With his uniform cap firmly on his head and his arm tightly around his new wife, Joe struts out of the Church of St. Protus and St. Hyacinth happier than he can ever remember being. Surrounded by well wishers and prompted by the photographer, he continually kisses Stirling, touching her as if he can't believe she is finally his. And she laughs with joy, amused by his boisterous affection.
"You look quite chuffed with yourself," she whispers to him before kissing him tenderly to the music of clicking cameras.
"I am," he says, kissing her nose. "I just married the most beautiful woman in all of Britain."
She kisses him again more passionately and the crowd around them hoots and whistles at the display.
"You two aren't on your honeymoon yet," someone shouts, which is greeted with much laughter.
The pair pulls apart, Stirling blushing slightly, unwilling to move too far away from his embrace or the touch of his hand. She's enjoying being this close to him, not having to hide her affection in public because he's wearing a uniform or on duty. She is basking in the intimacy.
"I love you," she whispers in his ear, tenderly touching his cheek.
"I love you," he whispers back, bringing her left hand up to his lips. "And we need to get you something to eat," he adds, looking around. He spots Sam and beckons him over.
"Stirling is right peckish," he says. "I'm hoping you can go up to the corner pub and get her some water and a snack to eat, like a sandwich or meat pie."
"Consider it done," Sam says, sprinting to his car.
For the next hour, they are poked, prodded and posed by the wedding photographer plus numerous people who loiter around, taking their own candid shots of the bride and groom. Family photos are taken plus group shots with friends. About 10 minutes into the photo shoot, Sam arrives with a bag of snacks and refreshments and Joe makes Stirling sit down and eat slowly.
"I'll never be able to escape the fussing now, will I?"
"Admit it," Joe says, leaning in to kiss her forehead, "you love every minute of it."
"Well, at some point be prepared for retaliatory fussing," she warns, swallowing her last bite of sandwich. "And thank you. I feel much better now."
After finishing the formal aspects of the photo shoot, Leyland escorts Joe and Stirling to the Bentley for the drive to the Wedding Breakfast. With the couple comfortably settled in the car, Leyland climbs behind the wheel. A quick glance in the backseat mirror shows them kissing intensely. He reaches backward and slides the glass window divider to the closed position, providing them with some privacy.
"That Patrick is a good bloke," Joe says, glancing forward. "He read my mind."
He reaches out and cups Stirling's cheek, leaning in for another long kiss. He can feel and sense the need for more within her but he pulls back to gaze at her face.
"You know, I really missed boffing with you last night," Joe says, smiling.
Stirling gasps and gives him a playful slap.
"The state you were in the last time I saw you, I'd be surprised if you can even remember last night! Dirty minded bugger!"
He pulls her over onto his lap and wraps his arms around her.
"And you wouldn't have it any other way."
They spend the rest of the short drive that way, Stirling's head tucked under Joe's chin, their arms around each other. Periodically he tips his chin down to kiss her forehead, snuggling her closer to him.
"I think I could fall asleep like this," she says, trying to stifle a yawn. "It's incredibly comfy. Let's just have Leyland keep on driving. We don't need to go to the Wedding Breakfast, do we? I've already broken my fast anyway."
"I think it's kind of important we go. And don't you want to tell everyone the big news, now that we are officially married?"
Stirling lets out a soft groan and shuts her eyes.
"My sister is going to kill me. She told me so this morning."
"Well, she's going to have to go through me to get anywhere near you. And I highly doubt she's going to kill you. It's probably just going to take her a little time to get used to the idea."
"You don't know my sister."
Stirling feels somewhat apprehensive as the Bentley slows to pull in at the farm, turning down a side lane leading to a large parking lot, filled with guests' vehicles. Leyland swings the large vehicle around and stops next to a rustic looking barn.
He opens the privacy glass window. "Just wait Miss Stirling, Mr. Joe," he says. "I'll come around and do this properly."
Stirling smiles as the distinguished man exits the Bentley, adjusts his chauffeur's cap, and walks over to the passenger side rear doors. A crowd gathers outside the building and breaks into applause as Leyland opens the Bentley door. Joe exits first, immediately donning his police cap, and turns to assist Stirling out of the vehicle. Leyland helps straighten her train as the couple enters the building.
As they enter the large dining area within the rustic barn. Stirling is mesmerized by the decorations, including sparkling lights crisscrossing the ceiling and wrapping around the barn's exposed wooden beams. She turns to Joe and smiles.
"It's beautiful," she whispers.
"You're beautiful," he says, kissing her. The guests waiting in the reception line whistle in appreciation.
The new couple stands together and welcomes each guest into the dining hall. Stirling is surprised to welcome many of her patients and other residents from Portwenn, even though they had not been officially invited. She is also pleasantly surprised to see Assistant Chief Constable Eric Barnett and his wife, Melanie, plus Sergeant David Thomas and his wife, Briar.
"You look stunning, sweetheart," Melanie says, giving her a big hug and kissing her cheek. "That dress is amazing."
"It's gorgeous," adds Briar.
"It was my mum's," Stirling explains. "And this is the amazing man who did the alterations on it," she adds, kissing Pablo, who just happens to be next in line.
"You look mesmerizing, darling," he says, kissing her other cheek. "Your man can barely keep his eyes off you."
Stirling blushes and quickly introduces Pablo to Joe plus Melanie and Briar. She watches with amusement as the two women instantly latch on to him, intent on discussing fashion.
Louisa is still crying by the time she and the Doc make it through the line to the bride and groom. "Are you okay?" Stirling asks her, concerned. "I'm fine," she laughs through her tears. "I must be feeling particularly hormonal today. I thought the service was lovely and I haven't been able to stop crying since."
Stirling hugs Louisa close. "You helped make the service lovely," she says softly. "Thank you so much for all of the support and assistance you've given me."
"I loved every minute of it," Louisa whispers, kissing her cheek.
"Congratulations Penhale, Dr. Aylesworth," the Doc says, formally shaking hands with both of them. He blushes as Stirling leans forward on her tiptoes and kisses him on the cheek.
"Thanks Chief," she says with a smile.
The line of guests finally thins out and Sam, who volunteered to be the master of ceremonies for the evening, escorts the bride and groom to their table, where they are seated with immediate family. Adjacent tables are filled with close friends and villagers. Stirling and Joe opted for a more informal reception without a head table and endless toasts and speeches but Sam insisted there had to be an MC to tell guests what to do, which he immediately begins to do.
"Good evening everyone," he says into a microphone set adjacent to a small stage area. "My name is Sam Penhale, brother of the groom, and I will be acting as the master of ceremonies for tonight's festivities. I'd like to encourage all of you to find your tables at this time as we dine together in celebration of the wedding of Joe and Stirling."
The meal is wonderful, at least the parts that Stirling is actually capable of consuming. Despite taking her medication and doing her relaxation exercises, she is a jumble of nerves, her stomach rolling. To her great embarrassment, Joe begins to feed her the items she likes off his own plate in order to get food into her. Everyone else at the table thinks it's the most adorable and endearing thing they have ever seen.
"I think I'm going to cry," Emily sniffles, watching Joe hold a forkful of mashed potatoes for Stirling to take a bite of. She turns toward Robert. "You've never fed me like that!"
"I've never needed to," he says with a laugh. "Anyway, I usually finish my meal well before you're half done your own. There's usually nothing left to share."
Everyone laughs.
"You're spoiling her, Joey," Edna warns her son.
"She deserves to be spoiled," Joe says, never moving his eyes away from Stirling. He leans in and kisses her, prompting whistles from fellow guests.
Following the meal, Joe and Stirling hope to move into the dancing portion of the evening, with the music provided by Strip Search, the band Stirling used to perform with. So they are a bit surprised when Robert stands up from their table and approaches the microphone.
"Good evening everyone," he says with his strong Yorkshire accent. "My name is Robert Muncie, brother-in-law to the beautiful bride. I know this is a speech traditionally given by the father of the bride but I know Stirling Jr. would approve of me doing the honours."
"I first met Stirling when she was in primary school. As a wet-behind-the-ears police constable, I was transferred to the village closest to where her family lived and where the two Aylesworth daughters attended school. Now, Stirling was a little skinny thing, tall but with not much bone or muscle to her. She looked like a stiff wind could blow her over. So I was surprised when during the first few weeks of moving to the area, so many people warned me about what trouble the 'little Aylesworth girl' was."
The audience laughs.
"I received my first call to the primary school a month in. The headmaster met me at the door and, without saying a word, led me down a hall to a kitchen area. It was a lounge for the teachers and a place they could store and eat their lunches and relax. He escorted me over to the refrigerator and opened the door. I'll admit, the blast of stench that hit me almost knocked me over. The entire inside was coated in red, everything. All the teachers' lunches, the shelves, milk containers, fruit, the inside walls, everything was red. At first I thought it was paint but then I realized, thanks to the stench, it was actually blood."
Several people in the audience gasp while Stirling looks to see if there's room for her to crawl under the table. But Joe holds her hand firmly.
"Here I am, my first month on the job in a small village in Yorkshire, and I believe I have a grisly murder on my hands. I'm about to call in backup when the headmaster finally speaks: 'We need you to do something about her,' he says. 'We've tried every punishment possible and nothing gets through to her. The vet and her mother have tried as well but we are at a loss. Maybe as a police constable, you can scare her into behaving. Show her the handcuffs or a truncheon or something.'"
More laughter.
"I'm at a total loss. I have no idea who or what he is talking about. 'This is a major crime scene,' I tell the man, excitedly. He just looks at me with pity. 'That's not human blood; that's pigs blood,' he says. 'How do you know?' I ask him. 'Because this has happened before.'"
More gasps.
"Now I'm thinking serial killer; the Yorkshire Butcher. 'And we know who is responsible,' he adds. 'Show me,' I tell him, reaching for my handcuffs. The headmaster takes me back up the hall and into his office where a little girl is sitting. She looks to be about seven years old. 'Here she is,' the headmaster says. I thought he was nuts. 'You're telling me this little girl did that to your lounge refrigerator?' 'Yes,' he says and leaves the room. So I'm now in an office with a little girl who looks like she couldn't hurt a fly. She has big hazel eyes and freckles, curly auburn hair, and she's saying nothing."
"'Did you do something to the teachers' refrigerator?' I ask her. She looks at the floor. 'I need to know if it was you who damaged the refrigerator. If it isn't, you won't be in trouble. Maybe you can tell me who did do it.' She looks up at me. 'I do not have to say anything,' she says. 'I understand it may harm my defense if I do not mention when questioned something that I can later rely on in court. Anything I do say may be given in evidence.' I realize she's paraphrasing the privilege against self-incrimination. A seven-year-old is reciting back to me sections of the police caution. I was gobsmacked."
The audience laughs.
"It took me two hours to finally get this little girl to open up to me. I had to use some of the most sophisticated and complicated interrogation methods I knew. She is quite possibly the most difficult suspect I have ever had to question in my police career, to date."
Robert looks over at Stirling and smiles.
"It seems Miss Stirling Aylesworth had a best friend named Bertie in her class, a small boy who was picked on not only by his fellow classmates but also by his teacher. The previous day, she had punished Bertie for forgetting his homework at home and made him stand in the corner for two hours. He missed both his lunch and break time outside. Stirling thought this was unjust. She pleaded Bertie's case to the teacher but was ignored and warned she could be punished for insubordination. That was the word she used – insubordination. So, she decided to get even. If Bertie couldn't eat lunch, their teacher wouldn't be able to eat hers. She went home and bodged together a device, filling a heavy plastic bag with pig's blood she stole from her father, a veterinarian. These were samples he had picked up at farms across the region over the past week and were being stored in a refrigerator in his office. She sneaked into school early the next morning and hid the bag of blood in the staff refrigerator, secreting it in a storage hatch in the door. She rigged a tube with a small spray nozzle on the end and a tiny battery-operated pump. She even had a timer she made using a digital watch. The teachers came in, stored their snacks and lunches in the refrigerator, and went to class. And, exactly five minutes before first refreshment break, the timer on Stirling's little device went off and the entire contents of the refrigerator was sprayed with pig's blood."
Most of the people in the audience are either laughing or gazing at Stirling in fearful horror. She can just imagine what the Chief is thinking. Joe is laughing.
"She was a bloody genius," Robert says. "She did what every primary school kid in England has dreamed of doing at least once – getting even with their horrible, crusty, old school mistress. I just couldn't punish her. Instead, we talked about detonators and incendiary devices, the best way to make a timer using a digital watch and she explained to me, in depth, how handcuffs operated, including an idea she had for improving them."
The audience laughs.
"I'm pleased to say I was never again called in to handle an explosive device created by Miss Stirling Aylesworth. A few years later, I married her lovely sister, Emily. A year after, we became Stirling's legal guardians. And I had the honour and privilege of watching a skinny, gawky little girl with more brains than sense become the beautiful, accomplished lady you see before you today."
"You're a very lucky man, Joseph Penhale. And I'm sure you know it. What I also know is you will always treat our Stirling with love and respect – because now you know just how very well versed she is in making explosive devices."
The guests roar with laughter.
"Welcome to the family, Sergeant," Robert adds before he returns to his seat.
Stirling tries to kick him under the table but misses, stubbing her toe on a table leg instead.
"Why did you have to tell that story?" she whispers, leaning across the table toward Robert. "Couldn't you have told a nicer one, like the time I saved the wild bunnies or how I used to service and repair your police vehicle all the time? Now half the village thinks I'm bonkers!"
Joe pulls her back to his side. "No, ALL of the village thinks you're bonkers; they always have," he says, kissing her. "We like bonkers. I love bonkers." He kisses her again, ardently, once again accompanied by a chorus of whistles and foot stomping.
"This has to be the first wedding I've ever been to where no one has to ting a glass or sing a stupid song in order to get the bride and groom to kiss," Sam says, watching his brother kiss his bride again. "They just can't keep their hands or lips off each other."
The couple is so busy looking into each other's eyes, they fail to notice Michael walk past on his way to the stage area. It's only when he shouts "Oy!" into the microphone they turn to look. And Stirling instantly pales.
"Oh my god, no!" she whispers, looking wildly across the room at Christopher, who is grinning like a madman. She searches the room for Leyland but can't find him. She stands, intent on searching out the gentleman's gentleman, when Michael's voice stops her.
"Sit that fancy dressed arse down, Panda," he says ominously into the microphone, a glass of Scotch gripped in his right hand. "I have something I need to say."
The room is silent, every eye on Stirling as she slowly sits back down in her chair. She grips Joe's hand, white knuckled, as she watches Michael set his drink down on the podium and reach into his inner suit pocket, pulling out a thick sheaf of papers. He looks up suddenly.
"What am I thinking? I need my techie bloke. Where are you, mate?"
A young man comes into the room and walks up to Michael, explains a few items on the podium and then presses a button, which brings a movie screen down from the ceiling.
"Christy, it's just like at home!" Michael shouts out to Christopher, laughing and taking a big swallow of his Scotch.
"What are you doing Aubrey?" Sam heckles from the audience. "Are you going to show us some art films?"
Michael just gives him a dirty look.
The screen begins to glow with light and Stirling realizes she's looking at a rear projection screen. What the hell is he doing? she wonders.
The techie guy whispers a few more things to Michael and then scampers off.
"Good evening," Michael booms into the microphone. "For those who don't know me, I am Michael Aubrey, a friend of the beautiful bride, Dr. Stirling Mason Aylesworth. I'm sure I've met most of you in The Crab and Lobster at some time over the past year or so. I apologize in advance if I don't remember your name; I was probably rat arsed drunk at the time."
As the audience laughs, Stirling slowly sinks her face into her hands, afraid to watch. She wishes she could stick her fingers in her ears and shout "La, la, la, la" so she won't have to listen to the mortifying story Michael's probably about to share.
"When I was 17, I was a geeky, snobby member of the Eton Society and a Sixth Form Select. I pretty much looked like this."
Michael presses a button on the podium and the screen shows a photo taken of him in full Eton uniform, which included a black tailcoat, a white bow tie and winged collar, a burgundy waistcoat with silver buttons and black checked trousers. Many in the audience laugh, as the photo is a rather humourous one, showing Michael at a tall, gawky, awkward age with very closely cut hair, big ears and huge teeth that his mouth hadn't quite grown to accommodate.
Stirling smiles as she looks at the photo, remembering that time very well.
"Despite belonging to the best clubs and societies at Eton, I had very few friends and, although I was an excellent dancer, I had never actually danced with a girl. I was fairly skilled at most sport, including rugby, football, and cricket, even taking part in the annual match against Harrow."
He clicks to another photo showing him in cricket batting gear. "But my heart belonged to fencing." His third photo shows Michael in his fencing whites, foil in hand.
"During our weekends, the lads from Eton would have socials with local girls' schools, including Cheltenham Ladies College, Heathfield, St. Mary's and the infamous Wycombe Abbey. It was widely expected we would find our future wives during one of these social events and our parents always hoped it would be a girl from Wycombe. I hated the socials, feeling very much the odd-man out as my housemates danced with the prettiest birds and all of them ignored and avoided me. I was without hope. That is, until I met a spunky 13-year-old Wycombe girl who looked something like this."
The photo that appears next on the screen makes Stirling gasp. It's her, a 13-year-old version of Stirling, with curly auburn hair pulled back in a very tight pony tail, freckles, huge hazel eyes and a big grin, wearing her school uniform of a white collared shirt with dark blue tie, dark blue jacket and dark blue skirt.
Joe turns and looks at Stirling, squeezing her hand. She turns to look at him and he smiles. "That's you, isn't it?"
"Yes Joe, that is Miss Stirling Mason Aylesworth the Third of the Yorkshire Aylesworths," Michael says with a smile. He clicks to another picture of Stirling, face and riding apparel covered in mud but still grinning, clutching a multi-coloured Grand Champion ribbon and holding the reins of a huge, black horse. "She is fearless and daring." He clicks to another photo of Stirling, grinning and clutching a large trophy while being held aloft by the teammates of the Wycombe field hockey team. "She is beautiful." He clicks to a photo of Stirling wearing formal dressage riding apparel, including a top hat and tails, her hair back in a bun and a big smile on her face. "She loves fencing." The next picture is a famous one at Wycombe, showing Stirling leaping into the air in her fencing whites while gripping her foil, celebrating her match winning point against Michael. That was the year she fooled the competition administration and competed as a boy, with Michael's help, of course. "And she can kick my arse." The next photo shows Michael from that same day, his mask removed, his foil lowered in defeat, watching Stirling celebrate the win.
Michael pauses for a moment, looking down at his papers, which tremble in his hand. He clears his throat. "I can honestly say she saved my life."
Suddenly, Stirling feels a knot of emotion forming in her throat. She's having a hard time swallowing as her eyes fill with tears.
"She took a geeky, snobby, awkward frog and turned him into a prince." The next photo makes Stirling laugh through her tears. It shows she and Michael, dressed in formal wear for the annual Eton/Wycombe Ball, wearing the crowns and sash they won after being chosen the king and queen. She is hamming it up for the camera, trying to look much older and sexier than her 14-year-old self by showing off lots of leg and a hint of garter through the slit in her dress. Michael, looking extremely dapper in his tuxedo, is leaning over her shoulder, his arms wrapped around her waist, hugging her close.
"She became my best friend. And she still is." Michael looks up at her and smiles, tears openly falling down his cheeks. "We've had lots of adventures together." He clicks through several photos, pausing at each one to let the audience look at it and usually laugh. The first shows Stirling at Michael's graduation from Eton, up on his shoulders, holding a hand painted sign stating: Eton Sucks but Aubrey's Awesome. "She actually stood up in the audience and held that above her head when I went up to receive my diploma. The headmaster was not impressed." The next photo shows Michael standing beside Stirling at her graduation from Wycombe, holding a sign that reads: Wycombe Witches are Bitches but Stirling is Stellar. "I'm sure you can imagine what I did with that sign. The headmistress was not impressed." The third photo makes Stirling hide her face in embarrassment as it shows her in full slutty Met police uniform singing into a microphone at a club in London, Michael clinging to her leg like a little boy. "I'm sure Joe recognizes this particular Stirling look." Sam howls with laughter. The next photo shows Stirling standing next to Michael, biting on his Olympic bronze medal. "She spent a lot of time as my practice partner in the lead up to the 2004 Olympics." The photo after that gets a big laugh as it shows Christopher dressed as James Bond with Stirling hanging off his shoulder, wearing a tight, short mini dress with a daring slit, complete with a small pistol tucked into a holster on her upper thigh. "She introduced me to a wonderful man who has become my partner for life." The next photo shows both Michael and Christopher kissing Stirling on the cheek from opposite sides while she smiles and looks heavenward. It was taken at their wedding reception. "And she means the world to both of us."
Michael folds up his notes and tucks them away in his suit jacket. "I remember the first time I met Joe. It was in The Crab and Lobster and I wasn't all that sober, which tends to happen to me when celebrating with Stirling. He informed me I was being rather loud and disruptive. I thought he was an uptight wanker."
The audience laughs uproariously.
"I was going to use one of my favourite lawyer tricks on him, a manoeuvre Stirling likes to call the Aubrey Treatment. But she saved him from my wrath, told me she liked him and I was to leave him alone. I had a sneaking suspicion I was going to see more of that uptight wanker in the future and I was right."
Stirling smiles as she wipes her eyes with a tissue.
"There have been other men whom have tried to win the heart of our Stirling and I have watched most of them fail miserably. I also watched one almost succeed in destroying her. Not surprisingly, it was Joe and a rather large, annoying dog with a fondness for Cuban cigars that ended up saving the damsel and the day. And Joe won her heart."
"I'd like to take this moment to propose a toast to the groom. To Joe! Welcome to our little family. And please continue taking wonderful care of our Stirling."
Everyone in the room raises a glass and repeats "To Joe."
Before he can walk away from the podium, Stirling leaps up from her seat and runs to Michael, who picks her up and kisses her on the cheek. "I love you, pansy boy," she whispers in his ear.
"I love you, manky tart," he whispers back. He sets her down and kisses her on the other cheek before shaking hands with Joe and pulling him into a big bear hug. Stirling laughs as Michael almost crushes her new husband, eventually giving him a sloppy drunk kiss on the cheek.
"Go sit down, you idiot," she says, giving Michael a push back toward his table.
She's about to tell the audience to prepare for the entertainment portion of the evening when Sam leaps up and cuts her off from the microphone. "I'll handle it," he assures her, having her sit back down at the table next to Joe.
