Trust (by Unknown Author)

            You walk up the steps into the hotel function room clinging on to James’s arm. All around you light bulbs are flashing and people are shouting. It’s the sixth album launch party. You’re out of your depth and know it. Ever since you got together with James at that café in Cardiff six months ago you hadn’t really thought about the fame factor involved in dating a star, recording the album they had been left alone. In the glaring public eye this was a different story. You look around, hoping to recognise someone, James squeezes your arm reassuringly, “You’ll be fine” He whispered, ducking his head so his face was teasingly close to your ear. His breath was warm on the side of your face, “and you look great” You smile for a moment, but deep down you’re not so sure, Your red, daringly cut evening dress looked great in the shop but suddenly seemed plain and juvenile up against the flamboyant, shimmering garments worn by the other women. You could feel their jealous eyes on you, dissecting your every move, it made you feel shivery. Perhaps you’d be more confident if you were older, but you weren’t even eighteen and the whole room knew it. The men at the party winked, and the women looked scornful. James gently detaches himself and goes over to talk to some Record company officials and leaves you, feeling abandoned at the bar, you sweep your dress up and sit down on a bar stall, ordering a Babycham, and sit back to watch the evening from your secluded corner of the bar, while waiting for James to return to your side. You knew how important this night was. If James and you didn’t look secure then the media would rip you to shreds, it was the first time you were out together in the public eye, James would have to come back. You held onto that thought as you waited, half an hour later, still sipping at that same Babycham that you had ordered earlier. You grasp at the necklace he gave you and think of the past six months, a whirlwind romance that led to you leaving College to be with him. You knew he loved you, he told you all the time, and you loved waking up in the morning next to him and falling asleep in his arms. He was gentle and sweet, and, although you’d never tell him, you knew he was full of that much-despised passion that he constantly denied. He’d changed your life. Gazing into the crowd you finally catch site of James talking to a beautiful woman, with a start you realise you recognise her, from many tabloid photos, She was James’s ex, you focus on them, narrowing your eyes and desperately wishing you could hear their conversation. James was nursing a very nearly finished pint and he looked like that wasn’t his first. He had a wild look in his eyes. Why was he talking to her? Must be business you assure yourself. You saunter over there and hook your arm through his. He looks at you once, nods, and then carries on with his conversation. The woman he’s with whispers something in James’s ear and he laughs, while she giggles overenthusiastically. Then she flashes you a look of pity mixed with triumph and once again you feel like a child. “James” you whisper, tugging on his arm a bit so he’s facing you. “What babe?” he asks drunkenly, taking another swig. “Listen, doll, can we do this later?” Without waiting for an answer he pulls away and goes to the bar. You gaze after him forlornly. Nicky Wire comes up behind you and catches you by surprise. “What’s up?” he asks, seeing your lost look and pulling you over to the side of the room. He looks quite good in his leopard print jacket, and the compassion in his voice strikes a chord. In a few minutes you repeat all your insecurities to him and search his face for answers. He sips his glass of wine and offers it to you. Impetuously you take the slim glass from him and throw it all down your throat, you take a pint of beer from a passing tray and down that as well. “Woah!” he says, “you don’t drink, remember?” You throw your hair back in a defiant gesture and smack the glass down on the table next to you and shatter it. “Who the hell cares? I’m making an exception tonight” You think for a few minutes, your senses a bit cloudy from the alcohol, you’re not at all used to this kind of situation. Then you impulsively throw your arms around Nicky’s neck, kissing him passionately. Confused, he folds his arms round you. You break away, smile for the cameras, and storm out of the doors, into the night air hoping you’ve made a scene.
     You wake up the next day at your best friend’s house. You try to sit up but your head spins and you throw yourself back into the cushions of the sofa. You look down and see you’re still in your dress. You think back to the night before and remember kissing Nicky, you cringe inwardly. You’d always liked Nicky, even before you met James, he was your favourite Manic when they were your favourite band, but why did you act on it? How were you going to explain it to James? Why had you even left? You’d certainly proved your maturity there. You weren’t getting enough attention so you threw a tantrum and stormed off. You put your hands over your eyes and groaned, rolling over to reach the newspaper on the coffee table. You unfold it and recoil in shock, James was plastered across the cover, kissing his ex-girlfriend, under the headline ‘If you tolerate this your children will be next’. You scan the article. It was told by James’s ex, and tears spring to your eyes as you read how James had told her how he was just using you while he waited for her to come back to him. Apparently they’d spent the night together. You throw the newspaper across the room and scream. Ignoring your headache you rise from the sofa, throw on your jacket, and slam out of the front door. In a blur you walk through London to the hotel. You arrive outside the door to the room you and James were supposed to have shared. You throw the door open and it smacks into the wall. Storming in you find him asleep in the big, king-size bed and your heart throbs. He looked beautiful with his face framed against the white sheets. You sit delicately on the edge of the bed and his eyes flutter open. “Hey babe” He says softly, greeting you with a smile before pulling you down next to him, you’re suddenly awash with confusion, this man had slept with another woman? He seemed so loyal and loving, and suddenly you wondered if the newspaper article had been a dream. He was kissing your neck now as you lay stiffly in his arms. You could see the outline of his athletic physique under the sheets, and a wave of desire hits you blocking out all rational thoughts, leading you to respond to his kisses running your hands down his muscular abdomen. He turns and lifts you slightly so your head rests on the pillow, before leaning over you to kiss your mouth. His breath was hot and his breathing was shallow, he smelt gorgeous, a mixture of aftershave and… beer. This smell brings you back to the present as a memory of the night before flashes back to you. Him and that woman. You shift abruptly and turn away from him. “What happened last night, James?” you ask, struggling to keep your voice level. He looks confused and raises one beautifully shaped eyebrow. He giggles, not noticing the edge in your voice. “I can’t really remember much to be honest”. You stiffen and he lays his warm hand on your bare shoulder. You pull your arm away, his touch burning your skin. Angry by the power of the vulnerability you feel you jump from the bed and face him, a blinding hot hurt coursing through your veins. “You don’t remember HER then do you?” you spit, scanning the room for some sort of evidence. He meets your blazing eyes. “What are you talking about?” He asks, but his face shadows over, as he struggles to make sense of your anger. He edges over and moves until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed so his feet were on the floor. “I’m too young to understand, am I James? Not a proper woman yet, is that what you told her?” A single tear slides down your face as you remember the hateful words he was quoted as saying. “Who told you this?” James asks, his brow furrowing as he pieces together the memories last night. Suddenly he remembers and his eyes widen. Did he sleep with her? He wouldn’t do that. He loved you! Still he wasn’t sure. “It’s all over the newspaper James!” You shout, running your hand through your hair. “But I didn’t! I wouldn’t…” he trails off. You sit down next to him on the bed, exhausted by your own anger, and look at the floor. James seemed hurt, shocked. Maybe he was telling the truth and he didn’t sleep with her, maybe he didn’t betray you. You feel a swell of foolish hope. You grab his hands and turn towards him, examining his handsome face; you’re sitting so close to him you can feel his thigh next to yours and it makes you shivery, your small hands shake on top of his and you lean closer, so your lips are practically touching. “Tell me honestly, just once, that you know for sure that you didn’t sleep with her, and I’ll believe you.” You say softly, your eyes pleading. He closes his eyes and then looks away. “I wish I could, but I can’t”. You stand up again, this time with conviction. “Then we have nothing more to say to each other”. You struggle to keep the emotion out of your eyes and he looks at you. Your eyes lock and you turn away, walking quickly towards the door. He rises from the bed quickly and grabs your arm roughly. You look back at him indignantly. “But you can’t go, I love you!” he says forcefully, holding your elbow tightly. You shake your head mutely. “What? You’re going to let some tabloid story split us up are you?” He shouts, shaking you. His voice rising as you see the other side of him. He drops your arm. “Fine! If that’s all I mean to you, fine, you go!” You stop, torn, you love him. But that wasn’t enough if you couldn’t trust him. You watch him pacing the room, naked but for the pants he was wearing, that left little to the imagination. He storms over to you again and pulls you towards him, kissing you savagely on the mouth, your lips respond to his, despite your misgivings. After a few seconds he pulls back. “You’re telling me that was nothing?” he asks, furiously. You shake your head, confused and bewildered by your clashing feelings. “If you can look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me then I’ll go”, he whispers. He waits and you close your eyes in anguish, images of him with his ex flash under your eyelids and you swallow. “You can’t, can you?” he questions desperately. The silence was deafening. You open your eyes and look at him, the man you’ve shared the last six months with, the one you gave up everything for. “ I…don’t….love you”, you say, fighting to keep your voice level. James recoils, wordlessly, and without looking at you, he pulls on his trousers and leaves the room. As the door closes you collapse onto the floor in tears. Why had you lied?
          Rising from the floor hours later you attempt to organise your thoughts. Where do you go from here? Looking at the crumpled sheets where he had slept only hours earlier was torture, and tears sprang once again to your eyes. You wipe them roughly away with the back of your hand. You needed to get away. Back to Wales, and your parents, and maybe you could start College again. You put your head in your hands and allow the tears to flow freely. You would be going back to your mundane life, but it would never be the same. Not while James was still breathing. How could it be? You let yourself out of the room quietly, not daring to look back, fearing it would make it more real somehow. It was only on the train when you managed to gain some perspective on the situation. Perhaps you weren’t in love with him at all. Perhaps you were in love with the lifestyle, the fame factor, the rebelliousness.
          This thought comforted you all the way home. Your parents were happy to see you; their exchange of looks saying wordlessly how they knew it was just a phase. You didn’t bother to tell them the whole story. They already thought you were a fool. Two uneventful weeks passed, you didn’t leave the house, friends called and you ignored them. You felt like a part of you was missing but you had no idea what to do to replace it. It was your friend that told you the news, over the phone. “You’re not going to like it”, she’d said, you’d just sighed wearily. “Just read The Sun, ok?” You’d promised to do so and had gone straight out to buy it. You nearly fainted at the Newsagent. James and his ex were on the cover once again - she was pregnant! He was going to marry her! You buy the paper and put it in your bag, your head pounding you go to the park and sit beside the river, thinking. It was really over. You didn’t really contemplate the idea that it could ever be completely over before today, in the back of your mind you’d assumed it would work out ok, but life wasn’t like that, you’d been watching too many sitcoms. In real life you got over it and moved on. So why were you moping around the park, like some heroine in a romance novel? You stood up and stroked your neck, feeling for the pendant. The tiny diamond glittered in the sunlight. No more living in the past! In one movement you rip it roughly from your neck and throw it into the turbulent water before marching off.
          You didn’t even plan on doing it. You didn’t know why you were there. It was midnight on a September night and you were shivering in the autumn cool outside Virgin Records. You weren’t alone, you were surrounded by about three hundred other people, all waiting for autographed copies of the new Manics album. You knew you had to see James once more to finally rid yourself of the memories. You were near the front, and people were pouring through the door, all ecstatically happy to spend precious seconds with their idols. You smile at their innocence. You’ve finally arrived at the front of the queue. You pluck a copy off the shelf by the door and make your way to the table. Nicky notices you straight away and leans over the desk to hug you. Sean gazes at you with wise eyes and both watch for James’s reaction. You place the album carefully on the table and he finally looks at you. You’ve lost weight and you see the concern and love shining on his face. Something pangs inside you but you suppress it, instead thinking of his fiancée and their baby, any doubt of whether he did or he didn’t now redundant. You meet his gaze head on, and smile slightly. You’d taken great care to make yourself look stunning and you could tell it affected him. Let him look, it had taken you six weeks to get your confidence back, he didn’t need to know how much you still longed for him. Nicky signs your album and hands it to Sean, in one fluid movement you lean over the table and kiss him, wrapping your arms around his slim neck and tilting your head so James could see you. You straighten up, toss your hair, and shuffle forward. Picking your album up from the edge of the table while walking purposefully towards the exit. You look back over your shoulder, absorbing James’s shocked expression and blow Nicky and Sean kisses, “Don’t be a stranger boys!” You call lightly, letting the glass door shut behind you. Leaning against the wall in the cool night air you ponder what you just did. You should be proud, you got your revenge, you saw him without crying, so why were you shaking? You close your eyes and when you open them again James is in front of you. You draw in a sharp breath and step away from him in a panic. “What are you doing out here?” you say abruptly, not daring to look at him. “WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN THERE?” He bellows, grabbing your shoulders. You try to shrug him off but he pushes you back against the wall and pins your arms by your side. You look defiantly into his wild eyes and kick at his ankle. He winces but doesn’t move. “What the hell’s it got to do with you?” you ask, your words coming short and sharp. You can’t seem to catch your breath. His hands on your arms are unbalancing your thoughts. When he doesn’t answer you finally speak, “I needed to know it was true” you whisper. He lets go of your arms and you rub blindly at the skin he had touched. He examines where he had gripped you and the little red marks he had made with his fingernails, he touches them gently and looks into your eyes. You leaned forward tentatively and your lips touched his. He put his arms round your waist and you shiver, before collapsing into the embrace you’ve dreamed about for weeks, he smelled just the same as always. You put your hand under his t shirt and run one cold finger up his spine. He tenses at the chill and pulls you closer, letting his hands wander up and down your body, while kissing every inch of your face. He lifts you slightly and you wrap your legs around him, feeling his hardness press against you. Your skirt was working its way up your legs and your hand moved to touch the zip of his trouser. His breathing has become laboured and his kissing all the more desperate as you balance precariously against the wall. The zip gives and he moans as you work his trousers carefully down his hips, your hand brushing the bulge accidentally and heightening his excitement. Your hands move into his hair as you both slide down the wall. You close your eyes and suddenly, for no reason, you start to think clearly. You struggle out of his embrace and look at him in horror. “What are we doing?” you whisper, tugging a strand of your hair and attempting to straighten up your skirt. He looks confused, and hurt, and disappointed. “For God’s sake James! You’re getting married in a few weeks, how could I…? How could you let me…?” Still reeling from his touch you scream loudly, totally frustrated. “But I…” James started. He didn’t finish. “What future could this relationship possibly have? You have a fiancé and a child on the way, and you’re still giving yourself up to lust in some alley? And I’m allowing you to! I can’t be responsible for breaking up a marriage that hasn’t even started!” You back away from him and find yourself against an iron staircase. You sink down on it, feeling the coolness on her skin calmed her. You put your head in your hands, why had you come tonight? What was wrong with you that you kept going round in circles with James, each time ending up back to square one. You get up and wrap your arms around him, pressing him to your chest for the longest time, trying to memorise every part of him. You take a deep, steadying breath, “Marry her James. That baby needs a father”, you whisper into his ear, so close you can hear his heartbeat. You kiss him gently on the cheek and step away. He shakes his head, “But I don’t love her”. You play his parting words back in your head as you stand there and whisper almost inaudibly in answer, “I know”.
          When you get home from the signing that night you decide you’re not going to mope over James anymore. As a symbolic gesture you rip all your Manics posters down and throw them away. You can’t keep living in the past. You stop buying Melody Maker and NME so that you don’t have to read about his wedding preparations and throw yourself into your College studies in a bid to get on with your life. You don’t feel much like socialising but after weeks of nagging your friends have finally managed to coax you out of the house. As you walk down a Cardiff street in the City Centre and head for a club you can’t help thinking about how your life has gone back to how it was before James. While you were with him you wouldn’t have bothered going out clubbing with girls. You were back to being a normal 17 year old again and the thought made you feel secure, who knows? Maybe you’d meet someone tonight to help you get over him? Deep in your heart you knew it wasn’t likely but the thought made you smile and you linked your arm through your best friend’s and bounded into the club, your shimmering little black dress floating around your legs and causing a sensation with the bouncers. After a few drinks and a few hours you do start having a good time and for the time being you forget that the man who you still love is getting married to another woman the next day. You take to the dancefloor with your mates and let yourself become absorbed into the music. More hours pass until you and all your friends wander back to your table and collapse into your seats absolutely exhausted. Resting your head on the table you suddenly feel really thirsty. “Who’s up for a drink then?” you ask, sitting up and contemplating the empty glasses. Everyone mumbles their approval and starts giving you their requests. You roll your eyes and realise that the implication is that it’s your round. With a big dramatic display you pull yourself from your chair and, feeling some admiring eyes on you from other tables, swing your hips a little as you make your way to the bar. The queue is massive and, after five minutes of waiting, you decide to go to the upstairs bar in the function room, where it was never busy. You used the back stairs, which were hardly used anymore since a more sophisticated staircase had been built, you only knew about them because you had worked here briefly before you moved to London to be with James. You knew you wouldn’t get bothered on these stairs by any drunken Romeos. You stumbled on the bare wood of the top step and it occurred to you how dangerous this staircase was, it didn’t even have a handrail. You open the door quietly, conscious of a function going on inside. Looking around you see a lot of well-dressed people and waiters with trays of champagne. Hmm, what’s going on, you wonder. You walk over to the bar as confidently as you can to try to fit in and look like a guest. You recognise the barman and stop for a chat. With your drinks on a tray you attempt to balance, now mindful of your impractical kitten heels. You stagger carefully towards your door and recognise a voice, as you’re about to go through. Still holding your tray you approach the booth and balance your drinks on the back. It’s the ex. “Should you be drinking?” laughs a friend next to her. She elbows her in the ribs, “You know! In your condition!” The ex giggles and takes a glass off the table, draining it in a single gulp. “Yeah well, I can say it was a contributor to my miscarriage” she says, laughing cruelly. Your eyebrows rise into your hair, what did this mean? The friend spoke again. “So you’re not going to tell him then? I don’t believe you - you must really want him to be so deceitful! You’re a bigger bitch than I thought!” More laughter. “Well I wasn’t going to let that underage slut have him was I? She really fell for it, believing we had a one-night stand! How dare she challenge me and expect to win, she’ll learn”. She smirks triumphantly. “Don’t tell me that was a lie as well?!! I read about that in the paper! I got to hand it to you, you’re sly!” By now you’re breathing heavily, he hadn’t slept with her after all! Your heart soared, but then collapsed again, you didn’t believe him when he was telling the truth. “It was so easy to do!” she boasted, taking her time knowing her friends were a captive audience. “Whenever he looked away I’d turn his drink into a double! He was so far gone he was asleep on his feet. I posed for some photos with him and then took him back to his hotel and into bed. Then I rang my contact at the Sun and the rest, my friends, is history”. Her friends gasped. You suck in a deep breath, shaking with anger and confusion, your slight movement unbalances the tray. You watch in absolute horror as time seems to slow down and the glasses topple over the back of the booth and land on the ex’s lap, smashing onto the polished wood floor. She looks up and you look her directly in the eye, before turning on your heels and fleeing the room through the staff door. You hear her footsteps behind you and she slides through just before the door closes. She steps towards you. “So now you know” she says, sneering. “Yeah I do”, you say, your voice flat and cold. “You lying, conniving bitch!” you step forward and slap her hard on the side of her face. The sound ricochets around the narrow corridor and she just stares at you. “You’re the bitch!” she says “James was going to come back to me before you came on the scene, you little tramp!” Your eyes widen. It was over for a long time before you and James had got together. She continued, “You’re nothing but an over glorified groupie!” She pushes you and you stumble back, already unbalanced by your high heels you just manage to keep yourself up. “I won’t have you ruining my chances with James”. Anger and alcohol had given you bravado and confidence and you don’t see the potential danger. “I’m going to tell James and you can’t stop me!” you say. Turning to walk down the stairs. You don’t know what made you do it but, for added provocation, you stick your middle finger up at her and smile manically, feeling light headed. It is from this vantage point that you see her rushing towards you. You freeze, confused, and in that second she shoves you down the stairs. As you feel the cold air on your face as you descend down the stairs your scream is muffled by the loud music. You smack your head on a sharp step, feel a rough board grazing your face and everything goes black…
        It‘s still black when you wake up, finding yourself in the windowless corridor at the foot of the stairs. Your hair feels wet and you touch your head and put your hand in front of you. Nearly passing out again you realise your hair is sticky with blood. As your head clears you can feel a dull ache at your temples. You close your eyes and try to focus. What were you doing here? Where were you? Then it came to you. You were at the club, and she had pushed you. James! She was marrying James tomorrow, maybe today! How long had you been there? You look at your watch, The glowing face said 11.30, the wedding was today! In a panic you try to pull yourself up from the floor but a wave of nausea sweeps over you and you sink back down to the hard concrete floor. It was nearly pitch black where you were, the only light coming through some holes in the old ceiling. You feel around, hoping to find your handbag and you sigh with relief when you find it. You would call Nicky and tell him what you’d witnessed. You would stop the wedding. Pulling your bag onto your lap you probe around until you feel the comforting plastic solidness of your mobile phone. The handset lit up as you switched it on and you could see the numbers clearly as you quickly dialed Nicky’s mobile number. It rang for a long time ‘please pick up; please pick up’ you silently will him. Finally you hear a click ‘YES!’ but your joy is short-lived. “The number you are dialing is not available. The mobile you are calling may be switched off. Please try later”. You scream with frustration in the darkness as the emotionally void voice repeats the message three more times. Devastated, you throw the mobile against the wall and the screen cracks. From the speaker came a high pitch buzzing and you burst into tears, it was completely hopeless. Nicky was probably out of range. It was a big wedding in the country and you didn’t have the first idea where to go. You lean against the wall, the cold stone calming you, and let the scalding tears stream down your face in tiny river, dripping onto your torn, blood soaked dress. You sit like that for a long time, thinking back through the events of the last year, how different your life was with James when suddenly you realise your life was empty without him. He needed to know. Before it was too late. With a new sense of direction you pull yourself unsteadily from the floor and hold on to the wall as you edge your way forward. The bar was empty when you reached the door and you could see the payphone on the other side of the room. Forgetting your pain you run over to it and punch in the Hall Or Nothing number. “Hello, can I have Terri Hall’s Mobile Number please?” You ask, your voice was getting faint from dizziness but you clung to your mission and memories of James to keep from lapsing back into unconsciousness. You got the number and, with your own eyeliner pencil, wrote down the number in an unrecognisable scrawl up your arm. Putting the phone down and picking it up again you feel sick again and cling to the phone to keep yourself standing. Quicker this time you dial the number. “Hello?” You could have wept when you heard the familiar voice. “Terri? It’s me. I need your help, have you left for the wedding yet?” You manage to gasp, things going in and out of focus all around you. “No, I’m still getting ready, I wish it could have been you up there, you were so good together…” You cut her off, realising that time was short. “Can you pick me up and take me there?” You ask abruptly. She hears the urgency in your voice. “Of course. Are you sure?” She asks, concerned about your mental state. “More sure than I’ve ever been in my entire life, I promise I’ll explain, please help me”, your last plea came out a hoarse whisper. “Where are you?” she asks.
“CF1 Night club…” You try to think of something else but your mind goes blank. “I’ll be right there!” Terri says with conviction and hangs up the phone. You feel as though a weight has been lifted off your shoulders but you realise there’s more to do. What if he didn’t want to know you? After all, the signing was so terrible, what if he hated you? You realise it was a risk you were willing to take and went outside to wait for Terri, you sat on the wall and fell into a light sleep, for the next thing you see is Terri shaking you. “What the hell happened?” she asks, virtually carrying you to the car, you collapse into the merciful softness of the plush interior, take a deep breath and tell her the whole story.
        She listens, fascinated and indignant, getting angrier and angrier. The speedometer was creeping up as you got to the part about her pushing you and in a few minutes you were screeching to a halt outside a pair of gothic church doors. Everybody was already inside and you knew you were late. A quick glance at your appearance confirmed your fears that you looked like a wreck and more helpless tears slid down your face, what if it was too late? You blindly pushed open the doors and there was a deafening screech echoing around the building. All eyes were on you. Her eyes burned into yours with absolute malice and suddenly you felt scared. James rushes down the aisle to you, forgetting himself completely and pulls you towards him. “I don’t believe it, what happened to you?” He whispers in your ear, looking you over with his beautiful eyes. You gaze up at him and can think of no words to say to describe the last few months of torture that had brought you to this point. You just hold onto him, oblivious to the congregation. The ‘bride’ screams and comes charging down the aisle, pulling you out of your reverie. She grabs James arm and pulls at it. “We are meant to be getting married!” she says through gritted teeth “Do you realise how embarrassing this is?” her voice was taking on a nasal whine that you find absolutely unbearable. James looks from you to her, his eyes widening as he tries to make sense of the scene. By now the bride was shaking with rage. James’s eyes search yours for help. “I am pregnant for Christ’s sake!” she continues, her face red with rage.
“No you’re not!” you say, pointing at her, “You never were, it was all a ploy!” the congregation gasp. “Why you wicked little liar!” she rants, acting the part of scorned woman with practiced precision, “She’s trying to split us up James, see what an immature little child she is? Leave her there!” She tugged more persistently on the jacket of his suit. James didn’t even look at her. “Is this true?” He whispers, his eyes lighting up with unspoken words. You nod mutely, now more afraid than ever that he wouldn’t believe you. Then he wrapped his arms round you again and you sink willingly into his loving embrace, never wanting to let go. “I trust you” He whispers into your ear and then he kisses you passionately, in front of everyone, His arms wandering up and down your back as you cling to his waist, responding to his kisses desperately with your own leaving the ‘blushing’ bride in hysterics at the end of the altar. You walk down the centre of the church and he holds the door open for you without letting go of your hand for a second, and you forget your appearance and the last hellish weeks, all that matters is that you’re together. You giggle and he looks at you quizzically, raising one, beautifully shaped dark eyebrow as you stand close together outside, “What?” he says, stopping on the path. You turn to him and smile, “I was just thinking of what the happiest ending to this would be if it were a film”. He grins and pulls you towards one of the big, empty wedding cars. “Well I can think of the ending that would make me happiest, something we started in an alley a few weeks ago”, he winks suggestively. “Why, whatever can that mean Mr. Bradfield?” you say, looking at him innocently and playing with a lock of your hair. “Whatever you want it to mean…” he whispers, smiling.