Chapter 8

The wedding. Ah, yes, the wedding. I trust Jessica, really, I really do; but I did wish I’d had some warning of some of the surprises. For example, I hadn’t given a moment’s thought to Jessica’s parents. She’d never mentioned them. But Sir Nigel Barnett, Bart., and Lady Sonya, were quite determined to be at their only daughter’s wedding.

The ceremony took place on a Friday in early September, at Jessica’s parish church, St. Andrew’s, Britannia Road, Ipswich. The rules would have permitted her to marry at one of the (many) historical churches in Ipswich. Indeed, we could have married at the (partly Saxon and rather lovely) small church of Ss. Peter and Paul, Old Felixstowe. The Vicar was agreeable. But no, it was the 20^th century building not far from the hospital.

The bride wore white, but it was in no way a traditional wedding dress. I don’t know a thing about style, but it was a mid-calf length garment which for me recalled the late 50s. In place of an organ voluntary, Jessica walked in to a recording of Mama Cass... “Once I believed that when love came to me, it would come with rockets, bells and poetry...”

We made our vows, the Vicar said his piece, quoting the book of Ecclesiastes about a three-fold cord, and how a sound marriage needed both whole-hearted commitment from both parties, but also a reliance upon God, the third strand of the rope that bound us together. I thought of the moments upon the deck of Eirene off Erwalton Bay.

But then came the next surprise; Jenni stood with another woman – Jim Webb’s wife Caroline – who was carrying a flute, possibly my favourite instrument. The congregation sat.

“I want to give thanks” began Jenni, “To God, and to two people who turned my life round. I believe God placed me where David Yeomans would find me, and that he led us both to Jessica Barnett. This is a very special day when we come together to celebrate the joining of two very special people, and this is my gift, to God and to Jessica and Dave.”

She nodded to Caroline who began playing an introduction, then began to sing (I didn’t even know she could sing) in a clear, sweet contralto...

“Amazing grace – how sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me!

I once was lost, but now am found,

Was blind but now I see...”

She sang all of John Newton’s well-known song of redemption, hope and joy. Her voice was perfectly balanced and complemented by the pure tones of the flute. You have to know the background of John Newton’s life and Jenni’s story to get the full impact. There was complete silence in the church for what seemed like an eternity; I looked at Jessica, but could hardly see her for the tears filling my eyes and trickling down my cheeks. I heard the sound of everyone behind us standing, then Jenni was embracing first Jessica, and then myself. I couldn’t trust my voice and had to try to convey my gamut of extreme emotion by returning the hug.

I rummaged in my pockets and blessed the foresight that made sure I had several clean handkerchiefs available. I suspected, correctly, that Jessica both lacked, and needed one as well, not having anywhere to conceal such a thing. We mopped up, took several deep breaths and looked at the Vicar, who smiled and conducted us to the vestry to complete the legal formalities. As we walked, Caroline began playing again, and Jenni sang...

‘The river is wide, I cannot cross o’er –

neither have I wings to fly,

bring me a boat that will carry two,

and both shall row, my love and I... ‘

In the vestry the Vicar looked at us and commented, “A remarkable young woman”

“Yes,” I remarked for both of us “When God made her, he broke the mould.”

It always astonishes me how long the formalities of signing and witnessing the register take. Of course, you have to factor in the photography, but even so...

The recessional was a little more conventional – Beethoven’s Ode to Joy; but walking down the aisle I had yet another surprise. Sitting on the groom’s side of the church was ... my ex wife, Felicity, and our son and daughter, Richard and Fiona. I could hardly miss them as the church was a long way from full.

Outside the church, at a moment when others were being photographed, Felicity, Fiona and Richard came up to me.

“We owe you an apology,” began Felicity, “I’m truly sorry I tried to make you the person I wanted you to be, rather than letting you be yourself. We weren’t suited, but there was no need to treat you the way we did. When Jessica and Jenni came to see us, we were all so ashamed, we just had to see you, and tell you that we hope you are really happy in the future. You and Jessica so obviously belong together, we’re sure you will be. Perhaps, if you can forgive us, we can at least keep in touch?”

Richard spoke, then, looking straight in my eyes “I’m getting married next year, Dad. I’m sorry for the way I treated you, and I hope you’ll come.”

“I’m sorry, too, Dad,” said Fiona.

“Thank you, both for the apology (which I accept completely) and for coming today. I rather think,” I said, “that our arrangements would allow three extra guests, if you’d like to come to the reception? Mind you, Jessica didn’t vouchsafe to me where that would be...” then I was called away to play my part.

In keeping with the generally unconventional pattern, the reception took place aboard S.B. Asphodel, berthed in Ipswich wet dock. Outside caterers had done a magnificent job. Mind you, it was just as well Jessica didn’t have a conventional wedding dress; it was hard enough for her to negotiate the steep companionway ladder (backwards) to enter the saloon, even after removing her heeled shoes. Most of our guests were at least known to both of us, but I’d never met her parents; as I said, I’d never even considered them.