I've Got Your Number

I've Got Your Number Page 53

“Ha-ha-ha!” I give a loud, sycophantic laugh. “Ha-ha-ha! Very good! Anyway.” I turn to Reverend Fox, trying to hide my desperation. “Shall we crack on?”

Half an hour later, my legs are still shaking. I’ve never experienced such a near-miss in my life. I’m not sure Wanda believes me. She keeps shooting me suspicious looks, plus she’s asked me how much the replica ring cost and where I had it made, and all sorts of questions I really didn’t want to answer.

What does she think? That I was going to sell the original or something?

We’ve practiced me coming up the aisle, and going back down the aisle together, and worked out where we’ll kneel and sign the register. And now the vicar has suggested a run-through of the vows.

But I can’t. I just can’t say those magical words with Antony there, making clever-clever comments and mocking every phrase. It’ll be different in the wedding. He’ll have to shut up.

““Magnus.” I pull him aside with a whisper. “Let’s not do our vows today after all. Not with your father here. They’re too special to ruin.”

“OK.” He looks surprised. “I don’t mind either way.”

“Let’s just say them once. On the day.” I squeeze his hand. “For real.”

Even without Antony, I don’t want to preempt the big moment, I realize. I don’t want to rehearse. It’ll take the specialness out of it all.

“Yes, I agree.” Magnus nods. “So … are we done now?”

“No, we’re not done!” says Lucinda, sounding outraged. “Far from it! I want Poppy to walk up the aisle again. You went far too fast for the music.”

“OK.” I shrug, heading to the back of the church.

“Organ, please!” shrieks Lucinda. “Or-gan! From the top! Glide smoothly, Poppy,” she says as I pass. “You’re wobbling! Clemency, where are those cups of tea?”

Clemency is just back from a Costa run, and I can see her out of the corner of my eye, hastily tearing open sachets of sugar and milk.

“I’ll help!” I say, and break off from gliding. “What can I do?”

“Thanks,” whispers Clemency as I come over. “Antony wants three sugars, Magnus is the cappuccino, Wanda has the biscotti … ”

“Where’s my double-chocolate extra-cream muffin?” I say with a puzzled frown, and Clemency jumps sky-high in the air.

“I didn’t—I can go back—”

“Joke!” I say. “Just joking!”

The longer Clemency works for Lucinda, the more like a terrified rabbit she looks. It really can’t be good for her health.

Lucinda takes her tea (milk, no sugar) with the briefest of nods. She seems totally hassled again and has laid a massive spreadsheet printout across the pews. It’s such a mess of highlighter and scribbled notes and Post-it notes, I’m amazed she’s organized anything.

“Oh God, oh God,” she’s saying under her breath. “Where’s the fucking florist’s number?” She riffles through a bundle of papers, then clasps her hair despairingly. “Clemency!”

“Shall I Google it for you?” I suggest.

“Clemency will Google it. Clemency !” Poor Clemency starts so badly, tea slops out of one of the cups.

“I’ll take that,” I say hastily, and relieve her of the Costa tray.

“If you could, that would be helpful.” Lucinda exhales sharply. “Because you know, we are all here for your benefit, Poppy. And the wedding is only a week away. And there is still an awful lot to do.”

“I know,” I say awkwardly. “Um … sorry.”

I have no idea where Magnus and his parents have got to, so I head toward the back of the church, holding the Costa tray full of cups, trying to glide, imagining myself in my veil.

“Ridiculous!” I hear Wanda’s muffled voice first. “ Far too fast.”

I look around uncertainly—then realize it’s coming from behind a heavy closed wooden door to the side of the church. They must be in the antechapel.

“Everyone knows … Attitude to marriage … ” That’s Magnus speaking—but the door is so thick I can catch only the odd word.

“ …  not about marriage per se!” Wanda’s voice is suddenly raised. “ …  pair of you! … just can’t understand … ”

“ Quite misguided … ” Antony’s voice is like a bassoon chiming in.

I’m rooted to the spot, ten yards away from the door, holding the Costa coffee tray. I know I shouldn’t eavesdrop. But I can’t stop myself.