progress was slow, for every few seconds she nearly had her head jerked off as one of the little bridesmaids trod on her veil.
Chrissie brought up the rear, wearing pink, a coronet of pink roses on her gleaming dark hair. She’d obviously had a professional make-up. She looked lovely, but suicidal. She halted just beside Lazlo. Rupert turned round and pulled a face at her, trying to make her laugh.
‘Dearly beloved,’ intoned the bishop.
Bella had to share a prayer book with Lazlo. Rigid with loathing, she looked down at his long fingers and beautifully manicured nails and tried not to breathe in the subtle musk and lavender overtones of the aftershave he was wearing.
‘First,’ said the bishop, ‘it was ordained for the procreation of children.’
‘You can say that again,’ muttered Rupert with a grin.
‘Second as a remedy against sin, for such people as have not the gift of continence.’
‘I do hope you’re taking all this in,’ said Lazlo out of the corner of his mouth.
Bella was not listening; she was having a daydream of standing in Gay’s place, with long white satin arms and hair drawn back to show a delicately blushing face, with an impossibly slender waist from a pre-wedding crash diet, with Steve beside her, devastatingly handsome, smiling proudly down at her, and putting a gold ring on her finger.
‘To have and to hold, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death us do part,’ repeated Teddy in his strangulated hernia voice, after the bishop.
But would Steve ever stay with her? Was he capable of loving and cherishing anyone for very long? Would she herself ever be able to love and cherish Rupert the way Chrissie would?
Looking past Lazlo, she saw Chrissie staring fixedly in front of her, the tears pouring down her face. Oh, what a stupid muddle it all is, thought Bella.
‘I feel sick,’ said one of the little bridesmaids.
‘Immortal, Invisible God only wise,’ sang the congregation. Lazlo, next to her, sang the bass part loudly. He’s just the sort of person who would embarrass his children singing parts too loudly in church, she thought savagely.
They all sat down for the sermon. The bishop was getting warmed up about fidelity and the need for steadfastness in the modern world when so many marriages crumbled.
Uncle Willy was rubbing his thigh against Bella’s. She couldn’t move away or she would have been jammed against Lazlo.
She gazed furiously in front of her. Really, she was getting to know that flower arrangement extremely well. Suddenly, with the spontaneity that was so much part of his charm, Rupert turned round, took her hand and squeezed it. She was conscious of both Lazlo and Chrissie watching them. A deep blush spread over her face and down her shoulders.
Constance was crying unashamedly as they all went off into the vestry.
‘It’s not because she’s losing Gay,’ said Lazlo dryly, ‘but the thought of all the money this is costing her.’
A reedy tenor began to sing, ‘Sheep May Safely Graze.’
The wait was interminable.
‘You’d think they were consummating the marriage, wouldn’t you?’ said Rupert. ‘I wish we could smoke.’
Back came the procession. Teddy, crimson with embarrassment; Gay, looking relieved, grinning slightly as she caught the eyes of various relations.
‘Hear you’re an actress,’ said Uncle Willy to Bella. ‘Ever bin in Crossroads ?’ (He pronounced it Crawse.) ‘Never miss it m’self, bloody good programme.’
For several minutes they were penned up at the top of the church while the photographers took pictures. As soon as he came out of his pew, Rupert squeezed Bella’s arm.
‘Christ, what a performance. Hullo, Aunt Vera. I’m not going through a bloody circus like this when we get married, darling. Hullo Uncle Bertie. It’s going to be in and out of Chelsea Register Office and straight off to London Airport to somewhere warm immediately afterwards.’
Bella put her
Chrissie brought up the rear, wearing pink, a coronet of pink roses on her gleaming dark hair. She’d obviously had a professional make-up. She looked lovely, but suicidal. She halted just beside Lazlo. Rupert turned round and pulled a face at her, trying to make her laugh.
‘Dearly beloved,’ intoned the bishop.
Bella had to share a prayer book with Lazlo. Rigid with loathing, she looked down at his long fingers and beautifully manicured nails and tried not to breathe in the subtle musk and lavender overtones of the aftershave he was wearing.
‘First,’ said the bishop, ‘it was ordained for the procreation of children.’
‘You can say that again,’ muttered Rupert with a grin.
‘Second as a remedy against sin, for such people as have not the gift of continence.’
‘I do hope you’re taking all this in,’ said Lazlo out of the corner of his mouth.
Bella was not listening; she was having a daydream of standing in Gay’s place, with long white satin arms and hair drawn back to show a delicately blushing face, with an impossibly slender waist from a pre-wedding crash diet, with Steve beside her, devastatingly handsome, smiling proudly down at her, and putting a gold ring on her finger.
‘To have and to hold, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death us do part,’ repeated Teddy in his strangulated hernia voice, after the bishop.
But would Steve ever stay with her? Was he capable of loving and cherishing anyone for very long? Would she herself ever be able to love and cherish Rupert the way Chrissie would?
Looking past Lazlo, she saw Chrissie staring fixedly in front of her, the tears pouring down her face. Oh, what a stupid muddle it all is, thought Bella.
‘I feel sick,’ said one of the little bridesmaids.
‘Immortal, Invisible God only wise,’ sang the congregation. Lazlo, next to her, sang the bass part loudly. He’s just the sort of person who would embarrass his children singing parts too loudly in church, she thought savagely.
They all sat down for the sermon. The bishop was getting warmed up about fidelity and the need for steadfastness in the modern world when so many marriages crumbled.
Uncle Willy was rubbing his thigh against Bella’s. She couldn’t move away or she would have been jammed against Lazlo.
She gazed furiously in front of her. Really, she was getting to know that flower arrangement extremely well. Suddenly, with the spontaneity that was so much part of his charm, Rupert turned round, took her hand and squeezed it. She was conscious of both Lazlo and Chrissie watching them. A deep blush spread over her face and down her shoulders.
Constance was crying unashamedly as they all went off into the vestry.
‘It’s not because she’s losing Gay,’ said Lazlo dryly, ‘but the thought of all the money this is costing her.’
A reedy tenor began to sing, ‘Sheep May Safely Graze.’
The wait was interminable.
‘You’d think they were consummating the marriage, wouldn’t you?’ said Rupert. ‘I wish we could smoke.’
Back came the procession. Teddy, crimson with embarrassment; Gay, looking relieved, grinning slightly as she caught the eyes of various relations.
‘Hear you’re an actress,’ said Uncle Willy to Bella. ‘Ever bin in Crossroads ?’ (He pronounced it Crawse.) ‘Never miss it m’self, bloody good programme.’
For several minutes they were penned up at the top of the church while the photographers took pictures. As soon as he came out of his pew, Rupert squeezed Bella’s arm.
‘Christ, what a performance. Hullo, Aunt Vera. I’m not going through a bloody circus like this when we get married, darling. Hullo Uncle Bertie. It’s going to be in and out of Chelsea Register Office and straight off to London Airport to somewhere warm immediately afterwards.’
Bella put her
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