Page 80 of The Day After Christmas
Felicity felt rather differently an hour later when they were walking solemnly down the aisle to a piece of classical music she couldn’t remember the name of. She was too busy trying not to catch the eyes of what felt like a thousand people all turning tostare at her as she passed. Felicity’s face heated to approximately a thousand degrees under the burning scrutiny of those stares.
‘Ignore them,’ hissed Sophie from beside her, but how could she? What were they staring at?
Felicity had to swallow down the physical temptation to turn and run, which was almost overwhelming. She looked over the heads of the crowd until she found James. He was staring at her with something like awe, and when she caught his eye he nodded, just once, almost imperceptibly, but it was enough. She could do this.
Just don’t look at Adam.
Whatever. You. Do.
A murmur ran through the crowd as Bex arrived behind her in the doorway and for a moment, all eyes turned towards the bride. Without any signal between them Felicity and Sophie’s walk got a little faster until finally, finally, finally they reached the front and could take their places in the front row. Felicity’s sigh of relief as she sat was so deep her ribs strained the corset of her dress and she winced.
Adam was standing right in front of her now, his expensive aftershave almost overpowering. She could stare at him freely for a moment, as his attention was finally elsewhere. Felicity had felt his eyes on her all the way down the aisle but she didn’t want to think about what that might mean.
Annoyingly, he was even more handsome than usual, in a silver-grey suit and teal tie to match the bridesmaids. His dark hair was slicked back and his brown skin was almost luminous in the light of the church. She watched him smiling that full-toothed smile across the room at Bex as she took slow deliberate steps down the aisle. For anyone else it would have seemed like the perfect romantic moment. Only Felicity could see that the smile wasn’t reaching his eyes.
An awed hush settled over the room as Bex reached the altar and Adam leant over to whisper something in her ear. She really did look stunning, her dark hair in an elaborate twist and studded with pearls, her high cheekbones even more accentuated in the pseudo-daylight of the church. But there was a sickly pallor to her skin that Felicity hadn’t noticed back at the house. She wondered vaguely if Bex was pregnant.
The vicar stood up. This was his moment. He cleared his throat and began with the famous “dearly beloved” line and Felicity wriggled back as far as she could on the pew and started to relax a little. It felt slightly surreal in the way that weddings often do. She’d seen so many on television and in films perhaps that it didn’t feel quite like reality now she was actually there. As he spoke the familiar words, Felicity let them wash over her. Tears prickled behind her eyes. It was happening. After all the excruciating waiting the ceremony was finally happening and soon she could go back to her life and she’d never have to see Bex and Adam again if she didn’t want to.
Sophie reached across and patted her hand. James was in the row behind but she could feel his presence and that was a comfort too.
Suddenly there was some sort of kerfuffle from halfway down the church.
‘Wait.’ The word rang out strong and true and the whole congregation fell silent.
The vicar covered his eyes and scanned the room.
‘I’m sorry, did someone speak?’
‘It was me,’ came the voice again, strong and confident and female.
The vicar almost laughed, perhaps from shock or nerves. Bex and Adam exchanged anxious glances.
‘And what can I do for you?’ said the vicar, his voice shaky.
‘You have to stop the wedding,’ came the voice, and there was a loud gasp from the crowd.
Felicity turned to see a young black woman with the most incredible dark glossy hair pouring down over her shoulders, standing up now in a row about halfway back. She was dressed in a simple and very elegant silk burgundy dress, little more than a slip, really, and her eyes were big and dark-brown and sincere.
‘Tabitha?’ said Adam, his voice catching in his throat. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘That’s Tabitha?’ squeaked Bex, turning towards him.
But he didn’t respond. Just stared at this interloper, along with the rest of the room.
‘I’m afraid I can’t do that,’ said the vicar, whose face had turned a sort of greenish colour.
‘But what about if anyone knows of any lawful impediments?’ said Tabitha, her eyes never leaving Adam’s face for even a second.
‘We haven’t got to that part yet,’ said Bex, tossing her head.
But the vicar was frowning. ‘Do you know of any?’ he asked her. ‘Is one of these persons already married and they haven’t declared it? Is this marriage taking place under duress, to your knowledge?’
Tabitha looked a little shaken for the first time.
‘I…’
‘It has to belegalimpediments, you witch,’ said Bex, her face like thunder now. ‘Otherwise you can sit the fuck down.’
