Wedding Girl (34 page)

`Mummy!' interrupted Milly in agonized tones. `Mummy!' She pulled a meaningful face at Olivia, who suddenly realized what she was saying.

`However,' she said, pulling herself up straight. `By very good fortune, the situation has changed once again.'

`So you do want the cars,' said the man.

`We do,' said Olivia haughtily.

`Very good, madam,' said the man, and disappeared down the steps. As he reached the bottom, the words `fucking nutter' travelled audibly back towards them.

`Right,' said James. `Well, you lot go off ... and Milly and I will follow. Isn't that the protocol?'

`See you there,' said Isobel, grinning at Milly. `Good luck!'

As they descended the steps to the waiting cars, Alexander drew Isobel back slightly.

`You know, I'd really like to take some shots of you on your own some time,' he said. `You've got fantastic cheekbones.'

Òh really?' said Isobel, raising her eyebrows. Ìs that what you say to all the girls?'

`No,' said Alexander. Ònly the stunning ones.' He looked at her. Ì'm serious.'

Isobel stared at him.

'Alexander-'

Ì don't know if this is out of order,' he said, hoisting his tripod on his shoulder. `But maybe, when all this wedding business is over . . . you and I could go for a drink?'

`You've got a nerve!' said Isobel.

'I know,' said Alexander. `Do you want to?'

Isobel began to laugh.

'I 'm very flattered,' she said. Ì'm also pregnant.'

Òh.' He shrugged. `That doesn't matter.'

Ànd . . .' she added, a faint tinge coming to her cheeks, . I'm going to get married.'

`What?' Ten yards ahead of them, Olivia wheeled round on the pavement, her eyes bright. Ìsobel! Are you serious?'

Isobel rolled her eyes at Alexander.

Ìt's just an idea, Mummy,' she said in a louder voice. Ìt isn't definite.'

`But who is he, darling? Have I met him? Do I know his name?'

Isobel gazed dumbly at Olivia. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it again, looked away and shifted on the ground.

`He's . . . he's someone I'll introduce you to later,' she said at last. Àfter the wedding's finished. Let's just get that over first. All right?'

`Whatever you say, darling,' said Olivia. Òh, I'm so thrilled!'

`Good!' said Isobel, smiling weakly. `That's good.'

Harry and Simon arrived at the church at ten to eleven. They pushed open the door and looked silently around the huge, empty, decorated space. Simon glanced at his father, then walked a few paces up the broad aisle, his shoes echoing on the stones.

Àha!' said Canon Lytton, appearing out of a side door. `The bridegroom and his best man! Welcome!'

He hurried down the aisle towards them, past the gleaming rows of empty mahogany pews, each adorned with flowers.

`Where do we sit?' said Harry, looking around. Àll the best seats are taken.'

`Very droll,' said Canon Lytton, beaming at him. `The places for the groom and his best man are at the front, on the right-hand side.'

`This is very good of you,' said Simon, as they followed him towards the front of the church. `To reinstate the service at such short notice. And with such small numbers. We're very grateful.'

`Numbers are immaterial,' said Canon Lytton. Às our Lord said Himself, "Where two or three have met together in my name, I am there among them."' He paused. Òf course, the collection plate may suffer a little as a result ...' He broke off delicately, and Harry cleared his throat.

`Naturally, I'll make up the shortfall,' he said. Ìf you give me some kind of estimate.'

`So kind,' murmured Canon Lytton. Àh, here comes Mrs Blenkins, our organist. You were very fortunate that she was free this morning!'

An elderly woman in a brown anorak was walking up the aisle towards them.

Ì haven't practised anything up,' she said as soon as she reached them. `There hasn't been the time, you see.'

Òf course not,' said Simon at once. `We completely-'

`Will "Here Comes the Bride" do you?'

Àbsolutely,' said Simon, glancing at Harry. `Whatever. Thanks very much. We're very grateful.' The woman nodded, and marched off, and Canon Lytton disappeared in a rustle of linen.

Simon sat down on the front pew and stretched his legs out in front of him.

Ì'm terrified,' he said.

`So am I,' said Harry, giving a little shudder. `That priest gives me the creeps.'

`Will I be a good husband?' Simon threw back his head and looked up into the cavernous space of the church. `Will I make Milly happy?'

`You already do make her happy,' said Harry. `Just don't change anything. Don't think you have to act differently because you're married.' He met Simon's eye. `You love her. That's enough for anyone.

There was a noise at the back of the church and Olivia appeared, a vision in bright pink. She walked up the aisle, her heels clacking lightly on the floor.

`They'll be here in a minute,' she whispered.

`Come and sit beside me,' said Harry, patting the pew. For an instant, Olivia wavered.

`No,' she said regretfully. Ìt wouldn't be right. I have to sit on the other side.' She lifted her chin slightly. `Since I am the mother of the bride.'

She sat down, and there was a few minutes' silence. From out of nowhere the organ began to play quietly. Simon stretched out his fingers and stared hard at them. Harry looked at his watch. Olivia brought out a compact and checked her reflection.

Suddenly there was a rattling at the back of the church and they all jumped.

Simon took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. But his heart was pounding and his palms felt damp.

`Do you think we should stand up?' he whispered to his father.

Ì don't know!' hissed back Harry. He looked equally agitated. `How the fuck do I know?'

Olivia turned and peered towards the back of the church.

'I can see her!' she whispered. `She's here!'

The organ music slowed down, then stopped altogether. Looking hesitantly at each other, the three of them stood up. There was an agonized silence; no one seemed to be breathing.

Then the familiar chords of Wagner's Wedding March swelled into the air. Simon felt a lump coming to his throat. Not daring to look round, he stared ahead, blinking furiously, until he felt Harry tugging his sleeve. Very slowly he swivelled his head round until he was looking down the aisle, and felt his heart stop. There was Milly on her father's arm, looking more beautiful than he'd ever seen her. Her lips were parted in a tremulous smile; her eyes were sparkling behind her veil; her skin glowed against the pale creaminess of her dress.

As she reached his side she stopped. She hesitated, then, with trembling hands, slowly lifted the gauzy veil from her face. As she did so, her fingers brushed the necklace of freshwater pearls she was wearing. She paused, holding one of the tiny pearls, and for a few moments her eyes dimmed.

Then she let go of it, took a deep breath and looked up.

`Ready?' said Simon.

`Yes,' said Milly, and smiled at him. Ì'm ready.'

As Rupert arrived at the little cottage perched on the cliffs, it was nearly midday. He glanced at his watch as he walked up the path, and thought to himself that Milly would be married by now. She and Simon would be drinking champagne, as happy as two people could ever be.

The door opened before he reached it, and his father looked out.

`Hello, my boy,' he said kindly. Ì've been expecting you.'

`Hello, Father,' said Rupert, and put down his briefcase to give his father a hug. As he met the older man's mild, unquestioning gaze, he felt his defences crumble completely, as though he might suddenly burst into unstoppable sobs. But his emotions were run dry; he was beyond tears now.

`Come and have a nice cup of tea,' said his father, leading the way into the tiny sitting room, overlooking the sea. He paused. `Your wife called today, wondered if you were here. She said to tell you she was sorry. And she sends you her love and prayers.'

Rupert said nothing. He sat down by the window and looked out at the empty blue sea. It occurred to him that he'd almost completely forgotten about Francesca.

`You also had a call from another young woman a few days ago,' called his father from the tiny kitchen.

There was a clatter of crockery. `Milly, I think her name was. Did she manage to track you down?'

The flicker of something like a smile passed across Rupert's face.

`Yes,' he said. `She tracked me down.'

'I hadn't heard of her before,' said his father, coming in with a teapot. Ìs she an old friend of yours?'

`Not really,' said Rupert. `Just ...' He paused. `Just the wife of a friend of mine.'

And he leaned back in his chair and stared out of the window at the waves breaking on the rocks below.

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MADELEINE WICKHAM