The Wedding

"For God's sake, take the dogs to the lake," Becky said to James and me. You're giving us all the jitters," Becky said.

She and Rachel, a blonde and a brunette, looked radiant in their peach-coloured bridesmaids' dresses.

James was pacing the floor nervously, the prototypical bridegroom. Aly was to be collected by Rev Wickham from her digs in Stockport.

"That's a good idea," Sean said, in reply to Becky. "Josh and I will come with you, John, and on the way back we can see how Becky's bell works." He was referring to Becky's studies in psychology and what she'd told us about Pavlov's dogs being conditioned to come for food at the sound of a bell.

He looked at her and she nodded, and then he wheeled Wesley's bike into the kitchen by the door. Sean had expressed his doubts about Pavlov's theory, and he and Becky had made a wager that if by the time of the wedding the dogs did not respond to the bell, she would have to dive into the boating lake and swim in the buff. I sensed that Sean planned to win the bet against Becky.

We strode to the middle of the lawns with Bourne and Aunty, and then the sound of a bicycle bell rang out from the house. Bourne went bounding, tail wagging, into the house. Sean spoke discreetly to Aunty and she sat on her haunches unflinchingly, as immoveable as a rock.

We arrived in the kitchen to a barking Bourne jumping up and down, his backside moving from side to side.

"Sorry, Freud," Sean said. "You've failed. Bourne is not salivating -- in my opinion -- and Aunty is nowhere to be seen."

Becky admitted defeat and announced that she would jump into the lake in the buff during the disco. Josh smiled when we told him about the bet.

When Becky explained to Wesley, he stated with a gasp, "Nude, Mummy? With nothing on?" It pacified him when the challenge was explained. "Oh I see," said Wesley. "It's a dare."

*

Wesley, attired in waistcoat, perfectly creased grey trousers and black, newly polished shoes, was escorted to the front of the church doors where he waited for the bridal party. His first occasion as a pageboy, he seemed a bit nervous about his responsibility.

Repeatedly annoyed by the white buttonhole poking his cheek, he finally pushed the flower heads to point downwards. He tugged at the maroon dickie bow. "Nan, can you carry my basket?" he asked Liz, who acquiesced and picked up a wicker basket with red petals inside.

James, Petros and I, uncomfortable in morning dress, sat on the hard church pews for 20 minutes before the bells started to peal. James wiped the sweat off his hands onto his handkerchief.

"You OK?" I whispered.

The sun gleamed through the stained-glass windows. I sensed the generations that had attended here, and wondered who had been the first: probably the earl after the Norman Conquest.

"Yeah, I guess," James whispered back.

In top hat, necktie and tails, we were making an effort to keep calm. Sean, Josh and Thudd were escorting people to their seats and placing the service sheets in their hands.

"It's cool, James," Petros said in his Greek accent. "It'll be awesome."

A voice proclaimed from the back of the church, "She's here!"

Turning to look around, I was awestruck that the church had filled with people while we had sat transfixed with our eyes on the cross and communion table. Several high-heeled clicks sounded on the stone nave. My eyes searched the room for familiar faces. Liz took her seat a row behind us on James' side of the church. She looked amazing in a peach two-piece suit with a frilled blouse. On her head, she wore a band with feathers.

At precisely 2:00 p.m., the vicar, in his white cassock and dog collar, took his place at the front of the church and when the organist struck up Wagner's Here Comes the Bride, he invited James and Petros to stand, and then the whole congregation.

A dazzling white apparition came walking slowly down the aisle. Aly, escorted by Rev Wickham, was wearing a tiara and her long dark hair was styled into a bun. Her gorgeously sequined and billowing silk dress with traces of silver thread and angels floated down the aisle. From the crown of her head and gently falling across her face, a thin lace veil with a butterfly pattern partially concealed her face.

James and Petros took a sneak backwards glance and James loosened his bow tie.

Wesley had preceded the bride, sprinkling red roses from the wicker basket, blushing as people spoke with him and dodging their pats on the head. Following the bride were Rachel and Becky, holding the bridal train. The girls could have graced any catwalk.
Passing the bunch of posies to Becky and lifting her veil, Aly looked towards James. The couple trembled slightly when the vicar asked us all to stand and sing The Lord's My Shepherd to the Crimond tune.

At every wedding I had ever attended, I had never experienced an interruption, but on that occasion, the large oak door of St Luke's church in Goostry creaked open on its iron hinges and slammed against the stone walls.

I craned my neck to see two figures standing in the vestibule. One of them was a giant of a man who had to duck and turn sideways to enter the nave area.

*

A hushed silence permeated the church after the big oak door slammed, followed by an uncertain but expectant pause.

Two hundred heads turned to gaze at the two male strangers. James and Aly looked nervously around to observe the reason for the disturbance. The vicar, unperturbed, called some order back into the ceremony and proceeded with his charges to the couple.

"Do you, James..."

Sean, in the pew behind me, whispered, "Two foreigners in suits, and one appears to be packing." He choked a laugh. "Mind you, he doesn't need a weapon. Looks like he could rip the door off its hinges and eat it."

I gave him the nod to go and make inquiries tactfully. Everyone looked askance at Sean tiptoeing up the aisle, smiling and nodding left and right, using his customary thumbs up gesture. The vicar continued with the ceremony.

"Will you...."

I looked behind me to see Liz staring daggers at me and mouthing "hush". I shrugged. When Sean returned five minutes later, he sat down with a smirk.

"You're not gonna believe this, Boss," he whispered. "I'll tell you later." He chuckled and slapped his thigh. "You're really not gonna believe this!" His body shook with suppressed laughter.

The vicar finally declared James and Aly "man and wife" and I breathed a sigh of relief.
The chords of Mendelssohn's Wedding March were thumped out on the organ as we formed a procession from the vestry. Following the newly married couple, the bridesmaids and pageboy, I walked next to Mrs and Rev Wickham, with Liz behind us. The bridal train dragged along the stone aisle, Rachel trying to keep up. Wesley tugged his red bow tie off and passed it to his mum.

Outside St Luke's church, as the cameras snapped, I caught Sean's arm and steered him towards the two men in black suits. The Mossad sergeant joined us. I think he sensed that there could be trouble.

The five of us made our way to the graveyard, forming a circle next to a crumbling gravestone covered in green moss.

I said, "OK, tell me, Sean. What's going on?"

The ex-SAS captain, moving his two hands like a conjurer towards the two men, announced, "Voila! Meet the in-laws." He was grinning broadly.

"What?" I asked loudly.

The smaller of the two men raised his voice, due to the loud pealing of the church bells, and said, "Please allow me to introduce myself."

His appearance and accent were markedly eastern European. His black suit and shoes were immaculate. The younger man had to be over seven feet tall, but he was equally smartly dressed.

Sean moved towards the two men. "Before you say anything, ask your friend to leave his piece somewhere."
The man said something in another language, then added, "I understand."

The smaller man gave his companion an order, indicating a car with his eyes. The man-mountain walked down the church path, crunching on the gravel. He took long strides towards a sleek black Mercedes Saloon with darkened windows.

Josh whispered in my ear, "Albanian."

Sean struggled a few steps behind the giant-like creature who pulled open the limousine door, took a pistol from the pocket of his huge jacket, and threw it inside. Turning to Sean, he nodded and the two of them returned to us.

"Have you seen that guy's neck?" Sean whispered to me. "It's like a tree trunk. Mind you, size isn't everything. Our martial arts trainer was the skinniest bloke on the planet, but he could break your neck with one finger."

Holding my finger to my lips, I said, "Sshh."

"My name is Sallos, or Saul," the smaller man began, "my friend is Goliath." Sean guffawed and turned away. The man continued,"It may surprise you to know this, but I am Alyana's uncle."

I gasped. "What?"

He carried on undeterred. "I hoped to get here in time to establish a relationship with my niece, but we have been delayed."

Sean folded his arms and smirked with a 'told ya' expression.

The man extracted a brown envelope from his inner pocket and opened it. He passed to me a stiff paper document with the official Albanian seal. It was a birth certificate. A woman named Dorina Lushi, it stated, gave birth to a baby girl, born in Durres in Albania. On the certificate, the father of the baby had scrawled his name: Alexander Pernasksa. Sallos showed me his passport. The name meant nothing to me.

"I am Sallos Pernasksa," he said, pointing to the photo in his passport, "the father's brother and therefore Alyana's uncle."

Josh gasped, "Pernasksa," and appeared to regret it. He said to the smaller man, "Please say that again."

The man repeated himself, his face pained. The man-mountain, appearing to sense the anguish of his comrade, crossed the graveyard to stand next to him. He blocked out the sun as he stared with cold but watchful eyes.

The smaller Albanian frowned and looked sterner. "I see, Mr Morgan, that your friend has heard my family name. Be assured that I'm not like my brother. I regret to say that Alexander was a wicked man; wicked all his life. On his deathbed, he recanted his crimes. Many of his trespasses were known to me, but not all. I was unaware that 22 years ago he made a hotel worker pregnant."

He inhaled, scanned our faces and continued.

"The girl ran away to a centre for expectant mothers in Durres. She gave birth to Alyana. When Alexander found out, he demanded to be on the birth certificate. I think reluctantly, Dorina agreed. When Alyana reached a month old, unknown to her mother, Alex took her to an orphanage in Tirana. She remained there for six months until he sold her to an American family for $3,000."

The details were starting to make sense to me.

"I am not my brother. You may know that the meaning of "mafia" is "a safe place, a refuge". But my brother did not give a refuge. His life was given over to violence and vendettas. The last conflict with a family in Naples became bloodthirsty and ultimately ended his life. I didn't know about Alyana until my brother told me just a few days ago on his deathbed. We got here as soon as we could, once we heard the news. We came straight after his funeral."

Having by now regained my composure, I said, "Thank you for explaining everything so clearly, Mr Pernasksa. We appreciate how difficult this must be for you. Now, how about we rejoin the wedding party and we'll just play it by ear."

I saw Saul talking with Goliath. Probably explaining 'play it by ear'. From a distance, we saw the photographer taking family shots. I suspected that the next photos would be earth-shattering.

*

Saul was shadowed by his gigantic friend, nudging the three of us out of the way to stand beside him. He moved with agility but reminded me of a grizzly bear.

Saul raised a hand. "Please excuse Goliath," he said. "He doesn't speak much English and he is zealously protective. He has been with me since I found him begging on the streets when he was six or seven."

Sean responded, "Aye, I bet his mammy couldn't feed him."

When this comment was translated to the gargantuan bulk, he chuckled and his huge 56-inch chest quaked. He looked at Sean and nodded. Relieved that the tension had dissipated, I proposed that we should join the photographic session and tell Alyana the news later at the reception.

I took hold of James' elbow and drew him to one side. "You've two more guests, for the top table. Get them in on the family photo and I'll explain later."

James replied, "Whatever."
The photographer looked through his lens and asked us to take several steps further back, in order to fit in the giant.

James shrugged as his friends inquired about "the big guy".

Wesley threw confetti on the couple and Aly turned to cast her bouquet over her shoulder. Becky and Rachel both jumped to catch it like rugby players in a lineout, but the flowers landed in the hands of one of the villagers. Her partner looked in despair when she waved it under his nose.

On the short journey to Kirmingsham Hall, I told Aly's story to Liz and Becky, who both gasped. Sean, travelling behind us, would be doing the same with Rachel. The innocent voice of my grandson expressed his awe from the back seat next to his mum. "Wow! So one is Aly's uncle and the giant is, like...her cousin."

Only a child could sum up a problem, which appeared so complicated to grown-ups, so simply.

Our two dogs joined the wedding reception. Bourne bounded around like a prisoner set free after a long incarceration. Aunty walked confidently into the space occupying the edges. She made her way towards Goliath, growling and sniffing.

Sean called, "LEAVE!" and she came to his chair and sat on her haunches looking back at the huge man.

After the toasts, speeches and introductions, the inevitable could not be delayed any longer when Aly approached Saul and asked him for his name.

Gathering Saul, Goliath, James, Aly, and Sean into the disco marquee for privacy, I asked Saul to recount his story. The perplexed couple stood near the flap as Saul spoke. James grew pale and Aly's lips quivered while she examined the birth certificate and Saul's passport.

Overcome with emotion, she picked up the white hem of her bridal dress and ran from the disco marquee sobbing. James pursued her towards the lake. Her Uncle Saul's countenance was etched in pain.

Entering the tent and taking me by the arm, Liz said, "John, some of the guests are getting restless. People want to know what's happening."

"OK. Can you go and talk with Aly? Try to calm her down? We'll go back in now."

Mingling amongst the guests and slapping a few backs, I assured everyone that the speeches would resume shortly. Sean noticed Dorke patting Aunty.

"Don't do that, son. She'll have your hand off." When instead Aunty licked Dorke's hand, Sean was surprised. "It must be because he speaks the same language."

*

Aly had calmed down and returned to the reception. Petros tapped his fork against a glass and called, "Quiet please!"

Aly Morgan took the microphone and announced, "I would like ya'll to meet my Uncle Saul and my cousin Goliath." Several people gasped, others tittered.

The announcement sent a ripple of astonishment through the guests. Aly and James left their seats. James shook Saul's hand and reached for Goliath's. Aly grabbed her Uncle Saul and kissed him on both cheeks. Goliath lifted Aly bodily to kiss her cheek. Her feet dangled two feet in the air and one of her wedding shoes fell off.

James and Aly and took their seats again. With curled lips, her adoptive parents showed every sign of disapproval.

Any apprehensions faded as we drank more wine. Rachel and I kept our eye on Sean, who was drinking orange juice. Saul and Goliath made friends as more guests made their way to the celebratory table to shake their hands. Apart from the Wickhams, everyone seemed delighted at the news.

Then, a piercing scream echoed across the lawns. We rushed out onto the grass to witness a distraught Becky pointing to a man running towards the boating lake carrying a little boy under his arm.

Sean commanded, "ATTACK!" to Aunty, signalling to the fleeing figure.

"You too, Bourne!" I shouted, and both dogs gave chase. Fearing that the boy was Wesley, I ran as fast as I could. Sean and Josh overtook me after a few yards. A huge bulk bounded past us all with huge strides. The ground trembled with every step as Goliath charged like a raging bull.

We arrived to witness Aunty with her paws on top of the man, her panting breath and fangs in his face while he struggled on the ground. Bourne yapped and nipped at his ankles and pulled at his trousers. The boy was not Wesley but Alan, our gardener's son. We had all been afraid that we faced the possibility of losing our grandson a second time.

The Albanian giant give the man a gentle thump on the top of his head, and the little boy squirmed away. I felt afraid to behold Goliath's anvil-size fists over the man's face. He lifted the man by his shirt collar and trouser belt, and started walking him towards the lake, the man's legs thrashing.

"No!" I shouted to Goliath. Josh cupped his hands to his mouth, shouting a few words in Albanian. The 360-pound giant dropped the whimpering man onto the ground like a floundering fish.

While we interrogated the man and waited for the police, Liz assured our guests that things were well. The disco would begin in three hours, giving all guests time to change into fancy dress. The group staying at the YMCA boarded the minibus and the transit van and sped off to Stockport, black smoke trailing behind them.

The child abductor was the boyfriend of Maria, Tony's wife. The couple's marriage problems had erupted volcanically, causing malice and envy towards Tony as well as us. Hatching a desperate plot, she had decided to take her child, run away and make money demands upon Tony.

Frightened by the near abduction of a child who could have been our grandson, Liz and Becky secured a promise from me to improve our security. Security gates, CCTV linked to our study, infrared lights in the trees and bushes, PIR sensory lights to light up the house and grounds at any movement after dark, and a pendant for Wesley to keep on a chain around his neck which, if pressed, would send an alarm signal to a receiver from a distance of two miles away.

*

With the emotional turmoil over, Sean suggested with a wink that it was an opportune time for Becky to fulfil her part of the bet.

"Let's get it over before it gets too dark," Sean stated innocently. Rev and Mrs Wickham had sneaked away from the rest of the nuptials.

Liz and I made our way arm in arm to the large lake. Becky slowly stripped, her cheeks glowing red despite the cold. Finally, reluctantly but bravely, she jumped with a splash into the cold, dark, rippling waters. "GOD!" she exclaimed when she surfaced, her teeth chattering.

Ducking her head under the lake water, she swam a few strokes and then made her way back to the jetty. Dripping wet and shivering, she pulled herself out of the water. Josh held out a white beach towel for her.

While she pulled on her jeans, Josh whispered something to Becky and she said, "NEVER!" Then she called in a loud voice, "COME 'ERE CASEY!"

Sean, I think sensing defeat, humbly made his way to the jetty. In a loud voice, Becky proclaimed to her audience that Sean had commanded Aunty to "stay" so that Becky would lose their bet over Pavlov. Sean shrugged his shoulders, cupping his palms in prayer towards us.

Seeing the funny side, Becky said, "OK, Casey, get your kit off and get into that water."
Saul and Goliath were mystified by it all but roared with laughter when they learned the truth and that Sean was about to pay his debt.

Defeated, Sean stripped off and, with no more embarrassment than a man alone in a shower, dived into the water. He made no sound cutting through the water with a strong front-crawl stroke. Suddenly a loud splash resounded and a blonde head bobbed alongside Sean.

"Gosh that's c-c-c-cold!" the blonde woman screamed, and immediately turned for the jetty. Sean swam towards her and standing waist-high in the lake, he settled between her knees while she sat on the woodwork drying her blond hair with a towel and shivering. Rachel had stripped to her underwear and jumped in. She could have made a centre-fold pinup.

"Now everyone has seen your knickers, I suppose I'll have to marry you," Sean said.

Is that a proposal, Captain Casey?" Rachel mocked.

We all shouted in unison: "YES!" Liz clapped her hands and she and Becky linked arms and danced like Morris dancers.

Rachel then said, "If so, the answer is YES -- with one condition."
She whispered to Sean and he hollered, "Bugger!"

Walking back to the house, he told me that Rachel had insisted that she would only marry him if he promised to stand at the Queen's anthem and sing God Save the Queen at Christmas.

We had another wedding to plan, but first we needed to don our World of Warcraft�® and Lord of the Rings outfits for the disco at 9:00 p.m.

*

With the costumes designed or hired by Morgan Fashion, my lack of familiarity with the World of Warcraft characters was not a disadvantage for the fancy dress disco.
My grey garb, long white beard and pointed hat were incontestably those of Gandalf the Grey. Aly donned the garb of Arwen Evenstar to partner James' Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and my wife Liz transformed into Galadriel, a very wise and alluring grandmother.

However, she refused to wear pointy ears and protested, "No way I'm looking like Spock!"

Rachel became Eowyn, an elfin hunter with bow and arrow. Sean, refusing to wear green tights as Robin Hood, had morphed into a World of Warcraft rogue, donning grey Lee jeans, a red shirt, brown leather jacket, and a red bandana on his head. Rachel strapped her arrow quiver to her side and carried a bow in her right hand. Sean buckled his belt and inserted his combat knife. The dogs accompanied Rachel the huntress as her World of Warcraft pets.

Upon leaving the house for the party, I had tried out my gnarled wooden staff, uttering, "KAZAM!"

Liz pointed her wand at me. "Be Brad Pitt!" and giggled, "Oh! That didn't work!"
Josh was dressed like Robin Hood, although in green combat trousers rather than tights, and Becky was a very radiant Maid Marian.

Wesley came as himself with his friend Alan, conscious that they could only stay an hour due to it being past their bedtime. Both boys had a play-fight with plastic swords during the evening.

Photographers and reporters from the Cheshire Gazette, forgiven by the family for the publication that had nearly cost the lives of our Jewish friends, interviewed many of the guests. Uncle Saul and Goliath stayed out of the way of the media.

Once the press had gone, the huge man demonstrated his prowess and terpsichorean skills on the dance floor. He lacked grace but not agility and enthusiasm.
It was to be a day and a night of unexpected guests.

*

"And just what do ya think you're doin', Sean Patrick Casey? You're makin' an eejit of yourself prancing about!" A young woman had arrived who nobody recognised. She was not attired in fancy dress but in a Laura Ashley white, red and green floral-print dress, and a white cardigan. On her head, she wore a grey waterproof waxen hat with a felt band and bow. In her right hand, she carried a brown leather suitcase that looked the worse for wear.

Liz shot her eyes across to me, mouthing, "Who? Patrick?"
I shrugged.

Sean had been dancing with Rachel, attempting the refineries of disco dancing. Embarrassed by the arrival of the young woman, a flushed Sean took her through the open flaps of the marquee. Rachel looked at Liz and me with a querying look. We had no answers nor any idea who she was.

After a few minutes, I poked my head through the tent flaps. Observing the two absconders in an affectionate embrace, I drew my head back quickly.

Approaching Liz I whispered, "I hope she's not his wife."

Sean seldom mentioned his background apart from referring to his "mammy" in jest. I knew he came from Cork but had no knowledge beyond that, except for snippets he had shared in Afghanistan. He kept his past locked in a private vault labelled "Do not disturb".

Sean and the young woman re-entered the tent holding hands, to the obvious consternation of Rachel. Drawing near to us, Sean invited us to join him in the refreshment tent. Liz, Becky, Josh, Rachel, James, Aly, and I assembled in a semi-circle around the two of them. Until now, I had barely seen Robin Hood and Maid Marion during the reception. They had taken several walks along the lakeside in the moonlight.

Sean swallowed and proclaimed, "Friends, say hello to my Aunty Colleen."

To the dumbfounded shock of his tiny congregation, Sean elucidated. "My grandfather was a randy bugger. He got a local girl pregnant, and she had a baby girl in 1984 when I was 22 in the parachute regiment. Colleen," he indicated towards her, "lived with her mum but then she ran away from home because of her mum's new boyfriend. She lived with my mother Kathleen, who was fully aware of Granddad's indiscretions." Sean sat, seemingly emotionally exhausted, on an empty metal beer barrel.

Colleen continued the story. "Sean's mother passed away a few weeks ago. The solicitor, wanting to settle the estate, contacted the parachute regiment, and the SAS at Hereford gave me his forwarding address at Kirmingsham Hall."

With revived energy, Sean stood and said, "She has journeyed by coach from Cork to Dublin, ferry from Dublin to Holyhead, and coach to Manchester. From there, she caught a train to Goostry and walked from the station. She has travelled across Eire, traversed the Irish Sea, journeyed across England, and undertaken a 20-minute walk at 10:00 p.m. with hardly any streetlights on the country roads. She has Casey blood in her!"

I admired her immediately.

All the girls hugged Colleen, and Rachel especially made her welcome. Re-entering the disco marquee, James asked the DJ to halt the music. Taking the microphone in his hand, he introduced Colleen. The girls then insisted that Colleen, who looked pale and tired, freshen up in the house.

"You must stay here in our guest room, Colleen," Liz pressed her. "It's too late to get a hotel room, besides you're like family and you're very welcome."

The guests clapped when Colleen rejoined the party.

Goliath was slapping Sean on the back, saying one of his few intelligible English words, "Aunty!" and quaking with laughter.

When the celebrations were coming to an end, Sean approached the DJ and handed him a CD. "We have a special request," the DJ announced, and Sean took Colleen by the hand and led her to the middle of the dance area. She looked out of breath and tired, which I assumed to be from the journey.

The speakers in the two tents blasted out an Irish jig, to which Sean and Colleen demonstrated dancing equal to Riverdance without the clogs. Partway through, Colleen sat down, exhausted, but all the guests, apart from Saul and Dorke, joined in, Goliath's feet pounding the ground.

Dorke amazed me by shaking my hand and kissing Liz, announcing: "Best gig I've ever been to, man."