W2F-019 Bridie's Wedding-0.txt
BRIDIE 'S WEDDING

Bridie sits on the window sill and sips hot milk and pepper. Sheila kneels by her side. From beneath the bedclothes she peeps out at them. The streetlamp strokes orange onto their long white nighties and again across the curlers bumped tightly over their heads. Their whispers stay with them over there by the window but the odd one strays across the room and delicious it is when it's caught. Bridie is afraid of something, something to do with Joe. But who on earth would be scared of Joe? His swinging smile and adam's apple like a bouncing ball. And Sheila is thrilled by the same something. So what could it be? It had to do with being nude. Milly says when you get married you have to go nude. But Bridie would never do that. Why even in here, in front of her sisters, she would undress herself as if she was an orange in a circus. An orange that unpeels itself under a tent. Fancy being afraid of Joe. Oul Joe...

Meat sweat sneaks up the stairs and wakes her. Oh and the smell of cooking so early makes her feel funny; half-queasy, half-hungry. She opens her eyes and the room is alive. With crisp dress cloth and perfume hissing and stockings slapping into place. And Bridie's face like a small white turnip through the mirror and then changing slowly with each sweep of colour into a bride for Joe.

'I 'm burstin'," she says to anyone who is listening and Sheila says, 'You 'll have to wait. If you don't mind. Mr Clifford is in there.'

But she doesn't mind. She lies back nursing the urge and imagines what it will be like to sleep alone. Now that Bridie is almost gone.

Eileen says, 'Quick, he's finished,' and they all stop to listen to the cough that he gives each time he comes out of the bathroom.

He's left the smell of himself inside so she holds her nose and tries not to breathe. He's left the heat of himself as well around the rim of the toilet seat. And some dead black hairs stuck in the foam of his shaving soap. She washes her face and looks into the mirror. She makes two circles from her fingers and places them over her eyes. Just to get an idea of what she 'll be like...

Back in the bedroom Kay helps her to dress. Guiding her frock down over her arms and playing the skirt until it stands stiff and wide. There are petticoats underneath that push it into shape and above a thin skin of peach organza with roses that you can see right through. Kay ties her sash and flicks out the bow, then slowly turns her towards the mirror.

'Now,' she says, 'what do you see?'

'Oh Kay...it's so lovely.'

And then looking again, 'do you know? It's the image of that frock Eileen once had. You know the one in the picture that time at the Dress Dance?'

'Well, there you are,' says Kay. 'Isn't that a coincidence?'

Eddie says he 'll walk back from North William St Church, because there isn't enough room in the car. But there is. Right beside her. She tries to tell him. But he doesn't seem to hear.

And even though he walks away, his hands still in his pockets and his eyes supervising his steps, she still sits the same say, her dress bunched up into a hump. So that Eddie's space stays vacant all the way home.

Inside the house now and so many people. They all seem to know her, but she only knows some. Jack comes up the brown stairs, a tray over his head, shouting 'Load coming through' again and again. And all the old Aunts laugh and say he's a scream. There's sherry and port wine for each of the ladies and stout for the men and whiskey as well. And each glass grows its own deep colour from stem up to brim. Bridie's cheeks are stained with prints of strange kisses and Joe stands by her side shaking all hands and giggling out of his freshly scrubbed face. <> The tray with the meat comes up and Mr Costelloe looks down at it, grinning approval as proud as a father. And everyone says that her dress is so pretty and twirl after twirl is called for until she is dizzy. Funny though, Mr Clifford says nothing at all.

And she looks around bursting with pride at the stacks of strange crockery on the sideboard. Oh and if only Milly would believe that they own every piece of it...
And the table that Jack made is now a whole village with Bridie's best sheets the snow on its ground. Platters of meat lie low at its centre, the square around which all else has been built. There's mountains of bread, buttered and sliced, and big fat tomatoes heaped into hills. Skinned scallions, cleaner than she's ever seen, sprout like trees from pint glasses. And lettuce leaves lie in hammock layers on top of four plates that stand at each corner. Small pots of thick mustard squat shoulder to shoulder. And butter tubs face them across the way. And now at last it's time to eat, now the dishes of little beady potatoes are coming, their flaky new skin threatening to shed.
Charlie picks up one of Mrs Dolan's knives and spanks a glass until silence falls. 'Now,' he says, his face all red. 'If you 'll all please help yourselves...'

She walks across to the window and peeps through its curtain. And why is Milly so late? Beneath her is the smaller table. Glass bowls, trifle bursting out from their rims like a fat lady's thigh bursts out from her stocking top and pudgy sponge buns lie back and wait along cake-stands out for the day from the Boston Bakery. The box of chocolates takes up most of the space. Row after row of matt brown jewels. And Mrs Dolan is beside her saying, 'Go on. Take one. Your tongue's hanging out.'

She reaches across and then remembers Kay. 'No. I 'll wait. It's all right.'

Mrs Dolan starts to insist. But then Millicent Green walks right into the room and she forgets the chocolates, every last one.

'Oh Milly. Hello. I thought you 'd never get here.'

'Mother said I must wait. Seeing as I wasn't really invited.'
'Yes, you were so.' 'Well, not to the whole thing.'
Milly looks cross so she says, 'Your dress is gorgeous,' and then, 'do you like mine?' positioning herself for yet another twirl.
'Not bad for a cut-off.' 'What do you mean...?' 'Hmmm,' Milly says, 'my mother is a dressmaker. Don't forget.' And then walks away to peep through the adults and the table behind them. She comes back in a minute with, 'I see you have our china.' 'Oh. Well, thanks for the loan.' 'Oh, don't mention it. It's not our best set.'
Milly is being so mean, she might not tell her about the glasses. Just arrive in with them as though they don't matter. Creak open the box and slowly take them out. Hawing the lenses and dusting them over first before inspecting them against the light. Yes, Millie can just wait.

Downstairs in the kitchen Mother fits dessert dishes into each other.

'Where's Eddie?' she asks.

'Oh he wanted to walk.'

Mother looks over at the clock on the wall and frowns.

'I see Granny Green has arrived,' Eileen says, pushing past her.

'Her name is Millicent,' she answers back.

She walks out to the scullery and Sheila is whispering to Lily Fossett.

'Bridie put them under the sofa, you see. To keep them safe. And you never guess what that drunken blaggard did?'

'No, what?'
'Fell asleep on the sofa. And peed in his trousers. And it dribbled down through the cushions. The chocolates were destroyed.'
'Oh my God. Did you throw them out?'

'No. We didn't dare. After Mr Clifford buying them. Of all people...Eileen washed them. They're upstairs on the sweet table. Just make sure you don't eat any. And here. Promise you won't tell.'

'Don't be so silly. As if...'

She walks up the stairs and her face is on fire. How could he? The chocolates. Mr Clifford's chocolates. Poor Mother...
Millicent is standing in the hall. 'This is so boring,' she says. 'They're all half piddley-eyed in there. I 'm sorry I came.'
'Why don't you go in and have a few chocolates?'

'Where?' Milly brightens up.

'Are you going to give us an oul song?' Mrs Clancy asks and then turning to her husband,'she's a great little one on the pian-o.'

But Mrs Clancy is only saying it. Just because she knows she's heard what she 'd really been saying. About her new glasses and her a disgrace her mother being a poor 'Wida-woman' and having to take in a lodger just to make ends meet.

'I don't know...'

'Ah come on. What about "All for Marie's Wedding"? I 've heard you play that before. You do a lovely job on it altogether.'

Charlie walks in then and Mrs Clancy hooks on to this elbow.

"Tell her, Charlie. Tell her to play "All for Marie's Wedding".'

'Yes,' he says. 'Go on. That's your special song.'
'I 'll have to get my music...'
'Go on then. We 'll wait. Promise. Where is it?'

'In my schoolbag.'

No colour comes through on the skylight, now that it's dark. She knocks at the door and slowly she opens it. The shaft from the landing makes a path for her to follow. Her hand pokes under the candlewick spread, and it rubs its gentle fleece against her arm. There she feels the bag and slides it to her.

She hears a thud then and the shaft from the landing slithers off.

And everything moves so slowly, it's almost as if it's not moving at all, as if it's not happening. There are hands, she knows, that lift her up from the side of the bed. And at first she think thinks it's someone looking for another twirl. But then she feels herself flop onto the mattress and bounce softly before being slipped over onto her back.

And then she sees him. So that's who it is. There at the end of that outstretched arm. That's his large hand pushing her small hands away. And pulling at her dress too, and tearing its roses that you can see right through. His second hand is a separate animal nibbling at the buttons in his trousers fly. His face is growing nearer and keeps saying shh, shh. Even though her screams are no more than a catch in her throat.

And then her hands go all quiet on her and lie dead by her side. And why oh why would they not move? He is taking something out of his trousers now. And one knee is up on the bed and now the other is copying it. And everything so black that she cannot see. She can hear though, the shh shh and shh shh. And downstairs too the cheering and laughter and Charlie speaking thickly the words that he's practised all week. But her breath gets so tight that the sounds fade away. And she is going to faint...just about to go when...

Suddenly they move again, her sleeping hands. And like two little birds they curl themselves inwards and tighten for a moment before they fly upward and...

PUNCH straight up, each taking a lens of his glasses. SMASH they both to into an instant spider's web. And he falls backwards and stumbles to the floor.

Her legs take her somehow over to the door and as it swings towards her the dressing-gown scrapes her face and brings her scream back to her. As though it had only been hiding.

There's singing downstairs and feet bangbanging on the parlour floor. Eddie sits hunched in a corner of the hall. He looks slowly up at her but then his elbow slips and his head falls back down.

She wants to tell him. To run and shake him, to make her screams turn into words. She wants him to bash Mr Clifford before he sneaks out the back way. For already she can hear him gather his things. Eddie will get him. Eddie is the one. Sheila might kill her - the price of the glasses. And now the lodger's money gone. What about Kay? Oh look at her dress. Her lovely organza... Oh Kay... And Mother. What would Mother say? What does she say again when she brings tales from school? 'Well you must have deserved it.' Yes that's what she says.
'Eddie,' she shouts and her feet start to move. One step then two... But the song from the parlour makes them stop:
Step we gaily on we go, Heel for heel and toe for toe. Arm in arm and row on row...

They are singing her song. Her special song. They started without her. As if she wasn't there. But it doesn't sound right. Something is wrong.

She sits down on the stairs and it comes to her then. Yes, that's it. They have changed the words. Instead of 'All for Marie's Wedding' they were singing 'All for Bridie's'.

One word and now it was a different song.
