Another Mans Bride
Harry Fletcher was the man of the moment. He never once bothered to advertise in local papers or on the tellyyet his name and number passed from neighbour to neighbour like the weather report. Concert MC? No problem. Milestone birthday, silver wedding, or summer fête? Sorted! Hed even once hosted a primary school graduation, winning not just the childrens hearts but their mums as well.
It all started rather simply. One of Harrys closest mates was getting married, but the hired master of ceremonies had vanishedturns out, hed gone on a proper bender. With no time to find anyone else, Harry seized the microphone himself.
At school, Harry was always part of the drama club, later trying his hand at university theatrics and student revues. That impromptu wedding performance was a smashing success, and right there in the hall, two guests came up, asking if he could run their events as well.
After graduating, Harry took a job at a local research institute, scraping by on a pittance. His first gig wages felt like winning the poolshe started taking every job that came his way, pocketing decent money and genuine pride for making folks days memorable. In no time, his earnings as a host outstripped his official junior research salary by tenfold.
A year in, Harry made the leap: he left the institute, invested his savings in top-notch DJ kit, registered as self-employed, and went full-steam into show business. Singing lessons complemented his natural baritone, and soon, he was not only hosting but performing, picking up three evenings a week as a crooner at a local pub.
By thirty, Harry was well-off, handsome, and known about town as a dashing singer, MC, and DJ who could turn dogs dinner into a royal banquet. He remained a bachelorwhy settle down when the women seemed to fall at his feet? But while mates got married and started families, Harry began longing for a bit of domestic bliss himself. The only trouble was, none of the girls around caught his fancyhe wanted something real, something for life.
“Find yourself a sixth former, start em young, and by eighteen youll have the perfect wife, mate. Prime pickings! his friends joked.
Half-jokingly, Harry started taking end-of-year gigs at girls schools, eyeing up prospects. But times had changed, and the girls werent what hed pictured at all; there was a spark missing, something he couldnt put his finger on. Still, he kept sportingly referring to it as hunting rare game. Yet fatethose mischievous godshad other plans for my cousin.
There was no sign this gig would be any different. A lady rang, mentioning a mutual acquaintance. We need a host for a wedding on the 17th of June. Are you available? Fantastic! Could we meet?
They met in a bustling café. According to Harry, he finally understood the phrase the ground fell out from under my feet. The womanintroducing herself as Catherinewas simply dazzling. Hed never met anyone so striking, so perfectly self-assured. She spoke with precision and wit, clearly knowing exactly what she wanted. Harry found himself staring, envy blooming insidesome lucky chap had truly hit the jackpot! Not just beautiful, she was obviously clever tooa rare blend. At first glance, Harry guessed Catherine was twenty-five, maybe a touch older; yet during their chat she mentioned the scouts association from when she was a girl, making her at least forty.
They sorted all the details, came to an agreement, and Harry insisted on a contract. Catherine hesitated: Is that necessary? Youve stellar references, I trust you.
Harry always signed contracts; rules were rules. Ive got to file everything for the taxmanbest not tempt fate.
Though, if he admitted it, he just wanted a physical reminder this wasnt a dream: Catherine was real.
Her mobile pingeda text. Thatll be the groom. Care for a lift?
Harry declined, though, as always when clients arrived separately, he went out to size up the couple. Only, this time it wasnt curiositymore like envy and jealousy. The groom surprised him. Harry expected someone Catherines age, but instead, a young ladbarely past universitysprang from the car.
Catherine, everything alright?
She simply smiled, slipped into the car. The groom turned and offered Harry his hand. Youre our MC? Brilliant. My mate Nick tells me youre the best. Im Oliver, by the way. Sorry, forgot my manners. Catll have my guts for garters.
All Harry wanted, more than anything, was to punch this Oliver-the-groom and wipe the smug grin from his face. Instead, he shook his hand.
Harry. Pleased to meet you.
From that day on, Harry was a man unmoored, restless and lost. He found excuses to call Catherine, to hear her voice, eager for any sign she might want to meet. The wedding approached; Harry thought hed go mad. The only person he confided in was Tom, his oldest mate, who smirked, What happened to your girls fresh out of Sixth Form? Building the ideal wife from scratch?
Harry just waved him off. Forget it! Catherineshes the perfect woman. No one else counts now!
So tell her, then, Tom egged. Harry snapped, Dont be daft! She loves her fiancé, shes getting married. Why would she want anything to do with me?
Sometimes, grinning Oliver would pop by. Catherine wanted to drop this off, making Harry bristle with resentment. Harry even thought about backing out of the wedding for the sake of his own sanityreputation be damned! But that meant never seeing Catherine again, and the thought made him chicken out.
Two days before the wedding, Catherine swung by to put the finishing touches on the script. The office was being redecorated, so they met at Harrys flat. They spent most of the time laughing, almost flirting, feeling like old friends more than business partners. When the last details were sorted, Harry suggested, Shall we have a glass of bubbly, then? For good luck on the big day.
Catherine beamed. Love to!
With courage courtesy of champagne, Harry leaned inand kissed her. To his astonishment, Catherine kissed him back. Their worlds flipped upside down.
Harry woke with a start, heart pounding, scanning the room. Was it a dream? But as he clutched the spare pillow, it held the faintest trace of Catherines perfume. So it was real. Shaken, he got up, knowing for certain: no dream. Now what? Would the wedding be off? He dialled Catherine.
Hi
She sounded light as ever. Morning! All set? Sorry I slipped away, but you know how wedding planning getsflat out!
Sothe weddings still on? Harrys voice was hollow.
Of course! Why wouldnt it be? Everythings just perfect!
All women cant possibly be so heartless, can they? How could she go through with a wedding, smiling at her groom, after last night? Harry paced the flat, stomach knotted. Should he disrupt the wedding? Did he even want someone this cold-blooded? If he was honestyes, more than anything.
On the wedding day, Harry arrived at the venue early. The florists flitted about, stealing glances at him, and
He could barely believe his eyes: Catherine walked straight up to him.
Hullo. I slipped away right after the registryjust had to see you. She smiled that brilliant smile. You alright, Harry?
Waitso youve registered? And now youverun off?
Catherine grinned. Obviously! Why would I want to cruise about town with a crowd of youngsters when I could be with you? Or are you not happy to see me?
Hang onyoungsters? Isnt it you getting married?
She stared at him for a couple of heartbeats, then burst out laughinga deep, genuine laugh that made Harry grin despite himself.
Me? Heavens, no! Thats my daughterCathy. She studies up in Manchester; just came home yesterday. Did you really think Imiddle-aged mewas the bride?
Harrys face burned as understanding finally dawned. Catherine had never used I or wealways the bride and groom. And Oliver never called her Cathy, only Catherine, and always madam. How hadnt he noticed? How ridiculous he must have seemed. And all at once, he blurted the one question that mattered:
What about you? Are youfree? The moment she nodded, he couldnt help himself. Marry me, Catherine. Please.
The wedding was a marvelHarry was the consummate entertainer, earning every cheer. The bride and groom sought him out. Thank you! Youve made the evening magicalwe dont know how to thank you.
Ill thank him myself, Catherine said, beaming as the newlyweds dashed off to their limousine. Ill mind things here.
News of Harrys engagement to a woman nine years his senior spread quickly among the relativesa bit of a stir at first, but when they met Catherine, everyone agreed:
How could you not fall for someone like her?
Catherine and her Cathy gave birth just a fortnight apart.
