In one of the hotels that I worked in during my early years working for Armstrong Hotels, I met a woman who studied yoga and meditation. It was after a particularly busy shift she offered to lead a meditation for anyone that was interested. I joined her and never looked back. Over the few months that I was there, she taught me several basics which I have built on since.
Whether my workload is heavy or light, I had got into the habit, ever since that placement, to take a few minutes for myself. I would use some breathing and focus exercises just to rebalance myself. I tried this at least once mid-morning, around lunchtime and mid-afternoon. On that particular day my eyes fell on the photo I kept on my desk. It was a picture of Nicola on our wedding day.
~~~~~
“Nicola Harris, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
I was on my knee in front of her, holding the ring I had bought and she was still seated at the table with all of our family around us.
For me, there had been about fifteen months leading up to this day. For Nicola, it was a bit more of a surprise, though I hoped not a complete shock as we had talked about, at some point, perhaps, getting hitched, maybe, one day.
After telling me about her adventure with Steph and Alex, Nicola and I went back to her parents and had a delicious dinner. Callum, Nicola’s little brother, was told off several times for making fun of us. He was seven years her junior and still thought love and all that was a bit icky.
“Ooh! Are you in love?” he said to me at one point.
Nicola’s mum was about to admonish him, when I replied, “Yes, I am. We are.”
“Oh?”
I took Nicola’s hand, “Callum, one day you’ll find someone that it feels just right being next to, holding their hand. You’ll get butterflies just thinking of your next meeting and feel something is missing when they’re not there. When you get to that day, call me, I promise not to take the mickey too much.” I finished with a wink.
Nicola squeezed my hand, her mum and dad both smiled at me.
“And when I get to that day…” I started. Nicola stopped holding my hand and slapped my arm.
The rest of the holiday we spent as much time as we could together. Sleepovers at mine, more visits to Banbury Hill and other places we had discovered before Nicola headed back to Cambridge. It was another term of trepidation and I was told off when I explained my feelings to her.
“David DeCosta, you listen and listen good! We agreed one time and I gave them the conditions if another go was even remotely possible. Possible, not even probable. I will never bullshit you, I won’t lie or bend the truth. We mean too much to me and I know we mean too much to you too. I know you worry, I worry too, the stupid thing is we both worry that we’re not good enough for the other.
“Worry, fine, I do. Hate every minute we’re apart. If you think I’m ever going to lie to you or not be straight, then mister, we will have problems. You won’t be getting rid of me either, I can’t bollock you if I do.”
Thankfully she finished her little tirade with a laugh. We spoke more about our hopes and fears and it was that night that my future with Nicola came into clear focus.
Over the following year, my training came to an end and I was given a small team to supervise at the head office. We were responsible for organising menus, the seasonal changes along with the special occasion menus. Although I was on the team that came up with the dishes for the new menu, I was on the bottom rung, so I was told what was going to be happening. We liaised with marketing and supply to ensure everything was coordinated in a timely fashion. My visits to Nicola were more frequent but shorter and I found myself getting on far better with Steph than in previous years.
All three of the girls passed their courses and were awarded first-class degrees, Nicola getting a Bachelor of Laws (LLB). I spoke with both Alex and Steph when I went to see Nicola, after she had finished, to see if they could all book tables in the same restaurant after their graduation. That way they could celebrate with their families but also together and they thought it would be a wonderful idea.
The next stop was her father. I thought I struggled with nerves before, this took me all the way back to when I was sixteen and promising to get his daughter home by eleven. I swallowed and knocked.
“Hello, Mrs Harris. Is Mr Harris in?”
“Of course, David. Is everything alright?” I obviously looked nervous as hell. “Dear, David is here and would like to see you,” she called out.
“Yes, ma-am, everything’s okay. I hope it will be better after I’ve said my piece.”
“Ma-am, is it? Now I’m worried.”
“Hello, David,” Mr Harris offered me his hand. “Would you like a drink? You look like you could do with one. Come into my office.”
Mr Harris led me to his office while his wife got us some cold drinks. Just like the time before, he did not offer me a seat and I remained standing. When Mrs Harris came back in she commented as she handed me my drink.
“I think I’ll remain standing, thanks. I may need to make a run for it.”
I tried to lighten what seemed like an oppressive atmosphere, knowing that I was the one creating it. It did not help that Mrs Harris did not react and Mr Harris narrowed his eyes.
“The floor's yours, David," he said.
“Mr Harris, sir. Eight years ago I was standing in almost this exact spot asking for something from you. I think I was less scared then than now. Today, I would like… I wonder if you would… what I'm trying to ask is... Can I have your permission to ask Nicola if she will marry me?"
Silence fell over the small room, no one moved or said anything for what seemed like an eternity, at least that’s what happened in my head. The reality, I was told, was very different. It took a fraction of a second for the penny to drop before Mrs Harris screamed and hurled herself at me. The next thing I knew she had her arms wrapped around my neck and was hugging me and telling her husband off.
“Don't be a shit! Answer the boy! Can't you see he's worried sick about this?"
Mr Harris got out of his seat and offered me his hand again, "Thank you, David, it's my understanding that it is going out of fashion to ask the father's approval. Of course, you have my permission. Hell, knowing you two love-birds, if I said no, you’d be off to Gretna Green.”
The planning wheels went into full motion with both mothers taking the reins and trying to run away with everything. They only had to be reined in a few times in the month until Nicola’s graduation. My sister was due to be home from Australia over the summer with her family and they were invited to ‘turn up’ at the restaurant in Cambridge. Considering how much we had become a part of each other’s lives and families it was not beyond the realms of logic that my mum and dad would be there to celebrate Nicola’s graduation.
It had been a beautiful July day. I do not think I could have been prouder as Nicola walked across the stage and received her diploma. We had trooped into the restaurant ahead of Steph and her family but behind Alex and hers. Surprise, surprise my sister and her family were waiting. This was the first clue, though Nicola did not show anything.
After greetings and introductions between the three tables, everyone settled down to their meals. The conversation revolved around what Nicola planned to do. I found it interesting that between my sister and Nicola's brother, there were fifteen years and it seemed such a gulf then. Eventually, the eating was done and coffee had been served.
Nicola had been seated at the head of the table, with me to her right. I stood up slowly and moved next to her; she watched me curiously and then her eyes went wide as I pulled out the ring and dropped to one knee.
“Nicola Harris, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
Steph and Alex did not know what I was planning, but when I asked the question, both their tables fell silent. Another eternity of silence followed, I could feel all sets of eyes on me. Then instead of putting her finger out to accept the ring, Nicola took hold of my hand and got up. If I had to describe the look on her face, I would have said the best description would have been sadness.
“Come with me,” was all she said.
She led me outside, I felt like she was leading me to the gallows. As the door closed, I heard the murmur of hushed voices. She did not let go of my hand and pulled me into a hug and rested her head on my chest.
“Sweetie, before I answer I want to make sure that you know that I won't marry you before I've done my LPC. I've got a perfect opportunity in London and it's going to take a lot of hours and a lot of hard work. I'm not sure I'll be a great girlfriend, let alone wife, given that I'm going to have to work and study for the next two years."
“To be honest I wasn't expecting you to marry me before then. The first thing I think we should talk about is getting a place together. Somewhere closer to London to make your commute easier.”
“What about your work?”
“We can talk about all of this later, but I can drive longer. Up to an hour’s not the end of the world. Point in question, I’m not asking you to marry me now or before you start your LPC. You have become the centre of my world and I want to keep you there, to share my world with me and I want to share your world with you.”
Nicola held my eyes for a moment before she spoke, “Shall we go back in?”
That was it, no hint, fully in control. This was a change I had seen over her three years at Cambridge, when she wanted to, she could now not give any hint as to what was going on in her head. Over the years I learnt that she did have tells but it would be a long time before I beat her at cards.
It was that classic feeling that somebody had been talking about us when we returned, only it was many somebodies. The room fell silent and I swear I heard eyeballs swivelling as they followed us back to our seats. Nicola sat down, I did too and sipped at my coffee. A heavy silence hung over the room.
I looked to Nicola and mouthed, “Shall we try again?” To which she nodded.
This time I did not kneel, I took her hand and put the ring on the end of her finger.
“Well? Will you?”
“Wild horses couldn't stop me!”
Nicola jumped up, pulling the ring onto her finger and sat across my lap, she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. The room erupted, there were two screams that I guessed were Steph and Alex. One pair, then a second pair of arms wrapped around us. The meal descended into chaos as all three parties combined and the drinks started to flow. Over the next few hours Nicola and I were hugged and kissed by everyone, even the restaurant gave us a couple of bottles of champagne to toast us.
The next couple of months were chaotic. We ended up renting a small flat in a town called Amersham. This meant almost double my drive to the office, but it had a London Underground station so Nicola could catch that to work every day. It was also the start of two of the worst years we had. I was tired from my journey, Nicola was expected to work a full week and for solicitors that could mean up to sixty hours and then study for a further twenty on top of that. What had been a sparkling, sex-filled relationship dwindled to ships passing in the night and a romp in the mornings at weekends. The final straw came when Nicola asked for two weeks off after she finished her course.
When she had started at the London firm, she had straight away asked for two weeks after her course was complete, so that we could get married. They agreed and the Mother Marriage Machine (I only called it the triple M once, in earshot of the women) stoked the boilers and went full steam ahead with all eyes fixed on Saturday tenth August. Suddenly all the planning was thrown up in the air because the partners refused to honour the spoken agreement saying that it was not in writing. Funny that a law firm would try to break a verbal contract in such a way.
Nicola would have none of it and told everyone the date for the wedding stood and as soon as she was notified of being awarded her Masters of Laws (LLM) she handed her notice in at the London firm. We had had a long discussion beforehand and I told her straight that I could afford the flat on my wages and I would prefer to be poor and happy. I was also confident that she would have no problem finding a new job, despite the ‘you’ll never work in this town again’ implied threats from the London firm.
Her graduation was quieter this time around, with all the focus on August. Alex and Steph were Nicola's bridesmaid and chief bridesmaid, respectively. My best friend from school, Matthew was my best man, with my sister and Nicola's brother as ushers. All in all, it was a fantastic day, the most beautiful woman in the world was even more beautiful and even outshone the weather. It was two tired people that were shown to the honeymoon suite of one of the airport hotels that night. I heard later that the party went back to my parents and broke up around six the following morning. At the same time, Nicola and I were checking in for our flight to Las Vegas.
Our plan for the honeymoon was a week in Las Vegas and then out to Hawaii for a week before returning home. Seventeen hours of anyone's time is a long time to spend in airports and planes, but the day after our wedding wiped us out. We finally arrived at our hotel in late afternoon Vegas time and after checking in slept for four hours before we got up to eat and then went back to bed.
The significant event of our trip happened on our fifth night there. We had done some gambling and had taken trips out. I found LA and Hollywood to be too touristy. The Grand Canyon was awe-inspiring but nothing compared to the way the water had carved Antelope Canyon, if I were to recommend one, it would be the latter. After a night tour of Vegas, we thought we would take in a late show and stumbled upon an adult hypnotist, Marco the Mystic, if you can believe that. The tickets were not too expensive and Nicola had always been fascinated by these shows on television.
“I hope they pick you,” Nicola said, “all your bravado about not being able to be hypnotised. It’ll prove someone wrong.”
“Uhuh, except I’m not a plant.”
“Oh, you bloody cynic, why are you even going?”
“Because, love of my life, you want to. They’re usually okay for some comedic value.”
“Ooh, some ‘comedic value’, all very la-de-da. When did I marry a snooty theatre critic?” she laughed.
The first half of the show was pretty standard. The act was a little risqué but nothing to write home about. During the interval, Marco asked for volunteers.
“Plants huh? I dare you, put your hand up.”
What could I do? I volunteered.
“Hi there,” he said when he sat down at the table.
“Plants?” Nicola asked me quietly and grinned.
“Hi,” I suddenly felt sheepish and could feel the heat rising in my cheeks.
After brief introductions, followed by the delighted exclamation that we were British, he asked, “You’d be interested in volunteering to be my… subjects for the second half of the show?”
