The Ghost Bride

Her betrothed was heartbroken, his father refusing her a Christian burial, and he laid her to rest in the woods, near the mistletoe clearing, weeping bitterly over her unmarked grave.  It was not until his late years that he actually took a wife, and all she was to him was someone to bear him an heir and to look after him in his old age.  He kept a lock of  Ann Frith’s hair tied in a thin strip of cloth from her wedding dress in the bakc of his Bible.  His father had not turned him away from his faith though he did turn him away from himself.  James Martin became one of those men of God who spoke boldly against the likes of the witch-finder general and brought sanity, peace and true Godliness to the village once again. 

The tale remained with me and first thing after breakfast the next day I felt the urge to paint the bride on a path in the woods, not for my client’s restaurant, but for myself. 

Back in my studio in Ireland I spread the sketches and notes I made over the old pine table that once belonged to my grandmother.  I had not quite all I needed, and phoned the Village Cab Company in Mistley, since cabbies know everyone.  I asked if they knew of any local photographers who could go take a few really good quality pictures for me for reference.  It was Charlie in the control room who gave me the contact number for a regular customer who was into photography.  “She’ll likely have all you need already,” he said. 

After a chat with Sinead Costello, the deal was done and the photos I needed would be sent by courier as soon as possible. 

I opened the package from DHL and there was one photo which, at first took me aback, but when I thought about the cabbie’s family history it didn’t really surprise me too much.  Sinead called it “The Bride.”  The photo was one of a beautiful sunlight dappled woodland path and at the centre of it was a white image with a misty aura around it.  It looked very much like slim figure in a misty wedding veil.