Summer Soap: (Episode 12): At last, the wedding, but there’s a hitch...

Called Charlotte’s Choice, this story is about a Cork woman and her tangled love life, and was written by Gabrielle Dufrene, from the MA in Creative Writing Programme at UCC. Catch up with previous episodes here. In the final episode, the wedding day dawns and the bride and groom are at the altar...

THE ceremony was being held at St James Cathedral, an old gothic church with stunning stained glass and an altar with elaborate carvings of the apostles.

Charlotte’s bridal party consisted of Laura, her Maid of Honour, and five other friends, plus two of Gregory’s sisters. Their dresses were an elegant sage green, and they would go beautifully with the natural floral hues of the reception venue.

Charlotte couldn’t have asked for things to go any more smoothly: they had time to spare to chat and clink champagne glasses before the ceremony.

Once they were transported to the church in a limousine, the nerves began to set in. The church was packed, with over 200 people in attendance. Gregory’s family comprised the majority of attendants in the first set of rows, and their friends from school filled in the remainder.

Charlotte’s only family members included her mother, who’d received more than one talking to about her drinking prior to the big day, and a few cousins. She saw some of Gregory’s groomsmen milling around, boys he’d grown up with or who’d been GAA teammates of his, with their sage ties and sprigs of Baby’s Breath pinned to their chests.

Laura came up behind her and rubbed her back, sensing her nerves.

“It’s really happening,” Charlotte said.

Take a deep breath, love. It’s going to be great.

******

The opening notes of the processional song rang out across the church, and Charlotte waited at the back of the vestibule with the bridal party and the groomsmen. A few of Gregory’s friends tipped back miniature bottles of vodka that they’d had in their pockets, and Charlotte couldn’t help but ask for one. They cheered as she swallowed it, and she shuddered and felt the alcohol permeate her body, before asking Laura to check her make-up and hair one last time. It was time to go.

Everyone made their way down the aisle, and finally, the crowd rose to their feet as Charlotte entered the church. She squeezed her bouquet and stepped forward gracefully, waiting for Gregory to enter her field of vision. He looked exceptionally handsome, and beamed at her, which was reassuring. There was no hint of bitterness in his eyes, just happiness at seeing his bride. He still wanted her. This was real.

The priest’s words and the bible passages floated in the background. Charlotte focused on the details around her: the marble of the floor, the shine of Gregory’s shoes, the white satin that cocooned her, until it was time for the vows.

“Do you, Gregory Thomas Dunne, take this woman, Charlotte Mary Cahill, to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do,” Gregory said, his deep, clear voice booming through the church. Charlotte smiled.

“Do you...” the priest began, when suddenly, Charlotte became aware of a figure rising out of their seat in the back of the church. A few people nearby turned their heads to see what was going on. Charlotte kept her eyes fixed on the back of the church as the priest continued to speak.

Gregory didn’t even notice.

But there was Seán, looking at her, plain as day, his blue eyes pleading, his hands clasped to his chest, wordlessly, silently. It made her heart quake.

In that moment, everything that could have been flashed before her eyes like a reel of film: their own humble wedding on a stretch of beach, bringing home their own blue-eyed, brown-haired baby from the hospital, Sunday afternoons saturated with coffee and sunlight, growing old together in that white house.

Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head. Then she tore her eyes away and turned to face Gregory.

“I do.”