Page 46 of Four Weddings and a Funeral Director
‘Where are my glasses …’ she muttered, before pulling down the goggles.
‘Unexpected,’ said Mort.
‘Very steampunk,’ whispered Lily.
‘We are gathered here tonight under the watchful eye of the full moon, upon this unconsecrated ground, to bring together two dark souls in eternal darkness together.’
Someone whooped.
‘Our couple have chosen to recite their own vows in the form of T.S. Eliot’sThe Waste Land. Our bride will begin.’
Nails flashing, Desdemona spread her arms, intoning the poem’s famous first line.
‘I hope you brought snacks,’ whispered Mort, ‘because this is going to take half an hour.’
At the next stanza, Ambrose took up the mantle, his words embellished by Sunny’s twittering.
On they went, taking a line each and sending it off into the night. The moon coasted overhead as the couple recited the poem with surprising accuracy (Lily was scrolling it on her Poem a Day app on her phone) until, finally….
‘Shantih!’ repeated the crowd along with the bride and groom. Everyone stood for a moment, lost in the puzzling disillusionment of Eliot’s words. Even the pugs panted mournfully.
The celebrant pulled up her steampunk goggles to wipe a tear from her eye. ‘A masterwork befitting of this union. And now, do we have the rings?’
Lily grinned. It was her inner theatre kid’s moment to shine. Well, someone else’s theatre kid, anyway.
A ring box between two of his fingers, Thing from the Addams family leapt up onto a nearby tombstone, evoking claps from the crowd.
Desdemona, rather uncharacteristically, chuckled. ‘How did you …’
Thing leapt from tombstone to tombstone, then trotted over to the happy couple, climbing up Ambrose’s leg to hand him the ring box, which was shaped like a black skull and opened up to reveal pink innards in which two ornate rings had been planted.
‘Thank you, Thing.’ Thing hurried off into the night, just as Lily had planned: she’d booked a local high school kid for the gig. Fifty bucks, a meal, transportation and a job reference for anyone who wouldn’t mind getting dressed up entirely in theatre blacks (Thing hand excepted) to provide a fun little cameo at a goth wedding. Every single thespian at the local high school – which, of course, was an arts high school – had auditioned. It had been a tough decision.
As a smattering of applause broke out (goths were a tough crowd), Ambrose took the ring box, then held it up to Sunny, who pulled out Desdemona’s ring – a black floral band with elegant little rubies – passing it to Ambrose to slide onto Desdemona’s finger.
Desdemona and Sunny then did the same with Ambrose’s ring (a giant silver skull that could double as a knuckle duster).
‘And now … kiss the night – and each other!’ shouted the celebrant, rather ominously, thought Lily, who was a bit worried that frogs might rain down from the sky. If she’d known, she would’ve at least brought her rainbow umbrella.
Ambrose gently dipped Desdemona, the two kissing so passionately that Lily’s cheeks flushed. Her hand, apparently taking inspiration from Thing, reached for Mort’s, and her fingers were twined around his before she realised what she was doing.
But Mort didn’t recoil – at least not immediately. He was staring down at their clasped hands in surprise, as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Gently, he placed his free hand over hers, gave it a squeeze, then pulled away.
Lily’s heart tugged. Had she overstepped?
‘I think you’re needed,’ he said, nodding at Briony, who was waving frantically at Lily.
Fingers tingling from where Mort had clutched them moments before, Lily swished through the wildflowers over to the ornate buffet table, hoping there were no snakes. Wildflowers always seemed like such a good idea from afar, but the reality was that all sorts of creepy things lurked there. And divots! Secret divots preparing to grab a hapless walker and break their ankle.
‘It’s the cake.’ Briony pointed to the tiered cake with its skull and gargoyle piping work. ‘There are … maggots.’
‘Maggots?’ Lily’s stomach wrenched. Switcheroo, no! Even for the goths, this was going too far. ‘But it’s fresh! It was made specially for tonight.’
‘Maggots!’ boomed Desdemona from over Lily’s shoulder. She’d followed Lily, somehow avoiding all ankle breakage. Avant-garde film directors were built from stern stuff. ‘Show me immediately!’
Briony pointed to a cream skull with a maggot wiggling outof its eye socket. Lily, unable to decide whether she needed to scream or retch, clapped a hand over her mouth. How did one even go about salvaging a situation like this?
‘I’m so—’ she began, ready to launch into the most impassioned apology of her life, followed by a madcap dash to The Cakery for a backup cake. She’d take Mort’s hearse into fifth gear if she had to.
