Week 13 - Naked Lady

The party had been planned by Pete and another mate called Jason which explained the high percentage of pretty girls. A number of them I don’t think I had ever seen before. Pete seemed to know them all. My parents were there sitting discretely in the corner, Dave ‘the bluenose', from work was spinning round in his wheelchair, Karen was dancing with a man who looked old enough to start lining up at the Post Office. Then to my delight I caught sight of a third person dancing in the group. It was Nan. I then realised that it was in fact Nan the man in his sixties was with. It was great to see my Nan looking so happy even if I don’t think her ankle was designed for that type of angle. With ‘Come On Eileen’ blasting out everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. If Becky had been by my side it would have been great. She used to do a brilliant striptease dance to this song. Only in private of course! I loved to see her body and feel the top of her naked thighs gyrate against me.
“Here is somebody who has come a long way to see you”, Pete said hiding a girl behind his back. Could it be Becky? Would my day be complete? Slowly the small blonde girl came into view and I recognised her instantly. It was my own Bakewell Tart, Heather Shaw.
Heather looked terrific dressed in a little black dress that didn’t even cover her knees. She had lost the slight chubbiness she had had and looked in exceptionally good nick. Pete quickly retreated to leave the two of us alone. Well, alone apart from the fact that I could feel the eyes of my whole family on us. Things were slightly awkward, but Heather soon took charge saying “Bonjour”, holding my hands and giving me a small kiss on my left cheek. I leant down slightly remembering how the height difference had sometimes made kissing difficult.
For the next half an hour I ignored all my other guests and chatted to Heather. We talked about so many things that had gone on in the past and she smelt lovely. The perfume, which I thought was probably French, was really pleasant. We talked mostly about uni days. More like old pals than ex’s. There was no mention of Becky or Jean Pierre. For the first time in months I was having a conversation with a woman and it felt so relaxed. Heather’s smile always put me at ease.
The party went well, I mingled, talked to Heather, cut the cake, talked to Heather, did the Birdie song and talked to Heather. Nan pulled me to one side and asked me in her normal to-the-point way “Has she dumped the Frenchie?”. I had no idea, but she seemed happy so I assumed they were still together. I must admit she had got me through a very difficult party. Yes, I was grateful to Pete for organising it and especially for getting Heather there but I didn’t really feel in the mood to celebrate my move to my fourth decade, by the time it was half past ten I had actually had enough of socialising. I decided to tell Pete, thank you, but I am going to call it a night. The only problem with this was that Pete was currently playing tonsil hockey with a girl I had never seen before. I tapped him on the back and indicated I was going. I think he heard me but his mouth was still being sucked like a vacuum by this unknown redhead.
Outside I looked for clues to where I could get a taxi from. It was now starting to rain and I wasn’t really dressed for being outside too long.

“Tryng to sneak off, birthday boy”, a familiar voice appeared from a few metres back. It was Heather who was standing under a Pink Panther umbrella, which was very very pink. She came closer and tried to lift the umbrella over my head but her arms were too small. I ducked down and actually managed to avoid being poked in the eye by the umbrella. Heather didn’t say anything and we just stood there for a few minutes exchanging a few uneasy smiles. Eventually Heather enquired what I was waiting for. I said I was after a taxi but was unsure which way to go to find one. After a few more minutes Heather offered to drive me home in her car as she hadn’t been drinking and didn’t know anybody else at the party. We had got on quite well so I decided to accept the invitation even though I remember her driving was always erratic. She led me to the pub carpark at the back and then I knew straight away which car I would be taken home in. There it was a bright pink Beetle parked over two parking spaces. It certainly wasn’t a car for somebody who didn’t want to be noticed. The new Heather certainly was very confident and seemingly not short of a few quid as the car seemed quite new. Confusion then happened as Heather tried to let me in the right-hand side. I protested that I wasn’t going to drive and I would be way over the limit. Then Heather pointed out that it was a left-hand drive car as she had got it in France.
The journey back to my house reminded me totally why I always like to drive when we were together. I must remember to tell her that you are supposed to stop at islands if there is traffic coming from the right and should not really just put your foot down and go. Being in the right-hand side with no steering wheel was very strange and my feet were frequently hitting an imaginary brake. Heather was now in ultra talk mode and the unnerving part was that she frequently turned her whole head to the right to look at me when she was talking. I had also forgot her strange habit of driving with one bare foot. She had a high heal shoe on her left foot and her right foot was shoeless. This is how she had always liked it.

“So where is Becky then?”, Heather suddenly shocked me by mentioning my missing bride.

I told her that I hadn’t heard from her and Heather looked really confused.

”You haven’t heard from your wife since when…..?”, Heather was just staring at me and I had to nudge her to get her eyes back on the road. It suddenly occurred to me that Pete had invited her to my party and totally failed to mention the minor detail that I had been jilted.

“How can she miss your birthday? Is she ill?, the Heather interrogation was now well under way. Luckily we soon arrived at my flat. I had finally started to call it my flat. So I decided to invite Heather in and explain everything to her.

“Will Becky mind?”, Heather was either being deliberately thick or was totally bewildered.

Inside Heather commented straight away on how minimalistic everything was. She then clicked that I lived alone and that Becky had left me. She thought it must have been a record breakingly short marriage, but I think suggesting it was probably my morning breath that scared Becky away was unfair. I was forced to explain exactly what had happened on my wedding day. Heather just sat silent with the only comment she made being to enquire if I had any decaf coffee. It was obvious that the Jon Stadler story had not crossed the Channel and was all new news to Heather. She didn’t give me the pity vote that I normally get from people when I tell this story. She was more surprised and maybe a bit put out that I hadn’t told her before.

“But, why did she decide she couldn’t marry you?”, still it didn’t make sense to the lady from France.

The next half an hour saw Heather asking me lots of personal question to try and find out why Becky left but still she felt there was something that I wasn’t telling her. Some information that I was holding back. I had told her everything though including the honeymoon plans and the disagreement we had had in June over if ‘O Jesus I have promised’ should be the first or second hymn. Heather wasn’t convinced though she even asked if Becky had financial problems or had ever expressed any feelings towards women. I showed my horror at this but it was dismissed by Heather who said that most women had had a lesbian fantasy at some point in their life mainly because they knew how to make their bodies tingle a lot better than men did. This was a slight distraction and I was left thinking about what Heather had been doing in France and were any French ladies involved. The conversation had been totally about me for the last hour and I felt it was about time I mentioned Jean Pierre to find out if he was still keeping Heather’s bed warm. Heather had changed this was certainly not the slightly shy lady I had known at uni who didn’t even like to be called a ‘Bakewell Tart’.
We discussed the infamous Jean Pierre and I was reasonably pleased to find that he was now shacked up with a lawyer named Louisa. Heather seemed ok with this and said that in the end she encouraged him to go. Apparently, the sex was sensational but they were never friends like we were and she wanted more. So we were both suddenly single maybe the future wasn’t as bleak as I thought. Very soon Heather was back interrogating me on why Becky had decided to leave. I couldn’t tell if Heather was pleased to hear that I was still single or not. Okay, I wasn’t looking my best and I had let myself go a bit lately, but maybe there was a chance of romance. Although I had to admit that Heather’s beauty value had changed from a middle of the table League One team to a Premier League club chasing a European place. She looked very pretty and if I couldn’t have Becky on my birthday then Heather was a good substitute.
It was now nearly one in the morning and Heather was checking out the different rooms in the flat making the occasional comment about my lack of cleaning. In the kitchen she picked up a bottle of champagne which had been ready for our return from honeymoon.

“Let’s celebrate your birthday in style then. Where are you champagne glasses?”, Heather asked as she searched the kitchen cupboard. Two minutes later there was the pop of the cork and Heather poured the bubbling champagne into a Villa 1977 League Cup winners mug and a ‘Watch Out there’s a Humphrey about’ Unigate Dairies mug. Heather smiled and handed me the Villa mug.

“Cheers to absent friends. Happy Birthday Jon”, she then kissed me on my right cheek and sat up against me on the floor in the lounge. After a few sips of the warm champagne I thought it best to enquire where Heater was staying. Surely she wasn’t travelling back to gay Pari at this time of night. She was staying at her mum’s in Bakewell, but didn’t want to drive back tonight as it was too late and she was planning on drinking a few glasses of champagne. In other words, she was asking if she could stay here tonight. There was only the one double bed so I offered to sleep on the couch even though it was only a two seater one and with my long legs would be absolutely impossible to sleep on.

“Don’t be silly. We know each other so well surely we can share a bed without any embarrassment”, Heather put forward an idea that surprised me. I suppose we could, but what was she suggesting? Was this a share a bed in the sleeping sense or in the ‘Mills and Boon’ sense. I tried to recall how it used to be like at university and importantly what I used to wear in the bedroom then. Normally at the moment it was just the boxers that I had been wearing that day but I had got a couple of pairs of pyjamas. The one pair were the Aston Villa ones that perhaps weren’t appropriate and the other pair were the slightly naughty ones that Becky had bought me last Christmas that perhaps also were not quite right. I guess it would have to be boxers but maybe not the ones I was wearing now. I would have to sneak a clean pair on when I got the chance.
Heather almost single handedly finished off the bottle of champagne and was starting to get very giggly. I began to think that maybe this wasn’t going to be such a good idea. How was I going to play this? Yes, I wouldn’t mind a bit of birthday nookie and it wasn’t like anybody I hadn’t slept with before. Problem was I kept recalling what she had said about good old Monsieur JP before “the sex was sensational”. How could I compare? Obviously my previous effort hadn’t reached those heights and I don’t think my technique has really improved much over the last nine years. Anyway, am I getting too far a head of myself here? Perhaps hanky-panky isn’t on the agenda for Heather tonight. She looks brilliant though, slightly tanned in her little black figure hugging dress and big white pearls around her neck. With the bottle empty Heather suggested, rather wickedly that it was time for bed. I tried not to read too much into the term ‘Big Boy’ as Heather took my hand and led me to my bedroom.
Sitting on the bed I watched in wonder as Heather unzipped her dress and pulled it over her head. I actually felt slightly uncomfortable that Heather was doing this all in full view of me. Was I supposed to look? I decided that it was probably more polite to avert my gaze and look the other way. So I watched the reflection of Heather undressing in the mirror.

“I can see you peeking. Do you like what you see?”, Heather taunted me and then blow me a kiss. It was all so confusing. I expect that she was happy to show off her new figure and what a figure it was. Her black lacy bra and matching briefs certainly grabbed my attention and my manhood was staring to show. I decided to retreat to the bathroom to try to calm down and change my boxers. Everything was going too fast for me and I didn’t know what I really wanted to happen. I had got used to the idea that I was never going to sleep with any other girl apart from Becky, but then Becky had left me. Now I had the chance of revisiting a former sexual partner.
Returning from the bathroom I nearly trod on Heather’s discarded black bra. It was a designer one with what looked like a French name. As I reached the bed I was shocked on two counts. Firstly, Heather was on the right side of the bed. This was wrong because it was my side and Becky always slept on the left. Secondly on the floor were a pair of black matching knickers. Heather was in the bed and unless she had kept any items of nightwear in her pink handbag then she was totally naked. Unfortunately she was also snoring and fast asleep. I slipped into the bed and could smell the French perfume and even when I turned off the light I could see the shine of Heather’s bare back. She looked sensational. It was a shame she was lying with her back facing me but I still allowed myself a smile and thought about how glad I was Pete had invited Heather.
Trying to sleep was difficult as Heather although looking angelic was making some very unfeminine noises. Her snores were filling the room and I was wide a wake. It was like the night before my supposed wedding day all over again. My mind was full of images of Becky and of old girlfriends, but the difference now was that this old girlfriend was lying NAKED only six inches from me. I moved closer desperately wanting to touch her warm soft body. Knowing she was in a deep sleep I knew that I could probably get away with Heather thinking I am a sleep if she suddenly wakes up and finds my arm around her. Perhaps she would like a cuddle anyway. I mean let's remember that it was Heather herself who got into my bed without her sexy undies. It was Heather herself who suggested she stayed the night. Yes, I was the innocent party here. I moved myself until my chest was touching her back and I could feel every movement she made as she breathed heavily. We were now so close that Heather’s blonde hair at the back was resting on my face. She smelt brilliant even allowing for the slight cigarette smell in her hair from the time spent in the pub. Her skin was just so soft and smooth and I couldn’t stop myself from stroking her all the way round from her shoulders with the back of my hand. It then continued down Heather’s back and then felt the joy of touching the cheek of her silky bottom. For the next five minutes I slowly stroked her back and bum checking that she wasn’t waking, but aware that the snoring was starting to become less frequent. The snores were also sounding more like a purr as Heather sounded like a really content pussy cat. My strokes seemed to be well received. Then my bed companion this birthday night wearing her birthday suit turned herself over one hundred and eighty degrees to face me. She seemed to still be asleep but I could make out a smile on her face. My eyes were quite accustomed to the light now and I lay there watching her closely. Her nose was quite small and definitely pointed slightly up. The duvet, still minus it’s duvet cover, was just covering Heather’s chest. Although part of me knew it was wrong and being disloyal to my fiancée I desperately wanted to see Heather’s hidden assets. I slowly pulled down the duvet that was covering Heather. The smile on her face widen and she gripped the duvet edge tightly to prevent it moving. Perhaps I had missed my chance. Then to my surprise Heather slowly lowered the duvet down to her waist. She looked super lying there with her breasts facing me and her nipples looking firm. I so wanted to touch them but would this be taking things too far? The moment went because Heather then rolled over the other way and pulled the duvet tightly around her. Leaving me now exposed and unable to retrieve the covers.

Next Week - The Day After

Week 8 - Another Day at Work

By Monday morning I was ready to get back to work after what was supposed to be my leave for my honeymoon. For the last three years I had worked for Walsall Council in the Leisure and Recreations Department. It was a strange job that I actually quite enjoyed and I felt benefited the people from the Walsall area by helping them to get fit and have places to relax. They are trying to change the Department name to ‘Leisure and Culture’ so I am not quite sure if my job will change. Anyway, I work in an office with three other people. There is Dave who is in a wheelchair and constantly runs over everyone’s feet. Dave is a very ‘politically correct’ person who spends hours checking that all leaflets and documents are completely ‘PC’. I like Dave even though he is a Bluenose, Birmingham City fan, but it is very easy to upset him and his sulks are legendary. He once didn’t speak to a colleague for eight months because they used the word ‘handicapped’. The second person in the office is Hasmita who is probably the Department manager but believes we are a team made up of equal parts and nobody is in charge. Hasmita is quite pretty but her legs, which Pete believes would be her best part, are always covered up. When Pete joined us last year at our office Christmas party he tried really hard to ‘get off’ with Hasmita and did manage a long kiss under the mistletoe. Hasmita was quite taken and suggested they could meet up, but her boyfriend could get quite jealous and had got a rather large knife. Pete quickly moved on to Hayley. Hayley is our newest recruit and answers all telephone calls to our department. She is short with brown hair and very rounded breasts with nipples that often poke through her clothing. She is only just twenty and tries hard to please everyone. Every ten minutes she will offer to make us drinks and is willing to do all the tasks that everybody else hates. She could photocopy for England. Hayley actually asked me if it was alright for her to go out on a date with Pete. This surprised me and it was only later that I found out it was because she thought that Pete and I were an item. It wasn’t that she thought I was camp though, more that she thought all council departments had a disabled person, an ethnic minority person and homosexual one. For the next week I exaggerated my butchness in front of Hayley. Of course, Pete thought it was really funny and just joked about how I didn’t love him any more.
When I arrived in the old office that Monday morning, I hadn’t bargained on the fact that no one had told the three work colleagues that things didn’t quite go to plan on my wedding day. Hayley had tried so hard. My desk was covered in confetti and a big sign made up of A4 letters hung across the office. It read ‘Just Married’. As I walked in three of them rose and applauded me. Well, only Hayley and Hasmita rose, Dave just lifted his shoulders and back up a few inches. This was a nice touch and I decided that I didn’t want to go into detail now about my failure. I just said I had had a lovely week. This was mistake as it was followed by questions about the new Mrs. Stadler and requests to see some pictures. For some reason I bluffed it all even saying that the day was all a bit of a daze. I should have been honest, but I wasn’t ready to explain what had happened. It would have been much simpler to say I was jilted, but I felt they had gone to so much effort they deserved more. Perhaps I could keep the pretence going for the next few years. I mean we never meet outside work and Becky never called me at work before. They would probably stop asking to see the photographs after a couple of weeks.
It was a nice change to finally concentrate on work and issues like;- why youths are climbing over Mr Mortimer’s fence to get into Aldridge Park at night. My emails contained lots of good luck messages but I just ignored them. Dave said that he was glad to see I hadn’t followed the modern tradition of male wedding rings. At about half past eleven, just as I was thinking which chocolate should I get from the vending machine next, Tracey from Human Resources came into see me. She was beaming all over and gave me a hug and a big kiss on my now clean shaven cheek. Tracey was prone to big gestures and everything was always ‘supa’ or ‘brill’. She seemed to skip instead of walk and was probably the most irritating person in the company. She was extra excited today and was humming a tune which may well have been the bridal march. She claimed she had, “a little present for our groomy”. I assumed she meant me. She handed me an envelope addressed to Mr & Mrs. J. Sadler. It contained a cheque from the company for one hundred pounds. The letter explained that this was a gift from the company to mark the occasion of my wedding. At this point it might have been advisable to come clean but when I am in a hole I tend to keep digging. I decided to accept the gift but I wouldn’t pay the cheque in. Hopefully they wouldn’t notice.
The rest of the day was full of lies from me and people wishing me well. How long could I keep up this pretence? Perhaps in a few days time I could announce that Becky has left me. At least it was nearly half past five and I had survived my first day back. Just as I am leaving my desk phone rings. I can’t be bothered to get it so I look at Hayley. She says don’t worry I will tell them you have left. Hayley answers the phone and I wait for a few seconds in case it is important. I hear Hayley say the slightly worrying words of, “Oh, hello Mrs. Sadler..”. After a while she puts the phone down and looks at me slightly perplexed. Then in a loud voice, so the whole office can hear, says, “Jonathan, that was your mother asking how you are after Becky left you at the Church”. So that was it the truth was out and the pretence over. Thanks mum.
To be fair Hasmita and Hayley were very understanding and seemed to think I warranted a hug. Dave was less understanding and used some quite colourful language to show his angered at my deceit. It seems that he had never trusted me and wasn’t surprised that a woman would do a runner instead of marrying me. I explained that I had had no intention of paying in the cheque from Human Resources. Dave then enquired when he would be getting back the two quid that he put in my collection. Feeling slightly perturbed by Dave’s reaction I took two pounds fifty out of my pocket and gave it him. Saying here it is back with twenty-five percent interest. Dave was not happy and wheeled his wheelchair round and then pushed off away from me. It was then that Hasmita asked me if I wanted to talk about it. No, of course I didn’t. I had been denying it all day and now I just wanted to get back to my flat and lock myself in.
The flat was now feeling quite empty with all of Becky’s things gone and although I felt safe there I knew that I was going to have to start thinking where I was going to live. The new house in Alrewas would soon be ready but this would be far too big for just me and I would struggle to pay the mortgage on my single wage now. I was going to have to pull out and lose the deposit, but do I pull out of selling the flat as well? Do I need a total restart or do I need some stability in my life? I really need someone like Becky to discuss this with, but I haven’t a clue where Becky is. Should I try and find her? It wouldn’t be difficult as I know where her family live and where she works. Would it be fair on Becky to look for her? She knows where I live so when she wants me she’ll find me. Unless of course I do move.
Later that night Pete came round. He was in a very jolly mood so I was surprised that he had wanted to be with me. Pete had been brilliant through out the whole Becky thing, or ‘Beckygate’ as he had now named it. He seemed able to know when to joke about it and when to just listen. There was definitely a softer side to Pete that at lot of people did not see. Certainly Mark Deacy didn’t back in 1982 when Pete broke his nose because Mark suggested Villa should be banned from the European Cup after a fan ran on the pitch in the semi-final. Pete was lucky not be expelled over that incident and I think the fact that the Head of Year Mr Rimmer was a Villa fan as well helped his case. I think Mark was unlucky to get a detention though. Pete had calmed down a lot since then and I can only really remember him losing his temper twice in the last couple of years. The first was at my twenty-fifth birthday party and a girl Pete had been dating until recently, called Davina, was there. The two had split up and I didn’t really understand why. Pete had claimed that it was an ‘artistic’ difference and Davina claimed it was because Pete was an ‘arse’. Even to this day I don’t know the real story. At the party, held at a pub near Walsall Arboretum, Pete was getting through the pints even quicker than normal. He was very loud and I could tell something was wrong. Things weren’t helped by the fact that Davina was at that very pub with a bloke who she seemed to be getting on with quite well. Comments were passed between Pete and this guy and an atmosphere was starting to build. After about an hour of this uneasy atmosphere Pete pushed a table over, punched his fist against the juke box and stormed out. Pete then went missing for nearly a week with nobody seeing or hearing from him. Of course, this was never mentioned later.
The last time that Pete’s temper surfaced was at a Villa game at the start of last season. It was really strange because with new players in the team including Southgate, Draper and Savo we had totally destroyed Man United. It was the day that Alan Hansen said of United ‘you never win anything with kids’. Then nine months later they had won the double. But that Saturday in August the Villa were brilliant and United second best so why was Pete so wound up. He really hates United but still that doesn’t explain why he was so heated. The blood vessels in his neck looked as if they would pop. The first half saw the Villa three up and still if any decision went against us Pete was on his feet giving the referee a mouthful. Had he been drinking or was it just hate. Three seats down from Pete was a small lad with his dad who was probably about twelve. Second half started and David Beckham scored a consolation goal for them. It was his first ever goal. The little lad jumped up to celebrate and show that he was obviously a United fan. The Dad a Villa fan tried to settle him down and most of us saw the funny side. Except that was for Pete who just exploded. He went straight towards the man and accused him of being a disgrace to let his son support this scum. I couldn’t believe his reaction, especially as the game was won and we were looking at the best Villa side for years. As I had done at school a few times I held Pete back, but he took a lot of holding back and his resembled a wound up Stuart Pearce. Just as the steward started coming towards us the little boy burst into tears and his dad led him out. Moving down the row away from us. The steward, of course, knew Pete and just said, ‘Alright Pete’. It was a good ten minutes before Pete was finally back to being vaguely normal. Never quite understood what happened that day.
Pete had brought with him the new Fifa 1996 game and his Playstation so he had planned our nights activities. His plans has gone further because he announced that the pizza should be here in about twenty minutes and produced four cans of carling out of nowhere. The worry now was what type of pizza Pete had ordered. His tonsils could cope with very very hot tastes a lot better than mine could. Within minutes Pete had attached his Playstation and was handing me a controller. Just then the doorbell rang and the pizza delivery boy, well a man who looked in his late forties with multiple tattoos was standing at the door. It was very kind of Pete, but I was surprised to be charged eight pounds forty-nine and then the stare from the delivery man suggested that it was good practice to give him a tenner and call it quits. With pizza box in my hand to returned to the living room half hoping that Pete might offer to reimburse me. Alas this wasn’t so. The pizza was an ultimate hot and spicy, which Pete almost gobbled whole. Pete then informed me I was Crystal Palace and I was two-nil down to the Villa. Normally I would beat Pete even though it was his game, but he knew that I always hated trying to score against my beloved Villa team. I tried to think of them as West Ham but Pete’s added commentary, naming all the Villa players, prevented this working. In the end we played for over three hours and I lost every game. I tried to blame my poor performance on my recent jilting, but Pete was having none of this. His chanting of ‘Loser, loser’ was taken in good spirit. This was really what I needed after my first day back at work. It seemed to show me that life was really just the same and I still had my best mate here. Yes, he wasn’t Becky – in anyway at all, but he cared and he was there for me.

Next week :  Approaching Thirty

Week 4 - Here Comes the Bride?

All too soon we arrived at St. Chad’s in Lichfield. There already was the vicar in his white gown and he was very pleased to see us. I start to think about his wedding history and how many wedding he has taken where the groom has been jilted. What was his success rate? Can you count it as a wedding if the bride doesn’t show, at what point does it become a wedding? With the arms of his gown flapping the vicar directed us to a parking spot and then followed us looking as if he was meeting a long lost relative. I suppose a wedding is a good little earner for him. However, it was actually the car that he was more excited about. Apparently he used to have a spitfire before he became a man of the cloth. Pete offered to take him for a spin and the vicar, who was name Brian, jumped at the chance. Soon I was standing alone as Pete and the vicar went off on a little tour. Maybe this was a sign of things to come. Was there any need for that wheel spin and hand-brake turn?

For the first time today I was feeling scared at what was going to happen. Even if Becky turned up my life was about to change completely. I was committing myself to one person for the rest of my life. The sun was quite bright now and it really was ‘a nice day for a white wedding’.

Another car pulled up in the car park and it was someone I really didn’t want to see. It was the dreaded wedding photographer and he was carrying three cameras with extra long lenses. He introduced himself and told me that I must be the groom. Perhaps I should have denied it. Will I ever be a groom again? The photographer started to take pictures of me and I was grateful when the red sports car came hurtling back into the car park with the Vicar still safely in one piece, but with his Bobby Charlton style haircut now looking very wild. He had enjoyed his little adventure and although he tripped up over his robe trying to get out of the car he was beaming from one ear to the other. The photographer was annoyed he had missed that shot and could not persuade the Vicar to repeat the gymnastics display. Pete was now posing for the camera and we had to pose shaking hands. In eighteen years of friendship I can’t recall us ever to have shaken hands. The only times we have held hands were probably the times that Pete had murdered me at arm wrestling. Pete has very big hands and even on this posed shake I felt quite intimidated by them.

The next car to arrive was my Dad’s familiar car which must have been nearly ten minutes after we arrived it was now 10:32 and I knew that soon the moment I had been putting off and hoping was not going to happen would soon be here. My parents looked very smart in their wedding outfits and my Nan was looking like the kind of sophisticated jam making Nan that she certainly wasn’t. She then asked the Vicar, loudly, if he was into older women. The poor man’s face went the same colour as Pete’s car. Was this a sign that he had got a thing for the more mature lady, or was he just embarrassed by the antics of this mad old dear?

Time now for more damn photographs. With Dad, with Dad and Mum and with Nan. I am sure my Nan pouted her lips on the one picture.

Slowly guests were arriving and I began to feel worse and worse. My stomach felt like it was a tumble dryer drying a pair of large trainers. This was going to be very unpleasant, but maybe just maybe Becky might turn up and save the day. Guests from Becky’s side were also starting to arrive including an Uncle Alistair, who marched right up to me and introduced himself. He looked like a sergeant major type and was a dead ringer for Windsor Davis. He grabbed my hand so firmly to shake it that it took me a few seconds afterwards to get any feeling back. His wife Maggie, who was Becky’s mum’s sister was a very small and a delicate looking woman. I couldn’t help but think how they managed sexually without Alistair snapping the poor lady in two. I hope she goes on top. The two of them seemed to have no idea at all that there might not be a wedding today.

The weather was really pleasant and although the sun was out it wasn’t too hot. Probably best as my head does have a habit of sweating which is not really something that enhances my appearance. Why do all the guests look so old? We seem to have a church carpark full of over sixties. Perhaps it was time for me and my Best Man to enter the Sanctuary. I pulled Pete away from polishing his car and guided him into the Church. Pete seemed uneasy which was probably because he hadn’t been in a church for well over ten years. In fact I don’t think I have heard him mention going in to church since he lost his virginity to Vicky Southall when he was sixteen. Apparently it was on the back pew of St. Mary’s during a thunder storm. When he tells the story he makes it seem quite wild, but the truth is he had been with Vicky for five months and it was Vicky who was desperate to consummate the relationship. They had tried to be alone at each of their homes and in the school Store Room before finally ending up in a deserted church. Well, they thought it was deserted and were generally surprised when they were disturbed by the flower-arrangers. The fact that one of the old dears lived in the same street as Vicky did not help. As Pete tells it though, he had started so he would finish. Losing his virginity was quickly followed by being chased out of a church by a mad lady with a blue rinse whacking him with a broom. It wasn’t until he was a quarter of mile down the road before he could pull up his trousers. Vicky had to hide in the church for the over an hour before it was safe to leave. Maybe this explains why Pete has a slight church phobia.

We sat on the front pew on the right-hand side sucking polos and clutching our professionally designed Order of Services. Everything seemed so unreal. It reminded me of watching Lofty get jilted by Michelle in ‘Eastenders’ ten years a go. Pete wasn’t talkative and looked miles away. My parents were now sat behind me with my Nan to their right. The church was filling up and it seemed like a normal wedding. Then I heard a loud slightly common voice which was obviously Becky’s mother. Although Becky’s sister, Jenny, was slightly posh her mum was just like Marleen off ‘Only Fools and Horses’. She looked the same as the character and definitely had the same voice. I had decided it was best not to ever mention this similarity to Becky though because she can be quite defensive about her family. Becky’s mum, Sarah, was nice though and told me she was looking forward to having me as a Son-in-Law. Her husband Tom was not quite so easy to get to know. He was pleasant enough, but not known for being talkative. I had tried a few conversations without success. Tom was quite anti-sport and was happiest watching a wildlife documentary. He was an Accountant and had done pretty well for himself and had insisted on paying for the whole wedding. In a way I resented this because I felt we were having the wedding that Becky’s parents wanted. It all seemed very old fashioned. The Bride’s father came over to me and shook my hand and said ‘good luck’. That was it, not even a ‘good luck Jonathan’. Becky’s parents were now going to wait outside for Becky and her bridesmaids to hopefully arrive. It was now nearly five to eleven.

Nan was now asking where Jessie was going to sit. My Dad I think was a bit tense and not his usual refined self because he told her quite abruptly, ‘She’s dead!’. Nan just said ‘more men for me then’. I now became aware of the organ playing and the head of the organist bobbing up and down to my left. From the back he resembles the Vicar slightly perhaps they are brothers. Although the church was now more than half full I was feeling very alone and started to regret not being more honest earlier with my parents. How long would I have to wait if Becky didn’t show? What was the normal time a groom should wait for? Pete was still looking even more nervous than me, did he know something? Maybe he could tell that I was not my normal self. After a few seconds Pete gave a nervous cough and then said, ‘I can’t hold it in no more. I am going to have to go for a jimmy’. Then he was off in search of the gents. It was just me alone on that front pew just praying that Becky would turn up. At least I was in the right place for a prayer. My watch now said eleven o’clock exactly and a silence was coming over the church now that the organ had stopped playing. Now I felt very tense not only was I short of a bride but now a best man as well. It was all so quiet and it reminded me of when they have a minutes silence before a big football match because somebody has died. Any second now the whistle would blow and the place would be filled with noise. I glanced out of the stain-glass window and could see the wedding car and a glimpse of one of the twin bridesmaids. Yes, it was on. I was about to be married to one of the most beautiful girls in the world. I suddenly felt warm inside, the kind of warm feeling that they say Ready Break gives you. Then Pete returned and sat down beside me saying the words, ‘oh, that’s better’, I replied with a smile ‘yes it is’. My Princess was here.

The organ started to play the famous wedding march so we all stand up. Pete, sings the obvious, ‘All fat and wide…’ line. Yes, results in a whack in the back from my Nan’s stick. Amazingly he hardly flinched, but I think deep down he was in pain. Should I look down the aisle and see my bride or wait until she is by my side.

Then something strange happens. The organist stops playing the wedding march and starts looking through his collection of music manuscripts. Pete looked round and I stayed focused on the front. Then I heard the voice of Becky’s mother shouting, ‘Vicar, can I have a word in private’. The silence had now been replaced by whispering and the organist was playing some very sombre music. My Dad then placed his hand firmly on my shoulder and I everything suddenly felt so wrong. Pete said he would go and see what the holdup was, but it seemed obvious to me that we were lacking an important character in the marriage ceremony.

We all slowly sat down and waited for the official announcement. Nothing really made sense because I could see the bridemaids carrying their bouquets. Actually the two twins seem to be having a mini fight and striking each other with their poseys. Becky’s Dad is now holding them apart. Surely Jenny had known what Becky was planning, but then why was she all dressed up? Dad, decided to state the bleeding obvious, ‘We’re running a bit late’. Nan, said ‘Are you sure it was today?’.

The Vicar arrived by my side and asked if I would like to go into the Vestry. I decided to politely decline this request as I wanted to be with my family when I heard the news. Pete and Jenny then joined us. The Vicar started to try and say what had happened, but Pete dived in, ‘She’s done a runner, mate’. Jenny then explained that she hadn’t seen her since yesterday evening when Becky said she wanted some time on her own. Becky’s mum was furious with Jenny and couldn’t believe that she hadn’t told them that her sister had gone awol. Jenny told us that Becky said she would meet her at the church. When she had arrived at the church Becky best friend Carol had told Jenny that Becky had decided to call off the wedding. So that was it this wasn’t to be my wedding day.



Next Week : The Reception and the Honeymoon minus the Bride

Week 3 - Nice Day For A White Wedding

Chapter 2 - The Wedding Day


Somehow I slept through my alarm going off and Heart FM blaring out. When my Dad walked in carrying a tray, my old Aston Villa European Cup Winners Commemorative tray, with a cup of tea and two bacon sandwiches with tomato sauce on - it was nearly quarter to nine. My Dad was not one of life’s big thinkers, but he always had a smile and a habit of getting things right. Dad was a chef by trade who had retired last year. Even his bacon sandwiches were a delight to taste and could not be beaten. The crispiness of the bacon was always perfect. The cup of tea though was dreadful as he always made it far too week. He used a teabag in the mug instead of a teapot and insisted on using the same teabag to make at least four cups. Still I had no complaints and felt in need this morning of being treated like a child. Dad hinted that I would need to be getting up soon to prepare for my big day. He was going to pick up my Nan from the home at 9am and Mum was ironing my white shirt. Worrying, as ironing had never been her strong point but she liked to play the proper mother role although she was usually happiest when she was doing her voluntary work mucking out the donkeys at the local Donkey Sanctuary. It will make a change seeing her without her wellies on today and that silly plastic blue rain-hat on.

As I ate my breakfast I read the paper. My parents take ‘The Guardian’ and I was very disappointed about the Sport section in it. Should really be getting a move on, but knowing that a key member of the wedding party was going to be missing made me lack enthusiasm. My Mum started to push by saying, ‘the bathroom is free’. I suddenly realised that I had forgotten my Rightguard Double Protection aerosol spray. Perhaps my Dad had a deodorant I could use and hopefully it wouldn’t be Old Spice. Saturday 24th August 1996 was supposed to be one of the biggest days of my life when I married the most perfect girl I have ever met, but the chances of it being a happy day seemed remote. I check my phone for further messages but the last one simply said ‘Yes’. I wasn’t cross, but I just could tell that this one little word was going to ruin my day. Perhaps it was just nerves and Becky is at the moment putting on her sexy wedding undies. All I could do was act normally, well as normal as a Groom acts on his wedding day. Pete was due at 10am and the car would be coming at ten past. I could cancel the cars, but as I didn’t think I would get a refund what would the point be and anyway Becky might turn up. Her sister Jenny might force her up the aisle to prevent her twins being heartbroken at not being Bridesmaids. Perhaps it was Jenny who had put the idea of not marrying a Council Worker in her sister’s head.

As I stood in my parent’s shower, an extra feature that had been added since I moved out of the family home, I tried to have positive thoughts and tried to think that I was going to hear Becky say those vital words ‘I will’. My thoughts were interrupted by a shout from outside the Shower Room of an old lady. ‘Where is the blushing groom, I have got something for him?’, my Nan shouted out. I then heard my Mum say I was in the shower and then listened in fear as I could hear my Nan’s footsteps towards the door. Then my heart stopped as I heard the handle on the door being pulled down. It was with relief that I remembered I had put the latch across on the door. My Nan then banged loudly on the Shower Room door which what I thought must be her stick. Then shouted that she had a little something for me and that I hadn’t got anything she hadn’t seen before. Well, I think it has grown considerably since she last saw it. My Dad persuaded Nan that she needed to sit down and give me time to get ready.

After my long shower I managed to get back to my old bedroom to get ready for my big day. Still no more text messages so perhaps it was going to be alright. If she wasn’t going to turn up surely her sister would have been round gloating by now. I considered whether or not I should wear my lucky pants. They weren’t exactly sexy and were dark blue and could even be called Y-Fronts, but I had worn them at Wembley in March when the Villa had destroyed Leeds in the League Cup Final and then again to see England beat Scotland in June. Yes, I was wearing these pants when Gazza scored that goal. Of course, I conveniently forget that I also wore these pants when the Villa lost the FA Cup Semi Final to Liverpool, but they can’t always be lucky. To keep their lucky powers perhaps I won’t wear them today. Instead I will wear my brand new white jockey shorts purchased like my suit from M and S. My Mum had ironed a really nice crease down the back of my shirt. She’d tried so I thought I would just wear it. If I kept my jacket on nobody would see. It was just a pity about my lack of deodorant under the armpits. I gave them a sniff and they didn’t seem too unpleasant. Becky always smelt nice and the taste of her mouth was always lovely and slightly minty. With one black sock on I started to think more and more about Becky the lady who might just be my bride in ninety minutes time. Becky was just over five foot six and had a great body. Why she had fallen for me was a mystery. She had a very firm and shapely bottom that especially looked good in her black cycling shorts. Her legs are quite muscular and almost blemish free. The only imperfection, a two inch scar just below her left knee, where she fell on some glass in Brighton when she was eight. The base of her back was also a favourite part of mine as it is so smooth and soft. With my hand I could feel all the tiny soft hairs on it and it curved inwards. Becky has a brilliant figure, but if I am honest she has a bit of a wobbly stomach. You could pinch more than and inch but this was the only fat you would find on her perfectly toned body. She is beautiful and her breasts are the most magnificent I have ever had the pleasure of feeling. The day I first saw these boobs uncovered was Bonfire Night last year and it was a moment that I will never forget. They were just so round and perfectly sized. Many a time since I have wished that some of my fiends especially Pete could see Becky topless to show them how well I have done. Early in the year on holiday in Greece I was really disappointed that Becky had decided not to go topless, but I suppose it is also nice to think that only a few people have seen this magnificent chest and that I am one of them. Interestingly, my Nan had told me last Christmas that Becky had ‘great tits’. It was then that I began to think more about the future. What if Becky really didn’t show? Would I see those ‘great tits’ again? Would we still live together? Would we have to give back the presents? It was going to be a very difficult day and one I didn’t think I was ready to cope with. Had I really blown it with the lady I have been living with for the last four months and if so how was I ever going to win her back? Becky has quite a small neck and with her shoulder-length curly natural blonde hair it can be easily missed. She hates her chin and thinks it is a bit masculine. I never told her that Pete once called her ‘The daughter of Jimmy Hill’. She has lovely small lips that are great for kissing and a nose that just curls up a fraction. Becky’s blue eyes are now more enhanced because she wears tinted contact lenses an improvement on the old lady style small square glasses she used to wear.
Nan was looking very refined in her pale blue trouser suit with matching hat. My mum was trying to fasten a flower buttonhole on to my Nan but she seemed more interested in trying to find out where we were going for our honeymoon. She reminded me that she and my Granddad went to Matlock for their honeymoon. This surprised my Dad because she had always told him they couldn’t afford a honeymoon and didn’t go anywhere. A few minutes later Nan told my Mum that they had a brilliant honeymoon in Weston-Super-Mare, but hardly left the bedroom. I had booked for my honeymoon with Becky three nights at a five star hotel on Prince’s Street in Edinburgh. Being a true romantic I had arranged for a horse-driven carriage to take us from the airport to the hotel. Well, a taxi most of the way then horse driven carriage for the last mile. Edinburgh was special because that was where I proposed to Becky. We had been in Scotland and spent a day in the capital. Becky loved it and said that one day she would like to stay in one of those posh hotels in Princes Street. Perhaps if she knew what I was planning tonight she would change her mind and marry me. I thought it best not to tell my Nan the honeymoon location, or the fact that I might be jilted.
It felt funny wearing my suit. It was all a little bit too stiff and I couldn’t get comfortable. I had a look in the full-length mirror and when I stood about four foot away I could see all of me. Not bad, I looked quite smart and not as out of place in a suit as I thought. The creases were all in the right place and for once the trousers weren’t too short. During my school days I had spent most summer terms displaying bare legs as my trousers could not keep pace with my growing spurts. When I was fourteen I was thrown off the bus because I had a child’s bus-pass. The driver would not believe my age and I was upset at being called a liar. I was feeling slightly guilty now because may be I should suggest to my family that the day might not turn out quite like they expect. Am I lying to them? If they ask I’ll tell them the truth. I feel quite cheerful and still there was that small chance that Becky might turn up and the day might go really well. If she does turn up I think it is probably best never to mention the texts or any doubts she ever had unless she does.
Soon Pete arrived in a very cheerful and loud mood. He gave my Nan a great big smacking kiss on the lips. This provoked a ‘tut’ from my Dad and a , “that was worth putting my teeth in for” from my Nan. My mother just complimented Pete on looking handsome in his suit. He looked good but I felt he had deliberately left a few creases in his trousers so he didn’t look as smart as me. Pete was the automatic choice for best man because he had been my best mate since that first day at Secondary school. More than once he had come to my defence and ‘lamped’ somebody who had been unfair to me. There was so much more to Pete than his physique though because he was a really nice bloke. He could be caring and yet did the lad things so well. Like me he was football mad and since I had taken him to his first Villa game in 1982, a European Cup tie against FC Valor of Iceland when Peter Withe scored a hat-trick, he had been a Villa nut. He took to my Mum straight away as well calling her Mrs. S. My mum thought he was a really nice boy and told him he could always come round for tea. This was now eighteen years ago and it is difficult to remember a time when Pete wasn’t my best mate or round for his tea.
Pete asked me if there was anything he shouldn’t mention in his speech. I told him that there was nothing in my life I was really ashamed of so he could say what he wanted. So he said he could mention the incident with the Greek Belly Dancer in Amsterdam. Okay perhaps best not to mention that incident. Becky was aware of the part of my anatomy that flexible lady surprisingly grabbed during her dance when I was on Paul’s Stag Weekend in May, but I had forgotten to tell told her that we went back to see her again the next day. Perhaps Becky had now discovered this and that was why she wasn’t going to marry me. Pete asked if I was nervous and I had to say I wasn’t. This was true, why should I be nervous because I already knew what was going to happen. Pete admitted that he was very nervous and scared of messing things up. He asked me if I could keep the rings in my pocket because he would be scared about losing them. He also said he was worried about the chief bridesmaid because he didn’t think Jenny liked him. This was of course very true because Jenny had told Becky that she shouldn’t let Pete be my best man because he was so common and would mess it all up. Pete is one of the most honest people I know but Jenny doesn’t trust him and once was convinced when she mislaid her purse that Pete had taken it. This mistrust seems to stem from the fact that he wears an old denim jacket. Today, though, Pete was wearing a suit and looked smart, but still I don’t think Jenny is going to trust him. Pete then produced an unusual shaped object from his pocket wrapped in silver foil. He handed it to me and said that his mum had said he had to give it to me. Unwrapping it I was surprised to see it was a very old and rusty horse-shoe. It had a label attached to it saying, ‘Good luck, this was given to me at my second wedding’. A nice touch I thought even allowing for the fact she was now on marriage number four. In all of the years I have known Pete I have never met his mum or any of his step-fathers. Pete moved out of home when he was eighteen and has lived with his elder brother Adrian since then. So a gift from his mum was certainly unexpected. My parents thought it was a nice gesture but could we not put it down anywhere in their house. Perhaps it would bring me ‘good luck’ and the love of my life would meet me at the church today.

It was now time to leave the house of my birth and make the way with Pete to the church. We were going in Pete’s red Triumph Spitfire with the top off. My Dad, Mum and Nan were following in my Dad’s car behind. Pete had tried hard and put one claret and one blue ribbon across the bonnet. The sun was out so it was quite a pleasant drive although being so low down with long legs was not easy. Pete said he had got a spare comb so that I could tidy my hair up when we got there because it was going to get blown around. All the other drivers waved us by and gave us little smiles of encouragement on my big day. At one set of red traffic lights we stopped by a bus stop where there were two very pretty girls in surprisingly short skirts. Pete was visually flirting with them and they were blowing us kisses. For a moment I forgot I was on the way to my wedding. The lights turned to green but Pete was too busy smiling at the girls and didn’t notice. The moment was interrupted by my Dad papping his horn. The girls waved us off and Pete blew them a kiss. Radio One was playing, but in the open top car if was difficult to hear. I managed just to make out the DJ announcing a request from Pete to groom Jonathan in Lichfield. Pete shouts, ‘that’s for you Johno’. I had guessed and the song playing was not the most original choice, but it was a nice thought. We sang a long to those words ‘hey little sister, shotgun’. In the words of Billy Idol it was ‘a nice day for a white wedding..’. As the music blasted out Pete began to drive faster and faster. My Dad kept up for the first few minutes of the song but soon we lost him. It would be alright as he knew his way, but I knew he wouldn’t be pleased. Of course, he wouldn’t moan on my wedding day especially if I am going to be jilted.

Next Week - The big moment - will the groom be jilted