Page 37 of From Notting Hill with Love…Actually
“Climb aboard,” Sean shouted above the noise of the engines. “They’ll get us there on time!”
“But I can’t—I’m wearing a skirt!”
My delivery boy smirked at my tight dress. “You could always hitch it up,” he leered.
“Come on, Red!” Sean called. “Don’t be a spoilsport—it’s the only way we’re going to make it there on time!”
I glared at Sean, then, swallowing my pride, hoisted up my dress and perched myself gingerly on top of the pizza rack.
My escort turned round and grinned. “I’m Brian,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Scarlett,” I said, shaking it.
“Nice name. Look, Scarlett, you’re going to have to put your arms around me,” he instructed. “Or you’ll fall off.”
“Right,” I said, closing my eyes and wrapping my armsaround Brian’s skinny torso.Jeez, this had better be in a movie somewhere, I thought, as I held on for dear life while Brian expertly wove his moped in and out of the congested Glasgow traffic.He’s not exactly James Dean or Marlon Brando. But I don’t suppose, as I balanced precariously on the back of a pizza delivery bike, I looked much like a starlet of Hollywood yesteryear either.
***
We arrived at the wedding with minutes to spare. I clambered off the moped as gracefully as I could and hurriedly smoothed down my dress, grateful there had not been any undelivered pizzas on the bike during our ride or my current odor might now have been less Chanel No. 5, and more Order No. 5 with extra pepperoni and cheese. I was grateful we’d been wearing helmets too, for as much as my hair had been flattened from being squashed under the helmet, if it had been loose I’d have had another movie moment to add to my list, and it would have been a most unwanted one—that of Bridget Jones’s frizzy hair after she’d been in Daniel Cleaver’s open-topped sports car.
“OK?” Sean asked, holding up his hand to the pizza delivery boys as they sped off together, zigzagging back through the traffic.
I nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Well, at least we got here before the bride.”
“Only just,” Sean said, nodding in the direction of a big black car pulling up outside the church.
I watched as the car door was opened and a young girl wearing white alighted from the vehicle. “Is that Rachel?”
“Yes,” Sean said, taking a quick glance. “Now come on, let’s get inside before she does.”
“It’s an unusual outfit she’s wearing,” I said as we quietly crept into the church.
“Mmm, is it?” Sean said, finding us an empty pew at the back. “I didn’t really notice.”
It was then I realized something wasn’t quite right.
As I looked around me, I saw the congregation weren’t dressed in the usual wedding attire of morning suits, dresses, and oversized hats, but were wearing what looked like fancy dress outfits.
“Sean, what’s everyone wearing?” I whispered.
“What do you mean?” Sean looked up from his Order of Service.
“Look at everyone, they’re all dressed funny.”
As we both looked closely at our fellow guests, the realization dawned on us that the wedding obviously had a theme. Nearly everyone had on some sort of costume, the only exception seemed to be a couple of elderly grannies, or maybe they were aunts, who wore the more traditional wedding attire of pastel twinset with matching shade of large feathery hat.
“Didn’t you know it was fancy dress costumes?” I hissed in Sean’s ear. “I feel a right fool dressed like this now.”
“It’s worse than just fancy dress,” Sean whispered back, a smile beginning to spread across his face.
“What do you mean worse? How could this get any worse than us being at a fancy dress wedding in normal clothes?”
Just then the huge wooden doors at the back of the churchburst open, and everyone stood up as the first bars of the bridal march began.
That sounds familiar, I thought as the notes began to register in my ears.
Then it hit me what the music was, and why Sean was now standing next to me grinning like a fool—as the John Williams theme fromStarWarsechoed around the church, and Rachel, dressed as Princess Leia—bagel hair and all—shimmered toward us in a long white dress.
