Another time

The before and after

The clock ticked away, the only noise in the silence of the room. A mark of the before and the after.

The wedding had been short and sweet. Turns out Registry Office marriages were a thing for almost a century now, so your initial ‘holy fuck, how will this even work’ panic had boiled down to…quite easily. Alfie had bribed the registrar to avoid looking too carefully into whether your banns had been read and by the mid-afternoon, you were Mrs Solomons in the eyes of the law.

Your hands had been shaking, and you’d tripped over the words, prompting soft chuckles all round. Alfie had squeezed your hands, given you a wink, and promised to make you a proper, respectable woman after all this was over. The ink probably hadn’t even dried on your marriage certificate when Alfie had you sign papers transferring temporary control, and it was all done. You’d woken up in Alfie’s arms and now you weren’t only his wife, you controlled all his businesses as well.

His mothers ring sat on your finger. Too heavy for you, your skin bristled around it. It felt disrespectful to the woman, but Alfie had insisted this was the one thing he did ‘proper’ today. You’d promised to go see her once this was over, say thank you, and sorry. You didn’t even know where she was buried. If all went to hell, you’d have to ask Esther to shepherd you to her grave instead. Present yourself as Alfie’s widow and successor to her ghost.

The clock ticked away in the quiet of the room. You were crying, Rachel clutching Bucket to her. Rose pottered around, making tea, clutching hands, and trailing fingers through hair.

You’d all assembled at the house together, waited for them to arrive. Waiting in the office together, the blanket from this morning folded neatly over the edge of the sofa. Alfie had passed around a bottle to everyone, quickly swerving it out of Bucket’s grasp when she tried to take the pass to her father. Everyone laughed again, eating the cake that Gerritt had stopped at a bakery – a proper one – on the way back from the registrars. You all agreed to pretend the inevitable wasn’t happening for a few hours. To drink, and eat cake, and tell silly stories. Rose made everyone get up and sway around, so you got a first dance after all. Esther’s magical store had ensured you were wearing a beautiful dress in your photo, if not a ‘proper’ wedding gown.

And then, when the sun had fallen low, and the darkness had crept into the windows, they came. The hum of engines, the flash of headlights through the window as Alfie shuffled you in his arms.

“Remember what I said?”

No-one reacted to the lights, or the slam of the doors outside. You all kept swaying, the static hum of the record kept playing out it’s song.

“I remember. I’ll make you proud, Alfie” you insisted, and he caught your lips with his.

You stopped moving when the knock came on the door.

“Right, Bucket, up we go” Rose insisted, letting her granddaughter give everyone one last quick hug before spiriting her away to safety.

Rachel grabbed onto Aaron, and you swallowed the tears that began to pool. You pulled Alfie into you, feeling bad that Toby had no-one to hold. Unless Gerritt suddenly felt particularly cuddly.

“Hey Pickles” you heard him whisper, chuckling along with Alfie at the sound of Toby’s greeting. Guess no cuddling for them, then.

“I’m gonna say it, and it’s gonna happen, and we’re gonna be grown-ups about it, alright?”

“I love you, Alfred Solomons” you pulled back, face caught in your palms.