The church doors opened.
Everyone around me was nervous. I could feel their anxiety pulsing like waves, filtering through the air and mixing with the smell of the flowers in my hair, my bouquet and from the garlands looped along the pews. My dad was the worst. Three tiny nicks on his neck proved that even shaving had been a challenge that morning. I’d had to spend most of the fifteen-minute car journey to the church reassuring him that everything would be all right, which I’m sure was a strange reversal of roles.
‘Do you know how amazed I am by you today, Bella?’ he’d asked, his voice unusually gruff as the church spire came into view, silhouetted against a cloudless cerulean sky. If we’d dialled up the weather, we couldn’t have asked for a better day. ‘You are the bravest, most loving and caring daughter any parent could wish for. Your mum and I couldn’t be any prouder of you.’
Behind the gossamer veil, I was suddenly in danger of ruining all of Sasha’s best efforts with my make-up. The sun was streaming through the windows and while there might only be two shadows cast on the soft leather upholstery, it suddenly felt like a third presence was in the car with us.
‘I’m really proud of you too, Dad,’ I said, looking down at our joined hands; his work-worn and old, mine still waiting for time to leave their mark upon them. Life was full of changes, they were inevitable, but the closeness my father and I shared would endure. We’d make sure of it. And so too would the man who was about to become my husband. I smiled. It was something I’d been doing a lot of in the months since I’d left hospital; since the day I’d learnt what I meant to him.
How was it possible that everything you thought you knew and understood about someone could change so completely? His smile could alter my day. His kiss had the power to lift a mood from bleak to euphoric. I liked the ‘me’ I was with him; she was the best version of Bella I’d ever met.
The vintage Bentley purred up to the kerb and Sasha immediately emerged from the vestibule, looking amazing in a floor-length champagne silk dress. My bridal party was small and unconventional: a Bridesmaid-of-Honour and a Chief Bridesman. Frankly, Sasha and Wayne could have chosen whatever bizarre titles they wanted; all that mattered to me was that they were part of this special day.
The driver unloaded my wheelchair from the boot and Sasha positioned it beside the open car door. Decorated with gardenias and white ribbons, my friends had transformed the NHS-issue chair to a flower-covered throne. It looked beautiful, but I was still hoping to abandon it at the church doors. Eleven steps. My heart tripped and quickened as I glanced through the lychgate. To date, the most I had managed to achieve was nine.
Dad pushed my chair across the uneven grass of the churchyard. I’m sure there must have been places close by with easier access, but this was the church where my parents had been married. We’d never considered looking anywhere else. Out of sight of our waiting guests, Sasha swept into action, straightening, smoothing and twitching my dress and veil in place. When she set the bouquet in my hands, I noticed her own were trembling.
‘Remember, I’m going to be right behind you,’ she whispered in my ear. ‘If it gets too much, I’ll be there with the chair, just in case—’
‘Bella won’t fall,’ said my dad, with the confidence of someone who hadn’t seen my latest efforts.
Sasha squeezed my hand one last time and then nodded to someone waiting just inside the entrance to the church. Seconds later, the opening strains of the song we’d chosen filtered out into the churchyard.
Every head turned as we moved from the shadowy vestibule into the church. But the only one I saw was his. I knew he’d look handsome in that dark suit and tie, but what overwhelmed me was the look on his face. It was joy, it was love, it was a promise that almost made the vows we were about to exchange redundant. No other man would ever look at me like he did, love me like he did. And I would never love anyone more than him if I lived to be a hundred.
Dad pushed my chair over the raised flagstone we knew we’d have to negotiate and then stepped out from behind it and into the aisle beside me. I lifted my bouquet and passed it over my shoulder to Sasha. Smoothly, just as we’d rehearsed, a figure rose from his seat at the end of the last pew in the church. The music was still playing as loudly as ever, but above it I could hear a ripple of hushed and curious whispers.
This was it. I was really doing this.
With almost balletic synchronicity, my father and Wayne presented their outstretched hands. There were gasps as I placed mine in theirs. Most of our guests knew I could stand, some of them had even seen me do it. But no one had seen me walk. Even the man whose name I was about to take thought two steps was all I could manage.
The hands supporting me were as steady as rocks, but I wasn’t looking at Dad or Wayne as I took that first step. My gaze was locked on the person at the end of the aisle. Previously, I’d always looked down as I walked, watching each foot move forward, willing it not to fail. Today there was no need. I knew they wouldn’t.
He was crying before I was halfway up the aisle, the tears coursing down his face. He made no effort to wipe them away. I saw him mouth I love you, not just once, but over and over again, like a chorus of a hymn you can’t stop singing.
Nine steps easily became eleven. I swear I could have gone up and down that aisle all day long, powered by the love that surrounded me. When I reached the altar, his arms slid around me, and breaking with tradition the groom kissed the bride before the ceremony had even begun, and everybody cheered.
*
I clinked the back of my dessert spoon against my wine glass, hoping it wasn’t about to shatter and spill shards all over the top table. Like a Mexican wave, silence settled across the room. Every eye was looking my way, every mouth was smiling. Using the arms of the velvet-covered chair, I pushed myself to my feet for the second time that day. To be fair, it got less of a reaction this time around.
‘I know it’s not usual for the bride to begin the speeches,’ I began. Behind me, I could feel my husband’s hand move to the small of my back, his touch a gentle caress.
‘I promise I’ll be brief. But before Dad embarrasses me with his speech and then the best man reveals all kinds of things someone really ought to have told me about my husband before today…’ – I glanced down and caught his look of feigned horror – ‘I wanted to say a few words. I think most of you know it’s not been an easy year for me. And without the love and support of my family, my friends, but most of all of the man sitting beside me, well, I don’t think I’d be standing here at all.’
The smile my words earned me almost made me give up on the rest of my speech and just kiss him instead. God knows it was what I wanted to do. I tore my eyes away from him and refocused. ‘It’s a little-known fact, but did you realise that eighteen per cent of people who meet on a roller-coaster end up getting married?’
Beside me, I heard Will laugh.
‘So, to roller-coasters,’ I said, raising my glass.
‘To roller-coasters,’ the room replied.