The Lover's Children

Chapter 20 - Winter Wedding #19

JAMES

despite the darkness, most of the guests are now to the back of the hall. The only people to the front

are myself and Charlotte, and the couple calling for their boy.

Charlotte halts, almost screeching to a standstill, holding up a hand... “Shhh…” … cocking her head to

one side.

People murmur and mutter.

I raise a hand. “Quiet!”

Somewhere to the rear, Ryan’s voice rises. “Quiet, please everyone. Let them hear.” The murmuring

subsides.

Something bangs close by me, a metallic sound. But not now the scream of falling scaffolding. More of

a tinny clatter. “We're here.” The clattering again…

A spoon banging on metal? Or a ladle?

“What?” Charlotte swivels toward the sound. The other woman hasn't heard it yet, but Charlotte

snatches at her wrist, pointing.

“We're here. Under here.” The words, shouted but somehow muffled, fizz with irritation.

Klempner?

I revolve, trying to triangulate on the sound. “Larry? Where's here? Who are you with?”

“We’re under a table. Near the wall, with the tree jammed over us.”

“Who's us? Is anyone hurt?”

“I've got Cara and...” … His voice breaks off, then turns to a low muttering… “… A boy called Paul…”

“Paulie!” The strange woman shrieks, dashing forward…

“… No-one’s hurt.”

“I’m fine, Mom.” The boy’s voice, also muffled, is piping but unworried, sounding more excited than

fearful. “I’m with Cara’s Grandad K.”

Michael appears at my side. “Don’t worry about the electric,” he says. “That was me. As soon as it

happened I turned off the supply at the mains.”

“Good thinking.”

Paul’s mother is very much underfoot. With a quiet word or two, Michael eases her gently out of the

way then, stripping off his jacket and tie, moves in. “Larry, keep talking. Where the hell are you?”

“Under the table that was directly in front of the window. There’s scaffolding to the left of us and the tree

square on top.” A pause then, “Look down at floor level. I’m waving the torchlight on my phone. Can

you see it?”

Michael drops to his knees, manoeuvring between splinters and shards. “Keep waving, Larry… Ah,

yes. Gotcha now. Keep well under shelter. We’re going to have to shift the tree and it’s tangled with

lights and scaffolding and God-knows-what.”

Charlotte presses forward. I slap a hand against her chest. “You, stay out of the way, you’re not

dressed for this. Any glass would go right through those shoes. Let Michael and the other men handle

it.”

Her eyes are wide. “Cara…”

Klempner’s voice again. “Tell Jenny that Cara’s fine. She’s slept through it all.”

The tree seemed huge when it was upright. But now, horizontal, entangled with the twisted struts of the

tower and the debris of tables, food, cutlery, glasses and bottles, it’s a vast, snarled, knotted structure.

His feet crunching over a glittering mosaic of broken glass, shattered baubles and scattered pine

needles, Ryan appears at my elbow, his arms full. “Here, I’ve got cutting tools, saws, whatever I could

put my hands on.” His morning suit is plastered with mud and snowflakes are melting into his hair.

“Ryan, your wedding day. I’m so sorry…”

He cuts me short. “Save your sympathy for Kirstie. I’m fine. The main thing is that no-one’s hurt.”

“Seriously? No-one?”

“Not so far as I can tell. Except for one of Kirstie’s friends who was hit by some flying debris, there’s

nothing more serious than a couple of scratches. Georgie dashing in like that saved the day. God

knows what would have happened if the tower had come down with everyone still sitting under the

window, but they were already out of the way of the worst.”

Georgie…

And I was set to blast her…

I turn, scanning the room, to find my daughter’s eyes on me. She lifts her chin, defiance in her eye. I

drop her a wink and sunshine flashes over her face.

My gaze strays further…

Kirstie…

She must be devastated…

Then I see the tall, dark-haired bride, her dress splashed and stained, with a tray of mugs, doling them

out to elderly friends and relatives.

The younger men among the wedding guests are stripping off ties and jackets, moving in with shears

and saws. A branch at a time, the Christmas tree is dismantled, minute by minute becoming mere

glittering debris.

“You still okay under there, Larry?”

“All good here.” I listen carefully for any doubt or waver, but Klempner sounds perfectly calm. Cocking

my ear, he’s still speaking, low enough that I can’t pick out the words.

There’s only space for so many in the rescue zone. A chain has formed, those at the front cutting

wood, dismantling metal, passing it back along the line. Concluding that I’m surplus to need, I stand

back and let the youngsters handle it.

Mitch joins me, Vicky cradled in her arms.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine. Larry dropped Vicky in my arms and pushed me out of the way.” She watches the rescue

party for a few moments. “This is one wedding day they’ll not forget.”

“That’s true.” It’s Kirstie. Her gown is a disaster area. Cheese smears down one side. Red wine has

soaked into the bodice. Broccoli soup drips from the creamy satin. She brushes herself down. “Red,

green and white,” she huffs. “Very festive.”

“But you’re not hurt?”

“No. I think the main casualty is Ryan. He tried so hard to make it perfect and now…” She lifts palms,

blowing air.

“We’ve got them!” The shout comes from one of the rescuers. The rest part one side and the other as

we make our way forward.

The tablecloth, once fine white linen, now a resin-streaked rag, lifts, and from underneath a carrycot

pushes out. Charlotte darts forward… “Cara!” …snatching up our daughter.

Coming behind, crawling on hands and knees a small boy emerges, wreathed in smiles.

“Paulie! Paulie!” His mother sweeps him up, wrapping her arms around him, lifting him from his feet. A

man joins her, embracing them both.

The boy wears a pumpkin grin, spilling out his enthusiasm. “It was brilliant! Cara's Grandad K pushed

us under the table, then squashed down there with us.”

Mother and father exchange baffled expressions. “Weren’t you scared?”

Eyes roll in scorn… “Nah...” Then turn to sheepishness… “Well.. Maybe a bit. Just at first. But then

Grandad K told me about how he'd been in this much, much worse place. An’ there was this dead

body… and it was all melted and yucky… And there wuz maggots crawling out of her eyeballs.” He

rattles on…

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, arms wrapped around his knees, head stooped under the table,

Klempner doesn’t so much exit, as unfold. Long arms and legs emerge in instalments before the tall

man is finally able to stand. Rising from the debris like some prop from The Nightmare Before NôvelDrama.Org: owner of this content.

Christmas, he brushes himself down, dislodging tinsel and fragments of bread and cheese.

“You okay?”

He sniffs. “Never better. Mitch and Vicky?”

“They’re fine. Waiting over there for you.” I wave towards the pair. My voice low, I talk out of the corner

of my mouth. “Grandad K?”

His lips quirk. “I believe you gave me the title.”

“And so you decided to tell a six-year-old boy about Juliana’s corpse?”

“It kept his interest. Stopped him worrying. Anyway…” He nods towards the boy… “Look at him. It’s not

real for him. Just a story.” He shrugs. “We’re going to have to break this habit of you rescuing me from

confinement.”

*****

Kyle, his arm thrown around Ryan’s shoulders, throws a beseeching look my way. Ryan’s expression is

distraught.

A quick look around for Kirstie…

She standing off to one side, her eyes bright and glossy. Winding the gold band around and around her

finger. Beth, Charlotte and Mitch are clustered around her, Beth holding her hand. Charlotte, by the

look on her face, is cracking some off-colour joke. Mitch trying to make something of the ruined

wedding gown. A variety of aunts in silly hats are converging…

She’s fine…

For now…

“Ryan, are you okay? Not hurt?”

“No… but Kirstie. It’s supposed to be her day. I wanted everything perfect for her. She’ll be

devastated…”

I jerk my thumb backwards over the gaggle of women.

“Kirstie’s fine. The women are looking after her. Now, before you go fussing over her, get your head

together. You’re her husband…” I lower my voice… “… And her Dom… Cool, calm and collected.

Everything is, if not under control, at least being handled.”

“But…”

“Ryan, the Groom has several duties on his wedding day. Dealing with collapsed scaffolding isn't

among them. Looking after the Bride is. So, stop flapping and handle your end of things. You asked

me, Michael and Richard, to help out. So, let us handle our end of things.”

“But…” He waves arms over the debris of smashed timber and twisted metal… “It’s a disaster…”

“No. It’s a fucking inconvenience and a mess. It’s not a disaster. Almost no-one’s been hurt. Borje isn’t

going to die of a black eye. The window’s history, yes. But it’s just a window. The insurance will cover

you. Now… Take a deep breath… That’s it. And another… And another. Calm down. Plug in your

brain.”

Kirstie’s handsome husband visibly calms, then he huffs a laugh. “Thanks, James. Sometimes you

need your friends to give a bit of perspective.”

“That’s what friends are for. Now, Ryan. You are going to collect your wife and go with Richard who will

take you to the hotel and settle you into a room. Once there, I suggest you have a soothing soak in the

jacuzzi that will be waiting for you, a glass of champagne and perhaps an hour or so of what newly-

weds are supposed to do with each other.”

He looks wildly around. “The guests…”

“… will be also transported to the hotel. Richard is handling that side of things too. As for the rest, leave

that to us. Now, go to Kirstie and tell her that Cinders will be going to the ball after all. There is simply a

change of venue. Yes?”

He breathes again. “Yes.”

“Good man. Now…” I cup his elbow, and with a nod to his brother, between us, we ease him toward

Kirstie.

As we approach, she’s already trying to speak.

“You…” Michael points a finger at her… “… and you, Ryan, are going to stay out of the way of all this.

Kyle, go among the guests. Calm them down. Let them know there’s a change of venue. Richard…” He

spins, looking…

Kirstie blinks, swallows and turns away. Ryan makes to follow then turns back. “Michael, I won’t forget

this. I so wanted to give Kirstie…”

Michael cuts him short. “I get it. I wanted to give Charlotte a home too. My wife is helping today. You go

look after yours.”

Beth raises questioning eyes as we approach. Raising my voice, “Ryan’s a bit shocked by it all,

Charlotte. Can you help him get Kirstie to Richard’s car. He’s going to drive them to the hotel…”

As the wedding pair are eased out of the way, “Charlotte, take a look around and raid whatever there

you can find. Throw something together that can be served hot to all the guests while we get things

organised.”

“What’s happening?”

“We’re moving venue.”