Dad looked as proud as can be, flanked by Miles and Locky, who were looking very irritated to be in suits and kept pinching one another. Dad was every bit the image of a man in love. Mum too watched Heather coming up the aisle with a smile. When she noticed Rachel watching her, she leaned over. ‘Doesn’t she look lovely?’

‘Yes,’ Rachel agreed. ‘She does.’

Heather arrived at the altar and the guests took their seats. Everyone except Mum. Rachel tugged on her hand. ‘Sit down, Mum.’

But Mum just stood there.

‘Mum,’ Rachel tried again quietly. She could feel a hundred sets of eyes boring into the back of her head. ‘Mum, can you please . . .’

But her mother shrugged her off and walked towards the altar. Towards Dad.

59

HEATHER

Heather felt unwell. Part of it was wedding day jitters, the other part, perhaps, the drinks she’d had last night to calm her nerves. Still, she’d managed to get herself dressed and ready this morning without having a breakdown. She’d practised her deep breathing in the car on the way over. She’d smiled at the happy faces of the guests (mostly strangers) on her way down the aisle. Then she’d seen Stephen . . . and all her nerves faded away.

Until Pam joined them at the altar.

‘Hello, Pam,’ she said uncertainly. She could feel the tension in the room. Stephen looked apologetic.

For a moment, Heather didn’t know quite what to do. Then she noticed Pam looking at her posy. ‘Would you like these?’ Heather said, holding them out to her. ‘They match your outfit beautifully.’

Pam beamed. ‘You think?’

‘Definitely.’

‘That’s very kind.’ Pam took the flowers and happily returned to her seat.

Crisis averted.

‘All right,’ the celebrant said, sounding relieved. ‘Let’s do this, shall we?’

The celebrant started by welcoming everyone. Then she went on to share some observations about love. As she talked, Heather felt Stephen’s eyes on her. Kind eyes. She was doing the right thing, she was sure of it. Almost one hundred per cent sure. This was her fairy tale. She was having her happy ending.

She’d had a call from her dad last night. It was the second call he’d made since her visit. ‘Nothing else to do,’ he said the first time, when she’d asked why he was ringing. ‘Pretty boring in here.’ They didn’t have long to chat; within a few minutes a recorded announcement informed them that the call would end in sixty seconds. In that first brief call she’d told her dad that she was an interior designer (and then she’d had to explain what that meant). Then, last night, she’d told him she was getting married. He’d been excited to hear that.

‘A doctor,’ he said, then whistled. ‘Good work, Heather.’

It was good work, she supposed. A girl like her, clawing her way from the bottom of society’s ladder to a higher rung. No thanks to him.

The celebrant began the vows with a call for the rings. Stephen produced them from his own pockets, after announcing that he hadn’t trusted his best men (Miles and Locky) with the honour. Everyone laughed.