
Merrin sipped the strong drink and set it to one side. Drinking wasn’t really her thing. It wasn’t that she didn’t like it; she just wasn’t very good at it. Digby ribbed her over the fact that after one small glass of wine she was what he described as tipsy.
‘Don’t I get one?’ Her dad had no such issue – he’d certainly had enough practice. ‘It’s thirsty work putting a shirt and bloody tie on.’
‘No, you’ve got to pace yourself, Dad. We can’t have you turning up at St Michael’s half cut. Can you imagine Ma Mortimer’s face if you started slurring your words or tripped up the aisle, or worse, farted during the vows? She’d never forgive you!’ Ruby pulled a wide-eyed expression at their dad, who nodded at the truth.
‘Don’t think she likes me much as it is, can’t see a fart making that much difference. I recall the great Sunday lunch when we were summoned and old Guthrie was as pickled as a herring at the top of the table, and she was swanning around like it was normal to have her husband snoring in the chair before they’d even served the pud. Nuts, they are. And she had the nerve to tut when I licked my finger, having pushed up the drip on the gravy jug. Bloody woman.’ He mumbled, then left the cottage, whistling.
‘How you feeling, Merry?’ Bella, always able to read her friend’s mood, asked softly.
Merrin found a neutral expression and sat back down, not keen to be reminded of the awkward lunch and how she and Digby had stared at each other, wishing they were anywhere but refereeing at the table while their parents tried to slice through the atmosphere with small talk and Guthrie mumbled in his sleep. Bella eased her wide bum into the chair opposite hers.
‘Calmer than I thought. Excited.’ She raised her shoulders as her mum once again set to work with the curling tongs, pulling her hair this way and that. ‘I can’t wait for it all to begin . . .’
‘Now’ – Bella sipped her gin – ‘there is something we need to talk about.’
‘What’s that then?’ She was curious.
‘When you’re married, which you will be in a few hours’ – she looked at her watch – ‘Digby may . . . and don’t be scared, but he may want to have sexy time with you.’
‘Oh, for the love of God!’ her mum tutted, but her shoulders shook with laughter.
‘Sorry to have to mention it in front of you, Mrs K, but it’s a fact. And someone needs to set this poor, innocent girl straight.’ Bella held up her hands authoritatively.
Ruby threw her head back and howled her joy. This was Bella’s skill; her words and humour provided a glue of neutrality that bound her to her sister. Merrin felt her face colour, glad she was leaning forward with her eyes on her bare feet, which, she could see, needed a good scrub.
Bella continued, undeterred. ‘Sexy time can be a wonderful thing.’ Her voice was solemn and flat, like she was giving a sermon.
‘Well, you should know, you do it often enough,’ Ruby put in.
‘Ruby Mae!’ her mum shouted.
‘What? It’s true. And please don’t interrupt her, Ma, this could be the most important advice our Merrin gets today.’
‘I very much doubt that,’ her mum added.
Bella coughed; she loved an audience. ‘Miss Merrin Mercy Kellow, I’m going to give you the advice my dear, sweet old mother gave me.’
‘Your mum is not dear or sweet and she’d cuss the hide off you if she heard you call her old,’ Heather interjected.
‘I’m ignoring you, Mrs K.’ Bella cleared her throat. ‘Now, I’m going to give you the basics. And it’s all to do with his wiggle and your tuppence.’ Even Bella struggled to contain her laughter.
‘Tuppence!’ Merrin clutched her stomach, as laughter erupted from her. ‘I haven’t called it “tuppence” since we were at primary school!’
‘Well, I don’t know what else to call it.’ Bella seemed to consider her options. ‘I quite like “lady garden”。’
‘Lady garden!’ Ruby shrieked. Merrin was becoming increasingly glad her dad had left the house.
‘My mother prefers the word “privates”，’ Bella added.
‘Privates!’
The girls laughed loudly, and even her mum joined in. This was more like the mirth and joy she had envisaged for her wedding day.
‘Knock knock!’ came the sound of a male voice.
Merrin whipped her head towards the back door, where Jarvis Cardy – the same Jarvis whom Ruby had punched in the mouth over a decade ago – stood, wearing the jeans and a sweatshirt he wore to fish and holding an envelope.
The sight of him, and all he had possibly witnessed, was enough to send the ensemble into the next level of hysterics.
‘Jarvis!’ Merrin jumped up, trying to contain her giggles. ‘How long have you been standing there?’
‘Long enough, Merry.’ He looked away and shifted his feet awkwardly. ‘I just brought you a card.’ He walked forward hesitantly with the card in his outstretched hand.
‘Oh, Jarvis, thanks! That’s lovely.’ She held her dressing gown closed at the neck and took the shiny gold envelope from her friend.
‘It’s a fancy one; I got it in town. It’s not one from the shop.’
It meant the world that he had gone to so much trouble. Mrs Everit’s selection of cards in the village store was no more than a yellowing assortment of faded tat, covering children’s birthdays and one or two ‘In Sympathy’， but certainly nothing that would be suitable for the Port Charles wedding of the year.
‘I’ll save it and open it later with Digby, if that’s okay.’
‘’Course it is.’ Jarvis coughed and his cheeks blushed crimson.
The room fell quiet, as if all were equally embarrassed, not only by what he might have overheard, but also by the fact that he had briefly been Merrin’s boyfriend before Digby. Merrin felt acutely aware that in a parallel universe it could have been him at home right now, looking for cufflinks and ironing his good shirt, him waiting for her at the end of the aisle.
‘I’d best let you get on. Good luck, Merry. Enjoy your day.’
‘I will, and thanks for the card.’ She held it aloft as he turned slowly, as if reluctant to leave. He hovered in the doorway, taking her in, head to toe.
‘And Merry.’ He swallowed.
‘Yes?’
‘I just wanted to say . . .’ Again he faltered, and licked his lips.
‘Spit it out, lad!’ Bella encouraged.
‘Leave him alone, Bells! You take your time, Jarv.’ Ruby came to his defence, as she often did, as if trying to make amends for the great mouth smack he had received when they were kids.
He looked up and smiled at her, grateful, it seemed, for the ally. Then he appeared to lose his nerve and looked again at his feet. ‘Nothing.’ He shook his head and made his retreat. ‘It don’t matter.’