Page 107 of Mad About You

Nina

Looking HOT, Harriet Hateful! Don’t stare but I’m one row to the front of you, to the right. I went for a kind of Jackie O pillbox number in the end. GOOD LUCK OUR QUEEN xxx

Harriet glanced up, clocked an unusually demure Nina from behind, and then glanced away again to check the time. Four minutes to four. Marianne had solemnly sworn her punctuality (I will literally get there early and sit in the car and pay the traffic ticket if I have to). Four minutes to go undetected by the groom. A few more late stragglers joined her row and Harriet thought:I must be safe in a crowd.If Scott was going to do a glad-handing walkabout he’d have done it by now, surely.

Surely makes an ass of you and me: Harriet risked snatching a look in Scott’s direction and quickly dropped her eyes with a sharp silent intake of breath. He was staring, roughly at where she was sitting, and worse, making an approach.

Oh, so this was it. She’d been made. Harriet felt the change in energy forcefield around her, the increase in air pressure. The tap on her shoulder would come any second, and still make her jump out of her skin. When she couldn’t resist checking again, she saw Scott perilously close by, only one row in front. He was leaning down and speaking quietly to someone, beyond Harriet’s view.

Whatever was happening wasn’t completely benign, because Harriet sensed heads turning and necks craning.

Oh, no. It wasNinahe was speaking to.

She saw a blur of black pillbox hat and dark hair and Nina standing up and being discreetly propelled from the room, Scott behind her with a grim expression.

Head bowed, Harriet peered intently at her Order of Service without seeing a thing, and waited to be ejected next. If Nina was here, he’d know Harriet must be, right? She was suffering the guilty person’s inability to assess what they’d given away. How many of their plot twists were now guessable?

Mortifying and ludicrous as discovery would be, more than anything, she’d feel she was abandoning Marianne. She’d have let her down.

More seconds passed. People chattered around her. The string band started ‘Chasing Cars’,which seemed to be cue for Bride On Premises.

She finally risked looking up, and Scott was half-jogging down the aisle, back to Danny’s side.

Harriet was sat rigid, poker-faced, and in turmoil. He’d not seen her. He thought Nina was a lone shooter? Did itmake sense to do this without Nina? She was going to say something, then what? Silence. Booing?

Breathe.Breathe.

The celebrant gestured for hush.

‘Stand please, for your bride.’

51

Marianne Wharmby was the loveliest bride that Harriet had ever seen, and she’d seen quite a few.

An audible gasp-sigh went round the room as she filled the doorway, wearing the composed expression of a born princess.

She wore an oyster tulle gown, with a deep V, that nipped in at the waist and flared out into a soft full skirt, spun through with silver diamante, so the fabric glistened. On her head was a full circle flower crown, the floral halo bursting with white jasmine and yellow roses, lending a pagan cult,Midsommarfeel. It could’ve been too much, but with her blonde curls and innocent face beneath, the effect was enchanting and angelic.

The man on her arm, giving her away, was barely older than her. He was in a canary-yellow velvet suit, large clear-frame glasses and had an undercut hairstyle, tattoos on both hands. Harriet thought:hairdresser.

When they reached Scott, he was clutching his chest, shaking his head, miming: ‘I am blown away by this vision.’ He got down on one knee and kissed Marianne’s hand, to more noisyahhhhhing.

Always the showman. For Harriet’s taste, even if she’d not hated him, she’d have thought he was overdoing it.Stop trying to drag the limelight from her, you wanker.

‘Thank you everyone for coming here to witness the marriage of Scott, and Marianne,’ the celebrant said. She was around sixty, with bobbed hair and in a skirt suit. She had the look of a Labour councillor who would promise to tackle the issues that really mattered to local people. ‘Please be seated. I’m the celebrant today and my name is Gwen. To begin today’s service, we have a poem, read by Ralph.’

The man in yellow velvet who’d given Marianne away stepped forward.

‘Hi everyone. This is Carrie’s poem fromSex and the City.’ He paused. ‘Scott wants me to point out that Marianne chose it.’

Laughter.

Carrie’s poem was unknown to Harriet, but very short, and mercifully, had no sex in it, or city for that matter.

‘Thank you, Ralph, that was beautiful,’ Gwen said, as he sat down.

‘Now we move on to the exchanging of vows, and the exchanging of rings. If I could ask the couple to face each other.’

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