Page 109 of Wedding Crasher

It was a little after midday on Christmas Eve, an hour since they’d waved off their final bride and groom of the year. Not that Jonny could complain that it had been a staid, traditional affair. Anything but; the only thing white about the wedding had been the snow that dusted the ground outside. The happy couple had made a surprisingly convincing Agnetha and Bjorn, and Marla’s eyes ached from a morning surrounded by wall-to-wall flower power and kipper ties. Unlike Jonny, she was quite content to listen to the mellow sound of Bing Crosby; her ears ached from one too many renditions of Abba’s ‘I do, I do, I do, I do, I do’.

Emily looked up from her seat next to the aisle. She was dressed in a swirl-patterned maxi-dress that drew attention to her massive bump. She crossed her arms over the top of it and narrowed her eyes at Marla.

‘I’ve always loved that dress. I’ll never be skinny again,’ she groused, eyeing Marla’s emerald-green original seventies Biba dress.

‘Rubbish. You can borrow it for the christening,’ Marla laughed.

The dress had called out to her from a vintage shop window in New York a few years back and she’d fallen for its charms, despite the fact that the scoop neck displayed more cleavage than she was used to and the Lurex material clung to her rib cage. But the colour suited her hair, and the silver sparkle shot through it added enough pizzazz to give her the perfect excuse to wear her silver salsa-dancing sandals.

Since she’d opened the chapel, it had become her go-to dress for their seventies-themed weddings, of which there were a surprising number. Abba had a lot to answer for. She’d played up her eyes with smoky-green shadows and kohl pencil that morning, and voilà, the chapel had itself a bona fide seventies landlady.

‘Sherry!’

Cecilia trilled as she tottered along the aisle in a gold lamé dress, a tray of schooner glasses balanced in her hands. She loved spending Christmas in England, and felt strongly that sherry was an integral part of the festivities.

Jonny helped himself to one of the glasses and poured its contents into the nearest plant pot.

‘Sherry is for coffin dodgers.’

He arched his brows in challenge at Cecilia and reached behind the lectern for his secret bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

‘What?’ he shrugged, round-eyed and innocent. ‘It’s my communion wine.’

Jonny didn’t have a religious bone in his body, but he was more than happy to cherry-pick theological traditions to suit his needs. Those that involved alcohol, mostly.

Emily took the glass of orange juice from Cecilia’s tray.

‘Just leave me here until I’ve had the baby. I can’t get up.’

‘Not long now, sweetie.’ Jonny stood behind her and massaged her shoulders.

Emily sighed and leaned back against him. ‘You have magic hands.’

‘You should see the rest of me, darlin’,’ he muttered, with a suggestive wiggle of his fingers.

‘Er, I don’t think so,’ Emily laughed.

‘Me neither, actually,’ Jonny cackled. ‘You’d never look at poor old Tom in the same light again.’

He winked and knocked back the rest of his JD, then glanced across at Marla.

‘Ready, boss?’

Marla nodded and cast an apologetic smile at her mother as she replaced her untouched glass of sherry back on the tray.

‘Sorry, Mom. Jonny and I better dash if we’re going to get those glitter balls back to the hire company. Someone from the County Hotel is collecting them at four for their Christmas Day celebrations.’

She nodded towards the stack of glittering orbs lined up by the chapel door. Jonny flung his full-length military coat on and turned the collar up as he went out into the snow to load them into the car.

Marla passed the chapel keys to her mother.

‘You just need to lock the front door, the back’s already bolted. I’ll see you at home in a couple of hours.’

She dropped a kiss on her mother’s cheek and turned to Emily.

‘Happy Christmas, Em. Give Tom a kiss from me.’

She leaned down and hugged her friend carefully around her bump.

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