He even managed to make that sound threatening. As if she was in a Belfast pub and he was asking ‘Catholic or Protestant' and any answer would result in a kneecapping.
‘Broom,' said Stevie, swallowing.
‘She means "bride",' said Catherine, coming to her rescue.
‘All three of us are,' continued Stevie, making it sound as if they were a united force. Like Charlie's Angels.
‘Right, that side there then,' he said, pointing left, and handed over three hymnbooks and order of services.
‘Thank you, so kind,' said Stevie, sounding like her Auntie Rita who had been a bit of a slapper, by all accounts, until she married Uncle Reg, who was a barrister, and overnight became all posh and correct.
Catherine and Eddie twittered on in the background as she filled him in on who that was. They filed down to the middle of the church, Catherine first, Eddie in the middle and Stevie on the end.
‘What's he doing here?' Stevie asked finally.
‘Haven't a clue. He must know William. Oy, Steve, did you see his legs?' asked Catherine in a whisper that seemed to echo all the way up to the altar.
‘Shhh!' said Eddie, which echoed as much.
‘I thought he'd got furry oak trees under his kilt,' said Catherine, snorting from the effort of trying to keep the laughter in.
‘Where's his hair gone?' said Stevie, wondering if there was a connection with its absence and the break-up of his marriage. Some bizarre Scottish ritual, perhaps.
‘He's stuck it on his legs, I think,' said Catherine, having a major fit of giggles under her hat.
‘Will you two be quiet!' said Eddie like a teacher on a school trip, although even he had a good look when usher-time was at an end and Madman strutted down the aisle to take up his seat on the groom's side. He was obviously trying to get his physical house in order, thought Stevie. Ah well, better late than never. Surely, he must have realized before that he wasn't anywhere near Jo's equal in the looks stakes, not compared to someone as handsome as Matthew. It pained her to think how stunning a couple Matt and she would make, with their matching dark hair and brown eyes and long legs, and treacherous hearts.
‘Big lad, isn't he?' said Eddie. ‘Wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of him.'
‘Like me, you mean,' said Stevie, who then had to shut up because the organ started playing the first notes to ‘Here Comes the Bride' and Pam swaggered down the aisle in a fishtail white velvet dress, her hair piled up on her head with white flowers in it and a light furry cape dressing her shoulders. She was a big lass and a meringue frock would have looked ‘a bugger', as she had so delicately put it, but in that get-up she looked gorgeous and sexy as she walked down the aisle on her dad's arm – uber-slowly because he'd had a stroke and walked with a stick. Pam didn't care about the pace, though; it just gave her maximum opportunity to milk that last journey as a single chick and more time to wave and wink and smile at her friends and relatives, in her own unique Pammy way.
‘Dearly beloved … ' began the vicar and Stevie gulped. It was exactly four weeks to her own wedding and she hadn't a clue if it was still on the cards. Her head was clinging onto the possibility that it was, but a very strong and sensible voice within was telling her that she needed to wake up and smell some very strong espresso.
She managed to get through miming to ‘Love Divine', which was pitched for either Barry White or Aled Jones in his Snowman days and no one in between. At least she had licence to dab her eyes at the readings then burst into full Teardrop City with everyone else as Pam and William sauntered back up the aisle as husband and wife, smiles bursting their faces open. There were no bridesmaids. Pam didn't want anyone more glam than her stealing her thunder. Not that they would have been able to out-do Pam's huge personality – and her huge everything else. And little, tiny, skinny William adored her. You could tell by his face during the ceremony that he could not believe his luck. No one, not even Matthew, had ever looked at Stevie with such intensity of feeling. And no one ever will, said a nasty little voice in her head that appeared to have a Scottish accent.
So, in the absence of bridesmaids, the best man linked up with Madge, Pam's mum, William's doll-like mum linked up behind with Adam MacLean, and Pam's dad walked out at a more leisurely pace with his own mother. Stevie noticed MacLean flash her a look and she flashed one back as hard. They both transmitted ‘what the hell are you doing here?' in international eye language. Then, as if that wasn't enough to contend with, the first person she saw as she followed the others outside for the photos was Matthew. The plus point was that Jo wasn't with him. The minus point was that he had the suit on that he was supposed to be wearing for his wedding to her.
‘Oh shit!' said Catherine. ‘Have you seen who's over there?'
‘Yes, I've just seen him,' said Stevie, suddenly feeling quite nauseous and light-headed.
‘No, not him.'
‘What?'
Catherine did a discreet stabby point and Stevie followed it to see Jo there, in a black suit with red accessories, looking tall and slim and stunning. Stevie was thrown into total shock, and pins and needles prickled at her limbs. She wanted to run across the graveyard and go home. No, she didn't, she wanted to charge at Jo with her head down like a bull and start clubbing her to death with an urn.
‘Keep calm,' said Catherine, tapping her lightly on the arm. ‘You're the one that hasn't done anything wrong. Let them be the ones to make fools of themselves.'
‘She obviously hasn't gone back to MacLean then, so that answers that one,' said Stevie. ‘Then again, why are she and Matthew ignoring each other?' She should have felt heartened by this but something was interfering with her ability to do that. Jo was, after all, a designer and this scene was looking distinctly designed.
‘They're probably trying not to incur the wrath of the hairy-legged one,' said Catherine.
Stevie watched as Adam's eyes fell on Matthew and stayed there for a long, long second. His body locked like a Rottweiler's before an attack, then he snapped out of it quickly to be pulled into a smiling photographic tableau. Then, as a natural consequence of seeing Matthew, he looked around for Jo. He found her, he stared, he swallowed and then was once again part of the happy wedding scene.
This must be as hard for him as it is for me, thought Stevie, recognizing that blanched, brave look.
She let her eyes casually drift over to Matthew, who pretended that was the first he had seen of her and, how she managed it she didn't know, but she waved genially and smiled like the Queen, and then carried on eye-flitting, as if she was merely perusing the crowd. Jo's red and blackness was harder to deal with. Stevie couldn't bring herself even to glance in that direction so it was wiser to pretend Jo wasn't there. Her suit seemed to keep creeping into Stevie's peripheral vision though, and she had to keep constantly finding places for her eyes to rest away from Jo and Matthew and MacLean. It was exhausting.
‘Last photo – group shot of friends!' announced the photographer, about three million years later, when all the old people were starting to ask loudly, ‘How much longer before we sit down and have something to eat?'
Oh God, thought Stevie as all the people in her worst nightmare seemed to converge onto the lawn. Catherine protectively dragged Stevie between herself and Eddie and moved forward into the throng. Jo was posing at the other end, Matthew was in the middle and Adam was nowhere to be seen, which meant he was probably somewhere behind her.
‘That's one for the album – not,' said Catherine wryly, giving her a nudge.
‘Right, has everyone got lifts back to the Ivy?' enquired big Adam MacLean in full duty mode. He didn't have to shout to be heard. His voice showed up on the Richter scale between the San Francisco earthquake and a Def Leppard concert.
‘We haven't,' replied Eddie, who had left the car at home so they could all have a drink. He hadn't said it that loudly, but it appeared that Adam also had the ears of a bat (as well as the face of a bashed crab, thought Stevie with a smirk) and he expertly organized them into a car with William's ancient Uncle Dennis. Stevie took a sly look over at Matthew, who appeared to be making a pretence of saying, ‘Hi,' to Jo and asking her if she had a lift, if the extravagant hand gestures towards the church car park were anything to go by. It was like watching someone conduct something complicated by Rimsky-Korsakov.