The Spark - Jules Wake Page 0,79
guide the ’chute this way and that as they came into land. Then suddenly both their legs were running along the ground, churning up the sand, the parachute collapsing behind them.
Spontaneous applause erupted and when I looked over at Alastair, he was just unpeeling his hands from his eyes.
From beneath the parachute, Gladys emerged, striding out like some Valkyrie, unzipping a white jump suit as she moved, peeling it off to reveal a froth of shimmering organza which was definitely an interesting juxtaposition paired with the black helmet and goggles. One of the men who had helped the boat went rushing towards her carrying a pair of sequin-spangled flip-flops, dropping at her feet like some errant Prince Charming to help her divest herself of her heavy boots before he stood to take her headgear. Behind her, I recognised the man gathering in the parachute silk as the last of the three young men from the previous evening. A brave man indeed. And from the speculative look in Shelley’s eye, he was going to need to get a whole lot braver.
Gladys’s matron of honour, Dodie, suddenly appeared, fussing around the bride, tugging at her dress and folding up the jumpsuit, which she handed over to the third young man before thrusting a simple hand-tied bouquet of pink and white roses into Gladys’s hand. The bride straightened up, smoothed down her skirt and, clutching her posy, lifted her head to give everyone a beatific smile just as Handel’s ‘Queen of Sheba’ rang out from the music system.
She and Dodie began to make their way up the beach towards Alastair and the best man, and I noticed a woman in a smart navy dress had appeared and seemed to be in charge of proceedings.
Once Gladys reached her husband‐to‐be’s side, the woman introduced herself as a humanist celebrant and invited everyone to gather round in a circle. As the light breeze teased at Gladys’s slightly ruffled chignon, her eyes glistened with tears and happiness as the celebrant conducted the handfast ceremony. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the pure joy that lit up her and Alastair’s faces when the celebrant pronounced them man and wife, or Sam stroking my shoulder and looking down at me with such a tender expression that I thought my heart might burst.
Everyone erupted into heartfelt applause and moved forward to congratulate the happy couple, but Sam caught my hand and held me back, capturing my face in both his hands, his thumbs grazing my cheekbones. The intensity of his gaze made me catch my breath and my chest tightened as I froze, unable to tear my eyes from his. We didn’t need to say anything. Love filled the air – Gladys and Alistair’s, ours, Lynn and Richard’s and all the other couples that had exchanged those tiny glances of acknowledgement with one another. It was a moment in time. I could hear the rush of the waves in the background, the screech of gulls overhead, and feel the slight sting of the sand on my face.
‘I love you,’ whispered Sam.
‘I love you, too.’ I whispered back, feeling tears prick at my eyes.
With the pad of his thumb, he wiped one away and dropped a kiss on the very spot. It felt like a promise.
A noisy, triumphant party climbed the stairs back up to the house. On the lawn, the soft strains of Vivaldi’s four seasons came from a string quartet of four beautiful girls, clad in matching floral dresses, playing with that quiet, soulful devotion that always seems to characterise classical musicians.
Alastair led Gladys to the centre of the lawn and took her into his arms and the music paused before changing into a haunting composition to which they began to waltz in a gentle rise and fall around the grass. I don’t think there was a dry eye among the guests as he held her with delicate devotion as if she were a fragile piece of glass – quite a feat when he was inches shorter than her Amazonian frame, but somehow he managed to guide her round with such tenderness you could hear the sighs of all the women around.
‘That is beautiful,’ said Lynn. ‘I’ll renew our vows if you learn to dance like that.’
‘Hmm,’ said Richard. ‘Small matter of two left feet, but if it will make you happy, my love…’ He patted her on the shoulder and she laid her hand on top of his, and I caught the quick affectionate smile between them.
God, today