Chapter Text
When Robert woke up that morning in his London penthouse, he hadn’t thought that the day would end with him sleeping in a pokey little room in Yorkshire.
He had risen at dawn, ran his usual 6 miles on the treadmill, showered and put on a fresh pair of Calvin Klein boxer briefs and his grey robe. He was preparing his morning protein shake when his fiancé, Chrissie, entered the kitchen, phone in hand as usual. She looked ready to take on the day in her cream-coloured silk blouse and plaid Burberry pencil skirt.
They greeted each other with a good morning and a kiss. Chrissie’s eyes never left her phone as she made herself a coffee and grabbed a croissant from the pantry. They sat together at the marble breakfast bar, Robert with his protein shake and the morning paper, Chrissie with her petit déjeuner and phone.
Chrissie’s main topic of conversation (her only topic of conversation these days), was their wedding. And Robert got it, he really did. The big day was getting closer and there was a lot to organise. And Robert cared, he was just as invested in this wedding as Chrissie was, but she was going on and on about bridesmaids dresses and how Rebecca was being a bitch about the colour and the hairstyles that Chrissie wanted and the usual sibling tensions (which were probably a little bit caused by him if Robert was to be honest. Sleeping with your girlfriend’s sister was probably a bad idea in hindsight).
Anyway, Chrissie was prattling on, and Robert had tuned it out, reading the latest drama caused by the US President proved to be far more entertaining, until he heard Chrissie say, “Robert, are you listening to me?”
He looked up from his newspaper. “Yes, of course I am.”
“Good,” Chrissie said, taking a sip of coffee. “So you’ll take care of it for me?”
“Yes, of course I will.” Robert hesitated. “Take care of what exactly?”
“See I knew you weren’t listening!” Chrissie exclaimed, practically slamming down her coffee mug. Robert winced at the clink of the ceramic mug hitting the stone bench top. “It’s like you don’t care about this wedding at all!”
Robert took Chrissie’s free hand in his. “I do care, I promise. I love you and I can’t wait to be married to you.”
Chrissie smiled sweetly. “I love you too.”
Robert gave her hand a light squeeze before letting go. “So, what is it you need me to do?”
“Can you submit the Intent of Marriage forms for me? It has to be done at least 28 days before the wedding.”
Robert frowned as he internally did some math. “But the wedding isn’t for another three months.”
“I know, but I want it done early so that it doesn’t get forgotten in amongst everything else that needs to be done.” Chrissie pouted. “I’ve done so much work for this wedding, and you’ve hardly lifted a finger. So could you please do this one little thing for me?”
Robert sighed. “Fine, okay. I’ll do it.”
“Thank you, darling.” Chrissie had a nibble of the croissant and wiped tiny flakes of pastry off her hands. “Must dash,” she said as she stood. “I’m meeting with a new stylist for Fashion Week. I hope they have more creative flare than the lacklustre cow from last year.” She blew Robert a kiss as she walked away. “See you later.”
“See you later! Good luck!” Robert said to her retreating back. He gulped down the rest of his shake and googled ‘intent to marry uk’. He read that he can’t do it online like he hoped and has to go into an actual registry office and pick up actual forms. Maybe his assistant could get them for him. He scanned down the page to the required documentation, birth certificate, proof of address, the usual standard stuff. His heart stopped when he read ‘decree absolute’.
Robert practically sprinted to his bedroom as he made a phone call. “Hello Erin... Good thank you.” Robert entered the large dressing room. “Could you cancel all my meetings today? I’m not coming in.” He looked past his Savile Row suits. Won’t be wearing one of those today. “Yes, everything is fine.” He put on dark blue jeans and a light blue button up shirt. His favourite colour. “Could you also get the Intent to Marry paperwork for me?” He cradled his phone with his shoulder as he tied up his tan leather shoes. “Yes, the big day is getting closer. Thanks, Erin. Bye.” He grabbed his black leather jacket and ran out the door.
London traffic was its usual nightmare, even in an Audi R8, and it’s a relief when he’s on the M1 speeding through the countryside. Robert called his solicitor, Roger Campbell, to find out how long a decree absolute would take, not entirely happy with the answer and insisted that Roger do what he can to speed up the process. He was somewhere near Leicester when Chrissie called him. “Have you organised the Intent to Marry yet?” she asked.
“Erin is doing it for me.” Robert replied. “Listen, I’ve had to leave town for the day. I’m going to the village where I grew up. Family emergency.”
“Oh no! What’s happened?”
“It’s nothing major. Just something that needs sorting out immediately. I’ll be back later tonight.”
“Oh, okay. You’ll give your family my love won’t you and ask them to come to the wedding. Your side of the church is looking very bare, and it will throw off the symmetry in the photos.”
Bare was an understatement. Robert’s side of the church would be completely empty. “I will. Bye”
The mind-numbing monotony of the motorway finally ended at Leeds and Robert drove down the bumpy narrow country roads to Emmerdale. When he left as a nineteen-year-old farmer’s son with a head full of dreams and ambition, he never thought he’d be returning ten years later as a successful businessman. He never thought he’d be returning at all. He drove past familiar farms and the old school. The café, the shop, the cricket pavilion, the pub. Robert doesn’t have a single childhood memory that doesn’t include at least one of these places.
He drove until he reached the end of the village and pulled into the driveway of the scrapyard. He had a hunch that this would be the best place to go. He stepped out of the car and stretched, his tall frame seized up after sitting in the one position for hours.
God, it was like time had stood still. Everything was just how it was the last time Robert was here. Car carcasses and parts on one side of the yard. Doorless fridges, dented old boilers and various old pipes on the other. The only anomaly was a shiny blue, Subaru WRX parked in front of the portacabin. It stuck out like an iris in a field of weeds.
In the middle of it all was a banged-up sedan, its bonnet propped up and a man bent over in the engine bay. All Robert could see was a bright orange vest, black jeans and scuffed black work boots, but he knew exactly who it was. This had always been Robert’s favourite view of Aaron, with his head down and arse up.
Aaron extricated himself from the car and turned around, a piece of the engine in his hand. “Can I help you, mate?” he said with a smile. The smile dropped when he realised who he was looking at.
“Yeah, you can stop being a twat and give me a divorce.”