Still, like good bridesmaids, they’d paid Heather a visit that morning and found her with the typical nerves – her brow a bit sweaty, her hands shaking. Rachel was glad Heather hadn’t insisted that she and Tully wear elaborate matching gowns and have their hair and make-up done. Instead, Rachel had done her own make-up and chosen her own outfit – a long, navy blue dress with cap sleeves and an empire neckline. She had to say, she felt quite beautiful.

‘Show time,’ Tully said.

Tully entered the chapel first, and Rachel followed with Mum on her arm. It wasn’t a formal procession, thank goodness. The music didn’t change and people didn’t stand. But most of the guests were already there and they turned and smiled. The chapel was tiny, and people were stuffed in cheek by jowl. Still, Rachel had to admit it looked beautiful. The flowers were tasteful. There was a harp playing softly.

Mum waved to people as Rachel walked her down the aisle, as if it were her own wedding. It was funny – Rachel had definitely not been a fan of the idea of bringing Mum today, but it was actually rather a lovely touch. Periodically, Mum glanced at her, as if for reassurance, and Rachel smiled back. She didn’t know if Mum recognised her today, but she knew Mum felt secure with her, and that was enough.

Rachel saw Darcy in the crowd. She was grateful he had come. Part of her thought it would be better to leave him out of it, to let her muddle through this peculiar family situation on her own, and yet there was definitely a comfort in having someone there to support her. Things had been good between them. With Darcy, she felt like she’d taken back her sexuality from that man on the beach and reclaimed it as her own. She accepted the bad things that had happened to her, as well as the good that had come from them.

They reached the altar and Rachel tried to guide Mum to her seat, but Mum continued walking towards Dad, beaming at him with recognition.

‘Well, hello,’ she said, heading straight for him.

Rachel felt the room hold its collective breath.

‘Mum,’ she started, but Dad just held up a hand, stopping her.

‘Hello, Pamela,’ he said to Mum, holding out a courtly arm. ‘Don’t you look beautiful? May I take you to your seat?’

‘Aren’t you a gentleman?’ she said with a giggle.

Dad walked her to the front pew, and she sat beside Rachel. Rachel had to hand it to her father; the crowd loved it. You couldn’t wipe the smiles off their faces.

He’d only just returned to his position at the altar when the music changed. Everyone rose. Mum stood too, looking eagerly towards the back of the room. Rachel casually took hold of her hand to prevent any more unauthorised movements.

Heather appeared, looking radiant. Her dress was off-white, A-line with a floor-length embroidered veil. She’d decided to walk herself down the aisle, since neither of her parents were alive. There was something dignified and elegant about it.