Page 100 of Wedding Crasher

He disappeared inside, and moments later Ivan stepped out onto the pavement to lead his wife on her final journey. Dora’s casket followed, borne on the steadfast shoulders of Gabe, Tom, Jonny and Dan. A painful lump rose in Marla’s throat as she watched them match their pace to Ivan’s. They made a slow and dignified procession, and she had to acknowledge that they all looked magnificent, with a yellow hellebore pinned to the lapel of their black jackets. Marla glanced down at the matching flower corsage around her wrist, the only splash of colour against her simple Jackie ‘O’-style black dress.

Who knew that Ivan had such a romantic soul? Only Dora.

She looked up as Ivan approached the chapel doorway and reached out for his hands.

‘Are you alright?’ she asked.

He squeezed her fingers for a few seconds, his eyes sorrowful.

‘I don’t know what I’ll do without her,’ he said shakily, then let go of Marla’s hands with a heavy sigh and stepped inside the chapel. She swallowed hard and met Gabe’s eyes without rancour as he drew alongside her. Today wasn’t the time for discord, a fact brought home by the strains of the wartime love song, ‘Goodnight Sweetheart’, that floated from the chapel speakers.

Emily and Marla had both shed a tear yesterday as they listened to the simple love song Ivan had requested, made all the more sentimental by the crackle and hum from the stylus of the old record player Jonny had hunted down for the occasion.

The four men placed Dora’s casket carefully in its place before the altar and then took their seats. All except Jonny, who stepped up to the lectern and stood silent with his head bowed, until the last strains of the music ebbed away.

He drew a deep breath, and on behalf of Ivan, thanked the congregation for coming. Everyone in the church had their own memories of Dora, and Jonny enriched them as he shared a little of Dora’s early life. How she’d been the last surviving member of seven children, and of how devastated she’d been to lose her beloved eldest brother Billy when he went down with HMSCourageousduring the Second World War. Many of the elderly congregation bowed their heads, their own wartime losses ever close to their hearts.

Jonny’s affection for Dora shone star-bright in his every word. He made many of the congregation cry with his heartfelt anecdotes gathered from Dora’s many friends, and gentle laughter rippled around the chapel as he recounted a memorable day last winter when she’d tumbled down the step into the local shoe shop. She’d knocked over every single rack as she gathered momentum like a bull in a china shop, completely trashing the place. He paused to allow people to settle again, and then wrapped up his speech with a simple acknowledgment of how large a hole Dora had left behind in the lives of all who loved her.

Ivan, most of all.

One by one, people stood, wishing to approach the lectern and share their anecdotes about how Dora had touched their lives.

Ruth, her eyes red-rimmed and her fingers sore, told of how Dora had often babysat her daughters when they were small and her husband had passed away suddenly, leaving her to run the florists alone.

Alfonso, blowing his nose into his silk handkerchief, spoke of how Dora had always ordered Ivan’s birthday cakes from him, even though she could have made them just as well herself. Laughter rippled the audience, because many fêtes and charity bakes over the years had been graced with Dora’s less-than-perfect baking.

Tom shared his own special memory of Dora too, as the person he’d turned to when he needed someone to talk to, as someone who’d given him the single best piece of advice he’d ever received. He didn’t elaborate, but the tear on his cheek spoke volumes.

Emily and Marla stood arm in arm at the lectern and shared memories of the countless times Dora had made them laugh and brightened their working days with her acerbic humour and huge heart.

There was no rush to the proceedings, no need to hurry Dora away to her final resting place, in the cemetery beside her brothers and sisters.

Finally, Jonny looked across at Gabriel, who straightened his tie and approached the lectern.

Marla couldn’t take her eyes off him. She hadn’t allowed herself to so much as glance in his direction over the last few weeks; having him here was torture. It seemed that she was destined for famine or feast where he was concerned, and neither option did anything to settle her stomach.

He glanced her way and held her gaze for a second that might have been an hour, and in that moment she felt sure that everyone in the building knew they’d shared a night together. She dropped her eyes to her patent black Mary Janes to minimise the number of people that would see her scarlet cheeks.

‘Ivan has asked me to speak on his behalf this afternoon,’ Gabe began, and his beautiful accent pulled her eyes like magnets back to his face.

‘It’s my honour and my pleasure, because Dora was one in a million. She made my move here so much easier with her simple kindnesses, her endless supplies of biscuits and her no-nonsense advice.’

He smiled sadly.

‘She was funny, and she was kind. A true friend, and I will miss her immeasurably.’

He paused, and he reached inside his jacket for Ivan’s speech.

‘Okay, so over to Ivan.’

He bowed his head towards Ivan on the front row, and then began to read.

‘It was raining the day I met Dora. October 6th, 1939. She was just fifteen but already very beautiful, like a young Rita Hayworth, she was. All the other girls were huddled together under the eaves of the youth club, but my Dora just twirled and lifted her face up to the rain.

That was it, she was the girl for me and I didn’t waste any time in telling her so.

Then the war came along and everything changed – everything apart from Dora, that is. Her letters kept me alive through times when I could have easily lain down and died. I was determined to get home to my girl.’

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