Chapter Three
The sweet smell of newly polished oak mingled with the fresh scent of lilies and the abundant swathes of honeysuckle that arched over the entrance to the church. Lucy stepped over the cool stone threshold and tottered down the aisle, taking care not to catch her stilettos in the air vents or slip on the floor, worn smooth by the constant footfall of the faithful. The thrum of chatter and the excited anticipation of Claudia and Dan’s nearest and dearest filled the church. A riot of jewel-like colours and feathered fascinators tilted towards one another in hushed conversation. She found her allocated seat at the front, as instructed, in case she needed to get up and perform any emergency adjustments to the bride’s train. She was relieved that Claudia had asked her to go straight into the church rather than accompanying her as part of the bridal party. Claudia hadn’t wanted a gaggle of bridesmaids and Lucy had been grateful that she didn’t have to walk solo down the aisle.
She caught Dan’s eye and grinned at him as he stood nervously by the altar, waiting with Mark, his best man. He gave her a wave and a small thumbs up, straightening his tie and shifting uncomfortably under the weight of his tails.
Lucy scanned the people surrounding her, searching for familiar faces and smiling at everyone she knew. Just behind Dan, a handsome, dark-haired man with a strong jawline caught her attention. Probably gay or taken, Lucy thought to herself. She knew better than to assume that any remotely fanciable man might possibly be available. Just at that moment, the vicar came in and made the usual garbled announcements, asking people to silence their mobile phones and join in with the required responses. After he finished, there was a hushed air of anticipation until at last the organ broke the silence, cranking and groaning into life, emitting the first bars of ‘Canon in D’ by Pachelbel. The congregation, as one, turned to face the door.
A universal intake of breath announced the arrival of the bride. Lucy craned her neck to catch a glimpse of her best friend but she was unable to see her. She quickly turned to take one last look at Dan. She was moved by the look of sheer pride that was plastered across his face. Claudia and Graham had turned the corner and started to walk down the aisle, coming into Lucy’s line of sight. Hot tears sprung into her eyes and she blinked her curly lashes several times to stop them from rolling down her cheeks and spoiling her mascara. As she had announced to Claudia earlier, she looked the most breathtakingly beautiful that Lucy had ever seen her. Her olive skin glowed with radiant happiness, her brown hair shone deeply and curled softly just as it reached her shoulders. The soft lace of the veil swept up and over the crown of her head, hanging gently down her back. As she walked slowly towards the altar, arm in arm with her dear old father, the material of her dress flowed over her body like liquid silk. When she arrived at the front, Claudia caught Lucy’s eye and winked before taking her place next to Dan at the altar, beaming.
Lucy choked back tears as she listened to them make their vows. As they sung the hymns and listened to the sermon, she dreamt of a time when she might get the chance to be the bride. She allowed her thoughts to wander until she could see herself walking arm in arm with her father, Gus, down the aisle of her village church in Cornwall. She imagined the fragrant smell of sweet peas, the little bridesmaids in their taffeta dresses leading the way while the soft music of a cello filled the church to the rafters. In her mind’s eye she could see Jack standing at the altar. He was smiling at her with the same tender and adoring expression that she had seen on Dan’s face a few minutes earlier. Her heart felt like it would burst with happiness. All of a sudden the deafening strains of ‘Widor’s Toccata’ wrenched Lucy back to the present with a jerk and she turned to face the aisle once again, slightly shaken from her vivid daydream, as the newly-wed couple made their way out of the church.
The wedding reception took place at a local hotel in a sumptuously decorated room. Round tables groaned under the weight of glittering glass and silver, each place-setting denoted with an ornately folded napkin. The tables were heavy with white linen.
Lucy accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and sipped it gratefully; the cold bubbles quenched her thirst. She watched Claudia flitting happily around the room, greeting all her guests, never far from her new husband. Lucy chatted to a group of university friends and caught up on their news of work, babies and marriage; expertly deflecting any attention away from her barren love life with the practised hand of a long-term single. She saw the chiselled man from the church once again. This time he was talking to a tall blonde with a glossy ponytail that flicked from side to side coquettishly every time she laughed. ‘Taken,’ Lucy muttered to herself. ‘Just as I thought.’
At that moment she felt a light tap on her shoulder and spun around to find her old friend Zoe standing before her. She was cradling the tiniest bundle that Lucy had ever seen in her arms.
‘Oh my god, Zoe! How good to see you! Is this baby Lola?’ squealed Lucy, kissing Zoe on the cheek and telling her how wonderful she looked. It amazed Lucy how some women could snap back into shape what seemed like mere moments after giving birth. Zoe looked radiant, if exhausted, and delighted in telling Lucy all about the arrival of Lola into the world a few weeks ago.
‘Do you mind if I hold her?’ Lucy asked, trying to keep the longing out of her voice.
‘Be my guest!’ said Zoe, draping a muslin cloth over Lucy’s shoulder just in case Lola decided to ruin her dress with regurgitated milk.
Lucy caught her breath as she scrutinized the tiny features of her friend’s newborn. She leant her cheek next to the impossibly soft, downy hair on Lola’s head and breathed in deeply that sweet baby smell. Holding Lola’s feather-light body as she nestled into the nook of her shoulder caused such pangs of longing in Lucy it was like physical pain. She rocked the baby gently from side to side, trying to keep her attention on Zoe as they swapped stories about mutual friends. They were all too quickly joined by Zoe’s husband, Nathan, who whisked Lola off for a nappy change, the ultimate modern dad doing his bit. As she watched Nathan carry Lola away, noticing the look of adoration plastered across his face, she strengthened her resolve that she would have a baby of her own before it was too late.
Before long a gong sounded and the MC’s voice echoed over the microphone, encouraging everyone to move over to the dining area for the wedding breakfast. Lucy would far rather have spent the evening cuddling Lola than anything else.
Lucy took her seat on one of the round tables in front of Claudia and Dan who were sitting with their close family members on a trestle table overlooking the rest of the room. She surveyed the names on either side of her place setting, the mysterious Alexander (the supposedly eligible bachelor) to her right and Claudia’s Auntie Mabel to her left. Looking up, she spotted Mabel making surprisingly speedy progress towards the table for a ninety-year-old, still looking as youthful as the last time Lucy had seen her but with a slight stoop to her back and hunch to her shoulders.
‘Little Lucy Johnston, I don’t believe it!’ said Mabel, clasping her face with wrinkled hands and kissing her cheeks.
‘Auntie Mabel!’ smiled Lucy. ‘It’s been far too long! How are you?’ Lucy asked. She got up to help her into her seat and saw a plump, bald man making a beeline for her table.This will be the eligible bachelor, thought Lucy wryly, making a mental note to thank Claudia later.
Having ensured Mabel was safely seated, Lucy turned to her right to confront the bride’s disastrous match-making skills face to face. With a deep breath, Lucy stuck out her hand to introduce herself. ‘I’m Lucy,’ she said. ‘Pleased to meet you!’
‘Alexander,’ said the hairless wonder as he took his seat with a grunt, doing his best to tuck his sizeable belly underneath the table. The broken red veins that smattered his cheeks and the yellowish tinge to his teeth reminded Lucy of a walrus.
Gratefully, Lucy turned back to face Mabel who had begun reminiscing about Claudia and Lucy’s joint tenth birthday party. She did her best to focus on Auntie Mabel, leaning ever so slightly closer to hear her fragile voice across the din of the party, happy to put even a sliver of extra distance between herself and the gentleman to her right. Lucy was nearly too distracted to notice another man approaching the table, causing a bit of a kerfuffle as he apologetically suggested that perhaps Mr Walrus was in the wrong seat.
Daring to believe her luck, she glanced up to see the handsome man that she had noticed earlier taking his seat to her right instead. Apparently both men were called Alexander, resulting in a case of mistaken identity on the seating plan. Much to Lucy’s relief Mr Walrus was currently beating a hasty retreat to his rightful place on the other side of the room. His replacement introduced himself briefly as Alex, leaning across to shake hands with both Mabel and Lucy.
Taken aback by his good looks, she stammered, ‘I’m Lucy, nice to meet you.’
Just as Alex looked ready to respond, Lucy received a pointed jab in the ribs from Auntie Mabel, obviously keen to pursue her journey down memory lane. Reluctantly, Lucy turned to face her, noticing disappointedly that Alex immediately struck up conversation with the vivacious Brazilian lady to his right. She found herself acutely aware of this handsome newcomer’s presence and she struggled to focus on Auntie Mabel telling her about her latest WI project, punctuating her speech with the odd ‘yes’ or ‘oh really?’ but straining with half an ear to tune into the conversation to her right.
For their starter, they ate mozzarella wrapped in Parma ham, resting artfully on top of bundles of asparagus and washed down with sips of cold, velvety Chablis. Even the arrival of their food did nothing to stop Auntie Mabel’s nostalgic reminiscing. By the time the starters were taken away and having somewhat run out of small talk, Lucy was relieved when Auntie Mabel excused herself to nip outside to smoke a Silk Cut, muttering something about ‘old habits dying hard’ as she went. Lucy immediately turned to her right just, as luck would have it, as Alexander offered her a top-up of wine.
‘So, you must be the famous Lucy I’ve heard so much about!’ said Alex, his umber eyes twinkling mischievously under his perfectly groomed brow. She noticed a flicker of irritation from the Brazilian who reluctantly turned to strike up conversation with the less attractive man seated on her right.
‘Have you?’ asked Lucy, praying that Claudia had bigged her up hugely whilst playing down some of the more embarrassing anecdotes from her enormous thirty-year collection. ‘And what exactly have you heard?’
‘Oh, all good things, don’t worry,’ Alex replied, oozing self-confidence and charm. ‘Interesting, in fact. You work in advertising, don’t you?’
‘Yes, for my sins. Though the unadulterated joy of selling Listerine mouthwash to the faceless masses has somewhat lost its appeal over the years! I’m thinking of sacking it all in to work for some far more worthy cause.’
‘And what might that be?’ Alex enquired, his voice rich and smooth, like treacle, deep and resonant.
‘Gosh, I don’t know, perhaps I’ll go and work for a charity one day… or travel the world and teach?’ said Lucy.
