James swallowed as the motel swept past on the left, followed by the abattoir on the right. The car did that strange long bounce as it crossed the span and the river appeared below them.

‘So if people seem a bit quiet,’ Mum said. ‘That’s why.’

As they arrived at the church his mother gave James her arm and he noticed how the broad sleeve of a blazer seemed designed for a female hand to rest over it. He felt taller, but perhaps that was because she leaned into him a bit.

Most of the guests had already entered, but Aunty Doris and Yvonne waited by the door, scanning for the bride’s arrival. Inside, the organist was working on an upbeat hymn.

‘No sign of Gladys. Daniel’s collecting her from the nursing home. He’s late, but he wasn’t planning on hosting the groom as well, you know,’ his aunt said, tersely.

‘Do you want me to wait here with the flower girl?’ Mum asked, taking her niece by both hands and letting Yvonne show off with a twirl.

James let her go and moved inside, drawn by the sight of Tony standing alone at the front. His cousin had his hands clasped, and every few seconds he leaned forward on his toes to the rhythm of the organ. His curls were already escaping from the sides of his ears, and every now and then some friend or relative would shake his hand and clap him on the shoulder.

The popping of gravel under tyres made James look back out the door just as his father pulled up with Grandma in the front seat of the old family car. Alan clambered awkwardly out of the back seat and started helping her.

The slight fuss they created made the groom turn around. James waited for Tony to lock eyes with him, but got only a quick, fearful glance.

The adults all laughed and nodded. Someone shouted: ‘She’s late, mate,’ and Tony made a show of pulling at the tight collar around his thick neck.

Grandma passed, all in florals, Dad on her left and Alan on her right, so she didn’t notice James as she made her entrance, but Dad did. He left Alan to help Grandma to her place up the front and leaned towards James.

‘No more of your nonsense. You’re staying at my place from tonight whether you like it or not,’ Dad muttered, clapping a hand on James’s back and moving off.

James shrugged it off. Over his shoulder, Mum was approaching, Aunty Doris and Mrs Jenkinson slightly behind. The mother of the bride didn’t look all that pleased to be there, he thought, and the mother of the groom seemed unhappy to be delayed by her daughter’s chatter.

Mum stopped at James’s side and they smiled at Mrs Jenkinson and Aunty Doris in their uncomfortable procession to seats on opposite sides of the aisle.