The Accidental Wedding
The summer was sweltering, and Eleanor lounged about her flat in her swimsuit. Why should she care? She lived alone, after allwhen she fancied stripping down, she did. Besides, her long-awaited holiday had arrived, and if her two closest friends could wrangle an unpaid week off from their boss, theyd all dash off to the seaside together.
One morning, Eleanor shuffled into the kitchen to boil the kettle when she suddenly felt eyes on her. Glancing across the narrow gap to the building opposite, no more than twenty metres away, she spotted a middle-aged man watching her intently from his balcony. Though not entirely exposed, she instinctively clutched a tea towel to her chest. From that day on, the stranger tracked her every move. So much for her carefree daysnow she had to wrap herself in a dressing gown in that stifling heat, her kitchen lacking even a fan.
One afternoon, she stepped outside and looked up to the fifth floor of the neighbouring block. There he was, right on cue. Eleanor waved him over. He pointed at himself, as if to say, *Me?* She nodded. Who else?
He appeared swiftlya stout man with curly hair, though a gleaming bald patch crowned his head.
*”Goodness, what a sight,”* Eleanor thought. *”Even worse up close.”*
“Hello,” he said, dipping his head politely.
“Hi,” she replied bluntly. “Why have you been staring at me?”
“Are we on first-name terms already?” He faltered, caught off guard.
“After seeing me in my swimsuit, youd better marry me.”
“I dont mind,” he answered casually.
“When shall we file the papers, then?” She played along.
“Right now. Ive got my ID.” He patted the pocket of his waistcoat, studying her carefully. Eleanor checked her handbag.
“Mines here too.”
“Shall we?”
“Fine,” she shrugged. *What am I doing?* she wondered in the cab, yet she didnt turn back. They submitted the forms at the registry office, learning each others names only then. The man was Gerald. Gerald Whitmore.
“Where to next? Shame my cars in the garage, but”
“Nowhere. Home. And dont look at me like thatno courtship. After the papers are signed, were straight into proper married life.”
“Are you mad?” Her friends gasped when Eleanor announced the wedding, set for a month later. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Oh, relax. We can always withdraw the application.”
“And what about *him*? Hell be heartbroken.”
“His problem. Shouldnt gawk at strangers.”
“Youre single, not a stranger. Ellie, you dont even love him.”
“And what good did love do for you with yours?”
“Now I despise him.”
“Exactly. I dont love Gerald now, but whos to say I wont need him later?”
Gerald kept watching his fiancée, baffled by her odd behaviourthough he was no better. A complete stranger, yet hed follow her anywhere. All because she was beautiful. He noticed, too, that Eleanor avoided the kitchen now, aware of his gaze. So he hid behind the curtain, spying still. And his patience paid off.
One day, he spotted her hauling a massive suitcase, vanishing around the corner.
*”Thats why shes keeping me at arms lengthone last fling before marriage. Well, lets see if shes worth it.”*
He threw on some clothes, stuffed a wad of pounds into his trouser pocketno time to packand raced to the airport. Eleanor was easy to spot, standing with her two mates. They flew off to Brighton; Gerald booked the same flight, though hours later.
*”What am I even doing here? A million places she could behow will I find her?”* he grumbled, sitting on the pebbled shore.
Then he saw the familiar swimsuit. His luck had turned.
The women sipped white wine on the beach, utterly unguarded. Eleanor hadnt a clue her groom knew where she was. Gerald tracked down their hotel and checked in quietly. Watching her was effortless; she never suspected a thing. He noted with satisfaction that while she was living it up, no men were in sight.
Then they collided on the promenade. Eleanor, ever the quick thinker, snapped first:
“So *this* is how you prepare for a wedding? Lounging about?”
“Youre hardly here on business either.”
“I checkedyou were nowhere. Thought Id sneak in a break.”
“I saw you bolting with that suitcase. Had to follow.”
“You were *spying* on me?”
“Hardly. Just a bachelors last holiday.”
“Same. Ever been married?”
“Once. No kids. You?”
“Divorced. No children either. Marrying me out of spite? You didnt even protest.”
“Not spite. But given how I look, *you* must be.”
“Not at all.”
“Then why?”
“Tired of chasing handsome blokes, athletes. Thought Id try an ordinary man.”
“A crane operator.”
“Right. Speaking of, hows the crane without you? Missing it?”
“Retired.”
“*What?*”
“Worked in a steel mill. Pension at forty-five.”
“Thank heavens. Im only thirty-eight.”
“Eleanor, youll never regret marrying a simple crane man.”
“I hope not.”
Ten years later…
“Remember how we met?” Eleanor murmured, nestled against her husband.
“Like it was yesterday,” Gerald chuckled.
“Hush, youll wake the boys.”
“I promised you wouldnt regret it. Ever asked yourselfdid I keep my word?”
“Overdelivered. My friends are green with envy.”
“Cant help it. Theyre still looking for love…”
“And thats fine. Ours isnt the usual sort.”
“So what? As long as were happy. Thats all that matters.”
