The Climbing Tree!

"What makes you think that we are going to get married, Sally?" I asked winking at Alice.

"Jeffrey Turner, don't talk crap! If I hadn't known that you were going to marry Alice, I'd have married you myself years ago! Now can we get back out of this bloody tree and start making some proper plans, I love a good wedding."

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So that was it, really. Alice and Emma came back down the south coast with me that same night, both girls wanted to be as far as they could be from their mother and George Arnold. Talk about confidence and planning ahead though, they had both sent suitcases full of clothes down to the local carrier during the week before the fiasco wedding. Sally had a lot to answer for I was sure she must have known what was going to happen that day, but she's always denied that she did. Alice and Emma flatly refuse to answer when I ask them whether they had let Sally in on their... Alice's plans.

I wouldn't like for any one to get the idea that Alice and I rushed into getting married. We were in no hurry. For a long time She and Emma were like my lodgers until Alice suddenly realised that she'd missed her period; then we had to react pretty quickly, if you get my drift. In fact subsequent tests proved that it was false alarm. But the ball was rolling so we just let it run.

It was only a registry office wedding, but a very nice one. Sally and her parents were there, along with Sally's new beau. Nice guy, I get on with him well, but he reminds me lot of Bill. I kind-a feared at first that that was what Sally saw in him. But after nearly twenty years they're still going strong.

I suppose I should add that as Alice and I came out of the registry office building that day, I saw a large limousine with darkened windows parked across the street opposite. One of the rear windows was down just a little and I could make-out a camera lens poking through the gap. Something made me stop and nudge my new wife beside me.

"Smile for the camera girl, you're on candid camera!" I whispered

"Sorry!" Alice replied.

"Daddy wants to take a picture of his little girl!" I whispered again.

"Where?" Alice demanded.

"The car over the road, I doubt it's your mother and it certainly isn't George Arnold. So who else can it be?"

Alice smiled and then pulling Emma close as well, I told her smile at the car. A few seconds later a hand poked out the window and waved. Then the limousine drove away as the window slid closed.

"Why didn't he..." Was as far as Alice got, before I pointed-out that there were at least two plainclothes policemen in the vicinity.

Some time later, just after the birth of our first child a package arrived in the post. It contained many candid photographs of Alice, Emma and myself that had obviously been taken over a very long time period of time. There were even some pictures of Alice, Emma and their mother taken abroad.

There was no proper note, but the inference we drew from those photos themselves was that they had all been taken by (or no behalf of) Frank Porter. However it took me a very long time to understand why a copy of my application form for my university bursary had been enclosed.

Life goes on.