Dot (Araminta Hall)

looked after a few days, swollen with water and nibbled by fishes. He would come to her in dreams like that; in fact he still did, all those thousands of nights down the line. She wished she had been nicer so that he hadn’t felt the need to sail whenever he wasn’t at work, wished she’d created one of those warm homes which men rush back to, bathing themselves in a golden glow of security. They say there are stages of grief and that one is anger, but the only anger Clarice ever felt was towards herself. She still believed that Howie was the kindest, most gentle person she’d ever met.
    It was, however, also true to say that over the years the words on the papers had come to comfort her. They catapulted her right back to the time they enshrined, so that for all the minutes it took her to read them she was a giddy bride again, hearing her new husband’s firm voice. She knew those words and they encased her heart just as they had done on the night he’d really said them.
    The papers were slightly stained by marks which looked like grease, but Clarice suspected were champagne. They were also worn away at one corner and she shut her eyes and saw him standing in front of her, holding the papers, worrying them at the edges. She imagined him putting the papers into the book, maybe on the night itself, and she wondered if he’d always meant to leave them there, or if he’d randomly placed them inside, meaning to move them another day. Maybe he’d always known, not consciously but in some deep recess of his soul? Maybe nothing we do is truly random? Maybe he’d always meant to speak to her from afar, to come back when he was needed? It made her remember the feeling she’d had on her wedding day, the bliss of feeling linked to another human being for the first time since her mother died. Over time this was the version she’d decided to believe in.
Start with thanks etc. Remember to say bridesmaids pretty, thanks to vicar, Percy, mother, C’s father, Patsy & Lou for the food. What an amazing house and how excited I am that we’re going to live here, how generous of Charles, how beautiful it looks with the marquees. (Maybe something here about C’s mother missing it all and how she would have loved it – keep that bit brief, don’t want to upset C today, judge it on night.)
Clarry and I met at a dance, which is so commonplace I almost didn’t mention it. I wanted to make something up. Some exciting adventure, maybe an African safari or a romantic cruise or a daring rescue, because that seemed like a more fitting way for something so momentous to have started occurred. I spent ages wondering about the best way to have met her, even wrote a few down, but then I threw them away because I realised it didn’t matter how we had met, but how we now live our lives. I also realised that I could stand here for ever telling you how perfect our love is and how happy we are today, but that I will sound like every other bridegroom at all the other weddings you’ve no doubt been to this year. The important thing is that Clarry and I know it is true and intend to live the rest of our lives making each other happy.
As all of you who know Clarry well can testify she can be a touch difficult obstinate. When I asked her to dance at our first meeting she didn’t reply and asked give me an answer, but instead asked me my name. When I told her she looked rather put out, so I said, ‘When I say Howard Cartwright, of course I mean Sir Howard Cartwright.’ Her mouth set for a moment, like it does when she isn’t sure of what she thinks, but then she laughed and said, ‘Sir Howard Cartwright, I would love to dance.’ We danced all night; her card had of course been marked, but she refused everyone else and was so polite in her apologies, I think I fell in love with her right there and then.
Clarry is like a fine wine, she improves with time . Clarry is wise, she doesn’t give away her emotions lightly. Nor does she judge people immediately. She takes her time, watching and waiting and weighing up not just whether you are worth investing time in her cup of tea, but also whether you are going to return her feelings. Luckily for me she deemed me worthy on both counts. And once you have felt the warmth of her love you couldn’t do anything else than love her back.
So, enough sentiment. I’m not a man given to outpourings of emotion and I expect I am puce in the face right now. I just want to end by saying that today I am marrying