Happy Endings (41 page)

‘I’ve been writing a diary this last two weeks,’ I said suddenly.

Emily laughed from the other side of the door.

‘Sorry.’

‘What’s funny?’

‘You, writing a diary, why?’

‘Because I had all these feelings and I didn’t know what else to do. Things have been moving so quickly with the house and now this. … I guess what I’m saying, Emily, is that I love you and I’m ready to spend the rest of my life with you.’

‘And you had to drive all the way here, on our wedding day to tell me that?’

‘I think I did, yeah.’

‘I love you, Harry.’

‘I love you too, Em’

‘You know you still have to get back to London, dressed and back here for the church by three o’clock.’

‘I know. I’d better get a move on.’

‘Yeah.’

‘See you at the church.’

‘You too,’ said Emily, squeezing my hand gently.

‘Oh, you look beautiful by the way.’

‘But you haven’t even seen me,’ said Emily.

‘I don’t need to,’ I said.And that was it. I got back in my car and high-tailed it back to Wimbledon. I checked my phone on the way and I had fifteen missed calls. Most were from a very worried-sounding Ben. I called him while I was in the car.

‘I’m heading back now,’ I said. ‘Get everything ready.’

‘Where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick! I almost called the police. I was on two nines just now, Harry. Two nines!’

‘I went to see Emily. Everything’s fine. I’ll be back in thirty minutes.’

I got back, had a shower, got dressed and we were back in the car within twenty-five minutes.

‘To the church?’ said Ben.

‘Drive on,’ I said, lighting up two cigarettes and passing one to Ben.

The wedding was perfect. Granddad came through with an absolutely stunning Rolls Royce. Emily was beautiful and we all cried, especially Steve. The vicar had to stop twice and wait for his sobs to die down. Granddad and Nan sat in the front row looking as proud as I’ve ever seen them. Ben didn’t lose the rings and when Emily and I said “I do” the whole church erupted with cheers and whistles.

The moment I slipped the ring on Emily’s finger will stay with me forever. It wasn’t something I really thought about before the service. I thought about the vows, the first kiss, the nervous wait when the vicar asked if anyone present knew of any lawful impediment why we couldn’t be married, but I didn’t really think about exchanging the rings.But when I put the ring on her finger it felt like the most important moment of my life. We looked into each other’s eyes and smiled. I felt love in that second like I’d never felt before. All at once I became so calm and a happiness shone through me. I was married to the most beautiful, wonderful woman in the world and for the rest of my life, I would do whatever I could to make her happy. Putting on the ring made it real. It made everything real. We were finally husband and wife.

I’m falling asleep as I write this, but so I don’t forget anything in the morning, here are some of the highlights:

The photographer calling us Gary and Emma. No-one corrected him.

Ben giving a fantastic speech. Although a bit annoyed he mentioned the Newquay incident and the time I accidently bought a ladies coat from Camden market.

Dad giving a typical Dad speech, ‘Well done, Harry and Emily!’

Derek giving a surprisingly emotional speech. I think the occasion got to him. That and the fact there were six people in the room who knew what happened on the stag do.

Our first dance to the Take That weepie, ‘How Deep Is Your Love’. Ben couldn’t believe we didn’t choose ‘Danger Zone’ by Kenny Loggins from the
Top Gun
soundtrack –his favourite song.

Bano trying it on with Emily’s bridesmaid, Stella, from Kingston-upon-Thames, and getting rejected. Bano trying it on with every female at the wedding. Eventually I saw him snogging Laura, Emily’s second cousin from Norwich, who is apparently a lesbian.

Mum getting really pissed and dancing to the Madness song, ‘One Step Beyond’.

Dad getting really pissed and dancing to the Birdy song.

Ben sneaking off with Stella from Kingston-upon-Thames.

Ben sneaking back in with Stella from Kingston-upon-Thames and both looking a bit guilty.

Granddad and Nan dancing to ‘Unchained Melody’, Nan’s favourite song Granddad asked me to request it. ‘The proper version, Harry. The Righteous Brothers, none of that modern rubbish.’ It was beautiful.

Steve and a very pregnant Fiona attempting to dance to the Spandau Ballet song, ‘True’. Poor Steve couldn’t even get his arms around her.

Mum getting up on stage and singing the Take That classic, ‘Back for Good’, with Dad on backing vocals!

Derek and Pam getting all Patrick Swayze and Baby to the
Dirty Dancing
song. Derek unbuttoned his shirt and did all sorts of moves. He even lifted Pam up just like in the film.

However, the best part of the day was after everyone left and we got back to our hotel room. Emily and I were just lying in bed looking at each other.

‘I love you, Mrs Spencer,’ I said.

‘I love you, Mr Spencer,’ said Emily.

The perfect end to a perfect day.

Sunday, August 13th, 7.15 a.m.

Emily and I were woken up by a text message at six o’clock from Steve:

Fiona went into labour at two a.m. Beautiful baby girl delivered at five a.m. Her name’s Jane. OMG! xxx

I looked at Emily and she looked at me and we both smiled.

‘Do you think that will be us one day?’ I said.

‘One day,’ said Emily. ‘I’m in no rush. We have lots to do before that.’

‘Like what?’

‘I’ve always fancied going to Thailand, and how about New Year’s Eve in Rio?’

‘You’ve been talking to Ben, haven’t you?’

‘Woman’s intuition,’ she said with a beautiful smile. ‘We’d better get going. We have to be at the airport by ten o’clock.’

I looked at Emily and in that moment, I knew I needed nothing else. She was all I would ever need. My Emily. My wife.

I should probably get this down before I forget, but it does feel different. Being married that is. I don’t really know why or how, but it just is. I suppose it’s like the difference between renting a house and buying a house. We’re planting roots. We’ve stopped considering other options and we’re building sheds. You can’t build sheds when you’re renting. Trust me, I’ve asked, and they don’t like it.

If you’ve laughed out load or shed a tear reading

This Twentysomething Life
,

you’ll absolutely love picking up the story several years later . . .

Read on for an extract of

THIS THIRTYSOMETHING LIFE

Being a thirtysomething man isn't easy (especially when you still yearn to be a twentysomething man). Meet Harry Spencer. History teacher, lover of snack food and terrified of growing up. When his wife Emily drops the P-Bomb, Harry is suddenly thrust into the role of expectant father.
 
When he's tempted by the greener grass of an ex-girlfriend past, Harry has to make the most important decision of his life. Does he have what it takes to become a man, or will he succumb to the lure of adolescent fantasy?

But what happens after we've fallen in love, when we've swapped frolicking in the bed for cigarettes in the shed and
Match of the Day
for Mothercare. Brutally honest, laugh-out-loud funny and heart-warming, this is a diary about one man's bumbling journey on the road to adulthood.

January

Sunday, January 1st, 2.00 p.m.
New Year’s Day

In the kitchen. Emily upstairs. Cloudy overhead. I think it might rain.

Less than a day into the bright sparkly new year and already I’m in the dog house with Emily. What have I done wrong? Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is that she’s acting very strangely and she’s definitely in a strop about something. I heard the toilet flush about fifteen minutes ago, but otherwise silence. I’m afraid to go up there.

Possible reasons why she might be mad at me:

1. I may have done something awful last night which has yet to filter back into my consciousness. Was I that drunk? Possibly. I did throw up in the front garden, use the bath as a toilet and I somehow managed to fall asleep with my trousers on backwards. All bad signs.

2. She might be annoyed I haven’t cleaned out the shed yet. She’s been asking me to do it for months, but based on her current stroppiness, this feels like something much worse.

3. Period? She does get very hormonal when Aunt Flo comes for her monthly visit. Must check the period calendar.

4. Could she still be mad at me vis-à-vis buying the classic Star Wars figures on eBay? Emily doesn’t understand that they’re a family investment. She just thinks I bought some old toys off the internet. I tried to explain that I could take them on the
Antiques Roadshow
, but she said, ‘I don’t care about the fucking
Antiques Roadshow
, Harry. You spent five hundred quid on figurines!’

5. Some completely irrational Emily thing like the time she didn’t talk to me for three days and called me a, ‘useless, immature, emotionally redundant fuckwit, who wouldn’t understand the meaning of romance if it kicked me in the testicles’. Admittedly, I forgot our wedding anniversary, but still, I think she went a bit over the top. Yes, she’d spent a good deal of time making that photo album, the mix CD of our favourite songs and the six-course meal, but did she need to take out that ad in the local paper and offer me in exchange for a better model? The worst part was she didn’t get a single bloody reply. 

4.00 p.m.

Emily still upstairs and presumably still pissed off. Will she ever come down? Am I brave enough to go up? It’s the first day of January and already this year’s looking as depressing and gloomy as a Charles Dickens novel. I feel like I’m living in an actual Bleak House.

4.40 p.m.

I’m going over the top. Actually, dearest diary, I’m going upstairs, but running towards a barrage of German artillery doesn’t feel like a bad alternative compared to facing Emily when she has the hump. I already checked the period calendar to see if she is premenstrual (negative) and I made her a cup of tea. As Mum always says, ‘Start the New Year as you mean to go on.’ Based on the first twelve hours, it’s going to be a difficult one.

5.30 p.m.

Having a cigarette by the back door. Emily upstairs getting ready. It just started to rain.

I went upstairs with my PG Tips peace offering and she was in bed reading a book. I placed the tea on her nightstand and said lovingly, ‘There you go, Em, a nice cup of tea.’ She didn’t say anything and continued reading her book in a cheerless silence. Not wanting to take this lying down, I did. ‘I’m sorry.’ I didn’t know what for, but best to apologise anyway. Whatever I’d done wrong, she was making it perfectly clear it was going to take a lot more than tea and apologies to get back in her good books.

Eventually, when the cold shoulder had become bloody frosty, she slammed her book shut, rolled over and fixed me with a Himalayan stare. Her deep, dark Irish eyes gave me a look that said, ‘This is bloody serious Harry and don’t even think about making one of your stupid, asinine jokes. This is major, big-picture stuff and you’d better bloody well pay attention.’

‘I want to have a baby, Harry.’

‘But, Em, we’ve already talked about this.’

Twice last year she brought up the subject and both times it ended with the same result. I’m not ready. I don’t know why exactly, but I’m not ready to give up what we have. Maybe I’m being selfish, but I love our life the way it is. I love the fact that if we wanted to we could spend the weekend in Dublin, Dubrovnik or Düsseldorf. Admittedly, we haven’t done much mini-breaking over the last few years, and I have no real desire to spend any amount of time in Düsseldorf, but it’s nice to have the option.