The party two nights before had been held at the Anchor, and Rosie had done Ivy proud with an excellent buffet supper and some of Gloria’s black-market gin. The reception would be at the Crown. Ron would give her away, and Rita was to be her bridesmaid. The cake, the dresses – even the train tickets and going-away outfit had been organised. And earlier that morning, Ivy had made Peggy’s day by asking her to help her get dressed. Everything was set for a wonderful day. All they needed now was the bride.

All talk faded, the registrar looked again at his pocket-watch, and Andy was going quite green about the gills as he anxiously watched the closed doors – as if by sheer will alone he could open them and find Ivy there.

And then the double doors slammed open and Ivy burst in, barefooted, shoes in hand, veil askew and cream lace dress rucked up at the hips. ‘Ow Gawd,’ she wailed. ‘I’m ever so sorry, Andy, but Bertie’s bleedin’ car broke down and I ’ad to run all the way ’ere.’

The whole party collapsed into laughter, and even the po-faced registrar managed a slight twitch of his thin lips as a very embarrassed Bertie Double-Barrelled slid into one of the back rows.

‘Don’t yer worry, gel. I can wait as long as yer like,’ Andy replied, his face now alight with humour and relief.

Ivy held Ron’s arm to keep her balance as she shoved on her high-heeled shoes and then fidgeted impatiently as Rita adjusted her dress and veil and tried to bring a bit more order to her hair. ‘That’s enough, Reet,’ she muttered. ‘It’s time we got on with this before my Andy decides he don’t want a bride what looks like a dog’s dinner.’

‘You look bloody marvellous, gel,’ called Andy from the front of the room. ‘Get yerself down ’ere before they throws us out.’

‘Blimey,’ giggled Ivy, taking her bouquet from Ron and putting her hand through his arm. ‘Givin’ out the orders already, eh? Have to watch that.’ She turned back to Rita who was wearing the same lovely dress she’d been given for Ruby’s wedding. ‘You ready?’ At her nod, Ivy took a deep breath. ‘Let’s get on with it then.’