The Perfect Escape: Romantic short stories to relax with. Julia Williams
do know I’m getting married in three weeks, don’t you?’ Claire felt like a child in a sweet shop, so wanting to touch, and knowing she shouldn’t.
‘Yes, I know. I ran into your mum in town.We went for a coffee in Costa. She told me.’
‘Really?’ Claire was amazed. All the time she’d been going out with Steve, she’d got the impression they thought she could do better. How come her mum was suddenly having coffee with him?
‘She’s worried about you, Claire,’ he said. ‘Both your parents are. They don’t think this Barry is right for you.’
Claire was speechless. How dare her parents interfere in her life?
‘It’s none of their damned business,’ said Claire. ‘Or yours for that matter.’
‘Isn’t it?’ he looked at her. Such a look, it made her feel he was staring into her soul.
‘Don’t marry Barry,’ he said. ‘Marry me.’
Claire swallowed hard. Here he was asking her the one question she had always wanted him to. Now. When it was too late.
‘Steve, I can’t. It’s over. I love Barry, and I’m marrying him. I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘Not even if I proved to you that Barry is wrong for you, and that we should be together?’
‘How are you going to prove that?’ said Claire. ‘Besides. He isn’t wrong for me. You are. You’ve never committed yourself to anyone or anything in your life. Why should I believe you?’
‘Because I’ve changed,’ said Steve. ‘You were right. I was going nowhere in my life. But I’ve just enrolled on a college course in ICT. But before I do that, I still want to travel. My offer still stands.’
‘It’s too late,’ said Claire. ‘I am going to marry Barry. Now if you’ll excuse
me, I have work to do.’
Still shaking, she brushed past Steve to go into the building. He caught her arm, and pulled her to him, and suddenly she was drowning in his arms, and they were kissing as if they had never kissed before.
‘No,’ Claire pushed him back. ‘Sorry, Steve, this is just wrong. I have to go.’
‘Now tell me we’re wrong for each other.’ She couldn’t bear to see the pleading in his eyes.
‘We’re wrong for each other,’ Claire said, and stumbled inside.
‘I’m not going to give up,’ Steve said. ‘I love you.’
‘Too late,’ said Claire. ‘I’m in love with someone else.’
*
Three weeks later, Claire stood in the bright July sunshine, dressed in the Donna Karan dress she had chosen so many weeks ago. She posed for pictures with her five adorable little bridesmaids (all nieces of Barry), and Mel, her only grown-up one. And she smiled and smiled, as she tried to blot out the image in her mind of Steve in his leathers, roaring up on his motorbike to whisk her away. He had rung her every day since their meeting, but she had refused to take his calls. And several times he had waited for her after work, until she had got really angry and told him to sod off in no uncertain terms. It seemed he had taken her at her word, as she hadn’t seen him for over a week now. She didn’t know if she was glad or sorry.
Because however much she told herself that this was what she had always dreamed of, and that it was going to be the most perfect day of her life, she couldn’t help the niggling feeling in the back of her mind that something was missing. She wasn’t sure if it was the fact that she had hardly seen Barry in the weeks leading up to the wedding – he blamed work commitments as a reason for not getting more involved in the preparations – or the fact that she was beginning to feel a stranger at her own party. She felt like she was on a rollercoaster that she couldn’t get off. She would have confided in Mel about it, but until today, she hadn’t seen Mel for weeks. Mel, too, seemed to always be busy when Claire wanted to talk.
Claire shook her head in a determined fashion, as the photographer pointed her and Mel towards the church door for one last photo. She was being daft. All brides were nervous. It was only natural.
‘You look green,’ said Mel digging her in the ribs. ‘You’re not having second thoughts are you?’
‘Course not,’ said Claire, more forcefully then she felt.
‘It’s not too late to change your mind,’ said Mel. ‘But don’t mind me.’
‘Shut up,’ said Claire, grimacing at the photographer.
‘Heard from Steve again?’ said Mel with a grin.
‘No,’ said Claire.
‘And you didn’t tell Barry about seeing him?’ said Mel.
‘No,’ said Claire.
‘What a way to start a marriage,’ said Mel. ‘It’s nice to know both of you have secrets from one another.’
‘What do you mean, both of us?’
‘Did I say both of you? I meant you of course,’ said Mel. ‘Isn’t it time we got in the church?’
Claire couldn’t help wondering what Mel meant as she walked down the aisle to the Trumpet Voluntary. God, what a cliché! Shame Barry’s mum couldn’t have chosen something a little bit more interesting. Steve would probably have had her stepping down to Born to be Wild or something.
She reached Barry, at last, and Dad handed her over to him. They smiled shyly at each other, and Claire took a deep breath. She was doing the right thing. This was just what she had always dreamed of.
Claire was in a happy daze as the service started, and before she knew it, the all-important moment arrived. It was time to make her vows, and become a married woman.
‘Is there any reason why these two should not be joined in matrimony?’ the vicar was saying in sonorous tones, and everyone was no doubt nodding and smiling as they always do at weddings, knowing no one is going to say anything, when—
‘Yes!’ The whole congregation turned to the back of the church. Claire turned last, reluctant to acknowledge the sound of a voice she knew, and trying to repress the singing in her heart as she heard him call her name.
‘Claire, you can’t marry Barry,’ Steve said, standing in his black leathers, bathed in sunlight, like a glorious vision, a modern day Sir Lancelot, come to take her away on his metal steed.
‘Why not?’ she asked.
‘Because he doesn’t love you,’ said Steve. ‘And I do.’
‘Of course he loves me,’ Claire felt she had to say it. ‘Don’t be daft.’
‘No, he doesn’t,’ said Steve. ‘He’s having an affair with your bridesmaid.’
‘He’s wha-at?’ Claire couldn’t take it in. It all fitted. Barry’s indifference. The fact that Mel had been so absent for the last few weeks.
‘Don’t listen to him,’ said Barry. ‘Of course I haven’t been having an affair.’
‘Yes, don’t be silly, Claire,’ said Mel. ‘Why would I do that to you?’
‘Nah, it’s true,’ Kerry’s voice piped up from the middle of the church. ‘The whole office knows about it.’
‘And I’m the last to know,’ said Claire with icy anger.
‘She doesn’t mean anything,’ gabbled Barry. ‘It’s you I love.’
‘You bastard,’ said Mel and took her bouquet and whacked Barry round the head with it. ‘If you must know, you were a lousy lay. You’re welcome to him, Claire.’ And she stormed off.
‘So