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The words of the service sound like they are coming from the bottom of the sea. I repeat them carefully. It is truly like a dream. I just cannot believe that I am marrying Shane. As if in slow motion, I am holding out my hand and Shane’s strong fingers are slipping the ring onto my finger. I look up at him.
‘You may kiss the bride,’ the priest says.
Shane bends his mouth and, as his lips touch mine, all the hundreds of guests fire their cap guns at the same time. The reverberating sound startles me. I gasp and a laughing Shane gathers me in his arms and takes my mouth in a long, deep kiss.
‘God, I love you, Snow,’ he says, looking into my eyes.
The organ music reaches a crescendo triumphantly.
‘Let’s go,’ Layla says to me after we have posed for photos in the castle and on the lawns, ‘Time to change.’
‘Change? Into what?’
‘It’s a surprise,’ she says with wink.
We go into one of the smaller rooms next to the great hall where the reception will be held, and there is a deep red and gold traditional Indian bridal costume hanging on a hanger. I turn around and look at Layla. ‘I’m wearing an Indian costume
?’
She laughs gaily. ‘We all are. It was Shane’s idea.’
I laugh in disbelief. ‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ she says excitedly.
‘OK,’ I say, getting into the groove of an Indian wedding. I think of Chitra sitting out there in the crowd. She’ll be so tickled.
Layla and Lily quickly help me out of my wedding gown and into the Indian costume. The hairdresser gets to work next, taking down the tiara, and putting gold pins in my hair, and stringing a forehead decoration into the mix.
Red and gold bangles are slid up my arms. An Indian make-up artist from Hounslow uses eyeliner to enhance my eyes, making them appear dramatic. Gold antique jewelry is loaded onto my body: necklaces, forearm decorations, rings, chains. I am surprised by my reflection. I have never seen myself look so flushed and excited before. I am so happy I want to weep with joy.
Layla appears beside me. She looks gorgeous in a lovely blue lehenga. She smiles. ‘You look absolutely lovely. I wish I had done an Indian version for my wedding too.’
I just laugh.
‘One last hug,’ Layla says and we do a quick A line hug, since her pregnancy is showing even more now.
We leave the little changing room, and outside I am surprised to see that the others have changed into Indian costumes too. They look beautiful in their bright lehengas, saris, and salwar keemezes.
Feeling suddenly shy, I follow Layla through the crowded hall. People keep stopping us to congratulate and compliment me. Just outside the room where the reception will be held, Shane is waiting for me in a Sherwani. He looks so dashing it takes my breath away. Jake and Dom are also wearing Kurtas, and they stand beside Shane and smile at me. I smile back and feel so touched that they have all made such an effort to embrace me into their family. Shane comes up to me. He takes my hand and exhales slowly.
‘I always had a fantasy of bedding an Indian princess,’ he tells me with a grin.
I glance at the main table and see my mother. She looks stiff and uncomfortable. My father catches my eye and waves. I release my fingers from Shane’s. He looks down at me.
‘I’ll only be a minute,’ I say.
‘Hurry back,’ he says.
I walk over to my mother. She alone has refused to wear Indian attire.
My father stands. ‘You look absolutely beautiful, my darling.’
‘Thank you, Papa,’ I say and kiss his cheek.
He squeezes my hand and, leaning forward, whispers, ‘I’m so proud of you.’
I turn to my mother. She knows she is being watched so she stands and smiles at me. ‘Yes, you look very … nice,’ she says.
