I’m cold in my bed, despite the warmth outside. Will she show up tomorrow? I’ll leave here at eight, have a coffee and breakfast somewhere else. Welland will pick her up at nine, and she’ll walk into the registry office, where I’ll be waiting, at about half past.
I lie on my back, wait for sleep to come. All I can see is that painting of hers, all those skulls, all that unhappiness from back then, and her pain at something I know nothing about. It hurts me, too. I decamp out to the veranda with my cigarettes when the restlessness becomes too much.
Back in bed, the skulls are still there when I close my eyes, along with the fears of tragedy gone and tragedy to come. They’re illusions. There’s nothing to fear, I keep telling myself. My Antarctic bags taunt me from the table across the room. You won’t make it, they whisper to me. Not this time. Not ever. I close my eyes, turn onto my stomach, and hide myself under my pillow. They can’t mock me now. Seconds pass as minutes, minutes as hours.
The phone wakes me. It’s half past three. Warney never sounds any different.
‘Thought I’d call you first for a change,’ he says, wide awake. ‘Even though you’re not flying today.’
‘Cheers, mate,’ I say. ‘I’d only just managed to get to sleep.’
‘It’s a hard life,’ he says. ‘Good luck today.’ Another man who specialises in afterthoughts.
‘Not as hard as it could be,’ I say, but he’s already hung up.
The next thing I know, the phone’s ringing again.
‘Wakey, wakey,’ Nev’s voice shouts. ‘It’s your wedding day.’
‘I only just put the phone down on Warney,’ I mumble.
‘Bollocks, mate. That was four hours ago. I’ll see you downstairs in ten minutes.’
‘Great.’
I shower as quickly as I can. I grab my fags, my wallet, my key.
Nev’s waiting outside the lift when I get downstairs. ‘Come on, mate. Can’t risk you seeing the bride before the appointed time. You look like shit.’
‘Thanks. I love you, too.’
‘Wrong person, mate. Save it till later. You got the rings?’
‘Yeah. Put them in the suit before I went to bed.’
‘Just check, will ya?’
I put my hands in my pockets. Yes, there they are. I’m not that disorganised.
‘OK, mate. Let’s go have some breakfast.’
‘Where?’
‘Anywhere but here,’ he says. ‘And we’re walking.’
The registry office is just a block past the art gallery, so he walks me briskly away from the hotel, past the gallery and the registry office, and into Cathedral Square. There are lots of places to eat here.
‘What d’you fancy?’ he asks.
‘I need coffee and cake.’
‘No worries.’
I’m starting to shake now, and chain smoke. I’m getting nervous. He sits me down. Gets me a coffee and a piece of cake. Sits down opposite me, then leans back and smiles. A long, slow, broad grin that lights up his face.
‘Listen, mate,’ he says. ‘Stop worrying. Enjoy the day. It’ll be the best day of your life. I’ve never been happier than since I’ve been married. Honest. And she was late.’
‘I’ve forgotten to get flowers,’ I say, cursing myself.
‘Her bridesmaid will have gotten her some, you can be sure of that. Welland wouldn’t miss out on a chance to get a beautiful woman some flowers.’
‘What about us?’
‘I put in an order yesterday for us. It’s all sorted.’
‘I’m useless at this, aren’t I?’
‘No, just nervous. Why’d you never get married before?’
‘Never got round to it. Always fell in love with the wrong women.’
‘I know what you mean. Been there. But I saw the light when I was still young.’
‘Thanks for making me feel older than I am.’
My stomach knots with the coffee and the cake. I feel worse than I did when I woke up.
‘Just breathe deeply,’ he says. ‘And maybe one day you’ll be saying that to her.’
‘Eh?’
‘Babies,’ he says. ‘Maybe you’ll have to talk her through giving birth.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘We’ll see.’
We walk across to the flower shop to get our red roses. He even pins mine on my lapel for me, because I can’t do it. And then we make our way back to the registry office. I feel my legs getting heavier with every step. Will she really show up? Stop it. She loves you. You love her. What more can you want? What other proof do you need?
We’re waiting in the anteroom. It’s half past nine. She should be here. I look at my watch again. The seconds tick away too quickly all of a sudden. Where is she? Twenty-five to ten. I’m starting to sweat. The suit’s too heavy for me. I sit down. He doesn’t look worried. Women’s prerogative, he whispers. Whatever that means. It doesn’t make me feel any better. Twenty to.
Welland walks in. He holds the door open, stands straight.
‘For the very final time, I present Miss Henrietta Birdie Bowers.’ He bows.
In she walks. She’s wearing the silk outfit from Singapore. And she carries a huge bunch of yellow roses with just one red one right in the middle. Her hair is spikier than ever. And she’s wearing the boots, those boots she wore when we first met. She looks at me. Tears are running down our faces. She blows me a kiss. Takes Welland’s arm.
The door into the registrar’s office opens.
‘It’s time,’ the attendant says. ‘Are we all here?’
We all nod in unison. I’m ushered in first with Nev. Birdie and Welland follow. The room is a sea of sunshine. My breaths come quickly.
‘Mr Caird? Miss Bowers? Please step forward,’ says the registrar, a stern-looking woman with grey hair.
Birdie hands her flowers to Welland and reaches out to me. We walk to the desk hand in hand.
‘You have both declared that there is no legal impediment to your marriage. Can you confirm this?’
‘Yes,’ Birdie says.
‘Yes,’ I say.
‘Have either of you prepared any words to say to your partner?’ the registrar asks.
‘I have,’ says Birdie.
‘Please proceed.’
Birdie turns to face me. Shit, I haven’t thought about this at all.
‘Adam Caird,’ she starts. ‘I have loved you since you saved me, but I have denied that love for too long. I will deny it no longer. I want to walk the long road of life with you, to share with you all the goodness and brightness life brings. I want to protect you and carry you through any darknesses life may bring. I will remain with you through all challenges. And I will love you beyond death. These are my vows to you on our wedding day.’
I swallow deeply. I can’t not cry. I try to think of something.
‘Mr Caird?’ the registrar asks.
‘Birdie, my Birdie, I have no words to describe my love for you. My life was a waste ground before you saved me. I can imagine no one else whom I would want to share my life with. I love you despite our failings, because of our failings, and I will love you for as long as there is breath in my body and light in my soul. These are my vows to you.’
‘Have you any rings?’ the registrar asks.
I fish them out of my pocket.
‘Please say the official words now. You first, Miss Bowers.’
‘I, Henrietta Birdie Bowers, take you, Adam Caird, to be my legal husband.’ She puts the ring on my finger.
‘I, Adam Caird, take you, Henrietta Birdie Bowers, to be my legal wife.’ I bend down and slide the ring onto her finger.
‘You are now legally husband and wife,’ the registrar says.
‘If you could sign the Particulars of Marriage, along with your witnesses. And then, Mr Caird, I will allow you to kiss your wife.’
We sign the paper and get our copy. Welland has brought a camera, so we get photos with the registrar, and she even takes pictures of the four of us. And then I kiss Birdie. And she kisses me back. Grabs me, as if she’ll never let go. We don’t stop till Welland taps me on the shoulder.
‘Erm, folks.’ He coughs. ‘Nev and I thought it would be a splendid idea to buy you both lunch to celebrate. There’s a great place out at Sumner. Not very romantic, but …’
‘Sounds good to me,’ I say.
‘You sure you’d rather not retire to the hotel?’ Nev asks.
‘No, no, too much to think about. It’ll keep, won’t it?’ I say.
Birdie looks up, as if she’s waking from a dream. ‘Ooh, lunch at ten in the morning. That’s what I like. I’m starving.’
‘Didn’t you feed her?’ I ask Welland.
‘She said she couldn’t face it. I’ve never been known to force a lady …’
‘I’m sure you haven’t,’ I laugh.
‘Come on, guys,’ Birdie says. ‘Let’s get down there.’ She grabs me again. Kisses me. Touches the ring on my left hand. Whispers in my ear. ‘We belong to each other now.’
In Sumner, right by the water, we sit outside in the sun. It burns into me. We’re on a pier, and it’s like I’m on holiday. There’s a whiff of wood and heat.
The first round of drinks arrives. Welland, bless him, has ordered a bottle of champagne. It’s only eleven in the morning.
‘To Mr and Mrs Caird,’ he toasts us. ‘May they live long and fruitful lives.’
‘Hear, hear,’ Nev says, and takes a slug, a whole glass in one mouthful.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ Birdie says.
‘Dangerous,’ Welland smirks.
‘Seriously, guys,’ she says. She never stops being practical. Maybe that’s why I like her so much, because she likes to get things done. She leans back, wrinkles her face, smiles a faraway smile. ‘Maybe we should have a honeymoon.’ She looks at me. ‘What d’you think, husband?’
‘I’m disappointed,’ I say. I’d expected her to lose her temper again. And I’m not expected back at work, anyway. ‘But it would give us some time to do some more research.’
‘Is that what they call it nowadays?’ Welland asks.
‘Very funny,’ she says. ‘And I’ll have time to do some more painting now you’ve got all my old ones.’
‘You calling it off now, then?’ asks Nev.
‘Yes,’ she says. ‘And we’ll be out of your hair. For now. We’ll be back in January. It’s only six weeks, although it’ll feel like six years.’
‘What?’ I say.
‘We need to find out more about Amundsen,’ she says.
‘Everyone ignores him, although he was first to the Pole. And no one’s considered the possibility of him and Scott having met on the Ice.’
‘Teddy Evans did suggest that they might work together once they found out he’d come south,’ Nev says.
‘But everyone says it never happened,’ she says. ‘And since then it’s been all smoke and mirrors. What if they did meet?’
‘Are you saying Amundsen caused Scott to die?’ Welland asks.
‘No, not at all,’ she says. ‘But wouldn’t it be interesting if they had met and decided, however much they liked each other, to go their separate ways?’
‘I don’t think the timelines add up,’ Nev says, frowning.
‘That’s why we should research it,’ she insists.
‘Wouldn’t that change your mind about this project?’ Nev asks.
‘Don’t be silly,’ she says. ‘I’ve made a promise. I’ve signed my name. I’m committed.’
‘Thanks,’ Nev says.
‘Don’t thank me. This is something I believe in. But I want the truth, too.’
‘You’ll find it,’ Welland says. ‘I know you will.’
Although he tries to persuade us to let him buy dinner as well, we eat quietly on our own in the hotel, in a corner, in semi-darkness. Then we go upstairs, after she’s cancelled my room and we’ve moved all my things into hers.
‘I’m shy now,’ she says.
‘So am I.’
‘Turn the light out.’
‘No. Not until I have seen all of you.’
She pulls back the covers. She is perfect in her nakedness. I bury my face in her hair. She pulls me to her, runs her hands down my trembling back. I’m immersed in her scent, filled with her freshness, enveloped by her. Time halts. There are no words, just touch. Nothing has ever felt this real.
‘Come to me,’ she whispers, draws me closer. ‘Be mine.’
Slowly, gently, we intertwine, skin on hot skin, hand to hand, face to face, eyes open, staring into each other, nothing between us, strangers no more, never. We are one double-hearted body, two souls in one vessel. We are one another.