Part 10 (2/2)

'It's not bleeding. Now breathe in.'

She worked the zip all the way to the top.

'There now. Turn round and let me look at you ... oh, you look like a princess.'

'Really? It feels a bit tight.'

'Where?'

'The waist, under the arms, round my b.o.o.bs.'

'That's because you've only just had lunch. No supper tonight and it'll be fine.'

'I don't know ...'

'Once your hair's up and you've got the white silk poinsettia in, your neck will look longer and you'll look taller.'

'Really?'

'Yes.' Loveday's mother turned towards Greer, who was standing next to her. 'Greer, you've chosen her a beautiful dress for the wedding.'

Greer smiled warmly at Loveday in her bridesmaid's dress. 'You look amazing. Peach is so the right colour for you.'

Loveday lifted her arms as far as the dress would allow and hugged her best friend. 'Thank you, Greer. I'm so proud to be your bridesmaid.'

'Loveday, who else would I ask? Now, the hairdresser is coming at nine thirty tomorrow morning. You're first, while I have my make-up done, and then we'll swap. You've got to be at the church for one forty-five and wait for me to get there at two. I've told Jesse to be there before one thirty. I don't want him hanging around the Golden Hind with Mickey getting him drunk.'

Jesse was at home with his mum. She was ironing her best dress.

'What you thinkin' about, young Jesse?' She turned the dress half a circle on the board and continued with a good jet of steam.

'Nothing.'

Her mouth made a firm line. 'You can tell me.'

'Nothing, honest.'

'You're getting married tomorrow. No one thinks of nothing the night before they get married.'

Jesse s.h.i.+fted in his chair. His mind was racing with the thought of marrying Greer tomorrow. He was 21 years old and he was getting married. He wanted to run away, or get drunk, or both.

'Nothing, Mum.'

'If you're marrying the wrong girl then it's not too late to back out,' she said, concentrating on a difficult pleat. She had decided that she wouldn't be able to sleep soundly again if she didn't speak up. Jesse kept his feelings to himself but, as his mother, she saw more than most.

Jesse shut his eyes tight for a moment. 'Greer and I will be a good team. Dad's happy, 'er dad's happy. Greer's happy.'

'And you're not.'

Jesse didn't answer. His mum scratched her throat, then resumed her ironing as she told him quietly, 'There'll always be a bed for you here.'

The door swung open, bringing with it the chill of a frosty night and the stamping of two sets of feet.

'b.l.o.o.d.y 'ell, it's as cold as a witch's t.i.t out there. 'Ello, Ma.' Grant Behenna stood in the small kitchen in the full uniform of a Royal Marine, proudly wearing his green beret.

His mum put the iron down and gasped. 'You got it. The beret. You're a commando?'

'Yes, Ma. Proud of me?'

She went to him and put her hands on his shoulders. 'Yes.'

'h.e.l.lo, little brother.' Grant looked at Jesse. 'Ready like a lamb for the slaughter?'

Ed Behenna finished hanging his coat up on the pegs by the door and went to the kettle.

'Don't start on him. Commando or no, you're not too old for me to give you a good hiding.'

Grant smirked, 'Wanna take me on, do you, Dad? I'm trained to kill a man with my bare hands.'

Jan let go of her elder son and gave him a stern look. 'We don't want any more trouble, Grant. Promise me.'

He laughed and hugged her. 'Why would I give my old mum any trouble? I'm a changed man. I'm one of the Queen's elite soldiers now. I fight only for her and my country. No one else.' He looked over at Jesse. 'The condemned man's allowed a last drink, isn't he? Why don't I take my little brother down to the pub?'

Jesse had known his brother would be coming back for his wedding and there had been precious little he could do about it. You could hardly not invite your brother to your wedding, though he had resisted pressure from his mother to ask Grant to be his best man. Grant hadn't ever been a brother he could rely on; Mickey was his best man and that was that.

'Cheer up, little brother.' He attempted to grab Jesse in a headlock, which Jesse deftly sidestepped.

'Watch it, Grant,' he warned.

Grant laughed, a little too loudly. 'Just messing, little brother. I know you didn't want me to be your best man, but I'm over it! Let me look after you tonight.'

Jesse couldn't think of a worse person to spend his last night of freedom with, but he was struggling to say no in a way that wouldn't offend his mother, his brother or both.

Ed was pouring boiling water into an old brown teapot. 'You'll stay in and have a cup of tea and an early night if you know what's good for you.'

Grant turned towards his dad with a familiar air of menace. 'You got what you wanted when you sold the poor beggar down the Swanee. It's the night before he gets married, 'is last happy night and I'm taking him for a drink. Any objections?'

Ed took a step towards Grant but Jan stood between them. 'One drink won't do no harm. Let them go, Ed.'

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