The residual awkwardness drowned gloriously in a lake of champagne. Men took off their ties and women took off their heels. Girls in bright frocks leaned flirtily against boys in conservative suits. Paul and Ava clung to each other’s hands like dazed survivors of a shipwreck.

Nate wanted to get Paul on his own, but there was always another relative who’d known him and Paul when they were at school, another tipsy girl gushing about how much she loved weddings. He smiled and got rid of them as fast as he decently could. All he wanted was to talk to his best friend and make sure he was still his best friend – that he hadn’t fucked up too profoundly in that moment when the commanding impulse had risen up in him, Man up and say something.

It was Paul’s look of disbelief that quelled him to silence. Then the impulse subsided and the ceremony had gone on and why was he panicking anyway? There was Paul, and Ava had been snaffled by some great-uncle who wanted to kiss her… no, Paul had rescued her, and they were together again. Was Paul avoiding him? No, he was being paranoid. But when he’d handed the rings over, Paul hadn’t caught his eye.

He checked his Rolex. Two hours until his speech. Maybe he should lay low for a bit, let the champagne do its work. Beyond a pair of tall French windows was a small enclosed garden. Fresh air, that’s what he needed.

The clean quiet of the garden filled him with a paradoxical craving for nicotine. He took the Marlboros from his inside pocket and stepped discreetly behind a tall shrub.

The shrub had already been claimed by the lad who’d walked Ava down the aisle – Ava’s brother – what was his name? Flynn, no, Finn, and he was smoking – could it be? Yes, it definitely was – smoking a spliff.

“Hi.” Finn seemed entirely unembarrassed to be caught getting stoned at his sister’s wedding. “Are you hiding from Paul too?”

Nate stared at the spliff.

“Sorry,” said Finn. “Would you like some?”

“No!”

“Fair enough.” Finn took another contented lungful, held it, let it go. Nate lit a Marlboro and watched enviously. Amazing to see him doing this, calm and peaceful, as if it was as normal as his own tobacco. The scent conjured memories of that long lazy summer between Lower and Upper Sixth…

“Seriously.” Finn put the joint into his hand. “I’ve got plenty. Chill out a bit. Then when Paul catches up with us later we won’t mind when he’s angry.”

“Why would he be angry? It’s his wedding day.”

“I haven’t been to a lot of weddings,” said Finn, “but I think it’s usually considered poor form for the witnesses to try and stop it. Are you all right?”

“It’s been a while,” said Nate, between coughs. “It’s good, though.”

“I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”

They stood quietly behind the bush and let the smoke do its work.