CHAPTER 67
I was getting older, I realised, as the days flew by, and before I realised it, Clara was climbing into one of four cars for the trip down to Cowaramup, and I was checking the notes for my speech. Dal’s college, which was now of course, also our son’s, was donating use of their function room for the reception, and catering was courtesy of good old ‘Soapy Joe’ and a bakery we also had on the firm’s books. The devil you know; at least it was a better excuse than just admitting to nepotism.

Wedding cars and taxis were still courtesy of Phil and Val, of course. No: we do not have any shame, any of us.

Clara was back three days later, looking a little green, with a distinct air of shock. The details came out over the next two days, as she told of how much local wine had been disposed of, sometimes in the hot tub, sometimes in the hot tub without the inconvenience of swimming costumes, and some of the, er, humour and jolly japes.

“And we’re in the town for a meal, yeah? And ‘Lissa’s got the ‘learner driver’ stuff on her, and we’re all in matching costumes, and then Stella… She made this crown. And for spikey bits, all round, it was carrots, stood on end”

Ish bit.

“Why carrots? Was it a joke about, you know, rabbits, nudge nudge, wink wink?”

Clara was bright pink.

“Um, no. She’d carved them. All into the same, um, shape. And put a rubber johnny over each one”

A little voice piped up, “What’s a rubber johnny, Mum?”

“A toy for grown-ups, darling. Like a balloon”

Only not blown up in quite the same way, of course. Clara shuddered.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so drunk, ever. We must have been just like those women that scratched Ish”

Maz patted her hand, as was becoming her usual trick.

“Yes, but from what you say it was in private”

“That crown thing wasn’t. I’m so glad I’ve got a couple of days to recover”

She went to their room for a lie-down, and I reworked my speech. I left out any mention of what Marlene would probably have called a crown of horns, if not something worse. Poor Clara, but it was still a sign of her growing confidence post-surgery that she had survived skinny-dipping with the other women.

It was a thought that collided with my memories of meeting Steph for the first time, rather than a ginger pisshead, and those little niggly doubts about our daughter-in-common-law wound their necks in that little bit further.

I said nothing at all to Clara, of course, about what we lads/stags/bucks had got up to in Rockingham. I’d been to biker dos that were less inebriated, for god’s sake, but at least we didn’t all end up naked. Well, there were gaps in my memory, so it might have happened, but. Just ‘but’.

Was that really the lad I had walked back from the Cow while he giggled over songs by Cyril Tawney? Mind you, the law of the universe had prevailed, and his Dad was even worse. Eating a pie floater, for example, entirely without using cutlery. Or hands. More Green Beard than Smiley Beard.

The celebrant was another humanist, a chubby, smiling man called, of all things, Bruce, something he joked about all through the ceremony, and Dal looked his true age in a a proper black-tie outfit that made me look dowdy. Melissa was in a full-on white gown, her maids, including Clara, in pale pink, and someone had done a pro make-up job on all of them.

Dal and his bride had surprised me, once again, by giving Maz the role of Matron of Honour, so once again our two families were entwined. I stood up when prodded, and started my little sermon.

“Once upon a time, I was living in a town that cannot be named, as it is like the demon who comes when you mention his name. Suffice it to say that I escaped to the North and a new job, where I could be nearer to rock faces fit to climb. On my first day in my new office, someone told me they were cool. Then they told me they had a cool butt. I am afraid that as I am immune to such temptations as men’s backsides, I was left unmoved.

“He did, however, turn out to be the best of friends, and he brought with him a wife, the lovely Geeta over there, and a son, who I proceeded to corrupt, as was my duty”

I gave them a series of only slightly amended anecdotes, mixing in the climbing, especially his use of the Aussie Bolt, a quip about the Mock Turban, another about his youthful idea of joining the Royal Navy, the obligatory joke about his skills with a video camera/fun and profit through blackmail, and so on, until we got to the obligatory toast. As Melissa’s parents were, for reasons of stupidity, unavailable, she had come in the arm of her Faculty Head, so he did the Father of the Bride speech, which was a little dry. He was followed by Kul.

I have no idea how he gets away with it. Even when he joked that losing a son meant losing the chance to sell his body parts for profit, so the two newlyweds had better give him lots of grandchildren, as utility prices were going up so much, it brought laughter rather than shock.

Some of the couple’s friends had a band, so they played live for the dancing, and ‘Soapy’ really pushed the boat out for the meal. Mining camp cook? That must have left him as frustrated as all hell. Eventually, we saw Dal and ‘Lissa off for their flight to a hotel in the South of Thailand. Bali had never, ever been an option, as we seemed to share an opinion on Indonesia for some reason.

Back to normality, at least, as I now knew it.

Clara was slightly upset at having to give back her dress, but they were all hired, so no choice. What she did have was a lot of video and still photography, and so of course we had a video session with her friends in Cardiff that brought more squeals than an old Honda disc brake. Eventually, though, the excitement died down, at least until she spotted what Maz and I had sorted through Dal after his honeymoon.

Two new framed photos now stood either side of our three wedding pics, so that the pictures ran, from left to right, Ish stretching to stop that goal; Maz and Alan; Maz and myself’ Carolyn and me; Ish and Clara posing in their wedding rig. Underneath, we had a shot of LC on the twin cracks and, for balance, with Kawan on Crib Goch, the one with her feet entirely clear of the rock as she skipped along the top.

Sorry, Suleiman, but you lost, and we had most definitely won.

Three weeks later, and Clara was almost bouncing as high as Tigger when she came home.

“I’m getting the training course! Cabin crew!”

Maz pushed her towards their bedroom.

“In. Change. Cold drink. Then bounce, okay?”

She was back out in a couple of minutes, now in a pair of shorts, and Maz simply held up a hand before she could build up another head of steam.

“Have you told Ish?”

“Sent him a text”

“Then we wait until he’s home, and we do this as a family”

I so love my wife.

Ish was in an hour later, and after he had changed, Maz just pointed at Clara and said, “You can tell us now”

LC yelled, “No! Wait!”, and ran out of the room to grab her bear, which was a fair point. Clara cleared her throat, then took our boy’s hand.

“I’m getting the training, for cabin crew on the ferry. It starts next week. If I pass, I get safety certificates, and they are transferrable. It means I can use them for jobs here or back home”

Ish twitched slightly at the last word, and I understood immediately, because it was a clear reminder that while their own honeymoon was far longer than the one Dal and ‘Lissa had enjoyed, it would still have an ending.