As Good As Guitars Ch. 18

August 2012

The registrar clears his throat, smiling broadly. "You may seal your vows with a kiss." Leigh leans towards me, her eyes shining with love and unshed tears, and I reach for her hand.

At the front of the room, Simon and James kiss as everyone breaks into applause.

The formalities don't take much longer and we're soon all stood to applaud the happy couple as they leave the room. Then we're shown out onto the hotel balcony and a waiter does the rounds with champagne. Before I can drink, Jaap claps me on the shoulder. "Look at my boy, happily married. He looks good in a suit, hey?"

I glance over to where Simon's talking to James's parents - if anyone can charm them, Si can. "He certainly does."

Jaap frowns suddenly. "You'll do him justice? No stories a father doesn't need to hear?"

"No sir. I won't embarrass him, I promise." I can't help myself. "Well, not much, anyway."

He claps me on the shoulder again. "Make it good."

Simon's youngest niece comes running over, squealing with delight when Jaap swings her easily up onto his shoulders. She leans down to his ear, her expression solemn. "Grandpa, when I get married, will I have to wear trousers like Oom Simon?" Beside me, Leigh smiles.

"You can wear whatever you want, sweetheart."

"Good." She wriggles to get down. "Because I'm going to get married in my swimming costume."

Jaap nods seriously. "And very beautiful you'll look too."

Like most five-year-olds she's got no attention span, and within seconds she tows Jaap off to show him something more immediately important. Leigh turns to me. "That was Else, wasn't it? And what's 'oom'?"

I once spent Christmas in Bruges with Simon's entire family, which was quite an experience. This is the first time Leigh's met any of them. "Uncle. Simon's been their favourite for years."

"That doesn't surprise me - he's been my favourite for years too." She grins mischievously, and I pretend to sulk until she kisses me. "Tell me again who everyone is."

"Well... Lotte and Jens had Saskia and Bram," I point discreetly, "and Clara had Anneke. Hanne and David - they're the ones in Cambridge – had Else and MiniJaap."

She laughs. "There's really a child called MiniJaap?"

"Oh yes. Wait til you see him, he's the spitting image. I'm not sure his name is even actually Jaap, but that's all anyone ever calls him." Leigh's hand reaches for mine and I realise that she's crying again. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing. Weddings always make me cry, that's all." The tears stop as suddenly as they started and she straightens up. "Has my mascara run?"

"You look as beautiful as ever." James is standing at her shoulder.

Leigh spins round to give him a hug. "Congratulations. It was a lovely service, and you both look amazing. Very handsome."

James looks faintly embarrassed. "Thanks. Who'd have thought, eh?"

He catches my eye and I hold out my hand. "Well done mate." We grip for a second. "Make him happy."

Leigh nudges me. "Hey, enough with the macho posturing. You promised."

James grins and I have to smile with him. "Sorry. But..."

He nods. "I know. Don't worry, I know what I've got. I'm not stupid."

"Of course you're not - you married me, didn't you?" Simon's arm slips around James's waist. "Hello husband. D'you think I'll get bored of calling you that?"

James kisses him. "I hope not. Leigh, come and meet my parents. I think my mum would welcome some female company." They wander off, leaving Si and me alone.

"Beer?" Simon holds out a bottle. "I had some snuck in. Groom's perks."

I take a bottle and hold it up to toast him. "Cheers. How does it feel, being a respectable married?"

"It's going to take a while to get used to it. Funny to think that a hundred years ago I'd be a criminal, and even ten years ago today wouldn't have been possible. I wonder where we'll be in another ten?"

I'm watching Leigh and James. "Maybe your new mother-in-law will have stopped looking like she's swallowed a wasp by then."

Si bursts out laughing. "She's alright. She's always been scrupulously polite to me. James says they were supportive when he came out, even if they weren't exactly thrilled. I think she was hoping for a brood of grandchildren."

"And will you oblige?"

He shrugs. "Maybe, maybe not. Not yet, anyway. Neither of us is ready to give up work and be a house-husband, so..." We've wandered across to lean on the balcony railing and he glances over his shoulder, checking we've still got some privacy. "What about you and Leigh? Have we inspired you to follow suit?"

I stare unseeingly at the river below for a moment. "To be honest, I don't know."

Simon looks puzzled. "I thought things were okay with you now?"

"God yes. Don't worry, I know I'll never get better than Leigh. She's amazing - The One, definitely."

"So what's the problem?"

"What if she doesn't feel that way about me? I'm hardly the world's easiest boyfriend, am I?"

He grins. "You're not that bad, as I recall. A touch possessive, perhaps..." He turns to face me properly. "You're not going to keep giving James a hard time, are you? Madrid was three years ago. A lifetime ago."

I sigh, feeling guilty. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. James is a great guy and I'm genuinely pleased for you both, honest. I'm just looking out for you, that's all."

"And that's one of the things I love about you. But I'm happy, Gil. Really really, I never thought I'd ever be this happy, happy. So stop worrying."

"Yessir." When I look at him I can see the contentment radiating off him, and I'm a little wistful. I don't know if I make Leigh feel that way, however much I might want to.

He nudges me. "Hey, she loves you. Cheer up - it's my wedding day, in case you'd forgotten. Talking of which, I have obligations." He turns around to greet the photographer as she approaches us cautiously.

"Mr Vermeulen, if I could just...?"

"Of course." Simon lets himself be led away.

~

It feels slightly odd to be at a wedding where there are no bridesmaids, but even if there were any I'd still only have eyes for Leigh. She returns to me with a kiss and a smile. "Honestly, I leave you alone for five minutes..." She straightens my tie and brushes imaginary fluff off my shoulder. "That's better. Ready for your close-up?"

The photos seem to take ages, although in reality it can only be half an hour or so. All the same, by the time we're allowed inside to eat I'm regretting having skipped breakfast.

Neither groom wanted a flashy wedding and in fact there are only thirty guests - immediate family and closest friends - spread around one large table. By the time we're all sat down everyone seems to know everyone else and the room's loud with happy chatter. Even James's parents - Elaine and Doug, as Leigh has to remind me - finally relax into the occasion.

The meal gradually becomes more boisterous. The children are particularly restless, not having seen Si for months and indignant that he's paying attention to James rather than to them. Bram's especially tenacious, hanging around Si's chair and pestering him with questions. Else tries a different tactic, clearly believing that if you can't beat them you should join them. She launches a charm offensive that culminates with her sat on James's lap, 'helping' him eat his main course. Once they're done she demands a piggyback ride and isn't satisfied until James is touring her around the room. When he collapses back into his seat, laughing as hard as the rest of us, there's mashed potato in his hair.

Eventually things calm down and it's time for the speeches. James has asked his best man, Ryan, to speak as well, but I'm up first. I'm pushing my chair back when James pre-empts me. "Sorry - I'm going to interrupt, but it won't take a moment." He stands up and a hush falls. "Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests..."

"What's sting-wished?" MiniJaap's voice pipes up, raising a ripple of laughter as Hanne shushes him.

James smiles. "It means special. And that's how you've all made me feel today - very special. I'm proud that I've got family and friends who would fly four thousand miles to be here with us today. And I'm also honoured that Simon's family and friends have welcomed me the way you have. It means a lot to me, and to Simon. So before the speeches proper I'd like to propose the first toast - to our guests." He raises his glass. "To you."

"To us." We chorus obediently, and I'm sure I'm not the only one with a momentary frog in my throat.

After a moment I stand up. "Well, that's stolen my opening line. How about 'We are gathered here today...' No, wait - the registrar did that already as well. I'll just have to cut to the chase." There are a few chuckles from the guests as I pretend to throw half my notes away. "I first met Simon in 2005, when he came across from Belgium to join the Youth Cycle Academy in Manchester. Back then he was a wide-eyed innocent, with terrible English and even worse hair -"

Simon cuts in, protesting. "It wasn't that bad."

"You must be getting old and forgetful - it was horrendous." I return my focus to the audience. "So as you can see, there have been some improvements, and these days his English is better than mine. But back to 2005... For some reason our Head of Ops decided I needed to learn about responsibility, and asked me to mentor Si. It didn't work very well - I think we managed about a week before he was looking after me."

There's more laughter, particularly from the guests who know us both well. "Still, I like to think that that's what gave him the mental fortitude to podium at three Grand Tours and win Paris-Nice twice, so they got something right." Si's blushing, hating to have his palmares made so public - but if you can't boast on your wedding day, when can you?

"Anyway, over the last seven years I've watched Simon grow from a young walking mullet into the respectable man you see before you - setting me an example yet again by being the first of our group to get married. And we're still best friends, which means I can't tell you all the stories for fear of what he'll say about me in return. Although I will say that technically I've known James for longer than Simon has - if you allow for the fact that they met when Si was somewhat worse for wear."

Si groans out loud and buries his head in his arms, to universal amusement.

"But James persevered through the vodka fumes - and I couldn't have wished for a better guy for my best friend to have fallen in love with. So, without further ado, I give you Simon and James."

Everyone stands to toast them with me and I drink my champagne with relief. As we all sit down James leans forward. "A mullet? Really? I wish I'd seen that."

I reach into my jacket pocket. "I've been saving this little gem for years."

Si's face is a picture of horror. "You didn't? It must have been all of three days before you made me get it cut off."

"Three days too long, my friend." I pass the photo to a gleeful James, who promptly collapses with laughter.

Ryan reaches for it, grinning broadly when he sees just how bad it had been. "Don't worry Si, I'm sure there's worse of James - I'll see what I can find for you. And on the subject of embarrassing one's friends..." He stands up, and my moment in the spotlight is over.

~

Several hours later a waitress approaches me. "Mr Gilwood, your car's ready when you are."

Leigh's deep in conversation with Hanne and Clara about something, so I make my way across the room to say goodbye to Simon. He breaks away from the group he's talking to when he sees me.

"You off?"

"Best had. Some of us are racing this month, even if you're not."

He grins. "Hmm, which would I rather do - suffer through the Vuelta or go on honeymoon? Let me think for a second."

"Yeah yeah. Remind me to pick somewhere more glamorous than Slovenia for mine, won't you?"

"Slovenia's alright." His eyes light up as James approaches. "It's a good place to pull a hot barman, for a start."

James kisses him in lieu of greeting. "We've been married eleven hours and you're tired of me already. They said it would never last..."

Something tells me it'll last just fine. I say my goodbyes and collect Leigh, and it's not long before we're in the car and heading home.

Leigh leans back into her seat with a sigh. "God, I'm tired."

I don't think I've ever heard her say that before. Usually she's a night owl, laughing at me when I'm ready for bed at 10pm. But now that I think about it, there have been a few anomalies lately. "Are you okay?"

"Sure." Something in her voice isn't quite right, although I wonder if I would have heard it if I'd not been listening for it.

I'm not sure how much to push, but I'm worried. "Really? You've been tired more often than usual, definitely." I'm thinking aloud now. "There was that weird thing the other night when you said the smell of Marmite made you want to throw up - I thought you loved Marmite. And you didn't drink at all today..." I trail off as the penny drops.

"I had champagne for the toasts." Her voice is barely more than a whisper.

I'm suddenly light-headed. "Four sips don't count." I swallow, scared to say the word out loud. "Leigh, are you pregnant?"

She stares at me, her eyes huge, and nods silently. For a second I stare back, until a tear rolls down her cheek and my paralysis breaks. I unbuckle my seatbelt and move across to her, holding her tight as she starts to cry properly, sobbing into my jacket. All I can think to do is stroke her hair, feeling utterly useless. I don't even have a tissue.

Finally she raises her head. "I'm sorry, everything's making me cry at the moment. I'm such a cliché."

I sit back. "I don't get it - why didn't you tell me?" A sudden thought strikes me, making me feel sick. "I am the father?"

I don't see her hand move, but the slap's hard enough to make me see stars. "Of course you are! What kind of woman d'you think I am?" Her voice goes cold and hard. "I asked about a DNA test, but they won't let you do a prenatal one in this country without the father's consent. So I can't prove it yet, although I don't expect they'd keep one of the UK's top sports stars waiting long if he asked."

Perversely, her anger's reassuring. "I'm sorry, I believe you - I should never have asked. I only wondered because you were hiding it from me... We're usually so careful."

Leigh rifles through her handbag, not looking at me, and she blows her nose before she replies. "I know. The only thing I can think of is that one time after your nightmare. One fucking time, Gil." There's a pause. "Pun not intended."

Despite everything I can't help smiling at the inadvertent joke. I see the corners of Leigh's mouth twitch, and when I pull her into a hug she doesn't stop me.

We sit there like that silently until the car pulls up outside my flat. Our flat. We'll have to turn one room into a nursery... The study seems the logical choice, but then where would Leigh write? We could use the spare room and put guests up in the living room instead - do people even want to stay overnight when there's a screaming baby around? I suppose the grandparents would. Oh god, grandparents. I'm going to have to tell my mum that I got a girl knocked up. For a second I'm fifteen again, trying to explain to mum why she'd found me going through dad's bedside drawer, without actually saying the words 'condom' or 'sex'.

"Mr Gilwood?" The driver's holding the door open, waiting politely. Leigh's already stood on the pavement.

"God, sorry, thank you. I was miles away." I scramble out hastily. Light from the lobby spills out onto the street and I can see the mascara tracks on Leigh's face. I hope the driver doesn't think I'm some kind of wife-beater.

The usual doorman isn't around and the lift's empty, so at least we don't have to make small talk with anyone. Once we're in the flat Leigh kicks her heels off and disappears into the bathroom. I'm still not quite sure whether she thinks being pregnant with my child is a good or a bad thing, and part of me is scared to ask. But on the other hand, if I'm going to be a father, I'm going to have to grow up at some point. I stand there stupidly, vaguely looking for something grown-up to do.

Leigh emerges, her face clean. "I'm sorry I slapped you."

I'd almost forgotten, but when I put my hand up to my cheek it feels hot. "You had every right to. I'm sorry I doubted you." She hugs me and I can smell her perfume. "I could run you a bath if you like? Lots of bubbles, some candles, a cold glass of... elderflower cordial... I'll rub your feet and we can talk?"

I feel her nod. "That sounds lovely."

Twenty minutes later Leigh's sat in a classic candlelit Hollywood bath with bubbles up to her neck and her hair coiled up. I want to strip off and join her, but I settle down on the bathmat instead, as close as I can get. "How long have you known? How pregnant are you?"

She closes her eyes and leans back into the water. "This feels amazing. Why don't I have baths more often?"

"Leigh..."

"I know, I know. Give me a minute." I wait impatiently until finally she opens her eyes. "I'm seven weeks gone. The doctor doesn't like me being that precise, but I'm sure it was that night - the 11th. I've known officially since Monday."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She sighs and sits up. "I was scared." She sees me move and forestalls the question. "Of everything, Gil. Whether I'm ready to be a parent, whether you are. Whether you'd think I'd done it to trap you... Whether it'll kill my career, or yours. What our parents will say, what everyone else will say. And that's before you even get to the regular stuff like whether the baby's healthy or not. I've been terrified."

I reach for her hand. "I wish you'd told me sooner, you didn't need to be terrified. I would never think you've gotten pregnant just to trap me - look how long you refused to live with me because you wanted to stand on your own two feet first. It's not going to kill either of our careers if we don't want it to, so you don't have to worry about that. And it doesn't matter a micron's worth what anyone else thinks."

Leigh smiles. "You get a little frown-line when you're being fierce, d'you know that? It's cute."

I glare at her, trying not to smile back. "I'm not trying to be cute, I'm trying to be grown-up and a potential parent."

"Potential?"

I push my own preferences to the back of my mind. "It's your decision, Leigh. Your body, your life, your decision. If you don't want to go through with it, or if you do, whatever the reason for either, I'll support you. Always. Whatever you want."

I've been looking at my hands, not wanting her to read my face and see what I want her to tell me. When she doesn't say anything I look up and see the tears flowing again, and without thinking I kneel up and hold her. After a minute she relaxes. "I told you - I'm a walking cliché. How d'you always know the right thing to say?"

"I don't... I could grumble that you've got my best shirt soaking wet if you'd prefer?"

She sits up and splashes me. "You won't like it if I do this, then."

"I don't care." I splash her back, and while she's ducking away I climb into the bath - shirt, trousers, socks and all. Water slops onto the floor as she shrieks with laughter.

"Stop it, you're causing a tidal wave. Get out." She bats at me.

"No, you don't get to have all the fun - I want bubbles too. I demand equal rights." I start splashing the water like a toddler having a temper tantrum. "Bu-bbles. Bu-bbles. Bu-bbles."

Leigh's helpless with laughter now, doubled-up and holding her stomach. I start to be slightly concerned that she'll inhale foam, but slowly she regains control. "Well, at least I know I can count on you for bath-time duty when the time comes."

"You mean...?" I hold my breath.