‘Hi, Gloria!’
Rosie clapped her gloved hands together as she and Charlotte approached the church. The sun might be glorious, but it was still icy cold.
Half the congregation was loitering outside, chatting and moving from one foot to the other on the pavement that had been shovelled clear of snow for the wedding entourage.
The air of excitement and anticipation was as crisp and clear as this Christmas Day.
A cursory scan of the crowd showed Marie-Anne was chatting to Rina, Hannah and Olly. Vera was with them and looked to be either squinting because of the sun or scowling at whatever Marie-Anne was saying.
Martha could be seen towering above her mam and dad, and just about everyone else, for that matter. She looked self-conscious. Rosie knew she felt uncomfortable in anything other than a pair of overalls.
Dorothy and Toby were chatting away. Angie was standing a little awkwardly with a slim, blond-haired chap who was wearing what looked like a very expensive suit.
Pearl was with Bill and Ronald, puffing away on a cigarette. She had a flimsy winter coat wrapped around her, the occasional breeze causing the bottom half to flap open. Rosie thought the violet-coloured dress she had on looked unusually classy. Certainly not her normal style.
Joe was standing with his friends from the Home Guard. Major Black, of course, was the centre of attention, chortling away and filling the air with the distinctive oaky aroma of cigar smoke. Rosie thought they all looked incredibly smart and handsome in their khaki uniforms.
‘Everyone’s just going in,’ Gloria said, smiling at Charlotte, who, she thought, was looking very grown up in her new red dress. ‘I swear Bel’s missed her vocation as a drill sergeant. She’s in there now, organising, or should I say ordering everyone about. Even Lucille and Hope are behaving themselves.’
As everyone slowly made their way into the church, Rosie spotted Helen and Dr Parker. They looked like a Hollywood couple. There was no denying Helen resembled Vivien Leigh, only taller and curvier, and Dr Parker was not unlike James Stewart, only younger and with lighter hair.
‘Wow!’ Charlotte said on walking into the church and seeing the Christmas tree, which now had carefully placed candles on its branches. They had just been lit, their flickering yellow glow adding to the rather magical ambience.
‘Hi, you two.’ Bel came hurrying up the aisle. Charlotte stared at her in the pretty pink dress she had only ever seen the shop mannequin wear.
‘Can I put you here?’ Bel gently herded Charlotte, Rosie and Gloria into one of the pews near the front. She had purposely put Gloria in the seat by the aisle so she could have a good view of Hope as she walked with Lucille behind the bride.
Rosie looked around and saw Jimmy and his squad, their significant others in the pew further back. Alfie and his grandmother were in the pew behind them, along with Harold and his wife. Maud and Mavis were sitting in the pew behind them with Mrs Jenkins and her husband. Rosie thought her neighbour looked as happy as Larry. She was glad.
She felt pretty happy herself.
She thought back to her own wedding at Guildford registry office and smiled. She put her hand in her coat pocket and felt the corner of Peter’s letter. Having it near to her made her feel as though a part of him was with her now.
‘So,’ Charlotte said, keeping her voice low, ‘you were going to tell me how you and Peter met.’
‘Well, it’s a long story.’ Rosie looked at her sister. She’d told Charlotte that she’d heard from Peter and it would seem that this – and the romance of the wedding – had triggered the morning’s inquisition.
‘Oh, look, there’s Lily,’ Rosie said.
Charlotte knew her sister was purposely changing the subject but looked anyway. She’d quiz her later.
At the end of the pew, second from the front, Lily’s vibrant auburn-coloured hair was clearly visible. They could also see the back of her fur coat. There was a space next to her ready for when George had completed his chauffeuring duties.
Kate was on her other side.
And next to Kate were Maisie and Vivian.
All of a sudden, the church seemed to go quiet.
There was a general rustling sound as people started to shuffle around in their seats.
‘I think she’s just about to arrive,’ Rosie whispered to Charlotte.
They both craned their necks, as did everyone else now seated in the church.
There were audible gasps when the sunlight from one of the stained-glass windows fell on Polly as she came through the main entrance, followed by Arthur and George.
George broke away and hobbled down the side of the church to take his place next to Lily, who was watching his approach with a proud smile on her face. Rosie thought George looked self-conscious in his uniform.
Bel, who had been perched on the back pew, her eyes trained on the entrance, hurried over to Polly and made her stand still as she circled her, arranging her veil from behind, and then from the front.
Next to Polly, in the partial sunlight, was Arthur, nervously pulling at his cuffs, looking very dapper and also very proud.
Rosie caught Polly smiling nervously at her matron of honour, before Bel moved aside and allowed Arthur to step forward and offer the bride his arm.
Bel quickly returned to her pew and ushered Lucille and Hope into position behind the bride, giving them both a quick kiss and a reassuring smile as she took her own position at the rear.
A few moments later the first notes of the organ vibrated through the church, and the sound of Wagner’s ‘Bridal Chorus’ filled the air.
Tommy was staring at Polly.
She looked unbelievably gorgeous. Radiant.
Her hair loosely piled high reminded him of a Greek goddess.
Her long, flowing ivory dress was like something you saw in the movies. Even her veil seemed to sparkle.
Tommy felt spellbound as he watched Polly walk slowly down the aisle.
Dragging his gaze away from his bride, Tommy looked at Arthur. He had been like a father to him, and to Polly too.
Here were the two people he loved most in this world.
Watching Polly moving towards him, the words of Mrs Reid suddenly came to mind.
If anything were to happen to you, she’ll need a part of you to keep her going.
He hoped there might soon be three people he loved more than anything in this world.
Tommy smiled at Polly as she finally reached him.
‘Gorgeous,’ he said, shaking his head, still mesmerised.
The vicar cleared his throat, looked out at the packed pews and began the ceremony. A wedding that had ended up being rather beneficial for all parties involved. He glanced briefly up to the wooden beams of the ceiling, smiled and began.
‘Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the marriage of Thomas Watts and Pollyanna Henrietta Elliot.’
As Polly stood next to Tommy, she took hold of his hand. She couldn’t remember what had been said in the rehearsal and if they were ‘allowed’ to do so, but feeling the tightness of Tommy’s grip, it was clear he was not going to let go.
They stood and listened to the vicar as he made his address to them as a couple and to the congregation, talking about the gift of marriage and how this day was a celebration of their love.
Polly tried to focus on everything that was being said, so determined was she to remember every moment of this day, but all she could think about was the feel of Tommy’s hand on her own and the beating of her heart as she occasionally took a sidelong glance at her future husband, who looked incredibly handsome in his Royal Navy uniform.
When the first hymn was announced and the whole congregation started singing ‘Make me a Channel of Your Peace’, she felt Tommy squeeze her hand. She had told him it had been her favourite as a child; now, as an adult, it was the words she loved as much, if not more, than the music.
After the hymn, Reverend Winsey waited until everyone had sat down before he asked, ‘First, I am required to ask anyone present who knows a reason why these persons may not lawfully marry, to declare it now.’
There were the usual smiles, chuckles and coughs before he looked at Polly and Tommy and asked if either of them knew of a reason they might not lawfully marry.
‘If so, you must declare it now,’ the vicar demanded.
Polly and Tommy smiled and shook their heads.
There was a dramatic pause before the reverend turned to Tommy.
‘Thomas Watts, will you take Pollyanna Henrietta Elliot to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honour and protect her, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?’
You could hear a pin drop.
‘I will.’ Tommy’s voice was loud and clear and very certain.
The vicar cleared his throat again and turned his attention to Polly.
‘Pollyanna Henrietta Elliot, will you take Thomas Watts to be your husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honour and protect him, and forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?’
‘I will,’ she said with a smile.
Turning to his audience, the vicar raised his voice and asked the congregation if they, as family and friends, would support the couple now, and in the years to come.
There was a resounding ‘We will.’
The prayers, Bible reading and, thankfully, the relatively short sermon seemed to pass in a blur before it was time for the vows to be made.
As instructed by the vicar, Polly and Tommy turned and faced each other.
Their eyes locked as Tommy took Polly’s right hand and he repeated the words of the vicar.
‘I, Tommy Watts, take you Pollyanna Henrietta Elliot, to be my wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.’
As he spoke the words, he realised that Polly had already done all these things.
He knew she didn’t care about money, and she had already shown him that she loved him whether he was fighting fit or at death’s door.
Seeing that Tommy had forgotten to release Polly’s hand, the vicar gently loosened it before guiding Polly to take Tommy’s right hand again.
With a slightly trembling voice, Polly repeated the same vows, trying to keep the tears at bay when she said the words ‘to love and to cherish till death us do part’, for she knew that she would keep her vows even if Tommy was taken from her.
When the vicar announced that it was now time for the ‘Giving of Rings’, Joe stepped forward and handed the two gold bands to the reverend, who then blessed them, explaining that they symbolised their unending love and faithfulness. That they were a reminder of the vows they had made today.
Neither Tommy nor Polly thought they would need reminding. Ever.
Tommy gently slid the gold band onto Polly’s finger.
Feeling it shake, he kissed it.
A few ‘ahs’ could be heard coming from the pews.
Tommy looked into Polly’s eyes and said the time-honoured words:
‘All that I am, I give to you, and all that I have I share with you.’
When it was Polly’s turn to put the ring on Tommy’s finger, she suddenly felt the enormity of the occasion.
She took a deep breath.
‘Tommy Watts, I give you this ring as a sign of our marriage. With my body I honour you.’ Polly’s voice trembled a little. You could feel the emotion in the air. ‘All that I am I give to you, and all that I have I share with you.’
If Polly had looked to her left, she would have seen that her ma had tears running down her face, and that Beryl was pushing a hanky into her hand, all the while dabbing at her own tear-stained face.
The vicar then turned to his audience.
‘Thomas Watts and Pollyanna Henrietta Elliot have given their consent and made their marriage vows to each other.
‘They have declared their marriage by the joining of hands and by the giving and receiving of rings.’
He paused. Took a deep breath.
‘I therefore proclaim that they are husband and wife.’
He then took Polly and Tommy’s right hands and joined them together.
And in a booming voice declared:
‘Those whom God has joined together let no one put asunder.’
Polly added her own prayer that this included the war.
As the vicar ended his speech, Lucille started to clap, followed by Hope.
There were a few chuckles and what sounded like a few choked cry-laughs.
Polly looked up at Tommy and they smiled and kissed each other. Both a little self-conscious about being so public with their affection.
The congregation started to shuffle and murmur. This was always the high point of any wedding and Polly and Tommy had not disappointed.
After everyone settled back into their pews, the organ once again struck up.
Everyone was directed to a sheet that had been placed in the hymn book, and asked to sing ‘Ding Dong Merrily on High’ while the signing of the Register took place.
Polly and Tommy, with Agnes and Arthur as their witnesses, signed the thick hard-backed green ledger laid out on a table behind the altar, while the church was filled with the enthusiastic warbling of their guests. All were clearly enjoying singing the carol, even if they couldn’t quite reach the high notes.
Afterwards, the Lord’s Prayer was recited before the vicar brought the ceremony to an end with the words:
‘God the Holy Trinity make you strong in faith and love, defend you on every side, and guide you in truth and peace; and the blessing of God almighty, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, be among you and remain with you always.’
Everyone chorused an enthusiastic ‘Amen.’
As the organ struck up Mendelssohn’s ‘Wedding March’, Tommy and Polly thanked the vicar and made their way, now husband and wife, down the aisle.
They were holding hands, both smiling from ear to ear, radiating pure joy and happiness.
Once outside, everyone gathered round, congratulating the happy couple.
Mr Clement, aided by Bel, organised a group shot. He thanked his lucky stars the sun was out and the snow had not melted. He couldn’t have wished for better conditions. It wasn’t even windy.
Lily slipped off back into the church to stuff a bulging brown envelope into the donation box for the repair of the church roof, while George nipped off to get the car.
When he pulled up outside the church, he honked his horn, signalling it was time for the new Mr and Mrs Watts to make their way to the Grand. Everyone cheered and tossed confetti over the couple, as they ducked and clambered into the back of the MG.
They drove off to a cacophony of clanking cans, a ‘Just Married’ sign hanging rather precariously from the boot.