First they sat me down and shone a light in my face as they slid a picture of him across the table to me, one of them pushing it to me with the first two fingers of his right hand. They told me his name. It was unusual. He seemed pretty handsome but in the photo he was squinting as the sun was in his eyes. He was standing up somewhere, he was playing with something in his hands. He was trying to shield himself from the glare, he seemed bashful.
They gave me his shoe size and basic facts about his childhood. They gave me a binder that was full of testimonials from ex-lovers about his bedroom habits. They reassured me that the sex would be adventurous. “Fine” I relented. “Maybe I’d quite like to meet him”.
“Got you!” they said and the next thing I know I was being bundled into the back of a black van. The journey felt like there were lots of sharp bends in the road, it felt like we were driving through the countryside.
There were clouds that looked like thick, black smoke, far too heavy to suspend themselves alone in the sky. It seemed like a miracle. Below that was all purple and green – heather and rough, coarse grass, not the kind of grass you see in the South, not that shining, lush plastic grass they have in the South.
They flung me out on top of the heath. They said he’d meet me here and if I just co-operate it wouldn’t take very long. I looked down and I was wearing a white gown but it wasn’t the one I’d always imagined. The shoes were not practical for walking over hills with, and I was worried the mud would spoil them. The men got back into the van. I heard the doors shut and they drove away, leaving me standing there as it started to rain, ruining my hair, waiting to meet my husband for the first time.