What indeed, thought Edith, who had suspected all along that her father had forgotten to do what the butcher had requested: arrange a sleigh to take them to the church. Now there was nothing for it other than to go on foot. Edith went back into her bedroom and changed her shoes for the hardy boots the cobbler had given her. Flora carried the satin slippers.

‘You can put them on at the church,’ she said, picking up the train of the wedding dress.

The cabinet maker clasped his daughter’s arm in a vice-like grip. Edith held the violin and the bow under her other arm and they walked through the falling snow to the church. The priest was waiting outside for them. The snow bothered him. The noise rang in his ears and he tried to brush it away. For a moment he wasn’t sure what he was seeing; an angel seemed to be walking down the street.

Only when the cabinet maker said, ‘We’re here,’ did the priest realise that Edith had defied the elders and was wearing the wedding dress. He turned on the cabinet maker. ‘We would have been late if she’d…’ And in trying to explain, the cabinet maker unintentionally let go of Edith’s arm.

The butcher was waiting in the front pew. Vanda, Una,

Sorina and Misha sat behind him. The whole village had turned out for the ceremony. A whisper reached the butcher that Edith had arrived and was wearing the white wedding dress. The butcher felt a flash of anger but told himself it didn’t matter. Soon, she would be his property. Under his jacket, he was wearing the red shirt that Edith had sewn and embroidered for her husband-to-be. He had ordered the cabinet maker to fetch it from her hope chest. But it had been made to fit Demetrius and the butcher had had to slit it up the back so he could button it. But at least he was dressed as a bridegroom should be.

The organ ground out its tuneless chords, and still there was no sign of the bride. The congregation began to fidget and then a cold wind whirled into the church. The organ music that had just finished started again and everyone rose to their feet, waiting for the bride to enter. Instead, the priest walked with determined steps to the altar followed by Flora and the now sober cabinet maker, beads of sweat on his forehead. He was much out of breath.

‘I’m sorry,’ said the cabinet maker to the butcher, ‘Edith has run off. I’m sure she’ll be back… I know she’ll be back.’