Amanda's Wedding (36 page)

I looked at Angus washing up the coffee cups.

‘Who knows,' I said.

He turned as I got off the phone.

‘Time to go?' he asked, proffering me his arm.

‘Let's do it,' I said nervously, taking it.

‘Bye, Linda!'

There was a snuffling noise, and we left her to it.

On the drive to the village, neither of us could say very much. There was too much going on. I was too nervous. My fingers tapped out a beat on my knee. Gently, Angus squeezed my hand in his. His hand was much larger than mine.

‘Don't worry,' he said. ‘Just keep your head up. We'll show ‘em.'

Something occurred to me.

‘You're not still going to do that smoke bomb thing, are you?'

‘Ehm, I don't know. Mookie's not sure she can get them, and we've lost a foot soldier in that damned Francesca. So, it might not work.'

‘But you still want to try?'

‘If we have to.'

I nodded and stared straight ahead.

‘You know it won't stop them?'

‘No. But it'll annoy them.'

I turned to look at him. His eyes were crinkled up from smiling. I smiled too.

‘Count me in.'

‘Really?'

‘Sure. If he's so stupid as to marry her after all this, a dose of smoke to the brain isn't going to hurt him anyway.'

‘Exactly. You're on back granny watch.'

I laughed, and my nerves increased. I felt ready for anything; ready to do anything. Ready to break free, to leave everything behind. To have an adventure.

‘I'm feeling very adventurous,' I announced.

‘Really?' He looked intrigued.

‘Just a warning.'

‘OK.'

There was a watery sun in the air, which didn't look very committed. Small clouds were scudding around, as if they were scouting for the big clouds who were coming along later. The church, however, looked breathtaking. It was a picture-perfect little Victorian place. Holly was strewn everywhere, all round the kissing gate and over the church doors, with hawthorn and ivy and mistletoe. That all seemed a bit pagan to me, but it looked very pretty.

Scores of people were hovering about outside in that embarrassed way people do before weddings, looking off into the distance, or mentally preparing themselves for the long hours of small talk with strangers to come. There were couples who had driven long distances and obviously got lost, and who were now too cross with each other to speak, and an elderly relative contingent, who would grab anyone walking past and force them to reveal lots of personal details.

I noticed a real difference between what were clearly the two sides. Amanda's lot were loud and expensively dressed – lots of young women and rugby-playing men who were something in the City, or wanted you to think they were by their cufflinks. There were a fair number of open-topped sports cars dotted around – despite the fact that it was four degrees above freezing – and quite a few top hats and morning coats, which, despite myself, I rather liked.

Fraser's side, on the other hand, just looked … well, normal, apart from the predominance of skirts amongst the men. I saw their mother, and it was her that Angus took me over to meet first. She smiled at me in a slightly knowing fashion, but was charming and warm. Some of the lads from the stag night were hanging around too, and it was nice to say hello to them again. Then I caught sight of Nash, who was standing by himself under a tree. I waved him over.

‘Hey there, how's it going?'

He looked green.

‘Aye, no bad, ken.'

‘Are you nervous?'

‘Aye, you could … aye, yes, well, a bit, aye.'

‘How's your best-man speech?'

He turned even more green and started patting himself up and down. ‘Ehm, it's here somewhere, right enough …'

‘Don't worry, you'll be fine. But, listen, I thought Fraser was supposed to be here with you? Surely that's your job, to get him to the church on time. Where is he?'

Nash looked positively nauseous. ‘Aye, well, he said he'd see me there, like.'

Several other people had wandered over, enquiring over the whereabouts of the groom. People started to make crass jokes and asides. I looked at Angus, who shrugged his shoulders emphatically.

It was ten to twelve, and the ceremony was due to begin at twelve. This was cutting it pretty fine. I scanned the roads for a wedding car, but I didn't see one. More and more guests were arriving, and the news that the groom hadn't shown up yet was beginning to filter through the crowd. A photographer was clicking away furiously and approached us, consulting a list in his hand.

‘So,' he said to Angus, ‘you're the second laird?'

Angus looked at him, mystified, waving away the camera. ‘Who are you?'

‘Jof de Beauvoir. Photographer,
Hello!
magazine. And my mother's the daughter of the Earl of Suffolk.'

‘Oh, in that case –' said Angus and strode past him rudely, grabbing me with him.

Over by the church gate stood a gaggle of bridesmaids – six full-sized blondes, two tiny. The little ones were tugging at their cream sashes, sticking their bottom lips out and kicking each other when they thought no one was looking. I felt a bit like that myself. None of the elder bridesmaids were paying the children any attention; they were too busy repeatedly asking each other if they looked all right and whisking away imaginary spots from each other's make-up.

Next to them stood an out-of-place man in a battered old Barbour. That would have made him stand out, if it were not for the fact that he was holding eight reins with white geese on the end of them. Not only this, but the geese appeared to be wearing cream bow-ties.

‘Fuck me!' Angus and I exclaimed at the same time.

‘I'm never getting married without geese,' I said.

‘I hope they don't blow up in the explosion,' said Angus gloomily.

‘Well, that would sort lunch out for me, given I don't have a place at the reception.'

Angus examined his watch, and I caught sight of it.

‘God,' I said, retreating beside Angus. ‘He's going to do a last-minute special on us and give everyone heart attacks.'

‘Hmm,' said Angus thoughtfully.

Mookie slipped over to join us.

‘Hello there!' I kissed her.

‘I got them,' she whispered.

‘It's OK, there's no one around – you don't have to whisper.'

She opened her Chanel bag to reveal two small cylindrical objects.

‘Although I'm not sure you'll rally need them now, will you? Oh, and have you seen the geese?'

We all stood around until the vicar came out, and started hustling people inside. ‘I'm terribly sorry, he'll be very embarrassed when he turns up, but I do have another service at two, so if you wouldn't mind awfully …'

I didn't mind. It was freezing outside. Angus grabbed hold of Nash and said something about ‘sending the car round' which I didn't catch. Then we followed the crowd inside.

Inside, the church was just as beautiful as outside but faintly … well, über-wedding. Wreaths and ribbons decorated every area, and there were about five thousand candles. Rose petals covered the carpet and there was a floral tribute of their initials intertwined, a theme which was reproduced on every pew and on the elaborate Order of Service I was being handed. I was so taken aback, I couldn't answer the question ‘Bride or groom?'

‘What?'

‘Are you a friend of the bride or the groom?'

I looked helplessly at Angus. ‘I don't know,' I said.

‘Groom,' said Angus. ‘So you can sit beside me,' he added, when we got inside.

The organist was playing something extremely elaborate, and we sat down at the very front – Angus beside
his mother, and me beside Angus. Being in the front pew felt odd and a bit wrong, but I didn't argue. I studied the Order of Service. From the looks of things, this was going to be a four-hour wedding.

‘Kahil Gibran! How original!' I whispered to Angus. He raised his eyes.

‘I think she planned the service.'

I looked at the fuchsia garlanding which obscured the altar. The large bible had a set of intertwined initials on it.

‘You're kidding!'

From the other side of the church, Mookie waved and pointed out the fire alarm. We nodded back at her. The excitement was still there, in the pit of my stomach. The church filled up, and Jof the photographer, for want of something better to do, came and took pictures of the congregation, with reference to his little black book and the prettier of the blondes. People's heads kept turning, and the vicar wandered up and down the aisle in some trepidation. Nash was nowhere to be seen.

‘What is going on?' I whispered to Angus. He shrugged again. I turned to look at his mum, but she didn't seem too perturbed; she was holding her hymnal quite calmly. I didn't know what to say to her, so I peered around the church again. Everyone was whispering and giggling. It was ten past, quarter past. I saw Amanda's mum. I don't know if the Priory did her much good, as she looked pissed to me. She was picking petals off her corsage and swaying.

I wondered if Fraser had had an extra stag night,
and was even now on a train from Aberdeen. ‘Have you tied him up somewhere?' I whispered to Angus. ‘You'd better not have.'

‘I promise you, I have no idea where he is,' he whispered back. The entire congregation was shuffling and looking at their watches. It was twenty past, then twenty-five.

Suddenly, the doors at the back of the church burst open with a crash. As one, we turned round to see. Framed in the door stood Amanda.

She did look beautiful. The dress was white, but seemed to have been overlaid with gold. The cut-off sleeves emphasized her toned arms and delicate shoulders, and the skirt reflected her every move and clung to her like gossamer. She was wearing a pure white stole round her shoulders which looked like – surely not? – fur. God, it couldn't be polar bear, could it? But the effect was stunning.

Her face, on the other hand, was quite different. She was stone white and looked furious. Everyone was silent. She stalked slowly up the aisle – not quite as poised as usual. Several of the bridesmaids had shuffled in behind her, but had stopped short at the back of the pews. The organist started playing ‘Here Comes the Bride', but someone obviously slapped him, as the keys stopped immediately with a dying hiss. Amanda advanced, pale and set. And stopped in front of us.

‘Where the hell is he?' she hissed at Angus.

Angus looked straight back at her.

‘I swear, I don't know.'

Her voice rose, and reverberated throughout the church:

‘You fucking bastard, you've been fixing this from the start. You do fucking know. Where the fuck is he?'

His voice was gentle, not victorious. ‘I'm sorry, Amanda. He didn't tell me anything about this. Honestly, if you think I knew, do you think I'd be here? He might just be late.'

‘He's not fucking late,' she spat. ‘You're all fucking morons, the whole fucking lot of you.'

She turned to me. ‘Oh, the collaborator. You sad cow. I heard all about you. At least I made it this far.'

I was trembling from the attack, but in no position to say anything. Embarrassed, I looked around me.

Amanda turned back to Angus. As she did so, I caught sight of something and gasped: at the back of the church, behind the bridesmaids, silhouetted against the wintry churchyard, stood Fraser. He was wearing his hunting tartan, and a fresh baggy white shirt, and looked as if he'd just strode in from the moors. His mouth was set in a hard line, and he was listening intently. No one else had noticed him. Amanda was still in full flow and commanding everyone's attention.

‘You can tell your idiotic, stupid, lanky, lousy brother that the next time he'll see me is in court, when I'm suing him for the cost of the wedding. If you can remember that, you stupid, provincial, sheep-shagging moron. God, to think I nearly got hitched into this repulsive family!'

The guests murmured in horror. Angus didn't say anything, but looked at her steadily. Infuriated, she took her huge themed bouquet and hurled it at him – and hit me by mistake … Well, I think it was by mistake.

A collective gasp went up from the congregation as I staggered backwards, then came upright again. I put my hand to my head, and it came away with blood on it, from the thorns. I suddenly felt giddy.

Amanda sneered and turned to go, like the wicked fairy at the feast. Then she faced the crowd.

‘You bunch of bastards!' she yelled bitterly. Her Woking accent was back in all its glory. ‘You're loving this … you're –'

Then two things happened. Her voice trailed off and her eyes became fixed as she focused on the back of the hall. Everyone followed her gaze and turned round. Except for me, because I knew who she was looking at.