‘So what kind of puzzle is it? Maybe it’s a treasure hunt. The fun is in the seeking. Making mistakes – and, as many of you know, I’ve had plenty of practice in that department. Following false trails. Reading the map upside down. Gemma is a specialist at that.’

Everyone laughs. My terrible sense of direction is a family legend.

‘Or perhaps love is a crossword, with cryptic clues that make your head hurt. There are millions of words that might fill in the blanks, and there are millions – billions – of people out there who could be The One.

‘Finding love could also be a numbers game, like Sudoku. When you meet the right person, everything suddenly adds up.’

He turns and his surf-blue eyes lock onto mine. He’s perfect. I know I’m biased, but I’m also right.

‘For me, though, love is actually a giant jigsaw, but with no picture on the box. You make the frame first, learning about yourself. Sometimes it feels like you’ll never be able to see what that image is – what it means.

‘And then it happens. That person comes into your life. That missing piece. I knew the moment I saw Gemma that she was The One. Compared to some people, we took a long time to find true love. But the trickier the puzzle, the more incredible it feels when you complete it.’

Love surrounds us, warm and buoyant, like the thermals that lift a hot-air balloon into the sky. I can almost smell the tea-rose arrangement on the table, almost taste the biscuity bubbles of the champagne, almost feel his hand around mine, and the unfamiliarity of my wedding ring.

But not quite.

Andrew’s face fills the frame.

My handsome, living, breathing husband.

I press pause. How many times have I watched this? Two hundred? No. More. And this is where I always freeze the recording. Andrew is the picture of health: his frame still broad, not fat. His face tanned. His lips soft. His dark hair thick and glossy.

Everything about him seems vital. It will be seven months before his body starts offering him clues. Another three months before the most dedicated puzzler I’ve ever met joins the dots and ‘bothers’ the doctor.

I press play again, but with the sound muted. Jed’s best man’s speech goes on a bit, so the video editor has cut it short, panning the room, showing polite smiles as people get restless. My bridesmaids try out Princess Elsa poses before my sister gives them a fierce stare and they freeze. Even in her turquoise taffeta maternity dress, Laura looks as if she might have handcuffs stashed under her skirt.

I didn’t want a video, but I’m grateful for it now. When Andrew proposed, we imagined an intimate ceremony in a wooded glade, barefoot, wild flowers in our hair, with a handful of guests sitting on hay bales. He would have written poetic vows to make everyone sob, and I could have worn something folksy and smocked.