‘Well’ – Norma twists round to face them – ‘one way of having a bit more time to yourselves would be if William walked you down the aisle.’ She looks, triumphant, at Evelyn, then William. ‘What do you say to that, then?’

He can see the leap of joy in her face as Evelyn turns to him.

63

The church porch smells of dusty paper and cold stone. Norma has taken her seat at the front after making sure there’s a space for William.

‘What music are we walking in to?’

‘Vivaldi. Four Seasons.’

‘Nice, which one?’

‘Winter, violin concerto in F minor.’

‘Classy!’

‘What would you expect?’

‘Mum?’ He looks straight ahead.

‘Yes, son.’

‘I love you the most. Always have.’

There’s a puff of breath, then she squeezes his elbow. Evelyn slides her arm from William’s and stands directly in front of him. ‘I need you to tell me one more thing, William.’ Her gaze on him is steady and serious and it makes his stomach pitch.

‘What?’

‘Do I have lipstick on my teeth?’

‘No.’ He laughs. ‘You’re all clear.’

Once the music starts, there’s a rustle of bodies as people stand, and although it’s a small church, he’s shocked to see that every single seat is taken.

‘Blimey!’ he says.

‘Plenty of time for you to get to know this crowd,’ she says, as if reading his mind. ‘Your lot are on the front row, left-hand side.’

And there they are; Martin, a head and shoulders above everyone else, having a good look round. Next to him Howard and Robert, and next to them, nearest the aisle, chestnut hair, straight-backed: Gloria.

Racing pulse, walloping heart, wet palms.

‘I’ll have my mind on other things for the rest of today,’ Evelyn mutters through a smile, nodding at people as they start their solemn, in-time-to-the-music walk. ‘You concentrate on Gloria.’

He feels suddenly helpless, terrified at the approach. Unknown, smiling faces like a field of exotic flowers. Howard twists round and catches William’s eye, then nudges Robert who also turns and then whispers to Gloria. William braces himself, but she doesn’t turn.

The man waiting for Evelyn is tall, with thick grey hair and a slight tilt to his body. As he turns, William can see his left leg is at a strange angle.

‘There he is!’ Evelyn whispers, as if surprised to see him.

‘He must hate me,’ William whispers back, conscious of the smiling vicar they are heading for.

‘Nonsense,’ Evelyn says, ‘he’s not that kind of man.’