Sorry, sorry, sorry! Jessie xx

The Big Goodbye. Part Five.

Brian steered a suddenly nervous Sandra back into the reception room with its glitter, balloons and dancefloor. Unbeknown to her, Mia had organised the first dance in cahoots with Gerry and the band. She was abandoned at the edge of the dancefloor as complete silence and darkness fell.

A solitary spotlight lit up a classic pyramid of brilliantly white light to which all eyes were drawn and which highlighted the scuffs on the floor, though painstakingly mopped and scrubbed at, that after twenty years were permanent scars of the floorboards.

Equally stumped and confused, Rob glanced in the shadows for Gerry; his wife's best friend who was about to become his biggest enemy. He didn't dance. He'd successfully spent over fifty years on the planet. He knew what he did and what he was. Neither of these included dancing. And as far as he knew, this was the same for Sandra. He'd caught her at it once, with Gerry. As part of a team building exercise. Like he'd believed that. He had once believed that Gerry would eventually succeed in seducing Sandra (not a fool, Rob had fully researched the 'old dogs' of Bevan's UCOS before taking over, basically because Bevan had told him in no uncertain terms that none of them deserved the plaudits they were receiving. Gerry's record may have been clean professionally, but at least some of the rumours were true…) but whatever silent arrangement they had come to seemed to suit them, and him.

A gentle strum of guitar picked up from the black corner where the band stood.

"Ladies and gentlemen; please welcome to the floor, your bride and groom," a low, sultry, yet oddly familiar voice came over the speakers.

He was definitely going to kill Gerry. A light shove from behind had him moving slowly and uncertainly toward the beam steadily placed in the centre. Across the void he caught sight of his partner: the sunshine ringlets falling either side of her face away from where the rest of her blonde hair was tied and clipped behind; the glowing embarrassment from her cheeks; the slight edge of murderous intent towards the conspirators evident in her oceanic blue eyes; the perfectly simple yet elegant flow of her white dress perfectly underscoring the sexy curves of her body, her breasts, her hips…

A smattering of applause encouraged the two figures as they met under the illumination amid the crescendo of stringed chords. The sound fell away as Rob and Sandra found their hold. Then, breaking the silence, a gentle collection of musical beats and chords began to play, neither too soppy, too slow, or too quick. Rolling his eyes playfully, Rob began to lead a waltz-like dance. Sandra, with enormous effort both swallowed her surprise at his skill and endeavoured to follow his lead as best she could remember from failed dance-classes of her past. When the music changed pace and became a familiar old tune, the couple obliged without skipping a beat as a voice that they normally only heard through a closed bedroom door began to sing.

Hidden from view, behind the buffet tables in the sunken lights, nervously sipping half a lager, Darren Holmes – private school boy, chaste from falling in with a bad crowd and steadily keeping his head down – listened in awe to the girl singing. He'd always liked her, had been quietly envious of his best friend's association with the pretty brunette, and had agreed to drive the snotty Strickland boy's friends to the event with a secretly hopeful agenda. The pedestal he had placed her upon was in danger of rising beyond his confidence however, as he considered himself to be even less talented than her now than ever before.

Esther silently took her husband's hand as the couple danced with unforeseen competence to the music. Brian felt his heart sink slightly, knowing that his next task would be to take to the floor with her. At least he could dance half as well as Strickland, he thought. Gently removing his digits from her grasp, he applied both hands to steadying the camera in order to catch the moment. He seemed alright, Esther mused to herself; she had been worried how he would react to the inevitable meeting of his replacement, he had however taken it well. Perhaps she would suggest that he go fishing again with Gerry and Robert.

Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Gentle lift of his hand. Bend of her knee. Release one hand. Try not to lose track of the other. Obey the direction given by his hand on her waist bringing them back together. They'd never danced together before. As far as she was aware, he didn't dance. At best, she imagined he must have a vague sense of the skill gleaned from official functions. Perhaps he'd had to learn in the army. Except that he'd never made it to the army… Maybe at school? Her own knowledge of the activity was based purely on a string of failed hobby attempts, the ballet lesson she'd had when she was five and passive acceptance of celebrity attempts on a Saturday night. But it was working. And since when had Mia been hiding a Etta-James-like-alter-ego? Left foot. Right foot. Toe. Heel. Pause? Close. Left foot. Right foot.

Gerry watched the couple proudly. If he was honest, and he liked to think he was, Strickers wasn't that bad a bloke and if he made Sandra happy then that was good enough for him. Was it? She was leaving because of him. But she wasn't going far. And, as she'd proven, the ties that they'd formed over the years were stronger than that of guv and minions. His thoughts wandered, as he watched them dance, to his old colleague: the man who would have given her away, if he hadn't gone on ahead. What would he have made of it all? The woman he'd watched grow as an officer and a person over more years than they could expect together now married and settling to a family life. He'd have been watching with a wary eye, certainly. Something told Gerry though that the old boy wouldn't have raised any more opposition to that which he and Brian already had. He allowed himself to smile; when he'd first clocked them as an item, he'd looked up to the beyond and promised his mate that she'd be alright. But he'd still keep his promise. No matter who else he had to share her with, she would always be his guv, his friend, his Sandra. And he'd always look out for her.

Carrie and David Grant stood with their arms entwined, happily remembering their own wedding. She'd be a tough act to follow, that Pullman, but Carrie and David were both agreed that she, Carrie, would be able to take the helm successfully. Nick grinned as his partner Dee muttered a mixture of sweet and sarcastic observations into his ear.

Steve sighed and slid his empty glass onto the table behind him. That was him once. It could have been him again, except that Charlie was gone.

Right foot. Left foot. Arm up. Hand release. Support. Guide. Protect. Care. Love. Left foot. Right foot.

She slid her hold behind his neck as he brought them to a static position in time to the close of the song. She leant across him and allowed him to present her before pulling herself up to meet his glistening eyes. "I love you," she whispered breathlessly.

"I love you too," he replied as the polite applause surrounded them and faded into the next song. The children who had been held back from the dancefloor during the official first dance were released as the balloons fell from the ceiling.

The floor now opened to all guests and the children dominated, aided by balloons. Sandra and Rob looked at each other. Both knew that if they left the dancing now, they might not get another chance. Their attention would be stolen by other people. It was selfish, to want to stay in each others space, merging their spirits with the music and worrying about nothing else except tripping over their feet. Yet they were both tired. Sandra's feet ached, her back was beginning to join in harmony. Rob needed to talk to Rufus; or drink more.

"I'd stay on, if I were you," a gentle voice passed them.

A brief glance to the right confirmed that Esther truly had become their fairy godmother, Sandra mused as she looked at her husband, "Well, you heard the lady…" she teased, threading her fingers through his.

"Yes," he said. "Actually, do you mind, I need to…"

"No, no that's fine," Sandra's half-felt sentiment finished to the empty space where he had been standing as he walked away from her. In a sweeping search of the floor she found that it was filling well with swirling dresses and variably skilled feet. For the first time in months she found herself alone in the crowd again; only this time she was wearing possibly the most conspicuous get-up ever. Damn it all, this was her wedding day and she was still the one waiting to be asked…

"May I have this dance?" a shy Northern accent accompanied a subtle touch to her arm.

Brian's half-smile and his raised eyebrows told her all she needed to know. She didn't see Robert again for over an hour. She danced with Brian, while Gerry jived with Esther. She salsa-d with Mia until Darren waltzed her away. She YMCA'd with all the boys and Saturday Night'd with the girls. Eventually exhausted, she bid an escape to the bar followed and overtaken by Gerry who insisted that she wasn't to buy her own drink at her wedding. Easily agreeable to this idea, she grinned and kissed his cheek making him blush. Gerry ordered a round, ostensibly ordering alcohol for Sandra and juice for Mia which with a cheeky and shifty wink they exchanged away from the eye of the bar. She saw Robert at a corner table, talking to his son. The big goodbye. She noted Mia's mindful eye flicking away from her conversation with Paula and Caitlyn to observe that the two weren't yet at each other's throats. Although she'd never met the woman, Sandra had seen enough of her in Rufus to know what she was like. So it was of no surprise to her really when it was not Helen but her American fiancé who arrived to take Strickland Junior away.

He was going to miss pubs; he'd already decided that. But his family wanted him home and his fiancée wanted to go. Ever one to please, Don Fraser entered the traditional accommodation of the wedding reception to collect his soon-to-be-step-son. But it wasn't him he saw first.

"Remy!"

Mia turned in slow motion. It was time. It was happening. There was no other reason. Yet she couldn't help but smile. Don's beaming face had been the only light shining in what had been her home, he'd been the shadowy taxi-driver who'd delivered her to her dad's home one night when her mum had been out drinking cocktails and probably cheating on the poor sap. And he was the only one to call her that. She extricated herself from Darren's rather jilted attempt at talking to her and gave the American in the flash shirt a hug.

Sandra and Gerry stopped talking and watched with a coppers wary eye as Mia led the American to where Grace and Esther sat with Paula, Carrie and Bella. Suddenly the absent groom reappeared, bumping unsteadily into his wife as he held onto the bar to halt his motion. Sandra turned and received his rough kiss.

"Urgh, Rob!" she frowned. "Where have you been?"

"He'sshere," Rob slurred. "Heretotake myssson…"

"Robert," the American had noticed them, just as they had noticed him. He approached with hand outstretched.

Rob stared at the hand for a moment and blinked. It was questionable whether his hand would make the journey in a straight line and meet the shake, even if he'd wanted it to. Slowly he raised his eye to meet the American's. "Don…"

Sandra was sober, just. Gerry was not, but he was old bill. As Rob's voice rose in his accusations of Don's arrival to tear apart his family for a second time, and how the bitch ex-wife was waiting in the car because she didn't have the decency to face him; the two of them bluntly removed the two men to the outside of the pub before any more heads could turn.

"Mia, go and find your brother please," Sandra said firmly, her eye on Rob as Gerry prepared to hold him back. The trouble was, she didn't actually believe that he'd go for the American prat, but she did have to minimise the possibility. "Don, why don't you go and wait down by the car?" she suggested without any doubt that the question was not rhetorical. She'd noted the flash saloon sitting across the road, an idle curiosity thought it could make out a thin dark-haired woman behind the wheel, but her attention was otherwise required.

"I will," the American made his final speech. "I'm sorry to have marred your celebrations, it was not my intention to bring any darkness to your day, Robert? Ma'am, you look stunning, may I offer my apologies, and congratulations on your wedding. I'll say goodbye."

They watched him walk down to the car, holding a hand up to still the questions of the driver as he turned to lean against the wing, waiting.

"Git – "

"Gerry!" Sandra silenced him and he slipped away a few paces, lighting a cigarette. She glared at her husband, now hanging his head in remorse and embarrassment. "Robert. Look at me. Look. At. Me. Now listen, I don't care what you're feeling right now. I don't. This is our bloody local and our wedding reception and you're making a bloody scene. You're a flaming DAC for goodness sake! Now. You pull yourself together, you pretend to be sober and you say a good goodbye to your son. You understand me? You don't let him leave thinking he isn't welcome here. Rob? You hear me?"

She could hear Gerry stifling his laughter in the shadows as Rob lifted his head and nodded sombrely. Rufus appeared in the pub doorway, his coat slung over his shoulder. He lifted a hand in greeting to the car across the road and glanced at his send-off party. If he had less manners, he'd have merely shrugged and walked off. He might have managed it anyway, if it hadn't been for the fearsome glare of his sister's temper coming through the angry stare at the back of his head. "Well then," he said, pausing first at the baby in Mia's arms. "Annabella, it was lovely to meet you, you … have fun growing up right? Mia, see you soon, eh? I'll text you or something. Sandra, nice to meet you. Dad… …. …. Bye."

"Rufs," Robert followed the few paces his son had taken in a commendably straight line while the girls watched. "If you need anything, you know where I am. Take care of yourself, yeah? And… Be good for your mum."

He pulled his son into an awkward hug before letting him go. As the lad turned to wave, Rob returned to his family as it now was, smiling as his daughter encouraged baby Bella to wave at the dark car.

"Say, bye-bye Uncle Rufs… bye-bye," Mia sniffed and smiled at her dad.

The car's engine started with a whisper and the doors clunked closed. The red lights turned the corner –

"Good-bye, son."