On the broad steps of the church the photographer’s assistant lined us up for the lens and posterity. It was a perfect autumn day, with the blue sky softened by a thin veil of mist and the leaves of the massive plane trees all ochre and crisp and ready for the gales. We could look down at passing cars as they hooted good wishes and the pale faces peering from the top decks of buses were level with our eyes.

Paul slipped out from the crowds of guests. It was the first time we had seen each other today because I stayed the night at Mel’s. ‘I hardly recognised you,’ he murmured.

‘Good or bad?’

As well as the make-up I am fastened into an unfamiliarly tight arrangment of tiny metallic bronze pleats fastened with dozens of spherical buttons that remind me of aniseed balls. The skirt fans out behind in broader pleats like a mermaid’s tail and the assistant was crouching at my knees busily arranging these on the stone step behind me.

‘Good. But I certainly wouldn’t dare to touch you.’

‘I do dare you.’

‘Well. I like a challenge.’

‘Could the senior bridesmaid come in closer behind the little ones, please?’ the photographer ordered.

‘See you later, then.’ I smiled at Paul.

It’s time for the speeches. Mel’s eldest brother offers some winsome memories of the bride as a little girl and Lois obediently dabs the corners of her eyes. Next he introduces Jasper’s best man who does a good funny one, not too long or too rude, and proposes a toast to the bride and groom. I love this about weddings, the rhythm of them and the way that however different and original they try to be they are always the same, with the principals happily reduced from themselves to Bride and Groom figurines from the top of the cake. As we stand to drink to their long life and happiness I see Mel smiling at me across the table, as if she can read my thoughts. She wanted a proper big wedding and this is it.