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Nanna ignored him.
‘Did you hear, the dress cost £9,000? Nine thousand,’ she repeated in a way that I knew meant she was shaking her head. ‘There’s even a back-up one in case something goes wrong.’
I knew all about Diana’s dress. I’d been keeping a wedding scrapbook of magazine cut-outs, every detail about the big day stuck in, from how many bridesmaids the soon-to-be princess was having, to the number of beads on her ivory satin shoes.
I don’t remember why Matty didn’t watch the ceremony with us. He can’t have been working, it was a public holiday. He did come over in the evening though to join us for the highlights.
‘Isn’t she beautiful?’ I purred.
For someone with zero interest in fashion or femininity, I was surprisingly sucked in by the theatre of the Royal Wedding.
Matty helped himself to a handful of M&Ms from the bowl on the coffee table, tipped the lot into his mouth in one go. When I attempted to copy him, I got a telling off from my mother.
‘Beauty’s only skin deep. It’s what a person’s like underneath that matters,’ he told me.
‘That’s what Mum always says.’
He gave her knee a little squeeze.
‘Wise woman, your ma.’
The schmoozing was annoying, though she seemed pleased, rewarding him with a little kiss and a private smile.
‘Diana’s lovely,’ I persisted. One, two, three. Look at me. ‘You can tell by her eyes.’
‘Can you though? Your eyes are much prettier.’
I gave him a dig in the ribs.
‘What’s that for?’ he said, rubbing his side, pretending to be hurt. ‘I was paying you a compliment.’
‘Complimenting yourself, more like. My eyes are exactly the same as yours. Even the shape.’
He grinned.
‘Pair of beauties, so we are.’
That earned him another rib dig and me another satisfying ‘ouch’.
This last coach which we can see comes to a stop at the bottom of the steps of St Paul’s. The door opens and for the first time we see in all its glory, that dress. What a dream she looks. . .
I dug a handful of popcorn out of the mostly depleted bowl.
‘They won’t be calling her Lady Di any more.’
‘Don’t talk with your mouth full, Sophie.’
That was my mother, of course.
Matty gave me a wink. An ally in the ongoing war on manners.
‘Lady Di. Ominous nickname, when you think about it,’ he mused.
‘What’s ominous mean?’
My mother tutted, shook her head.
‘It means, I don’t know what’s got into Matty.’
