Page 109 of Be More Lucy

Jack turned to Em. ‘Ready?’

‘As I’ll ever be. I hate being the centre of attention.’ This felt worse than the awards ceremony last year.

‘I’ll keep it short. Are you sure you don’t want to say anything?’

‘Absolutely. I’m happy to play the subservient wife,’ she said. ‘For the next five minutes anyway.’

Jack turned off the music, took his glass and tapped it with a spoon. Em held his arm.

‘Sorry to halt the festivities, everyone. We won’t keep you long. Em and I would like to thank you for joining us today to celebrate our engagement.’

Nancy started a ripple of applause.

‘We do have something else to celebrate,’ Jack continued.

‘Is she pregnant?’ Sam drunkenly yelled from the back of the marquee. Ella shushed him.

Em felt herself going red.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, we got married in Barnstaple register office this morning.’

Cheers and clapping all around.

‘Are you sure she’s not pregnant?’ Sam shouted.

‘Will you shut up?’ Ella hissed at him.

‘Thank you,’ Jack said when the noise had died down. ‘Can I ask you to raise a glass to my wonderful wife, Em?’

‘What about you?’ Mark raised his glass. ‘To Mrs and Mrs Carver.’

‘Mr and Mrs Carver,’ everyone chorused.

‘Thank you. We’ll let you carry on now.’

‘Not so fast,’ Olivia shouted from the marquee entrance. Lucy appeared from the house, carefully carrying a large white cake complete with a model of a couple on top who looked remarkably like Jack and Em. She put it on the side table nearest to the bar. Nancy followed her, carrying a sword.

‘Time to cut the cake.’ Nancy passed the sword to Jack.

‘Did you tell her?’ Jack asked Em.

‘No!’ Em turned to Nancy. ‘How did you know?’

‘My darling girl, I know everything.’

Mark sat down on the sofa at the far end of the marquee. He’d finish his drink and head up the hill to the Kingfisher. He had a lot of thinking to do, and sitting on his own in his favourite corner by the fire would be preferable to forcing himself to be sociable here.

‘That was a wonderful surprise.’

He nearly jumped out of his skin. Caroline! She sat down next to him on the sofa and put her arm along the back, right where he was sitting. ‘I love a secret wedding. So romantic. And what about you? How does it feel to be back in Blighty?’

‘Cold,’ he said, instinctively sliding away from her into the corner of the couch.

She moved nearer to him, grabbing a blanket off the back of the sofa. ‘We could share this. That should help warm you up. Unless you’ve got any other ideas?’

The look she gave him implied she already had other ideas, most of which couldn’t be actioned in public. He could smell alcohol on her breath. She’d always been more touchy-feely after a few drinks. This must be how a male tarantula felt as the female tried to seduce him.

She was attractive, well dressed, had a high-flying job in London, she was only a year older than him and single. He ought to enjoy her attentions, but the way she’d enthusiastically pursued him over the years had turned him off. Even when Lucy had been openly aggressive to him, she had never made him fear being eaten alive.

---