Jasper’s is the last speech. He doesn’t look quite sure of himself, as if even now he can’t quite believe his luck, but his is the easiest job and he does it well. He thanks Lois and the Archer brothers, and proposes the toast to Mel’s beautiful bridesmaids. I keep my head ducked for this one and so my eyes rest on the single-fold menu, thick cream paper with a thin thread of gold ribbon, placed next to my champagne glass. I didn’t need to read the menu when the food was being served, because I know it off by heart. I set the type by hand and printed off the sheets on our old press. Leo and Andy did the folding, and Penny tied the ribbons. We hand-set the wedding invitations too, and as part of the wedding present we made big photograph albums with pale-gold calfskin covers, ready for the pictures. Now I am idly reading my own handiwork, and approving of the faint but elegant unevenness that almost no one in the room except Penny and me will recognise for what it is. But then I notice something, and I gulp and almost swallow my own tongue.

The pudding we have just eaten was iced berries, red and black currants, with white chocolate sauce. Very well chosen and very good, too.

Except I now see that I have spelled it currents.

I proof-read the list and checked it three times, and I still didn’t notice the mistake. After all the years that Mel and I have joked about and collected menu misspellings, I have made a classic error on her wedding one.

I look up in horror, but Jasper has already taken her hand. According to plan, and exactly on time, they will sail down a grand sweeping staircase to the colonnaded ballroom and lead off the dancing. They process between the tables and a tide of applause sweeps with them. I want to kick myself and I want to laugh at the same time, and the person I have shared these tiny comedies with has been Mel for so long that I miss her already.

Then a hand touches my shoulder.

I look up into Paul’s eyes.

‘AC or DC?’ he murmurs and now I am laughing, full-throated head-back laughter that makes Mel’s brothers turn to stare at me. Mel will laugh too, when the photographs and the menu and the guests’ signatures are all pasted into the albums, and we sit down to share the memories.

Among the dancers I can see Lola. She has recently split up with Sam and tonight she is thinner in the face, winged with melancholy, and attracting a good deal of attention. She is cloaked in Ted’s perfume, Orphan.

When I gave it to her she was wide-eyed. ‘Is it really your own? I mean, Grandad made it for you and no one else can smell of it?’