Chapter 8

I can't say things got back to normal. What is 'normal'? My life had been turned upside down by meeting Rose-Marie in the first place. I'd fallen in love with her and we were going to marry. Her abduction by her father upset things, but we'd got through that with help from Dulcie, her husband and her (now our) God.

All this, and the summer wasn't over. We went out into the country a lot, walking together and stopping frequently to use our binoculars. I introduced her to the gym; as students we were entitled to a preferential rate using the University facilities.

Towards the end of August, we were sitting by the river in Padley Gorge, munching sandwiches and sipping chilled juice from a flask.

"Edward..."

"Yes, my love?"

"I'll be twenty-one in October."

"True." Where was she going with this?

"Might that be a good date for the wedding?"

"Sweetheart, any day would be a good day for that."

That got me a kiss.

"We wouldn't have a honeymoon..."

"I don't much mind, Besides, the idea of a honeymoon is a bit redundant when we've been living together and going away together for months. I dare say no-one would be terribly upset if we took a few days off. If you want to marry actually on your birthday and not the Saturday after, we'll need at least one day off."

"Saturday would be better, wouldn't it? So our friends could come?"

I agreed. "Do you want a fancy affair?"

"No, not really ... I want a nice dress, but I want one I can wear again after. I'm not bothered about wearing white. Do you want me to wear white?"

"I just want you to be happy, Chuck."

She pouted, though I could tell it was a tease. "You're no help," she whined, but spoilt the effect by laughing.

"Seriously, Rose-Marie, I've got enough in the bank you can have, well, perhaps not a society wedding, but certainly an elegant one. If you want a dress just for the wedding you'll never wear again, just so you feel beautiful, that's okay."

She was silent for several minutes as the river chuckled its way over its stony bed.

"You just want me to feel beautiful?"

"I always think you're beautiful, my love. A bride should feel special on her wedding day, though."

"Okay. I want a small ceremony. I don't want an expensive white dress, just a nice one, perhaps in blue, that I could wear for special occasions. I want a nice meal and a party for our friends..." she fell silent, and I put my arm round her; she leaned against me and sighed. "I love you so much..."

We put the preparations in train the next day; a call to the vicarage to talk about the ceremony, one to the vicar of All Saints, Ecclesall for the Banns to be read there. We arranged for the use of the church hall for the meal and party and found a caterer that would do what we wanted in the way of food, numbers to follow not less than two weeks before the day. Rose-Marie looked for a dress. After a while she got in touch with Cheryl ... and Sandie ... and Sonia...

As a result of the above activity I was alone in the house when the door-bell rang. On the door-step, a slim, tanned woman with what I'd call a 'lived-in face'. The give-away was that she was the image of her daughter plus about twenty years. I was a lucky chap...

"Won't you come in, Mrs. Burnham?" I spoke before she did; her mouth opened ... and stayed open without uttering a sound.

After perhaps a minute, her mouth shut and then she said, "Do you not mind?"

"I'm reserving judgement," I said. "Rose-Marie is out at the moment discussing wedding dresses with her friends. If you'd like to come in, I'll make tea ... or coffee ... or whatever." I stepped back in invitation and she entered the house.

"Would you like to be family and sit in the kitchen, or a guest and sit in the lounge?" I smiled at her.

"You know, I think I'd be more comfortable in the kitchen," she said.

I led the way. "What would you like to drink? I've got leaded and unleaded coffee, three or four sorts of tea, plus Rooibos and some other herbals."

"Ordinarily I'd be asking what sorts of tea you have," she smiled, "but I've been travelling a lot and I think a cup of coffee... leaded ... is just what I need."

That was easy to fix; I started the coffee-maker. "It's Kilimanjaro," I said, "fairly mild and smooth. So, Mrs, Burnham ... what can I do for you? I'm Edward Wilson, by the way, your daughter's fiancé. Most people call me Ted, but Rose-Marie and I like to use our full names for each other. I don't mind being called Ted."

"So as not to infringe my daughter's prerogative, perhaps I'll call you Ted, at least for now. Would you call me Margaret, please?"

Now, you're probably thinking, 'WTF or, what's going on here?' I don't know why; perhaps it's just that she reminded me so forcefully of Rose-Marie, but I felt I trusted her on the spot. Not that I only took her on trust, mind you, but I was certainly willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. There was nothing abrasive or arrogant in her manner or tone, unlike Pastor Grey, or her husband, both of whom I disliked almost on sight.

"Very well, Margaret."

"I'm hoping to speak to ... Rose-Marie. I don't believe I can apologise to either of you for other's actions, but I can say how personally sorry I am that you had the distress. I know only too well what Pastor Grey and Richard can be like."

I nodded in acknowledgement. "Somehow..." I said slowly, "I think you covered up some of Rose-Marie's efforts in study."

"Well," she responded with a smile, "let's say I was careful not to find some of the books she brought home."

"Would you excuse me for a moment? I need to make a call."

I went upstairs to our bedroom and shut the door. It took a couple of attempts but eventually Rose-Marie picked up.

"Edward! What's up?"

"Don't you think I might call you just for the pleasure of your voice?"

"Not when I'm out with the girls dress-shopping. You wouldn't interrupt unless it was something important."

"You judge. I've got your mother here. She wants to see you."

There was a longish silence.

"Oh. What do you think?"

"It's got to be your choice, Rose-Marie. I think you're going to have to see her sometime."

"I know it's got to be my choice, and I'll choose. I just want to know what you think."

"I like her," I said. "She's the antithesis of your father or Pastor Grey..." I stopped before I said any more.

"Okay, I'll be out another hour, perhaps two. If she's still there when I get there, I'll talk to her."

Returning to the kitchen, the coffee had run through and I poured it into mugs.