The Morning Gift

The deputy sighed and went out into the corridor. The sound of hoovering ceased and a lady with a large wart on her chin, wearing a black overall, entered and stood silently by the door. She had cut a piece out of the sides of her felt slippers to give her bunions breathing space and this was sensible, Ruth appreciated this, and that someone whose feet were giving such trouble could not be expected to smile or say good morning. Then the plumber came, divested of his oilskins, and smelling strongly – and again this was entirely natural – of the drains he had been trying to clean and it was clear that he too was not pleased to be interrupted in his work – why should he be?

The Consul himself now entered, distinguished-looking, formally suited, with his finger in the Book of Common Prayer, and the ceremony began.

Quin had not expected what came next. ‘It’ll just be a formality,’ he’d promised Ruth. ‘A few minutes and then it’ll be done.’ But though the Consul was using a truncated version of the marriage service, he was still pronouncing the words that had joined men and women for four hundred years – and Quin, foreseeing trouble, frowned and stared at the floor.

‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God to join this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony . . .’

Beside him, Ruth moved uneasily. The lady with the cut-out bedroom slippers sniffed.

‘. . . and therefore is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand unadvisedly, lightly or wantonly . . . but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly . . .’

It was as he had expected. Ruth made a sudden, panicky movement of her head and a last drop of water fell from her wet hair onto the bare linoleum.

The Consul listed the causes for which matrimony was ordained. The procreation of children brought an anxious frown to her brow; the remedy against sin worried her less.

It was only briefly that the plumber and the cleaning lady, neither of whom understood a word, were required to disclose any impediment to the marriage or for ever hold their peace and the Consul came to the point.

‘Quinton Alexander St John, wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife . . .? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?’

‘I will.’

‘Ruth Sidonie, wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband . . .’

Her ‘I will’ came clearly, but with the faint, forgotten accent of Aberdeen. A stress symptom, it would appear.

The Consul cleared his throat. ‘Do you have a ring?’

Ruth shook her head in the same instant as Quin took from his pocket a plain gold band.

He too was pale as he promised to take Ruth for his wedded wife from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health. The ring, when he slipped it on her finger, was a perfect fit. Her hands were as cold as ice.

‘With this Ring I thee wed, with my Body I thee worship, and with all my worldly Goods I thee endow.’ His voice was steady now. The thing was almost done.

‘We will omit the prayer,’ said the Consul and allowed the final injunction to roll off his tongue with a suitable and sombre emphasis. ‘Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.’

It was over. The register was signed, Quin paid his dues, tipped the witnesses, put a note into the collecting box for orphans of the Spanish Civil War.

‘If you come back at four o’clock your passport will be ready with your wife’s name on it, and her visa.’

Ruth managed to reach the gravelled driveway before she burst into tears.

‘For God’s sake, Ruth, what’s the matter? It’s all over now. Tomorrow evening you’ll be with your family.’

She blew her nose, shook out her hair.

‘You see, we shall be cursed!’

‘Cursed! What on earth are you talking about? Could we have less of the Old Testament, please?’

‘Ha! You see . . . Now you are also anti-Semitic.’

‘Well, I do think this might be the moment to take after the goat-herding grandmother rather than some gloomy old rabbi. What do you mean, we shall be cursed?’