Here it is, the final chapter! First, we'd like to apologise for the delay in posting this chapter...being four hours apart for ten weeks wasn't conducive to writing! Thank you so much to all those who have stuck with this story; we hope you enjoy this chapter. A sequel is currently being planned, so look out for it in the new year! All that is left is to wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year! :)
Shaz took a deep breath and turned around, facing the mirror. She barely recognised herself. Her ivory dress fell in soft folds to the floor, matching kitten-heeled shoes peeping out from beneath her skirts. She'd decided against a veil, but her hair was threaded through with dusky pink rosebuds, picked out by the spray of pink and white flowers which she carried in her left hand.
Looking at herself in the full-length mirror, Shaz couldn't help a small, almost wondering laugh. "I look...different."
"You look bloody gorgeous." Angela paused in the middle of adjusting her taffeta sash and spun Shaz round to face her. "Proper blushing bride, you are."
"Thanks, Ange." Shaz had been worried that sparks might fly when Angela crossed paths with the Guv again; she'd heard from both DI Drake and from Angela herself that they hadn't exactly got on when they'd attempted to ask her some questions after Shaz had disappeared. But, so far, although Angela hadn't had more than a glimpse of the Guv as he took his seat outside, she seemed not to be nurturing any hard feelings.
"No problem." Angela finished her own adjustments and grinned. "How're you feeling?"
"Nervous." Shaz gulped. "Really nervous."
Angela inspected her closely. "You do look a bit pale. You're sure you want to go through with this?"
Shaz laughed. "Pretty sure, yeah."
"Pretty sure?" Angela sniffed, ever the optimist. "I'd want to be more than pretty sure I wanted to marry someone just before I walked down the aisle."
Shaz shook her head, half-amused, half-despairing. "I do," she insisted. "More than anything. It's just...scary. All those people. What if something goes wrong?"
"Shaz, you worry too much. You always have," said Angela matter-of-factly. "You've been going on about this wedding for about three years –"
"Three years? Don't be ridiculous, Ange, I was barely even going out with Chris three years ago."
Angela raised one eyebrow. "Didn't stop you talking about it, if I remember rightly."
"Oh." Shaz blushed. "Well, anyway, I didn't go on about it."
Angela laughed. "Believe me, I was the one on the receiving end of most of it. Anyway," she said loudly, putting up her hands to forestall Shaz's objections, "my point is, you've been planning this day for so long, if anything's going to go wrong now, there's nothing you can do about it."
"I know." Shaz sighed. "Like I said, I'm just nervous."
"Don't be nervous, that's stupid." Not for the first time, Shaz wondered at her friend's grasp of tact. You were never in the dark with Angela; she said what she meant and she meant what she said. Sometimes it was a blessing, sometimes not so much. Today, Shaz was glad of it. Angela's blunt honesty was exactly what she needed to get through this. "Look, you're getting married, you're not walking the plank. It's all your friends out there, remember? This is going to be the best day of your life, Shaz. I promise." She paused for a second and looked at her watch. "Aren't you missing a bridesmaid?"
"Oh..." Shaz shook her head. "My mum's bringing Amy over in a minute. In fact –" She cocked her head, hearing voices. "Here they are."
A few seconds later, Shaz's mother appeared in the doorway, Chris's eight year old niece right behind her. "Sharon!" Mary stopped in her tracks and looked her daughter up and down. "You look beautiful, love."
"Thanks, Mum." Shaz smiled, feeling tears coming to her eyes. "Hiya, Amy. I knew that colour would suit you, you look lovely."
Amy smiled shyly at her. "Thanks. You look really pretty too."
Shaz's smile wobbled dangerously, and Mary was swift to descend with the tissues. "No tears today, sweetheart. You're going to love every minute."
"So Angela says." Shaz mopped up her tears and gave them a watery smile.
"Yeah, absolutely. Anyway, it's not the actual wedding that's the best bit, is it?" said Angela meaningfully. "It's what comes after."
"Oh yes, married life..." Mary gazed somewhat dreamily into the distance.
Angela winked at Shaz. "Not quite what I meant," she whispered in her ear. Shaz blushed scarlet and Angela laughed, reaching up to tuck one of Shaz's rosebuds more securely behind her ear.
"How long have I got?" Shaz tried to take deep, steady breaths. Forget butterflies, she felt as if a herd of elephants were using her stomach lining as a trampoline. It wasn't that she had doubts; she'd never been more sure of anything in her life than she was of wanting to marry Chris. It was just the feeling that her life was about to change completely, that nothing was ever going to be quite the same again, that was making her feel so nervous.
"Nearly everyone's sitting down," Mary told her, laying a hand on her arm. "Give it a few minutes yet, I think. The boys and your dad are keeping me a seat." She looked her daughter up and down once more and smiled, standing back, her own eyes suspiciously moist. "I'm so proud of you, Sharon. You're going to be so happy."
"I know." Shaz bit her lip to prevent the waterworks from starting up again. "I'm really nervous, but...I can't wait to be married. This is what I've always wanted, really." She giggled, slightly hysterical from nerves. "I'm going to be a married woman!"
"And you're going to be my aunt," piped up Amy, who was twirling in front of the mirror, watching her dress swirl out behind her.
"I am." Shaz smiled at her. "Is that a good thing, d'you think?"
"Yep." Amy spun to a halt and smiled bashfully. "I like you. I'm glad my uncle picked you to marry, and I'm glad I get to be your niece."
Shaz gave her a spontaneous hug, feeling a sudden rush of affection for the girl. "I'm glad I get to be your aunt as well. Maybe between the two of us we can keep that uncle of yours in line, what d'you reckon?"
"Shaz." Angela, who was positioned by the archway opening onto the path that was serving as an aisle, raised her eyebrows at her. "It's time."
"Already?" Shaz took a deep breath and held out a hand each to Angela and Amy, smiling at them. "Break a leg." She turned to her mother and kissed her on the cheek. "Go and find your seat, mum. I'll see you after the service." Then Shaz straightened her skirts, took up her flowers in her left hand and stepped out from beneath the arch.
The sun was setting as the ceremony came to an end, casting long shadows behind Chris and Shaz as they walked hand in hand from the courtyard. The castle looked eerily beautiful in the dying light, its crumbling walls silhouetted against a deep pink sky, the setting sun burning through the cracks in the grey stone. Clusters of candles flickered like fireflies in the windows, in the niches eked in the walls, throwing soft, ethereal shadows and casting a net of magic over the evening.
The ceremony was at once spectacular and intimate, held in the most magnificent of settings yet embellished with familiar touches and personal effects. The flowers strewn across the courtyard and tucked into Shaz's bouquet had been lovingly grown by Chris's dad, bunches of amaryllis, rosehip, camellias and cosmos, and the string quartet were friends of her mum, musicians who had played at Shaz's christening, her communion.
Beside Alex, Gene's hair shone fairer, caught in the glow of candle-light spilling from the alcove above his head, and she turned to him, squeezed his hand lightly, discreetly in hers.
"It was a lovely service, wasn't it?"
He returned her look, the corner of his mouth tipped up into a smile. "No idea. Wasn't paying attention."
She frowned. "It was mesmerising! The castle, the flowers, the candles..." she trailed off. "It was beautiful."
"I was thinking of something even better." His eyes twinkled at her. "I was remembering you naked."
"Gene!" She slapped at his hand where it slid over her knee but he ignored her, smug expression still firmly in place as he leaned in, his breath tickling the shell of her ear.
"You, naked, flushed, on those bloody awful red sheets." He moved away and sniffed. "Giving me the right horn."
She hid a smile. He was incorrigible, inappropriate and downright hopeless, but she couldn't help the thrill that shivered through her at his words, at his undisguised, unabashed desire. It made her feel feminine, delicate, and these were emotions she didn't often experience as a serving police officer who spent much of the day chasing criminal scum around London.
The bridal party had disappeared onto the drawbridge for photos and the majority of the congregation had ambled away to watch, so they were largely alone in the courtyard, watching the sun set over a fourteenth century castle.
"I think this is one of those moments I'll remember forever," she said softly, leaning her head on his shoulder and feeling his arm go around her. "It's beautiful."
There was a pause and then he spoke, voice gruff, embarrassed. "You beat it a hundred to one, Bollyknickers."
She smiled again, shifting so her head fit under his chin. "You're very sweet."
"The Gene Genie," he said indignantly, if predictably, "is not bloody sweet. Manc Lion, yes. Sex god, yes. Sweet? No chance."
She didn't answer him, was content to sit there on the uncomfortable chair in the cold evening and watch the stars come out, tiny beacons of light in a crimson sky. She thought about the dreams she had, those fleeting images she never quite understood, and then the one man who had somehow managed to quiet her nightmares. She would never tell him, because he'd call her a soppy cow and probably never let her live it down, but the two nights they'd slept in her bed, tangled up in each other, she hadn't dreamt of the faceless girl, the child who chased her through her nightmares and whom she recognised with an incomprehensible sense of loss. She hoped Chris and Shaz would find that same peace in each other. God knew, they deserved it.
"Do you think they'll last?" she asked finally, once the sky had darkened and the sounds of merriment began to drift across the moat, and he gave her a sideways look.
"Want me to get out my crystal ball?"
She smiled. "Piss off."
He sighed. "I dunno, Bolls. He'll do anything he can to keep her, if he's got any sense. She's good for him."
"Hmm. I think they'll stay together. They're like..." she frowned, trying to remember. "Worms."
He sat back and gave her an incredulous look. "Real romantic, you are. Probably best not to tell the bride on her wedding day that you think she looks like a worm." He paused. "Have you been drinking?"
She laughed, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "Adorable man. I don't mean in terms of looks. There's a special type of worm that mates for life, it was in a book I read once. One mate until they die, very romantic indeed."
"Except for the fact that they're worms."
She nodded. "Except for the fact that they're worms."
He hesitated for a second as if he was about to speak, but then he got to his feet and held out his hand. "Come on then, Mrs Bug-lover. Let's go and get a drink inside you."
She let him pull her to her feet and then leaned against him for a moment, arms around his waist and lips on his neck. She kissed a slow trail up to his mouth and smiled against his lips as his hands found her bottom, pulling her flush against him.
"Thought you wanted a drink," she murmured as he turned to dabbing kisses across her face, and he stopped abruptly and pulled away, leaving her bereft in the cold night air.
"You're right."
She groaned, reaching out for him. "You're evil."
He grinned at her and took her hand again, lacing his fingers through hers and towing her out of the courtyard behind him.
"You owe me a dance, by the way," she said as she followed him under the archway, trying to hide a smile. "I'm not going to let you wriggle out of that one."
He groaned. "That was awful. Really made me sqworm."
She burst out laughing, lifting their joined hands to pull his arm around her shoulders. He squeezed her lightly and they walked on towards the marquees glowing across the water, while the stars twinkled merrily above them.
Ray glanced down the table and pretended, for the fourth or fifth time, not to have caught Chris's eye as he did so. The time for his speech was drawing near and, although he would never admit it, he was practically wetting himself. He was beginning to regret saying he'd make a speech at all, but he'd been steadfastly ignoring Chris's pointed eyebrow messages for a good five minutes, and he knew that at some point he was going to have to bite the bullet and do it.
It wasn't as if he was the first person to stand up and give a speech; the bride had already stepped up to the mark. Trust Shaz, Ray had thought, to have insisted on giving a speech at her own wedding. Bloody feminists. He couldn't imagine that Shaz would ever have consented to keep quiet, so he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. But, somehow, the bride standing up and talking for five minutes about how happy she was, interspersed with a few tears and culminating in an obligatory kiss from the newlyweds, crowd-pleasing as it might be, just didn't have quite the same pressure or expectations attached to it as the traditional best man's speech.
Shaz had even given Ray a list of things he wasn't allowed to include in his speech, among which drunken anecdotes, crude jokes and dubious romantic liaisons featured heavily. This was a source of particular irritation to Ray, who had a number of those up his sleeve which would have been new on Shaz as well as pretty much the entire audience. But then, he thought, glancing down the table to where Chris and Shaz's parents were sitting, perhaps some of his choicest anecdotes might not have been entirely appropriate for the occasion.
For the third time in as many minutes, Chris coughed pointedly in Ray's direction and, with a sigh, he abandoned his pretence of ignorance. Getting to his feet, he waved a hand vaguely around the room. "All right, you lot, can I have a bit of quiet?"
Almost immediately, the room fell suddenly, completely, silent. Ray swallowed. "Er...thanks. Well, this is a day I never thought I'd see." He glanced nervously around the room, loosening his bowtie with two fingers. Spotting the Guv and DI Drake sitting at a table to the left of theirs, he attempted a fairly unsuccessful grin in their direction. The Guv was wearing an expression that suggested that he was waiting avidly for Ray to mess up, but DI Drake smiled and flipped him a quick thumbs up, and Ray nodded, determined to do his best. "I've known Chris here a long time," he began. "I've got a lot of stories, some of which don't bear repeating, and anyway, I'm not allowed to." He shot a mock glare at Shaz, earning himself a few titters from his audience.
Strengthened by their laughter, Ray let out a shaky breath. "So I'm afraid you're going to have to make do with the tamer stuff, folks. In case you're wondering," he added as an afterthought, "I had some bloody good jokes about truncheons and handcuffs worked into this, but they've been banned as well. So if you want to hear them later, just come and find me." He caught sight of Shaz rolling her eyes and winked at her. "Anyway, like I said, I've known Chris a long time. He can be a right div at times. I mean, really. Like you wouldn't believe. The number of times I've got him out of scrapes he's got himself into...you'd be amazed. Sometimes I think he's like the kid brother I never had – the irritating one who follows you all over the place and nicks your stuff and says stupid things when your mates are round. He even supports Manchester bloody City. But – and you wouldn't normally catch me saying this – he's my best mate." Ray glanced down the table at Chris, who suddenly seemed to have something in his eye. "And I'm chuffed that I got to be here today to see this." He paused. "Course, I'm even more chuffed that I get to be here for the next few years to see him make a mess of it. That's going to be worth watching."
There was a smattering of laughter, mostly directed at Chris, who looked extremely alarmed. Shaz kissed her new husband on the cheek and laughed, and Ray grinned at her. "And Shaz – well, what can I say? Had her down as a nutcase as soon as I laid eyes on her." The woman in question raised her eyebrows somewhat threateningly at him, and Ray hastened on with the speech. "But she's exactly what Chris needs, and what he wants, and for some reason that will forever escape me, she appears to want him too." Ray caught Shaz's eye again. She was smiling now, her eyes moist. "We've had our moments, me and Shaz," he went on, "We've not always got on as well as we might have...she can be a right pain in the arse when she wants to be." More laughter. "But I'll say it myself, she's pretty special, is our Shaz. And it's not often you'll hear me say that, so make a note of it."
There were smiles all round, and even the Guv looked slightly emotional, though he hurriedly tried to hide it behind his customary frown. Chris beamed at Ray, Shaz wiped away what looked suspiciously like a tear, and Ray cleared his throat before he, horror of horrors, went the same way. "Anyway, you've heard just about enough from me, I reckon. All that's left for me to do is say that I know Chris and Shaz are going to be bloody happy together, and wish them all the luck in the world." He paused. "They say you have to combine the brains and the beauty when you get married. Luckily she's got both." Grinning, he turned to Chris and Shaz and raised his glass. "To the bride and groom."
It was approaching midnight and the mood had mellowed, the hilarity of Ray's speech and the anxiety of the bride and groom all melting away to leave an atmosphere of warm goodwill. Outside, the air was bitterly cold, but the press of bodies created a bubble of heat that was only occasionally penetrated by an icy breeze, and couples swayed on the dancefloor, wrapped up in each other.
Gene had been looking at her all night. He sat opposite, flanked by Terry and Bammo, while she had Poirot on her left and Viv on her right, and she'd felt his eyes on her throughout dinner, burning with such intensity that she almost flushed beneath his gaze. Now that the meal was over and the others had drifted away to the bar or to rib the few plods Chris had invited, she turned deliberately away from him, elbow on the back of her chair and chin on hand, eyes following the slow movements of the dancers a few feet away.
He dropped suddenly into the chair Viv had vacated and she jumped, tensing as his hand stole over her knee to smooth up her thigh.
"Guv."
He cocked an eyebrow. "Guv now, is it? Can't say I mind, but if you're up for a bit of role-play, 'Sir' is more of a turn-on."
She gave him a look, but didn't reply. There was a pause and then his hand slid over her leg to take her hand where it rested in her lap, linking his fingers lightly, almost shyly, through hers.
"So, Lady Bolls...fancy a dance?"
She smiled, decided to take pity on him just this once. Gene Hunt did not dance, and any show by the two of them that wasn't strictly Ma'am-and-the-Guv would undoubtedly set tongues wagging.
"That's sweet, Gene, but you don't have to. The vultures would be all over us like a rash."
He tugged on her hand, urging her to look at him. "Alex." She did. "I want to dance with you."
She looked him in the eye, felt both intensely connected and strangely detached, locked into his gaze yet still an observer, a profiler, a spectator. His eyes, that bright, surprising blue, had slid away from hers, and a lock of dark blonde hair had fallen forward across his forehead, making him look younger, more vulnerable. His hand held hers with unaccustomed hesitation, his body half-turned away to put up a show of nonchalance. She realised suddenly how much this cost him, how very difficult it was to peel off the hard, fearsome skin of DCI Hunt and show her – and everyone else, now – the soft heart within.
She smiled at him, a slow smile, a warm smile, and stood up, his hand still in hers as she looked down at him. He hesitated for a fraction of a second and then got to his feet, broad and solid and vulnerable before her, leading her onto the dance floor with something akin to pride.
The whispers started before they arrived, when they were still moving towards the crowd of bodies swaying to the beat, but Alex ignored them and turned into his body, into the warmth and smell of him. He held her like a piece of glass, their hands linked between them and an arm wrapped around her waist, and it occurred to her that it had been a long time since she'd felt this safe.
She had a sudden flashback to her childhood, when she'd fallen asleep in the back of the car and her father had carried her inside. She remembered the green wool of his jumper, the clean, sharp smell of him, the way, when she opened her eyes, the streetlight glinted on his glasses. She remembered being placed in her bed and covered with her quilt, and then left to sleep in the quiet darkness of her room. She had a sneaking suspicion she would not be sleeping alone tonight.
"Bolls?" Gene's voice was low in her ear but she jumped anyway. "You were miles away. My dancing isn't that bad, is it?"
She smiled and tucked her head back against his neck. "Sorry. I was just thinking about my father."
There was a pause. "Not the most erotic thing you've ever said, I've got to admit."
She looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "I was just thinking about how safe I felt. Feel. My father died a long time ago, Gene, and he definitely wouldn't approve of you." She laughed, a little sadly.
"And you, Bolls?" He turned them in a slow circle. "Do you approve of me?"
She drew back to meet his gaze. "Very much. You're a wonderful man, Gene."
"You're going to make me blush." His voice was gruff, sarcastic, but he guided her head back to his shoulder. They swayed together for a moment, oblivious to the song, to the company, to anything but each other and this tentative intimacy binding them together, and Alex gave in, closed her eyes. For the briefest of seconds, she felt the tug of loss, a vast chasm of sadness, and then he squeezed her hand and it passed, a dip lost in the daily sweep of emotion.
When she opened her eyes, it was to see their colleagues clustered at a table, watching them with varied expressions. The most common, she was surprised to note, was neutrality, as though this eventuality had long been agreed upon and this was just its visible manifestation. Chris and Shaz were entwined, her head on his shoulder and matching smiles on both their faces, so that when she met their gaze, Chris winked, a gesture that was somehow proud, absurdly paternal. Ray stood a little apart, his expression one of discomfort, but then he glanced up and caught Gene's eye and something passed between them, an unspoken conversation between old friends, and Ray nodded once. An acceptance. A blessing.
"They'll be fine," she whispered, and he nodded against her.
"And you, Bolls? Will you be all right?"
She looked at him in surprise. "What on earth do you mean?"
"All that stuff with Shaz, with the rapist. It wasn't easy for any of us. And you used to be so intent on getting home, on getting away from here." He hesitated. "Getting away from me. Are you still going to up and leave the first chance you get?"
The tiniest flutter of memory brushes over Alex's mind and then it's gone. "We're police officers; we see bad things happen all the time and we have to just move on. Shaz is fine, I'm fine, we're all fine. And as for home...home's where you are, now."
His hand tightened on her waist for a moment and his head fell to her shoulder, a gesture of such submission, such complete trust that her heart ached to see it.
"Because the thing is, Bolls," he looked up at her now, self-conscious, vulnerable, painfully open, "somewhere in amongst all the arguments and your psychotwattery and seeing your infuriating arse in my station every day, I think you've become my worm...if you know what I mean."
There was a beat of silence. Alex was suddenly blinded by tears, tears of surprise, of happiness, of unbroken love for this complex, difficult man who had fallen in love with her and whom she loved with equal intensity, and for once in her life she was lost, utterly lost for words.
He saw her shock, noticed it in the way she trembled in his arms, and so Gene Hunt did something miraculous – he kissed her, right there in the middle of the dance floor, while the lights twinkled on and the music played and their colleagues erupted into raucous applause.
And then, when it had all died away and she buried her face in his neck, laughing and blushing, he just whispered two words in her ear:
"I know."
"Ray, what are you doing?" Alex watched him with a frown of admonition. He glared back at her.
"Taking this bloody bow tie off. It's been strangling me all day." He sighed in relief and rubbed his throat with the air of a condemned man offered a reprieve. "Anyway, you're hardly one to talk about decorum, after that little display on the dance floor."
Ordinarily, Alex would probably have snapped at him, but she was drunk on wine and Gene and the atmosphere, and so she just smiled, chin on hand and eyes gold in the candelight.
"Jealousy is highly unattractive, Ray."
"Jealous? Who's jealous? All this nancy wedding stuff isn't for me. Right bloody palaver, isn't it, Guv?"
Gene, who had been watching the children skid gleefully across the deserted dance floor, looked up at the sound of his own name.
"Total waste of time," he agreed, but there was laughter in his eyes. "The boredom's only been slightly relieved by having a bit of a grope on the dance floor."
Alex rolled her eyes. "You're as bad as he is." Her gaze travelled slowly around the marquee, taking in the flickering candles, the twinkling fairy lights, the tired well-wishers drinking wine and swapping tales about the bride and groom. "It's been a lovely day."
Gene sniffed. "Not bad, as weddings go."
"I don't know...all seems a bit of a fuss about nothing to me," Ray added indifferently.
Alex raised an eyebrow, leaning forward and resting her fingertips on his arm, voice low and wicked. "If it's all a fuss about nothing, why were you crying like a baby when Chris said 'I do'?"
Gene let out a sharp bark of laughter. "Raymondo, you big girl's blouse!"
Alex gave him a look. "And don't pretend you were dry-eyed either."
The men fell silent and Alex sat back in satisfaction. Her hand, entwined with Gene's, rested on her knee under the table, and his thumb stroked her skin, a steady, almost unconscious action that made her shiver, even after all that had passed between them.
Ray glanced up as Chris and Shaz appeared behind them, collapsing gratefully into Poirot and Viv's vacated seats. "Oh look, it's the newlyweds. How's the missus?"
Shaz rolled her eyes. "Watch it, Ray, I may be wearing a wedding dress but I could still have you on the floor with your ankles behind your ears before you have time to light that fag you're hoping I haven't noticed you hiding under the table."
Gene winced. "Blimey, Christopher, sure you know what you've got yourself into? She doesn't miss a trick, this one."
Chris looked slightly worried. "Don't I know it, Guv."
Alex leaned across the table to touch Shaz's hand briefly. "Congratulations again, you two. You're going to be very happy."
Shaz beamed. "Thanks, Ma'am." For a second her eyes flicked between Alex and Gene, and something unspoken hung in the air between them.
Oblivious, Ray reached across the table for the champagne bottle and offered it to Shaz, and the moment passed in silence. "Top-up, Mrs. Skelton?"
"Cheers, Ray." Shaz slid her glass across the table towards him. "I never thought I'd say it, but you're being quite the gentleman today."
Ray shrugged offhandedly. "Not every day you get married, is it? Might as well knock back a bit of bubbly when you get the chance."
"Well said, Raymondo." Gene intercepted the bottle from Ray and poured himself a sizeable measure, before topping up Alex's glass and shoving what was left of the bottle rather unceremoniously in Chris's direction. "You never know when you're going to give up the ghost. Might as well enjoy the free booze while you can."
Alex twirled the stem of her glass between her fingers. "Crude, but almost Epicurean, Gene."
"Epi-what, woman?"
"Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die," Alex explained. "Live in the present. No looking back, no looking forward." She wrinkled her nose. "I think there's a lot to be said for looking forward, personally. On days like this, anyway." She smiled at the group around her, the colleagues who had gradually, almost imperceptibly, become friends. She looked from Chris and Shaz, who were only beginning to realise how lucky they were, to Ray, who despite his steadfastly Neanderthal attitude had become more of a friend than she'd ever thought possible, and finally her gaze fell on Gene, and she was suffused with such a mixture of confusing, contradictory, wonderful feelings that she didn't know where to begin in defining them. So, instead of trying to put all of that into words, she just smiled. "The future looks pretty good from where I'm standing."
"I'll drink to that." said Ray with a grin, after a slight pause. "In fact, as my last duty as best man, let's make it a toast." He raised his glass. "To the future."
"To the future," Alex echoed. "Whatever it may bring."
"Hear, hear." Chris tucked his arm around Shaz and chinked his glass against hers. "To the future."
"To the future," added Gene gruffly, his gaze lingering on Alex for a moment as his glass touched hers. "And let's hope it's a bloody good one."
There were smiles all round, and as the sparkling champagne danced in the crystal glasses and the birds flocked down to roost in the crumbling ruins beneath the velvety sky, they had every confidence that it would be.