Ghostly Christmas tale of bride on her wedding day

22 December 2020

JIM Hutchman was driving towards Saul, a tiny County Down village nesting a mile from Downpatrick. He had lived in London most of his life, leaving Saul at the age of 10.

Engaged to be married, but struggling to find the right ring, he found himself back in Northern Ireland on business; he decided to call on his uncle Will, his only surviving Irish relative.

It was the eve of the longest night of the year, a few days before Christmas, and a bitterly cold late afternoon. On the side of a rural road, devoid of street lights, all but hidden by trees, was an old fashioned car, with smoke escaping from its engine.

Standing beside the car, kicking it was a young woman in a bridal dress. She appeared to be beating up the motor. Jim applied the brakes of his vehicle and rolled down the window.

‘Can I help?’ The young woman looked at him with burning blue eyes, turned away and thumped the boot. ‘Useless piece of junk,’ she shrieked. The young woman attempted to give the car one last kick, missed and ped with a thud on to her rear. Jim got out of his car. Trying not to laugh he rushed over to the young woman and attempted to help her to her feet.

She pulled her arm away and with an effort dragged herself up using the car’s half open door. She ripped of her shoe and attacked the window screen. She turned to Jim. ‘What do you know about fixing cars?’ Jim shrugged.

The bride pierced him with fiery blue eyes.

‘Are you going to a fancy dress party?’ he asked. ‘I am going to be married,’ she replied. She banged the roof of the car with her shoe a number of times, hopping about attempting to put the shoe back on to her foot. ‘Let me give you a lift,’ suggested Jim.

In order to steady herself the bride hung on to Jim’s shoulder and finally won the battle of the shoe. ‘Thought you’d never ask.’ She lashed out at the motor with her fist, missed, spun around and fell into Jim’s arms.

Saul Church was only a mile away. The lady could not walk to her own wedding, besides it was growing dark. She grabbed his coat in near panic. ‘My ring,’ she cried. ‘I’ve lost my engagement ring!’ She dropped on to her knees. ‘This is a nightmare and you are not helping.’

Jim walked at speed to his car and grabbed a torch as the bride crawled around the ground, feeling the earth in a vain attempt to retrieve the ring. Jim returned and shone the torch about the trees and grass. She grabbed his leg and pointed towards her car.

‘It’s cursed, the car is cursed, and so are you.’ She bit him on the knee. ‘Get off me,’ he shouted. She sat back on a muddy mound. ‘I may have overreacted,’ she said. ‘Is my lipstick smudged?’ She wiped her hand across her lips. ’I think it might be smudged.’

Jim did not answer, choosing to rub his knee, shine the torch, find the ring and hightail it to his uncle’s house as fast as possible. ‘It’s all go,’ she said, trying to make conversation. ‘If my father could see me now, he would be so proud.’ The young woman adjusted her veil. It slowly drooped on to the side of her head and from there drifted towards her lap. She picked it up and tossed it away.

Jim located the ring beside the front wheel. ‘I’ve got it, I’ve got the ring.’ He retrieved it and gave it a amateur polish. It was silver with an small amber stone as its centre piece. He read the inion ‘To M.K, Saul 1953’. It must have been handed down through her intended’s family.

‘You great big sexy man. The bride jumped to her feet. Well done.’ She kissed him on the nose. ‘It’s a lovely ring,’ said an embarrassed Jim. ‘I am engaged, haven’t got the ring yet.’

The bride grabbed the ring and placed it on to her finger ‘Then you had best get a move on, you don’t want to lose her.’ She took out a hanky and blew her nose with considerable force.Jim noticed in the torch light that she was muddy and dishevelled, her face and red hair littered with spots of mud.

‘You don’t have a driver?’ he asked. ‘Smelly little man, didn’t trust him, kicked him out a mile or so back,’ she replied. Jim had spotted a somewhat sad looking gentleman on the road a few minutes before. ‘Shall we go?’ asked the bride, as she gathered up her dress and walked towards his car, tripping over her loose shoe, all the while muttering under her breath.

They didn’t speak much during the short trip to the church ‘Yes, I am looking for a ring. Where did you get yours?’ Jim inquired. ‘You like it?’ asked his odd passenger as she struggled in vain to apply lipstick. Jim smiled and nodded his head. The bride inspected her ring ‘It’s very nice, expensive,’ she boasted. ‘Was it handed down through your fiancé’s family?’ The bride didn’t reply. ‘I live in London, I am visiting my uncle Will, do you know him, Will O’Brien?’

Jim noticed that the young lady was gazing out of the window, looking slightly lost, she was not in the mood for conversation. The car came to a halt outside the little church. Warm lights beamed from inside. Jim thought it was an odd time of day to get married and a strange time of year. A few indistinct people stood around the grounds of the church.

The bride opened the door, ‘I’m here,’ she said and fell out of the car, ‘I’m alright,’ she said painfully, stood up and slipped. Steadying herself, she kicked his car and her shoe dropped off. She picked it up and without so much as a thank you, disappeared, muddy and wet, into the church, resembling a worn-out scarecrow more than a bride. Jim waited a moment before driving off.

Uncle Will and Jim talked and joked as they caught up with all the news over tea and cake. ‘Did you ever meet Maureen Walsh?’ asked Uncle Will. Jim shook his head as he helped himself to an extra slice of cake.

Your grandfather was meant to give her lift to her wedding. She and he didn’t hit it off.’

Uncle Will poked the dying embers of the fire. ‘He wasn’t one for bathing,’ he mumbled under his breath.

‘She died a few hours ago. Her husband called around almost at once to see me, gave me this for you. How he knew you’d be here is beyond a mystery.’

Uncle Will handed Jim a small box. He opened it. To his surprise it was a engagement ring, silver with a small amber jewel at its centre. Jim focused his eyes and read the inscription ‘To M.K, Saul 1953.’ Uncle Will popped a bun into his mouth. ‘Your young lady’s called Mary Kane?’ ‘Maureen’s maiden name was Keenan, She married her husband back in, let me think...’ Jim closed the little box. ‘At Saul Church, Christmas 1953,’ he replied. His uncle was amazed. Jim had his ring. He looked out of the window at the cold dark night.

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