.Part Eight.
Weddings
The congregation rises in an undulating wave of coloured hats and fascinators as the bride and groom turn back down the aisle, the little bridesmaids throwing rose-petal confetti over them like sweet-scented rain. Thomas offers Kitty his arm, and they follow them to where the doors at the end of the church are being opened, light pouring in and illuminating the happy couple in golden glory as they step out in the normality of a busy London day.
Today is one of those days he doesn't mind wearing a suit, standing up beside his best friend to watch him exchange vows with Elizabeth. It is, undoubtedly, a very proud moment, and he can't wait until it's his turn, until Kitty is the one walking up the aisle towards him, wreathed in a white dress and a beautiful smile.
Not long now. He looks towards her as she watches Elizabeth and Miles stand in front of the photographer, arms around each other and looking like there is no-one else in the world. Everything is slotting into place, now, like an oversized jigsaw puzzle, and he couldn't be happier.
"So, we have a table, and two chairs. The bed set is arriving this afternoon, so you don't have to trespass on Greville's hospitality any longer. Rosalie's parents are buying us crockery as a wedding gift, and Miles and Elizabeth are doing cutlery," Kitty stands in the middle of their apartment, reading down her list with her hand resting on the mantle-shelf that lies over the fireplace like a cat stretched out in the warmth.
"The divan and the two rocking chairs have been ordered," he contributes, sinking into the seat next to the stove. "We need pots and pans."
"Rosalie's offered to give us that as her present. I told her that we'd get her a tea-set, or something, because Greville already has his house furnished. What else do we need?"
He pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. Long shifts at the hospital - operating, seeing patients, sitting in meetings, talking to scientists – drain him like this, and he's really not in the mood. "I don't know," he mutters.
Kitty glares at him. "Come on, Tom. I know you're tired, but we've got to do this now, or the flat won't be ready in time for the wedding."
"Yes, I know that," he snaps. "But we've got everything, haven't we? We don't need fancy cushions or fringed lampshades."
"We're not having either of those things! What's got into you today?" Kitty's voice is rising, and the pain behind his temples is beginning to throb.
"I don't know! I'm tired, stressed because my boss is observing me tomorrow – furniture is the least of my worries!"
"Yes, and it's not like I'm not stressed either!" Kitty throws down the list. "We've got a pile of mending to do, new costumes to make! I'm working overtime every night! But we have to get the flat ready."
"What's the hurry though? We can do it all after the wedding!" He doesn't see Kitty enough as it is, and now, she's starting arguments. Wonderful.
"No, we can't!" Her eyes burn into him, and she turns away as though she can't bear to look at him. "Look, I just want to have our home ready for when we move in together. I'm sorry if I'm making unreasonable demands."
"Kitty." He pulls himself from the chair, crosses the flat and wraps his arms around her carefully, as though she is a fragile china doll that will break into a thousand fragmented pieces if he holds her too tightly. "Let's not argue. Not now."
She rests her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," he says gently. "Don't be sorry. But it doesn't have to be done right this second. We'll have almost everything, and we can get the other things as and when we need them."
She twists in his arms so she's facing him, her dark hair curling in wisps from her forehead. He brushes them away. "I can't wait until we're married," she says. "At the moment, we're like ships in the night, just passing each other, but never stopping to see each other properly, or talk, or anything."
"Well, then. We're both off this afternoon." He leans down to graze his lips across hers. "How about we go to Regent's Park and have a picnic?"
"Maybe," she laughs, kissing him again and again, her arms winding around his neck and the intoxicating scent of her – soap, velvet and perfume – filling his head until he can barely form a coherent thought.
"Kitty," he murmurs between kisses. "Kitty – we've got to stop or the landlady will throw us out."
She pulls away a little, mischief twinkling in her eyes like stars. "Regent's Park, then."
"Regent's Park," he agrees.
Rosalie and Greville's wedding is a lovely affair of summer roses and choral anthems at her parents' church in Bloomsbury. Flora – pulled away from her ever-looming work – is the bridesmaid, and several 'friends' from the time before the war populate the back pews, watching with pursed lips and beady eyes.
Kitty couldn't be happier for her friend as she watches the exchange of gold rings, Rosalie smiling as though she will burst at any minute. It's been such a long time since Kitty met that stiff, proper, old-maid-like woman at the beginning of the war – it almost feels like a whole lifetime has passed them by, and they have been reborn into new forms, created from happiness by the skilled hands of a benevolent deity.
As they stand for the final hymn, Kitty looks towards Thomas, shards of bright, jewel-coloured light scattering across the floor and staining his fair hair in all the shades of the rainbow. Only three more weeks, and then it will be their turn. Only three more weeks.
June is fading slowly towards July in a haze of amber and glorious sunsets over the cityscape of London. Kitty is sitting in the workroom, putting the finishing touches on the gentlemen's costumes for a new production of Les Huguenots, which opens in several nights' time. The workroom is almost deserted, apart from two other girls who are hurriedly sewing beads back into their places on the dress for the lead female role, their quick whispers and the rattle of the beads snaking through the still air.
Casting off her thread, she hangs the costumes back on their rail, and gathers together her bag and hat. "Goodnight!" she calls in the girls' direction, and they glance briefly back towards her.
"Goodnight, Miss Trevelyan," one of them says, the other just nodding her farewell.
The Wardrobe Mistress is humming a song under her breath as she packs away costumes from Le Nozze di Figaro into their boxes by the door, and Kitty pauses, waiting for her to look up. "Yes?" she asks, abruptly.
"Mrs Baines, I was wondering whether I'd be allowed to take a couple of days off next week – I'm getting married next Thursday."
"I can give you two days – the day of your wedding and the day after." She closes the last box, straightening up. "No more, I'm afraid, we're too busy and you'll be needed."
"That's more than enough, thank you," Kitty says.
"What are you wearing for it, then?"
Kitty leans against the worktable nearest the door, more than a little surprised. This is the first time Mrs Baines has disposed herself to be chatty. "I'm making myself a dress."
"If you want to borrow anything, Susan bought the wrong lace for Valentine's gown. It's over there if you want to take it."
"Are you sure? It could be needed for other productions," Kitty protests, but Mrs Baines fixes her with a steel-tipped look.
"If we can't give a valued member of the department some lace for her wedding dress, then what kind of seamstresses are we? Take it. Go on. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Thank you," Kitty says, crossing the room to pick it up, the delicate pattern of flowers and leaves rasping against her fingers. "Thank you very much."
Pale light slips through the curtains as silently as a dream, sliding under her eyelids and pulling her gently from her slumber. She opens her eyes, staring up at the canopy above the bed in the guest room she's been living in for the past four months. She's getting married today. The thought makes her heart leap into her throat, and joy to swell in her chest. She's getting married.
There's a knock on the door, and she sits up, swings her legs out of bed. "Come in."
It creaks open, and Rosalie's mother appears, already dressed. "Kitty, dear, would you like the maid to bring up some brunch? It's a little late for breakfast, now."
"Yes, please," Kitty says, standing up and reaching for the dressing gown.
Rosalie's mother smiles. "Rosalie, Elizabeth and Flora are waiting downstairs. I'll send them up."
"Thank you."
She disappears, and Kitty sinks back onto the bed. Married. She can't help remembering the time she woke up on the day of her first wedding, the foreboding, the sick feeling twisting in the pit of her stomach, the way the maids pulled at her corset until she'd thought she'd faint. But now is not the time to think of such things, not when she can hear her friends' footsteps pattering along the carpet like an overexcited rainstorm, not when in four hours' time, she will be Mrs Catherine Gillan, and no one will be able to say otherwise.
The door swings open, and the three of them pile into the room, smiling and laughing. "Good morning, Kitty," Flora says cheerfully. "Are you nervous?"
"A little," Kitty admits.
"I was frightened sick on the morning of my wedding," Rosalie says, crossing to pull the curtains back and let light flood into the room in a wave of brightness. "But it goes away the second you begin the walk down the aisle."
"I hope so," Kitty says as Flora takes the tray from the maid at the door, puts it down on the dressing table. "I felt horrible all the way through my first wedding."
"I forget that you've done this before," Elizabeth clucks, fetching the wedding dress that Kitty had made over long nights in the Berricks' drawing room, straining her eyes by the crackling light of the fire. "Miles and I went with Thomas to meet his family off the train at Paddington – his mother and youngest sister will be here later to see you before they go to the church."
"Have they settled in alright?" Kitty yawns and stands to take a pastry from the tray on the dressing table.
"The elder sisters are corralling their children, but they all seem to be alright. The boarding house is quite nice, and everyone seems very excited. Now, come on. We've got to put your hair up."
Mrs Gillan and Catriona arrive at around midday, and Kitty hears them being ushered along the corridor by one of the maids, Catriona chattering away like a whole chorus of birds. "Mrs and Miss Gillan," the maid says as she opens the door, and Catriona spills in, rushing to give Kitty a hug.
"Is this your old house, Kitty? It's so pretty – it's twice the size of our whole block, and so beautiful – all these carpets and pretty ornaments…"
"It's my parents' house," Rosalie says, stepping forward. "I'm Rosalie Parry, it's a pleasure to meet you."
"Moire and Catriona Gillan," Mrs Gillan says as Rosalie kisses her delicately on each cheek. "Please excuse my daughter, she's not entirely used to being someplace so fine."
"It's alright," Rosalie smiles generously.
"Catriona, Mrs Gillan, this is Flora Marshall, and you already know Elizabeth," Kitty says quickly, and the others come forward. Kisses and greetings are exchanged, and then Mrs Gillan puts her hands on Kitty's shoulders.
"I see these girls have done a lovely job in putting up your hair, Kitty. We bought some flowers on the way over as our contribution."
"You didn't have to…"
"Oh, but we did. We could weave a few into your hair, if you'd like," she says.
"That will be the maid with them," Rosalie says, crossing the room with quick, brisk strides to answer the door, taking a cut glass vase from the maid and putting it down on the dressing table, a small explosion of delicate white baby's breath, daisies and yellow flowers that she can't quite name.
"Here." Mrs Gillan selects a few stems, and slides them between the braids that crown the top of Kitty's head. "That looks lovely."
"Thank you," Kitty murmurs.
"Shall we get you into your dress? The wedding starts in a couple of hours – we don't want to keep Tommy waiting!"
"For God's sake, Tom, stay still!" Miles puts a hand on his shoulder, exasperated. "I've never seen you fidget so much before in all the years we've known each other."
"I'm sorry," he apologises. "I'm just…nervous."
"It's perfectly normal. Just hold it in for two minutes whilst I put in your buttonhole, then you can fidget as much as you'd like."
Outside of the little antechamber, the church is filling up in rustles of Sunday bests and flowers – all of Tom's family are here save his mother and Catriona, who has been asked to be the bridesmaid. He remembers the squeal she made when he gave her Kitty's message, the happiness that lit her up and the way she bounced up and down on the spot.
"All done. Shall we go see all of your guests?" Miles claps him on the shoulder, and Thomas nods once, tensely.
"Alright."
"Look, Tom, stop acting like a brick wall. It'll be fine. Remember what I was like before my wedding, thinking Elizabeth wouldn't show up, thinking that it would all go wrong? It all went wonderfully, and it'll go well today, I promise."
"I'm fine, Miles, I will be. Come on, everyone's waiting."
Bells ring out from the church tower in peals of joy, and the sun smiles down on them as Kitty gets out of the car with Catriona and Rosalie's mother. For an abstract, fleeting moment, she wonders what it would have been like if her own mother was here to see her daughter down the aisle to a happy marriage, wonders what it would have been like if she had been marrying someone like Tom all those years ago instead of the man who made her life a living hell.
Part of her wishes her family hadn't been so inadequate, part of her wishes that they were here today. She wishes Sylvie could have been the bridesmaid along with Catriona. But they're not, they'll never be, and it doesn't matter. She has a new life now, a free, wonderful life, and today, she's getting married. It's no time to dwell on the past.
The processional doors swing open, the small congregation rises to its feet, the organ begins to play. She takes a deep breath, clutching the flowers in her hands, and starts to walk, her shoes tapping on the flagstoned floor.
She can see Thomas waiting for her at the altar, and her face splits into an uncontrollable smile that beams out of her like starlight. He's smiling too, his eyes wider than she's ever seen them before.
This is life. This is what life is like. There's no room for hurts, or anger, or sadness in the house that is her heart.
Today, now, there's only delight as she reaches him, places her hand in his, as they turn to face the priest. Only delight, and God knows it's what she's been waiting for her whole life.
People stand around chattering in the church hall across the street in little groups, glasses in their hands catching the light and throwing it into rainbows on the wooden floor. The photographs have been taken, the cake has been cut, the first dance has been danced to the music of claps and cheers. It's a wholly unorthodox wedding, but he doesn't care. He and Kitty are married.
Before, he'd never thought he'd be married – he thought he was destined to live out his life as a bachelor, a surgeon fixed on saving as many lives as he possibly could. He never thought he'd be standing at the altar, watching as his bride made her way down the aisle, a vision in white lace with flowers braided in her hair, he never thought that he'd meet someone as remarkable as Kitty. But she had smashed into his life like a comet falling from the highest heavens, and now, he's happier than he'd ever dreamed of being.
"So, are you going to introduce me to your bride, big brother?"
He looks around to see his second-youngest sister Elspeth hovering at his shoulder with a mischievous smile plastered across her face.
"If you want," he says, leading her over to where Kitty is animatedly conversing with Elizabeth and Colonel Brett who has come down from Cheshire especially for the occasion. "Kitty?"
"Yes?" She turns towards him, her face glowing.
"This is my second-youngest sister, Elspeth. She's a nurse in Southampton."
"How do you do?" Kitty asks, kissing Elspeth's cheek, and the two launch into a discussion about nursing, and something to do with history that he doesn't quite catch. Elizabeth throws him a smile, then turns away and Colonel Brett comes over to him.
"It was very kind of you to invite me to your wedding," he says, and Thomas smiles.
"It's a pleasure to have you here and I know that Kitty feels the same."
They stand together for a few seconds, watching as Flora bustles up to Kitty and whispers something conspiratorially. "It feels like so long ago," Colonel Brett says suddenly, "that we were at war, in all of those damp, freezing tents in France and yet it's barely been a year."
"I know. I suppose the human mind blocks out what it doesn't want to remember. But without the war, I'd never have met you, I wouldn't have met Kitty, we wouldn't be standing here today, so in retrospect, I have a lot to thank it for." He pauses. "I'd never thought I'd hear those words come out of my mouth. How is your son?"
"He's alive," Colonel Brett says. "He'll have a scarred face for life, but he's alive and my wife and I are grateful for small mercies. Losing one child is agony enough. Tell me, how is your work going at the hospital?"
Thomas takes the not-so-subtle subject change and smiles briefly, "Yes, it's good. I'm privileged to work with several very talented pioneering surgeons. There's never a dull moment…" he tails off as a voice – Flora – calls for silence. Kitty is standing by the battered pianoforte in the corner of the room and Rosalie is absently examining her fingernails from her place on the stool.
"Four years ago, when the three of us all young and silly, and believe it or not, Kitty and Thomas weren't even talking – yes, Rosalie, I know you were never silly – we held a concert in the chapel at Field Hospital 25A. And now, I'm pleased to announce that the bride has agreed to reprise our little turn, so," Flora grins, "take it away, Rosalie."
Rosalie begins to play, and a hush falls over the hall so complete as Kitty and Flora begin to sing. He stands and watches, remembering how four years ago, during their little concert, was when he first realised the depth of his feelings for Kitty. He remembers how he'd been so confused, and hurt and he'd come in to the chapel right at the end, and Kitty had been singing so beautifully, with her eyes fixed on him and it felt as though he'd fallen off a cliff.
Now, she watches him, smiling as the two of them launch into the chorus. "There's a long, long trail a-winding, into the land of my dreams, where the nightingales are singing and a white moon beams. There's a long, long night of waiting, until my dreams all come true, 'till the day when I'll be going down that long, long trail with you."
There is rapturous applause when they finish, and the guests part for Kitty as she makes her way towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him soundly. When she draws back, there is another round of clapping, and she takes his hand. Evening is closing in, the light coming through the windows is faded, worn and they begin to say their goodbyes.
He stands next to her, his wife, watching as people leave and the sky turns the threadbare blue of a northern sea behind the glass until it's only them left. He wraps his arms around Kitty, holding her close. She leans her head against his shoulder, takes a deep breath, then looks up at him with a cheeky smile.
"Isn't it about time we were getting home, husband?"
He laughs, and takes her hand, and they go out into the street, walking slowly back towards their flat. It's quiet, the air is still, and he's never felt more at peace in his life.
A/N Important! Here's the next chapter! Just a little note to say I'm on work experience all next week - I will try and write this, but if there's no time, I'll post a oneshot that I've already written. Thank you to my guest reviewers - I hope that there's enough Kitmas fluff in this chapter for you! In addition, I'll post on Tumblr what I think Kitty's dress looks like, so have a look on my blog (link on my profile) if you'd like to see! I think that's all, so enjoy! I would really love to hear from you (and hit the 50+ mark hint hint!). :) N xxx