Peggy’s laughter turned to tears of love and affection as Ivy walked purposefully down the aisle towards her future husband. The pale cream lace dress was a sheath over her slim figure and reached to just below the knee, showing a surprisingly good pair of legs that until now had always been hidden by dungarees. Her usually tangled hair was smooth and gleaming beneath the small coronet of flowers, and the veil drifted to just beyond her narrow shoulders. She carried a spray of perfect cream roses in which nestled her mother’s brooch; on her wrist was her father’s fire-damaged watch, and the slender chain around her neck held her mother’s wedding ring.

‘Beautiful,’ sniffled Cordelia. ‘Who’d have thought our little Ivy could turn into such a princess?’

Peggy smiled through her tears. All brides looked beautiful on their wedding day, even tomboys like Ivy. Her gaze drifted to Rita who’d gone to sit next to Peter as the ceremony was conducted. It would be her turn next, and she too had evolved from tomboy to beauty in the last few years – although the pair of them were still capable of getting into mischief.

The newly-weds had said their vows and signed the book, and were now coming back down the aisle with beaming smiles. Everyone followed them out to the landing and waited at the top of the stairs as a photographer fussed about taking one picture after another. It seemed Ivy was no longer impatient or flustered, for she smiled and posed with Andy as if accustomed to all the attention, and then the couple went slowly down the sweeping staircase to the Town Hall’s front steps.

The firemen formed a guard of honour with their fire axes and as Ivy and Andy walked between them, they were showered in confetti before being swamped by hugs and kisses from Gloria. More photographs were taken; Daisy and Paula got bored and decided to gather up the fallen confetti that now lay in drifts along the pavement and in the gutter, and Harvey bounced around in great excitement, his inquisitive nose going up skirts as his tail thudded against legs.

‘Right, you lot,’ shouted Gloria once the photographer had finished. ‘Let’s get on with the party.’

Ron held carefully onto Cordelia’s arm on one side, Bertie on the other as the gathering trooped down the hill to the Crown. Sarah hitched Daisy onto her hip, while April went off with Paula to man the station until Stan came to relieve her in an hour’s time. As they all arrived at the Crown, Doris suddenly looked unsure and held back on the doorstep.

‘It’s all right, love,’ said Gloria on a laugh. ‘We don’t bite. Anyways, the reception ain’t in the bar but in the function room, so yer won’t ’ave to rub shoulders with the common folk.’