‘He’s only sixteen,’ Philip argued. ‘He can’t live on his own and do as he likes.’
‘He wouldn’t have to live on his own,’ Grace told Philip. ‘He can stay with us and go to school with Lorcan like before. It’s no bother. We’re all terribly fond of Will and we’d love to have him here.’
‘He can’t just wander off and move in with another family, like a bloody cat!’ Philip fumed.
‘I’m very fond of cats,’ Grace said defensively.
‘Look, put him on.’ Philip sighed.
Finally Will was persuaded to speak to his father. He was cold and unyielding. He wasn’t going back. If he was sent back he would run away again.
Finally, after a good deal of wrangling, Philip had to admit defeat. Faced with the choice of Will staying in Ireland with his friends and finishing school or getting some menial job while he waited to become a hopeless dilettante, he opted for the lesser of two evils.
But Will had never forgiven his father and that night in the O’Neills’ kitchen was the last time he had spoken to him.
2
‘Okay, showtime!’ Kate announced. She had spent the past five minutes on her hunkers behind Rachel, fluffing up her skirts. She wasn’t too sure what she was supposed to be doing, but she had a vague idea that, as bridesmaid, she was expected to fiddle with Rachel’s dress for a decent interval before they could go into the church. She gave the skirt one last hefty tug so that Rachel would think she meant serious business, then pronounced her ‘ready to roll.’
‘My veil! Don’t forget my veil!’ Rachel trilled.
Boy, that red carpet’s really gone to her head,Kate thought, but she dutifully draped the veil around Rachel’s face. Rachel had gone for the whole traditional thing: the O’Neills were a theatrical family, both by profession and in spirit, and this was her big production.
At last they were ready. Rachel took her father’s arm as they went inside and the organist started to play ‘The Bridal March.’ Everyone stood as they began the walk down the long aisle amid a riot of flashbulbs as guests ducked out of the pews to take photographs.
This must be what it’s like being famous,Kate thought, enjoying it more than she had expected. She caught Freddie’s eye as she passed him and gave him a broad grin. She noticed he was beside her disreputable aunt Iris.
Halfway down the aisle, Rachel stopped dead. Kate, not paying attention, crashed into her. ‘Dad, stop!’ Rachel hissed from beneath her veil. ‘Stop!’
‘Sorry, love, am I going too fast?’ Jack slowed his pace but continued to move forward.
Rachel dug her heels in. ‘Stop, Dad.’ She leaned closer to her father. ‘I’ve made a dreadful mistake!’ she whispered urgently.
‘Not at all.’ Her father smiled nervously. ‘Don’t worry – Tom’s a lovely fella.’ He patted Rachel’s hand reassuringly and continued down the aisle.
Rachel yanked him back. ‘No, Dad,stop! This is all wrong!’
‘Well, isn’t it a bit late to be thinking about that now?’ Jack pleaded, beaming wildly at the guests.
‘I don’t mean I’m having second thoughts,’ Rachel hissed through clenched teeth. ‘I mean I’ve made amistake. Look,’ she pointed to the altar, ‘this is some kind of skinhead wedding. We’re at thewrong one!’ She sounded like a bad ventriloquist.
Jack glanced around him. All the guests, who were staring at them in bewilderment, were familiar. He winked at a couple of acquaintances. But Rachel was right: there did seem to be a bunch of skinheads at the altar. Could they have invited everyone to the wrong church? Or for the wrong time?
Kate peered at the altar rail. ‘God, you’re right,’ she whispered. How could this have happened? she wondered. And to Rachel of all people –Bridemagazine’s poster girl, for God’s sake!
‘Of course I’m right,’ Rachel snapped. ‘I think I’d recognise my own fiancé. What are we going to do?’
As the three stood in the middle of the aisle, trying franticallyto think of the least undignified way of legging it, the wedding guests began to mumble. Kate kept glancing over her shoulder, half expecting some jackbooted bride to come goose-stepping along the aisle and mow them down.
‘Ooh, it’s just like that film,Runaway Bride,’ Aunt Iris whispered excitedly to Freddie, who was shocked to see her punch the air, while she whispered encouragement to Rachel to bolt. It was as if she was cheering a horse she had backed in the Grand National over the finish line.
* * *
At the top of the church, Tom stared fixedly at the altar rail, afraid to turn around. I knew it, he thought, I should never have let Lorcan and Will persuade me into going ahead with it. Rachel had obviously seen his hair – or lack of it – and decided to do a runner.
As the organist launched staunchly into the third round of ‘The Bridal March’, Tom summoned the courage to turn and face the music. What he saw was not encouraging. Rachel, Kate and Jack were huddled together in the middle of the aisle, having what looked like a fairly heated argument. Jack appeared to be trying to reason with Rachel, probably persuading her to go the extra mile and marry him, even if hewasa slaphead, Tom thought despondently.
But then something miraculous happened. Rachel saw him, and her face lit up. ‘It’s Tom!’ he heard her gasp to her father and sister. She seemed surprised to see him, but pleasantly so. In fact, she appeared overjoyed.
