Alisaura
Blue Crack Supplier
Well, here it is, the end of a long road. Thanks everyone for reading, I have enjoyed sharing this 
The Disclaimer would like to thank you too, for your patience
And as always, reminds you that this is all made-up nonsense and not to be taken seriously.
end of chapter 46:
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---------------------------------
"Hey guys, where are we the last week in May?"
"Germany, I think. Somewhere in Europe."
"Whatcha wanna know faw?"
"Gawd. You're not supposed to speak with your mouth full, you know. I really didn't need to see that."
"I'm curious too...?"
"About what he's chewing on?"
"No, spare me. About why you need to know where we'll be in May."
"I've been invited to a wedding."
"Oho!"
"Whose?"
"Here, take a look. This must be why she wanted a postal address."
"Heheheh. 'Ed Evans plus partner/friend'..."
"Lisa and Glen? That's wonderful... Have they been together long?"
"... I honestly don't know. We never really spoke about that sort of thing."
"Do you wanna go?"
"Well, it all depends on whether it's a show day..."
"It's not, I just checked. Rest day between shows."
"... and I should probably discuss this with my partner/friend, as well."
"Fair enough."
"If nothing else, I think I should at least send a gift of some sort..."
"There's that look again."
---------------------------------
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Chapter 47:
-----------
A week before I was due to leave for Cornwall, a thick envelope arrived with our names on it, and an American stamp. Perplexed, I opened it, to find a sheaf of what looked like travel brochures, and a "Congratulations" card for the wedding.
"Hey, it's from Ed," I said, and Glen looked up from where he was cooking dinner. "Why is he sending us all this... What... Oh my god."
Glen dropped his spatula and was at my side in a flash. He still tended to be over-protective after what happened, but I hoped he would relax a bit more with time.
"Calm down," I said, reading the card again. There was the usual message of congratulations to us both on one half of it, signed with a squiggle that looked too long for 'Ed' and too short for 'Edward', or whatever 'Ed' was short for. But I hardly noticed that, after reading what was on the other half.
'I'd been wanting to find some way to thank you both properly for what you did, but with things being so hectic here, I haven't been able to think of something. But now you've gone and given me a perfect excuse, so consider this a wedding present, if you like.
'There's no time limit on this – I imagine you already have a honeymoon organised. I've spoken to the travel agent, just tell them when you want to go and they will take care of the rest. You did mention you hadn't seen much of the United States, so I hope you'll both enjoy this.
'Thank you again, and best wishes.'
Beside me, Glen's jaw was hanging open. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked. I looked again at the brochures and things that had been folded up inside the card. Yellowstone National Park... Niagara Falls... the Grand Canyon... the National Dinosaur Monument... it was like a geologist's dream tour of the USA. It would take weeks and weeks... there were pamphlets and vouchers for a series of hotels along the route, too. The "suggested time frame" spanned two months.
"This must have cost a fortune! We can't accept this," I said, turning to Glen with a jumble of feelings on my face. I was immensely touched that Ed had even thought of this, but it was too much. How could a guy wearing tatty jeans and old sneakers afford it?
"He's a cheeky bugger," Glen said faintly. "Giving us a holiday better than our honeymoon!"
I privately agreed... there was nothing wrong with Hawaii, but we'd only booked three weeks there.
"He can't have paid for anything yet, as it's not booked," I said. I waved the wedding RSVP slip at Glen. "We can thank him profusely at the wedding, and maybe by then we'll make up a reason why we can't accept it."
"It seems awfully rude," Glen said. He was eyeing the glossy pictures of Yellowstone Park. I thwapped him with the Grand Canyon.
"I know, but it's extravagant! This is probably worth as much as the whole wedding. These aren't cheap hotels, either!"
"Perhaps if we just went to one place, and told the agent to put us in more reasonable accommodation...?"
"Hmm." That seemed a little better... and it was probably ten kinds of bad luck to refuse a wedding present or some such, if you believed in that sort of thing.
"The Grand Canyon's not all it's cracked up to be," Glen said. "I did go there with a friend once; he took one look at the view, and his face fell a mile."
"Come off it, even the pictures are spectacular. He can't have been disappointed," I said, looking in disbelief at the gorgeous panoramas laid out across the pamphlet I was holding.
"He wasn't disappointed," Glen said with a suspiciously straight face. "He fell over the edge."
I stared at him.
"Gotcha," he grinned.
"You miserable...!!" He had got me, completely. There was a lot of swearing and mostly-playful thumping, before I gave in and joined his helpless laughter on the couch.
Ed's RSVP had warned that he would only be able to attend the ceremony, not the reception, and that his punctuality would depend largely on airlines, which didn't sound promising. The fact that he was willing to fly in just for the ceremony was something else that beggared belief. That, and his mind-boggling generosity occupied many of my thoughts while I was in the field during March.
Cornwall is a beautiful place, and until I got out there, I hadn't realised how keenly I'd missed being out in the field, alone, working. I'd barely had any time to myself in the past year – Glen worked most days and I had the house to myself, but I couldn't feel properly alone until I'd gotten away from those familiar surroundings.
Out under the Cornish sky, trekking along the rugged coastline, I felt as though a long-missing puzzle piece from my life had clicked back into place, and I'd barely realised it had been gone. The weather was still chilly, and I got drenched regularly by either the rain or the waves, but I was happy. It was with great satisfaction that I presented a very good map to my employers a week after I got back home.
April had barely arrived before it was over, and the wedding had developed an irresistible momentum, like an avalanche. There seemed no way to keep things as simple as I'd hoped for.
Finally, everything had been done that could be done, and the morning of the fateful day dawned bright and clear. I had stayed at Clarisse's house that night, with Anne. Clarisse was my matron of honour (I'd literally tossed a coin between her and Anne, and both women were sensible enough not to have any hard feelings), with Anne the bridesmaid. My dress was a pale pearly grey, Anne and Clarisse were in a darker, shimmering grey, almost gunmetal. They had assured me the dresses were nice, and not at all the stereotypically horrible bridesmaid dresses. I didn't know much about fashion and style, but I thought we all looked all right.
The hair and makeup took longer than I would have believed, given that my hair was still quite short, but Clarisse's and Anne's had to be done as well.
And I got the traditional moment of complete panic – fortunately long before we got anywhere near the gardens where the chapel we'd chosen was situated.
"What am I doing?!" I said, getting the first good look at myself in a full-length mirror. Dress, veil, bouquet. Bride.
"You're getting married," Anne observed calmly from under a pile of curlers. Clarisse stepped up beside me and smiled at my reflection.
"But why?? We've been together... nearly ten years now! Why get married now? We were perfectly happy. And I am not changing my name to Thatcher," I added, scowling.
"Don't wrinkle your foundation," Clarisse said, poking me in the ribs.
"Don't poke the dress," I returned.
"Fine." She poked me on a bare shoulder instead.
"'Lisa Thatcher'," Anne mused, trying the name on for me. We'd been over this before, but I suppose they thought playing through the conversation again would calm me down. "You're right, it just doesn't roll off the tongue as nicely as 'Erikson'."
"Once again, the Scandinavian invasion tramples a good English name," Clarisse sighed.
"Oh come on, you're not even English. And never mind ze Norman invasion, Clarisse," I replied, with an outrageous French accent.
Polite chuckles.
I stared at the mirror again. "This doesn't seem real," I said. "Look at me, a bride at my age..."
"You look beautiful," Clarisse said, resting a hand on my shoulder. "Glen's going to be a mess, you're not allowed to fall to pieces."
"And what's worse, being a bride at this age, or a bridesmaid?" Anne asked.
"Touché," I said. "Thank you both," I added.
"Don't be silly, we wouldn't miss this for the world," Anne replied, smiling.
"Too right. And speaking of which, are you sure this mysterious Ed is going to be there? I sometimes wonder if you didn't just make him up," Clarisse winked.
"Don't even joke about it," I said. "I spent far too much time last year wondering if things were just in my imagination or not. He's real enough, and he said he'd be at the ceremony, airlines permitting."
"I can't believe you're going to pass up that holiday," Anne sighed. "Well, most of it, anyway."
"It was a lovely gesture, but it's far too much," I said, with a small sigh of my own. "I hope he won't be offended."
I also hoped I wouldn't come to regret introducing Ed to my two best friends. There was no telling what sort of things would come out of Clarisse's mouth from one moment to the next.
I turned back to the mirror, and got a shock all over again. It was so unlike me, to get married, I thought. Mind you, I didn't suppose many people made a habit of it. Hadn't Glen and I been comfortable as we were? Maybe that was the thing. Too comfortable... but what was wrong with that, really?
"You're wrinkling again," Clarisse admonished. She put her hands on my shoulders and looked me in the face, blue eyes to my hazel. "Lisa," she said, perfectly serious now. "Why did you say 'Yes' to Glen?"
I opened my mouth, and closed it again. "I love him," I said finally. "I mean, I loved him before. But it just seemed right. It felt right."
"See, that old woman in your dreams was right. Follow your heart." Clarisse smiled at me.
"Just try to avoid a blood transfusion this time, okay?" Anne put in. I smiled a watery kind of smile, and my eyes flicked down to the two thin scars on my forearms.
Walking down the aisle to the Wedding March on my father's arm, I saw that Glen wasn't precisely a mess, although the best man, his brother, did appear to be holding him up. The look on his face nearly undid my knees too, but my father steadied me, and we made it to the altar in one piece.
I blinked, pushing away another sort of altar from my memory.
The gathered family and friends had gone by in a blur, I couldn't have sworn to recognising any of the smiling faces that we'd walked past. I turned to look at my parents – both were wearing expressions of somewhat incredulous happiness – they'd clearly long since given up on their only child getting married. But here we all were. My mother was already dabbing at her eyes, and dad's glasses were looking a little misty too.
The celebrant cleared his throat, and it was suddenly happening.
Thank god for rehearsals.
I had to force myself to concentrate more than once on what the celebrant was saying, pulling my mind away from the lingering sense of unreality, or rehearsing the vows I'd written. At one point a susurration of whispering broke out towards the back of the chapel, but quickly died down again. When I next had the chance, I took a quick look in that direction, and smiled at the sight of a black beanie among the guests. Who knew beanies counted as formal wear?
The vows were spoken, the rings exchanged, and no one made any dramatic objections. I thought fleetingly of what Andrew had said to me about rituals still being important in modern society, and this whole ceremony underlined that. There was so much symbolism going on, which a lot of people never even thought about. It was just a wedding, this was simply how they were.
We were pronounced husband and wife, and Glen lifted the veil to kiss me. I was barely aware of the clapping and camera flashes. Eventually, we ran out of breath.
"Husband," I whispered in his ear, and grinned.
"Wife," he replied in mine, breath tickling my neck.
After all the photos had been taken there, the bridal party adjourned to a small room to sign the register, and make everything legal. The usual jokes were made about signing our lives away.
"Bit late to worry about that now," I winked at Glen. He was still wearing the besotted grin I'd seen while walking up the aisle. At least he could stand unassisted, now.
In due course, my husband (!) and I emerged from the chapel, and were bombarded with rose petals and confetti. Family and friends were smiling and throwing things and laughing and taking pictures, along with the wedding photographer.
I kept seeing people I knew, and was grinning at everyone like a madwoman. I spied Ed, up at the back, keeping out of the way of the more energetic guests. His green eyes crinkled into near invisibility as he grinned back at me. "Congratulations!" he called over the din.
There was a small knot of other men with fancy cameras too, which was a little perplexing as I didn't think we had more than one photographer. One of them darted forward, shouting "Ed! Over 'ere, mate!" The other two were hot on his heels, and all three held their cameras aloft, shouting. Friends of his?
But wait. They weren't shouting 'Ed'. It sounded much more like...
"Edge! Give us a smile, The Edge!"
'The Edge'...? Why did that sound familiar? My brain started making connections, digging up old memories.
There are a number of photographs that captured the bewilderment, the furious thought, the disbelief, and then the dawning comprehension that crossed my mind and my face in the next few seconds.
No. Way.
"What?" Glen said. Then I saw everything register with him, saw him come to the same unbelievable conclusion. He figured it out quicker than I had, at least.
I turned, craning, looking for my beanied friend again. He was trying to keep a group of other guests between himself and the photographers.
Paparazzi!
Our eyes met again, my eyebrows climbing into my hair.
Ed – or The Edge – just shrugged, winked, and shot me a cheeky-school-boy look of sheepish apology.
I spoke into Glen's ear. "We're taking the bloody holiday!"
THE END
The Disclaimer would like to thank you too, for your patience
And as always, reminds you that this is all made-up nonsense and not to be taken seriously.end of chapter 46:
--------
---------------------------------
"Hey guys, where are we the last week in May?"
"Germany, I think. Somewhere in Europe."
"Whatcha wanna know faw?"
"Gawd. You're not supposed to speak with your mouth full, you know. I really didn't need to see that."
"I'm curious too...?"
"About what he's chewing on?"
"No, spare me. About why you need to know where we'll be in May."
"I've been invited to a wedding."
"Oho!"
"Whose?"
"Here, take a look. This must be why she wanted a postal address."
"Heheheh. 'Ed Evans plus partner/friend'..."
"Lisa and Glen? That's wonderful... Have they been together long?"
"... I honestly don't know. We never really spoke about that sort of thing."
"Do you wanna go?"
"Well, it all depends on whether it's a show day..."
"It's not, I just checked. Rest day between shows."
"... and I should probably discuss this with my partner/friend, as well."
"Fair enough."
"If nothing else, I think I should at least send a gift of some sort..."
"There's that look again."
---------------------------------
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Chapter 47:
-----------
A week before I was due to leave for Cornwall, a thick envelope arrived with our names on it, and an American stamp. Perplexed, I opened it, to find a sheaf of what looked like travel brochures, and a "Congratulations" card for the wedding.
"Hey, it's from Ed," I said, and Glen looked up from where he was cooking dinner. "Why is he sending us all this... What... Oh my god."
Glen dropped his spatula and was at my side in a flash. He still tended to be over-protective after what happened, but I hoped he would relax a bit more with time.
"Calm down," I said, reading the card again. There was the usual message of congratulations to us both on one half of it, signed with a squiggle that looked too long for 'Ed' and too short for 'Edward', or whatever 'Ed' was short for. But I hardly noticed that, after reading what was on the other half.
'I'd been wanting to find some way to thank you both properly for what you did, but with things being so hectic here, I haven't been able to think of something. But now you've gone and given me a perfect excuse, so consider this a wedding present, if you like.
'There's no time limit on this – I imagine you already have a honeymoon organised. I've spoken to the travel agent, just tell them when you want to go and they will take care of the rest. You did mention you hadn't seen much of the United States, so I hope you'll both enjoy this.
'Thank you again, and best wishes.'
Beside me, Glen's jaw was hanging open. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked. I looked again at the brochures and things that had been folded up inside the card. Yellowstone National Park... Niagara Falls... the Grand Canyon... the National Dinosaur Monument... it was like a geologist's dream tour of the USA. It would take weeks and weeks... there were pamphlets and vouchers for a series of hotels along the route, too. The "suggested time frame" spanned two months.
"This must have cost a fortune! We can't accept this," I said, turning to Glen with a jumble of feelings on my face. I was immensely touched that Ed had even thought of this, but it was too much. How could a guy wearing tatty jeans and old sneakers afford it?
"He's a cheeky bugger," Glen said faintly. "Giving us a holiday better than our honeymoon!"
I privately agreed... there was nothing wrong with Hawaii, but we'd only booked three weeks there.
"He can't have paid for anything yet, as it's not booked," I said. I waved the wedding RSVP slip at Glen. "We can thank him profusely at the wedding, and maybe by then we'll make up a reason why we can't accept it."
"It seems awfully rude," Glen said. He was eyeing the glossy pictures of Yellowstone Park. I thwapped him with the Grand Canyon.
"I know, but it's extravagant! This is probably worth as much as the whole wedding. These aren't cheap hotels, either!"
"Perhaps if we just went to one place, and told the agent to put us in more reasonable accommodation...?"
"Hmm." That seemed a little better... and it was probably ten kinds of bad luck to refuse a wedding present or some such, if you believed in that sort of thing.
"The Grand Canyon's not all it's cracked up to be," Glen said. "I did go there with a friend once; he took one look at the view, and his face fell a mile."
"Come off it, even the pictures are spectacular. He can't have been disappointed," I said, looking in disbelief at the gorgeous panoramas laid out across the pamphlet I was holding.
"He wasn't disappointed," Glen said with a suspiciously straight face. "He fell over the edge."
I stared at him.
"Gotcha," he grinned.
"You miserable...!!" He had got me, completely. There was a lot of swearing and mostly-playful thumping, before I gave in and joined his helpless laughter on the couch.
Ed's RSVP had warned that he would only be able to attend the ceremony, not the reception, and that his punctuality would depend largely on airlines, which didn't sound promising. The fact that he was willing to fly in just for the ceremony was something else that beggared belief. That, and his mind-boggling generosity occupied many of my thoughts while I was in the field during March.
Cornwall is a beautiful place, and until I got out there, I hadn't realised how keenly I'd missed being out in the field, alone, working. I'd barely had any time to myself in the past year – Glen worked most days and I had the house to myself, but I couldn't feel properly alone until I'd gotten away from those familiar surroundings.
Out under the Cornish sky, trekking along the rugged coastline, I felt as though a long-missing puzzle piece from my life had clicked back into place, and I'd barely realised it had been gone. The weather was still chilly, and I got drenched regularly by either the rain or the waves, but I was happy. It was with great satisfaction that I presented a very good map to my employers a week after I got back home.
April had barely arrived before it was over, and the wedding had developed an irresistible momentum, like an avalanche. There seemed no way to keep things as simple as I'd hoped for.
Finally, everything had been done that could be done, and the morning of the fateful day dawned bright and clear. I had stayed at Clarisse's house that night, with Anne. Clarisse was my matron of honour (I'd literally tossed a coin between her and Anne, and both women were sensible enough not to have any hard feelings), with Anne the bridesmaid. My dress was a pale pearly grey, Anne and Clarisse were in a darker, shimmering grey, almost gunmetal. They had assured me the dresses were nice, and not at all the stereotypically horrible bridesmaid dresses. I didn't know much about fashion and style, but I thought we all looked all right.
The hair and makeup took longer than I would have believed, given that my hair was still quite short, but Clarisse's and Anne's had to be done as well.
And I got the traditional moment of complete panic – fortunately long before we got anywhere near the gardens where the chapel we'd chosen was situated.
"What am I doing?!" I said, getting the first good look at myself in a full-length mirror. Dress, veil, bouquet. Bride.
"You're getting married," Anne observed calmly from under a pile of curlers. Clarisse stepped up beside me and smiled at my reflection.
"But why?? We've been together... nearly ten years now! Why get married now? We were perfectly happy. And I am not changing my name to Thatcher," I added, scowling.
"Don't wrinkle your foundation," Clarisse said, poking me in the ribs.
"Don't poke the dress," I returned.
"Fine." She poked me on a bare shoulder instead.
"'Lisa Thatcher'," Anne mused, trying the name on for me. We'd been over this before, but I suppose they thought playing through the conversation again would calm me down. "You're right, it just doesn't roll off the tongue as nicely as 'Erikson'."
"Once again, the Scandinavian invasion tramples a good English name," Clarisse sighed.
"Oh come on, you're not even English. And never mind ze Norman invasion, Clarisse," I replied, with an outrageous French accent.
Polite chuckles.
I stared at the mirror again. "This doesn't seem real," I said. "Look at me, a bride at my age..."
"You look beautiful," Clarisse said, resting a hand on my shoulder. "Glen's going to be a mess, you're not allowed to fall to pieces."
"And what's worse, being a bride at this age, or a bridesmaid?" Anne asked.
"Touché," I said. "Thank you both," I added.
"Don't be silly, we wouldn't miss this for the world," Anne replied, smiling.
"Too right. And speaking of which, are you sure this mysterious Ed is going to be there? I sometimes wonder if you didn't just make him up," Clarisse winked.
"Don't even joke about it," I said. "I spent far too much time last year wondering if things were just in my imagination or not. He's real enough, and he said he'd be at the ceremony, airlines permitting."
"I can't believe you're going to pass up that holiday," Anne sighed. "Well, most of it, anyway."
"It was a lovely gesture, but it's far too much," I said, with a small sigh of my own. "I hope he won't be offended."
I also hoped I wouldn't come to regret introducing Ed to my two best friends. There was no telling what sort of things would come out of Clarisse's mouth from one moment to the next.
I turned back to the mirror, and got a shock all over again. It was so unlike me, to get married, I thought. Mind you, I didn't suppose many people made a habit of it. Hadn't Glen and I been comfortable as we were? Maybe that was the thing. Too comfortable... but what was wrong with that, really?
"You're wrinkling again," Clarisse admonished. She put her hands on my shoulders and looked me in the face, blue eyes to my hazel. "Lisa," she said, perfectly serious now. "Why did you say 'Yes' to Glen?"
I opened my mouth, and closed it again. "I love him," I said finally. "I mean, I loved him before. But it just seemed right. It felt right."
"See, that old woman in your dreams was right. Follow your heart." Clarisse smiled at me.
"Just try to avoid a blood transfusion this time, okay?" Anne put in. I smiled a watery kind of smile, and my eyes flicked down to the two thin scars on my forearms.
Walking down the aisle to the Wedding March on my father's arm, I saw that Glen wasn't precisely a mess, although the best man, his brother, did appear to be holding him up. The look on his face nearly undid my knees too, but my father steadied me, and we made it to the altar in one piece.
I blinked, pushing away another sort of altar from my memory.
The gathered family and friends had gone by in a blur, I couldn't have sworn to recognising any of the smiling faces that we'd walked past. I turned to look at my parents – both were wearing expressions of somewhat incredulous happiness – they'd clearly long since given up on their only child getting married. But here we all were. My mother was already dabbing at her eyes, and dad's glasses were looking a little misty too.
The celebrant cleared his throat, and it was suddenly happening.
Thank god for rehearsals.
I had to force myself to concentrate more than once on what the celebrant was saying, pulling my mind away from the lingering sense of unreality, or rehearsing the vows I'd written. At one point a susurration of whispering broke out towards the back of the chapel, but quickly died down again. When I next had the chance, I took a quick look in that direction, and smiled at the sight of a black beanie among the guests. Who knew beanies counted as formal wear?
The vows were spoken, the rings exchanged, and no one made any dramatic objections. I thought fleetingly of what Andrew had said to me about rituals still being important in modern society, and this whole ceremony underlined that. There was so much symbolism going on, which a lot of people never even thought about. It was just a wedding, this was simply how they were.
We were pronounced husband and wife, and Glen lifted the veil to kiss me. I was barely aware of the clapping and camera flashes. Eventually, we ran out of breath.
"Husband," I whispered in his ear, and grinned.
"Wife," he replied in mine, breath tickling my neck.
After all the photos had been taken there, the bridal party adjourned to a small room to sign the register, and make everything legal. The usual jokes were made about signing our lives away.
"Bit late to worry about that now," I winked at Glen. He was still wearing the besotted grin I'd seen while walking up the aisle. At least he could stand unassisted, now.
In due course, my husband (!) and I emerged from the chapel, and were bombarded with rose petals and confetti. Family and friends were smiling and throwing things and laughing and taking pictures, along with the wedding photographer.
I kept seeing people I knew, and was grinning at everyone like a madwoman. I spied Ed, up at the back, keeping out of the way of the more energetic guests. His green eyes crinkled into near invisibility as he grinned back at me. "Congratulations!" he called over the din.
There was a small knot of other men with fancy cameras too, which was a little perplexing as I didn't think we had more than one photographer. One of them darted forward, shouting "Ed! Over 'ere, mate!" The other two were hot on his heels, and all three held their cameras aloft, shouting. Friends of his?
But wait. They weren't shouting 'Ed'. It sounded much more like...
"Edge! Give us a smile, The Edge!"
'The Edge'...? Why did that sound familiar? My brain started making connections, digging up old memories.
There are a number of photographs that captured the bewilderment, the furious thought, the disbelief, and then the dawning comprehension that crossed my mind and my face in the next few seconds.
No. Way.
"What?" Glen said. Then I saw everything register with him, saw him come to the same unbelievable conclusion. He figured it out quicker than I had, at least.
I turned, craning, looking for my beanied friend again. He was trying to keep a group of other guests between himself and the photographers.
Paparazzi!
Our eyes met again, my eyebrows climbing into my hair.
Ed – or The Edge – just shrugged, winked, and shot me a cheeky-school-boy look of sheepish apology.
I spoke into Glen's ear. "We're taking the bloody holiday!"
THE END
omg that's an awesome gift!!! she's not that fast in recognizing people eh? 
but but, does this mean it's all over????
.... there may be a rather hefty epilogue that informed me that it needed to be written... 
