Free Thirteen Weddings by Paige Toon

my most
important shot of the day. Once Suzie has entered the church, my one and only goal is to get Mike’s reaction to seeing his bride. Rachel says that this shot of the groom – and her own
corresponding shot taken from the front of the bride locking eyes with the man she’s about to commit to spending the rest of her life with – is the one many couples have said they
treasure the most. And now it’s up to me to get my half of it.
    The organist starts to play the rousing strains of Wagner’s ‘The Bridal March’ and I steel myself to concentrate. I zoom in on Mike up at the front as he slowly turns around to
watch his bride come down the aisle. Then someone lifts an iPad over their head and completely obscures my vision. Shit! The bridesmaid passes by and I dart to my left to find an unobstructed view
of the groom. Out of the corner of my eye I see a white blur move past. I click away as Mike’s expression softens, his eyes fill with tears and I know that I’ve got it: I’ve done
my bit. Happiness bursts inside me.
    I wouldn’t say I actually enjoy myself after that, but it does get easier and it helps that I have a job to do. I take some beautiful long shots of the bride and groom at the altar, framed
by the green and white flowers hanging from the end of every second pew. I stop cringing at the sound of my shutter, and zoom in to get the occasional candid shot of guests dabbing their eyes and a
couple of cheeky little children peering over their parents’ shoulders at me. Mostly I keep out of the way and let Rachel do her bit from the front.
    All too soon, it’s my turn to take centre stage again. I need to get the bride and groom coming down the aisle as man and wife, and I feel like I can hear my heart pounding over the sound
of the ‘Wedding March’ as Mike and Suzie head happily in my direction, stopping to be congratulated by their friends and family as they go. Soon they’re past the last pew and I
snap away as I back out of the heavy wooden doors into glorious daylight and watch them swing shut. Then Suzie and Mike burst through and Mike punches the air, yelling, ‘YES!’
    As he kisses her right in front of me, I try to contain my laughter and capture every joyous millisecond.
    The other guests quickly follow, and then Rachel is with me.
    ‘Did you get it?’ she asks.
    I assume she’s referring to the groom’s reaction and I nod happily, light-headed with blissful liberation. I did it. I got through it.
    She laughs, misreading my reaction. ‘Did you have fun?’
    ‘Yes.’ Tears prick my eyes. In hindsight, I think I almost did.
    She pats my arm. ‘I’m so pleased to hear it. But it’s not over yet,’ she reminds me with amusement.
    The hard part is.
    The reception is being held at a fancy pub just up the road, so I go on ahead while Rachel covers the shoot outside the church. There’s a buzz in the air as the excited,
friendly staff put the final touches to the table settings and fill tall flutes with champagne. I stand for a moment and look around, taking everything in. The pub has a shabby chic vintage feel to
it, with stripped floor-boards, open log fires, flocked wallpaper and paintings hanging from the walls. The tables are covered with white lace tablecloths and are centred with white and green
flower displays in rustic white and silver painted pots. One staff member is going around lighting tealights and putting them in silvery green glass candle holders dotted around the tables.
There’s a vintage birdcage on a table near the door for people to post wedding cards through, and beside it are three cakes on individual cut-glass cake stands. They vary in height and colour
and have thick ruffle-style piped icing in pink, pale yellow and white. Sprays of tiny white flowers adorn them.
    The whole effect is stunning.
    After I’ve taken enough shots of the inside details, I move outside to the garden where a twenty-metre white marquee has been erected on the grass. A