Matilda, Page 2

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  The morning sun broke through the foliage on the willow’s gently swaying branches. This soft dappled light cast moving shadows onto the beaming face of her intended and glinted off the river, turning the sluggish waters into a river of diamond-dust.

  Matilda smiled in her sleep as the young and beautiful version of herself smiled at the lovely tableau before her.

  She kept her eyes on the spot under the tree where they both stood waiting for her arrival next to a hastily erected card-table covered with a shining white cloth and a simple vase of blood-red roses.

  The elderly J.P stood in his best black suit with his broad hands crossed respectfully over his tattered copy of the wedding service.

  And her intended.

  Oh dear.

  Matilda’s frail heart gave a tiny flutter as her other self, gazed with adoration onto the face of her beloved.

  She paused, her foot raised, her breath caught in her throat. Time stuttered, wavered and restarted as their eyes locked.

  With her cheeks burning she squeezed the satin ribbon which bound together the stems of her Australian-native flower bouquet. Soft white flannel flowers, brilliant red kangaroo paws and glossy ivy had been artfully arranged into a posy of understated elegance. With a nervous swallow Matilda glanced down, inspecting, making sure she looked perfect for her love.

  The ankle length dress had an overskirt of ivory coloured antique lace over a cream satin underskirt and frothy tulle petticoats. It reminded her a little of one of Pavlova’s tutus, but longer. She’d been overjoyed when she’d found the lace on her great-aunts débutante dress.

  Lovingly wrapped in faded tissue paper and packed away in a trunk in the attic, the precious lace was still in a pristine condition. After painstakingly removing it she’d hand sewn it to the dress that she’d spent months working on.

  She hadn’t worn a veil, opting instead for an elegant circlet of miniature red roses and baby’s breath. Her hair-do had been an easy decision to make, she’d worn it out, leaving the thick curtain draped unfettered down her back. She knew this was how her lover liked it and she so wanted this day to be perfect. In each lobe twinkled discreet diamond studs a gift from her beloved. Nervously raising a hand, she touched one for good luck.

  Back in the chair by the french doors Matilda’s breath came in quick little snuffs. Every now and then a giggle would escape her throat as she rejoiced in the blissful happiness of her special day, once again a young woman in the throes of love.

  The nurse reached in and removed Matilda’s cold tea before tenderly pulling the crocheted rug up a little higher on her lap. She’d leave her napping for a while longer, she looked so peaceful. Glancing at her watch she realised that she had 5 minutes left until her shift finished and turning she placed the cup on the tea-trolley and made her way to the office to write up the notes for the next shift.

  Matilda’s amorphous companions leaned forward and planted a kiss on each of her papery cheeks. They didn’t notice the network of deep wrinkles that her face powder collected in, or smell the pungent odour of disinfectant-like soap that some of the unkinder nurses favoured in place of Matilda’s fresh floral cakes of soap.

  They saw the exquisite beauty of a young woman and they glimpsed the dazzling soul which resided inside her frail outer shell.

  Matilda’s head dropped forward and in her reminisces she was nearly at the tree.

  The J.P had stepped forward and was smiling kindly at her. She glanced sideways and nearly cried with joy. Her love, oh her reason to draw breath was gazing on with sapphire-blue eyes burning with love and desire.

  Matilda lifted her hem, rushing those last few steps. Her love extended a hand and clutching her bouquet tightly she took the outstretched fingers. She giggled as she felt the soft hand squeeze hers and looking up into that face her belly exploded with heat and want and millions of butterflies.

  “You look glorious Matilda, Venus will be weeping with envy as she gazes upon your beauty,” sang the low sultry voice of her love.

  Matilda, both young and old wept as the glory of the day overwhelmed them.

  As both of them faced each other, hands clasped, the J.P recited the words which joined them together. Neither cared that in the eyes of the law it was null and void, as far as they were concerned they were married.

  The J.P mumbled his congratulations and after a brisk, firm handshake he strolled off to his car, in which waited his payment. Carefully packed in sawdust inside a wooden crate marked ‘Produit de Bordeaux’ were four bottles of liquid gold. His lips smacked together in anticipation of that first mouthful and his steps quickened.

  Matilda leaned into her beloved’s chest and her heart raced as she felt arms wrap around her. Lifting her face she closed her eyes, nearly swooning as she felt the satin lips of her lover press onto hers.

  “Oh Mary, I never thought this day would come. I am so happy and you look simply gorgeous,” murmured Matilda as she took a step back and grazed her eyes up and down the figure of her love.

  Her dress and shoes were of palest lilac and she wore a spray of baby’s breath pinned to her décolletage. Around her neck hung a delicate chain with an antique gold cross and discreet pearls decorated her earlobes.

  Mary took her hand and led her to where a rug had been laid out and Matilda felt her eyes prickle with tears as she saw the small wicker hamper. Squeezing Mary’s hand she bit her lip to keep her tears at bay.

  “Come sit my dear.”

  As they sat, trembling thighs and knees touching beneath layers of frothy tulle, Mary reached into the hamper and with a theatrical flourish produced a bottle of red and two long-stemmed wineglasses. Matilda gasped and cupped her hand to her mouth, hiding her smile.

  Winking wickedly Mary said, “ What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him will it? He couldn’t have them all, we need something to put in our glasses as well. Here my darling take these for a moment.” She handed over the goblets while she deftly set to work with a corkscrew. With a sucking ‘pop’, accompanied by a high giggle, she removed the cork and filled up their flutes.

  The glossy red liquid gurgled into the glasses like a stream over rocks and twisting Mary replaced the bottle before leaning in and steeling a passionate kiss.

  With her lips on Matilda’s ear she whispered, “My love, thank you for today. May god grant us a lifetime of happiness and love and in his wisdom and glory, an afterlife of love as well.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Back in her chair, snuggled under the rug Matilda drew in a silent shuddering breath and went limp. No one noticed and no one came. The dim room was filled with the trills and snores of sleeping time-travellers just like her.

  Except her journey had now come to an end.

  Linking arms with her beloved Mary -- who had waited patiently for twenty years for her – the wispy form of Matilda rose and on young strong legs skipped out through the now open french doors. Together they stood wrapped in each other’s embrace, untouched by the silvery rain.

  “Together at last my dear. You look as beautiful as ever,” crooned Mary gently stroking her fingers down Matilda’s face.

  “Shall we be off then? There’s a fine bottle of red that awaits us.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The other ghost smiled wistfully and turned away from the scene of the reuniting lovers.

  Touching an amorphous finger to his lip he eyed the room and its occupants. With a subtle nod of his head he drifted like low morning mist across the chequered lino floor, heading towards the snoring gentleman with the buttoned up grey cardigan and soft worn trilby. He tilted his head and his lips quirked up as the hat slowly slid off the old man’s bald pate, his chin drooping forward with his deepening sleep.

  Soundlessly he sat opposite him and casually crossed his legs. Glancing sideways he gave a quick nod to the other ghost who returned the greeting before giving her attention back to the sleeping man that he was preparing to bef
riend.

  Matilda was gone now, she had no need of him anymore. But he had no need to be lonely, there were many beautiful souls here crying out for friends. And he was just the person for the job.

  Turning his head he watched Matilda and Mary disappear from view, their slender youthful arms tightly entwined around each other’s waist, their heads touching as they whispered to each other.

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  Dedicated to my family.

  Your love and support allow me to keep dreaming the dream.

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