Page 67 of Lie For Me

The man behind them muttered, ‘Never been so happy to be in a church in my life.’

His wife muttered back, ‘Careful—you might go up in flames when you enter.’

‘Ah, the British in summer,’ Jack murmured into Lucy’s ear as they shuffled forwards. ‘Moaning all year for some sunshine and then, when it comes, moaning that it’s not the right sort of sunshine. It’s too much sunshine. It’s too hot, it’s burning the lawn, we need rain, need a spot of rain,’ Lucy was giggling, ‘need a good soaking….’

‘Yes,’ Lucy whispered back, ‘and if it had rained today, everyone would say, such a shame for the lovely couple, shame to rain on their big day, ruin the photos, the dress will get soaked, of all the days…’

‘Bride or groom?’ A perky young man with a wide grin interrupted.

‘Oh, groom, please,’ Lucy said, and he directed them where to sit.

Valerie was positioned towards the front, standing and greeting guests as the unofficial mistress of ceremonies. She has swapped her trousers and blouse for a dusky pink lace dress with a full skirt and a matching hat the size of a satellite dish. A large jewelled necklace glinted at her throat, and rings flashed on her fingers. Kathleen, the mother of the bride, stood behind her dressed in a navy suit, a small navy pillbox hat on her neat grey bob, clasping at hands as Valerie passed them on.

Lucy made to slip into a pew in the middle of the church, but Valerie beckoned them to join her, James, Heather, and Mark at the front. Lucy hesitated, one hand still on the pew, then felt Jack’s hand slide under hers, and they laced their fingers together. She stepped towards her mother.

‘Darling,’ Valerie air-kissed Lucy’s cheek, lest she muss her mother of the groom’s makeup. ‘Much better,’ she nodded at Lucy’s dress.

‘Jack.’ She clasped his hand warmly. ‘Very good to see you again.’

Lucy slid onto the pew and found herself next to Mark.

‘Hello,’ he said, ever cheerful and entirely unaware of any atmosphere.

The church had undergone the same lavender makeover as everywhere else. Clusters of lilac and white flowers adorned the ends of pews and lavender-coloured curled ribbons were festooned about the church pillars and arches. The pews were filling up fast with guests in pastel hues and all sizes and shape of hats, though nothing to rival the size of Valerie’s.

Dave stood at the front of the church, sipping a bottle of water. He actually looked quite smart with his jacket on and hair smoothed down. He avoided meeting Valerie’s gaze. Ollie joined him a moment later, looking excited and handsome (but very warm) in his morning suit with a lavender tie and pocket square. He fiddled with his tie and accepted a bottle of water from Greg, then checked his watch and took a deep breath.

A few moments passed before Lucy realised she was still holding onto Jack’s hand. She suddenly pulled hers away abruptly.

‘Sorry,’ she whispered.

Jack looked a little surprised.

‘It’s okay,’ he said, then added more quietly. ‘It was nice.’

Lucy wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly and opened her mouth to ask him to repeat himself, when the organist began to play. There was a rustle as the assembled guests rose and turned towards the doors. Ollie fiddled with his cravat and shifted his weight from foot to foot, and Dave patted his pockets again for the rings.

The heavy double doors swung slowly open, and there were Heather’s boys, Peter and Thomas, the page boys. A collective ahhh went up from around the church as they stepped forward uncertainly, nudged along by the bridesmaids behind them. Little Peter, who was barely three, looked hot and cross and kept pulling at his tiny waistcoat—Lucy could tell that wouldn’t last much longer. Thomas, a serious six-year-old, was solemn-faced and marching stiffly to a rhythm no one else could hear, little arms glued to his sides. Both were relieved to make it to the front of the aisle and fall into the waiting arms of their grandparents, where Peter began pulling at waistcoat buttons in earnest. The bridesmaids glided by in soft lavender column dresses and starched hairdos, and then everyone turned their attention back to the entrance.

There was a murmur of approval as Sophie stepped into view. She looked radiant as she stepped forward, her arm looped through her father’s, who was beaming from ear to ear. She wore a strapless bodice with a heart-shaped neckline and a bell-shaped white tulle skirt. A jewelled tiara perched on her hair, pinning her veil in place, and she carried an oversized bouquet of white roses and peonies tied with lavender ribbon. Her eyes sparkled, and though she processed slowly down the aisle in time with the music, she looked like she’d like to gather up her skirts and run to the altar.

Lucy glanced at Ollie, seeing his bride for the first time, and caught him wiping at his eyes. Greg had his hand on Ollie’s shoulder, and Dave slapped him on the back. Sophie blew Lucy a kiss as she passed and then glided up to Ollie. He looked humbled and wholly grateful to be standing beside her.

As the vicar invited everyone to be seated, there was a general shuffle and rustle around the church. Lucy glanced at Jack and saw him rub at his eyes. She squeezed his arm and stared at him questioningly, but he smiled without looking at her. She went to move her hand away, but he caught her fingers in his and held them. Lucy’s breath quickened, and she squeezed his hand back.

Ollie and Sophie stumbled over their vows with lots of eager laughter, and Ollie said, ‘I do,’ even before the vicar finished the question. Dave was actually the person who was most together in the ceremony, presenting the rings perfectly on cue. Then Heather stepped up to give a reading. Poised and confident, she flicked her dark hair over her shoulders and paused for effect and attention before she spoke.

‘A poem,’ she said, ‘on friendship and love, by Emily Bronte.’

Lucy felt a leap in her chest. She was so very aware of her hand, and Jack’s still clasped, but neither let go as Heather opened her mouth and began.

‘Love is like the wild rose-briar,

Friendship like the holly-tree—

The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms

But which will bloom most constantly?’

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