Chapter Twenty-Three - James
1134 Words
Chapter Twenty-Three - James
The photographer, neck craned up, prods at Michael. Her arms windmilling over the disaster zone, she babbles something-or-other at him. Michael stoops to listen, looming over the tiny blonde, abruptly breaks into a smile and nods, then marches across to Kirstie. The pair speak to her for a moment. She bursts out laughing, also nodding.
Michael claps his hands a couple of time. “Can I have your attention everyone. Since the occasion has turned out to be truly unique, Belle, the photographer here, is going to call you up in groups for, what I think you will all agree, will be a truly different set of wedding photographs.”
Heads turn, voices mutter, then rise into chatter….
Michael continues. “We’d like the bride's family first. Kirstie, you stand there, beside the cake but with the tree behind you.
Kirstie poses beside the miraculously undamaged cake, gesturing to her mother, who scuttles into place. Michael gathers in other family members, arranging poses while Belle jams lights into position, battery-powered LEDs, operating them with a hand-controlled panel.
Everyone is abruptly laughing and joking. Phones and cameras whirr and snap.
The photographer catches my eye, flashing brows and grinning.
Bless her…
Belle mutters something to Michael and he raises his voice over the crowd. “One now please of the Lady of the Hour. Georgie, over here please. Come and stand with Kirstie and Ryan.”
Georgie, her head ducking, red points at her cheekbones, moves in from offside to take a place between Bride and Groom. Kirstie slips a hand into hers. Ryan kisses her cheek, murmuring something. An isolated hand-clap emerges from the crowd, grows to a ripple, then blooms to full-blown applause.
For she’s a jolly good fellow…
For she’s a jolly good fellow…
And my daughter, my beautiful daughter, stands with brimming eyes, as cameras flash and every person in the room applauds her.
The next shot: Belle calls out. “The man who had Paul under the table. Where’s he?”
Larry, lounging by the bar, jolts to attention, shaking his head.
Michael yells out. “You don’t get away that lightly Larry. Take your turn.”
“I wanna be in the picture!” Paulie dashes up, grabs him by the hand, tugging him toward where Kirstie and Ryan stand waiting.
“Me too.” A small girl skids in from offside. “I wanna photo with Grandad K.”
“And me!”
Klempner holds back, trying to retreat into a handy shadow, but every eye is on him. Wearing an expression a small thundercloud would envy, a squadron of small children buzzing at his feet, he takes his stand beside Kirstie and Ryan, rigid as the camera flashes.
Belle calls out again. “Bridesmaids now, please…” Charlotte and Beth take their places…
The unorthodox photoshoot has taken on a life of its own and Michael leaves Belle to handle it, strolling across with Ryan to join me.
And Ryan is relaxing. “Bless that photographer. I'm going to give her a hefty tip for this.”
“She's going to enter the photos into some magazine competition,” says Michael, “if you and Kirstie agree. She’ll have some amazing shots.”
Ryan nods, looking bemused. “Belle did tell me she always wanted to do some newspaper work. Here's a story for her.” He looks around, the smashed window, “Doesn't ask for much, does she?”
“You're just the groom, Ryan. You're not quite an optional extra for the wedding, but...”
He gives me a slanted grin. “… But it's Kirstie’s day and she's smiling again...”
*****
Michael raises cupped hands to his mouth, bawling out over the milling masses. “Right, listen to me everyone. This wedding is not off…”
Guests move and murmur and shuffle…
“…I repeat. The reception is going ahead. The bride and groom have been safely married... “ He grins… “… That’s the important part as I’m sure you’ll all agree. For the rest, the timetable’s moving along a bit, that’s all…”
The murmuring grows, puzzled glances exchanged.
“… For now, can you all please keep to the back of the room and wrap up warm. Kyle and the ladies will be coming round with hot punch while we make arrangements to move everyone…”
… then I spot Charlotte at the bar, gaily glugging bottles of martini and rum into an enormous pan. Next to her Beth is slicing leftover lemons and tipping them into the devil’s brew.
A white-coated caterer appears, dumping a crate on a nearby table, red wine by the look of it. Another sets out a gas-ring, a large scale version of the kind a camper might use. One more shuffles through the door backward with a butane-bottle on a sack-truck.
The scents of cloves and cinnamon are already spiking through the air…
Gonna be a few hangovers tomorrow…
Can’t be helped…
Collateral damage…
The crowd makes a general surge towards Charlotte’s thrown-together booze stand.
Michael appears at my side, Mitch and Georgie following. “James, you’re with me.”
“Doing what?”
“Rescuing what we can from here, then getting it back to the hotel. We’re opening up again. We have wedding guests to feed and party. James, you take charge of the kitchen.”
“Party? Where? You said the restaurant is booked up.”
“The gym. Rescue whatever’s useable, then get yourself up there. Take Mitch with you. Georgie, I need you to organise getting the tables from here to there. Mitch, you’re in charge of setting out the dining. Get the tables laid out, then find some way of decorating them. The gym itself too if possible. Make it look like we’re having a party.”
“What are you doing?” I ask.
Michael flashes eyebrows. “First off, I have a coach driver to bribe. There’s at least three of them up at the hotel that have been ferrying in the big office Christmas outings. There’s bound to be someone who’ll turn out if we pay him enough.”
Georgie’s eyes scour the hall. “How do I get the tables there?”
“Use the truck.”
“I can’t drive a truck.”
Klempner pushes forward, a small boy in his wake. “I can. Georgie, see if you can round up half a dozen men to take the tables down and pack them into the van.”
Borje drifts in from left-of-field, hand raised. “One volunteer reporting for duty. I’ll pull in some of the other guys too.”
Michael slaps a hand on his shoulder. “Good man. Now, all we have to do is find a way of getting Kirstie and Ryan up to the hotel in style.”
“I’m here.” Richard tugs his waistcoat straight. “Leave that one to me…” He turns, scanning. “Where’s Ross?”
Richard’s driver appears as though by magic. “Here, Mr Haswell.”
“Ah, yes, Ross. Get hold of whoever’s manning the offices today. Tell them to raid the hospitality suites for drinks. Wine, spirits and especially champagne. Anything else that’s there too. Snacks, nuts, chips. Whatever’s to hand.”
“Yes, Mr Haswell… Um... The roads…”
“Find out who I have to… um… incentivise… to keep that snowplough moving up and down the mountain for the next couple of hours. You can let them know I’ll be very appreciative of their help in keeping that road open.”
*****
- Writer
