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“You are cordially invited to the wedding of Peter Davies and Andrew Birtwistle at 11am on Saturday, August 16, 2014.
“Ceremony to be held at the Ealing Registry Office. Reception to follow at home.”
“Look at this, love.” Dave hands the smart white card over to Bob. “It came in the post this morning.”
It’s not a surprise, Andy and Peter decided to get married the day the law was passed. They waited until the summer though.
“We want to do it properly, not rushed,” Andy told them at dinner one evening in April.
“What you actually said was: ‘I don’t want to compete with Elton John’,” Peter teased, and Andy just smiled and flicked his eyes at Peter.
“So don’t make plans for the second Saturday in August, alright?”
“I’ve never been to a wedding,” Bob told Dave in the taxi on the way home that evening. “My old lot didn’t go in for them.”
“And our lot haven’t had a chance, till now,” Dave said. He knows that Bob doesn’t really want to talk about his “old lot”, even if he mentions them sometimes.
*
The wedding wasn’t the only thing they had on in the summer. They went to Croatia in July. It was hot and the sea was an amazing blue-green and they went swimming and up into the hills as well and fucked in the hot afternoons under the slowly turning fan in their tiny rented flat and the food was strange and delicious.
Bob has become a guy who goes away on holiday every summer to somewhere hot and tries new things and comes home with a tan.
*
While they eat dinner on the terrace, Dave says: “I need a new suit for this wedding, I doubt my old one even fits anymore” and Bob touches his bare foot to Dave’s bare foot and teases: “Too much good food?” and Dave just laughs.
Bob wears a jacket and tie to work (and he never thought he’d become that guy, either), so he doesn’t need a new suit, but it would be nice, a new suit to go to his first wedding, so they go shopping. Dave chooses a dark navy — he always looks fantastic in blue — and Bob charcoal.
And then it’s August 16 and they get dressed in their new suits and take a bus to Ealing. Bob feels self-conscious all dressed up on a Saturday morning among people going out for brunch or taking the kids swimming or doing the weekly shop but Dave looks brilliant and Bob loves being out with him, loves looking at him in public and thinking: “He’s mine, I woke up next to him and he brought me tea in bed”.
The Ealing Registry Office is in the big brick town hall and there are a group of Peter and Andy’s friends on the steps waiting to go in. Standing a bit off to the side are three older people. Dave goes over and says: “Are you their parents?” and introduces himself and Bob. They are Andy’s parents and Peter’s mother. Their Liverpool accents are stronger than Peter and Andy’s and they seem relieved to be greeted and included; Dave’s great at putting people at ease.
Just before 11, a red convertible pulls up and Andy and Peter jump out, waving. Peter runs his fingers through Andy’s windblown hair, tidying it, before they walk up the steps hand in hand.
Everyone follows them into the building, down marble corridors to the Registry Office. It’s a big room, with a grey carpet and rows of chairs facing the front where there’s a table with a vase of flowers. Two youngish women come in, followed by Andy and Peter, who sit at the table. The women introduce themselves: they’re the marriage officers, Fatima and Julie.
Julie asks who the witnesses are, and the parents stand up in the front row and turn shyly to face the rest of the guests. Julie smiles and says: “That’s great, welcome to you all.”
Fatima asks Andy and Peter to come and stand with her and she reads the vows for them to echo. Bob’s never been to a wedding; he supposes there’s less said here than in a church, but the two women seem happy to be marrying two men and Andy and Peter say their “I do’s” in firm voices and slip rings onto each other’s fingers and when Fatima says: “I now pronounce you husband and husband” everyone claps and smiles and Peter takes Andy in his arms and they kiss and go and sit at the table again to sign the register with their parents, both mothers dabbing at their eyes.
Dave reaches for Bob’s hand and he’s smiling but his eyes are wet too and Bob swallows past a lump in his throat. Who could ever have known, when they were younger, that this would be possible: to go to an ordinary register office on a normal Saturday and promise to be married forever and that parents and strangers would be happy and your friends would clap and everyone would laugh?
As they leave, following Andy and Peter, another group are waiting for their turn and they all smile and someone calls out “Congratulations!”.
They all pose for pictures on a grand staircase, Andy and Peter holding their hands so their new rings can be seen, and excited voices and laughter bouncing off the Victorian tiles. Bob hasn’t let go of Dave’s hand.
Back at Andy and Peter’s house, the glass doors in the big kitchen-diner are open to the terrace and the garden and the sun is pouring in and young waiters hand round champagne. “Here come the grooms!” someone says, and Andy and Peter come in, still hand in hand. Henry hands them champagne glasses and proposes a toast: “To husband and husband!”. “Husband and husband!” everyone says, raising their glasses. Andy looks like his smile will split his face and he says, once they all quiet down: “I had no idea how that would feel — husband and husband — it’s amazing. Even though we’ve been together a good long while now and our names are side by side on the title to this house, it really does feel totally different, doesn’t it, Peter?”
Peter, who is taller than Andy and much quieter, has his arm round Andy’s shoulders; he gives him a squeeze and says: “It does, love, it does.”
“We have more to say, but first, drink up and enjoy the fantastic canapés, but save room for lunch too.”
The waiters bring more champagne and trays of snacks and everyone stands around chatting and laughing until it’s time to sit down at the long table.
After a delicious ice-cold soup, Peter stands up and says: “I’m not much of a speechmaker, but I want to tell you all how happy we are that you could come and share today. When I was a kid, I never thought about getting married — what little boy thinks about that, really? And later, I knew I wouldn’t, couldn’t.” He swallows and looks down at Andy, who’s gazing up at him fondly. “But then I met this guy, this wonderful man” — his voice wobbles — “This wonderful, talented man, who just … I don’t know … just understood me, even though he was an outgoing chap with a million friends and I was a bit of a nerd, really. And then we came down here for Andy’s career and ended up in this beautiful house, this beautiful life together. But I still didn’t think we’d get married. And now we can, and I said yes when Andy asked and here we are, all legal. And we get to share it with our friends and our families” — he smiles down at his mum, and at Andy’s parents — “so thank you all for coming. Please enjoy!”
Everyone claps and laughs and the waiters bring another course. The food’s really good and Dave says so. Andy smiles and says “Yes, isn’t it great, Jamie is so talented.” He waves over to the kitchen: “Come and take a bow, Jamie!” Bob has his back to the kitchen and he turns to see as a guy in a white jacket and an apron comes out from behind the island and walks over.
There must be plenty of Jamies who can cook, but this isn’t just anyone, it’s Jamie, who kissed him in the street and made him the best cheese toastie ever.
“It’s a bit unfair of us, hiring a mate to cater, but when you know one of the best chefs in London, why wouldn’t you?” Andy says, and Jamie smiles and says: “I hope you enjoy the rest.”
He goes back to the kitchen and Bob says quietly to Dave: “That’s Jamie.”
Dave says: “Yeah, Andy said they knew a great caterer … oh, you mean your Jamie?”
Bob has told Dave about Jamie, how he made Bob happy one summer.
“You’ll have to introduce us, love.”
“He doesn’t remember me,” says Bob. Jamie looked round the table and there was no spark of recognition.
“You’ll remind him. When he’s not so busy.”
The rest of the meal is fantastic and Andy’s dad makes a speech, calling himself “the father of the groom — one of the grooms” and Andy tells a funny story about how Peter and he met, and how it took Peter quite a long time to realise that Andy, with his many friends, wanted Peter most of all.
Bob doesn’t look over at the kitchen where Jamie is hard at work, sending over an orange and almond cake for dessert, with rich chocolate sauce and maybe the best ice cream Bob has ever eaten, but when the meal is over and everyone gets up to stretch their legs and go to the loo or out into the garden, Bob walks over to the kitchen where Jamie is wiping down the countertops.
“Jamie?” he says.
Jamie looks up. “Oh my god!” he says, “Bob?”
“Yeah,” says Bob and they just stand there, smiling at each other a bit stupidly until Dave comes up behind Bob and says: “Introduce us, love?”
Bob reaches for Dave’s hand and says: “Jamie, this is Dave. My boyfriend, Dave Parker.”
Jamie wipes his hand on his apron and holds it out to Dave. “Hi Dave! Has Bob told you he was the first boy who kissed me?”
“You kissed me first!” Bob mock-protests, grinning.
“Yeah,” says Jamie, “I did. In the street. Took a chance on him, even though he was big and scary.”
Jamie’s sort of the same as he was then, small and a bit cheeky, but his hair is short, no fringe hiding his eyes now, and he looks professional and competent, in his clean white chef’s jacket.
“The food was fantastic, Jamie,” says Dave. “And Bob has told me about you.”
“Jamie was good at food even then,” says Bob.
“It’s so good to see you again, Bob. I have to serve the coffee now, but I’ll come and have a chat later?”
Out in the garden, when Bob mentions that he knew Jamie long ago, Peter laughs. “Andy can’t help turning any gay guy he meets through work or whatever into a friend. Like with you, Dave. He gathers people up into one big family. It’s good for me too, I don’t find it so easy.”
When Jamie is finally free and comes outside with a drink and finds Bob, it’s brilliant to hear how well he’s doing, running his own catering business. “I like parties like this where I can go to the person’s home and take over. Wasn’t much good in restaurant kitchens, too much pressure and head chefs shouting,” he laughs. “What about you, Bob?”
Bob shrugs. “Oh, I just drive a minicab.”
“Well, you look great. Happy.”
“I am. That’s down to Dave, mostly.”
Jamie looks round to where Dave is talking to another friend. He’s taken his jacket off and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. “Where’d you two meet?”
“In a pub in Soho. He … he didn’t let me go, after I was really stupid.”
“He looks the sensible type. And he’s not half gorgeous!”
Bob grins. “Yeah, he is.” He takes a risk: “He sort of saved me.”
“That’s good, Bob.” He doesn’t press for details. Maybe if they stay in touch, Bob will tell him sometime.
“What about you, got a boyfriend?”
“Not at the moment. But I’m young yet, plenty of time!”
“Yeah. And if you keep doing weddings, you’re bound to meet loads of people. Some of them’ll be single.”
“Especially gay weddings.”
“This is the first wedding I’ve ever been to,” says Bob. “Good one to start with.”
Jamie has finished his drink. “I have to go now, drop the lads, they’ll have finished the washing up. It’d be great to stay in touch, though.” He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a business card. “Jamie Elliot Catering,” it says. “I just use the one number, so you can get me on that.”
“Fancy!” Bob teases. “I’ll text you my number, okay?”
“Great!” Jamie stretches on tiptoes and kisses Bob on the cheek. “See you soon then.”
*
In the minicab on the way home, Dave says: “Jamie seems nice. What a surprise for you to see him again after all this time.”
“Yeah. He gave me his number, to stay in touch.”
“That’s good, I’d like to get to know him.”
“Me too. I don’t think we really knew each other very well. Mostly we just snogged in his bedroom.”
“Well, you were just kids.”
They are quiet for a while, Bob leaning into Dave, feeling pleasantly pissed and a bit sleepy, but then he says: “That was nice, what Peter said, about how Andy kind of makes everyone into a family.”
“We make our own families sometimes.”
“I didn’t have a family for a long time, but I’ve got one now.”
“Oh love.” Dave gives his hand a squeeze.
*
In bed later, after they have cleared their heads by taking Butch for a run, Bob says something difficult, the kind of thing that’s easier to say in the dark. He always knows Dave is listening.
“I think I thought One Two and Mumbles and all the others would be like a family.”
“I think they were, for a while, love.”
“I suppose. But then I met you. And you made us into a family.”
“We did that together.”
“Yeah.”
They fall asleep then, Bob cuddled into Dave’s side, and Butch on their feet. A family.