Page 5

I sit just as Chris and his very young fiancée begin their smug journey between the log pews.

Chris smiles and waves like visiting royalty. He still has that confident sparkle I fell for as a starry-eyed teenager, but his skin is creased and careworn, his brown beard shaggier and his eyes red-rimmed.

Minola wears a wicker crown and an ethereal, flowing dress, both covered in fake flowers and leaves. She is very pale and white blonde, like she’s been through the wash for too long. But she also looks joyful and in love. And I’m happy for her. Honestly.

Chris gives me a wink as he passes.

I stiffen and look away.

I still love him. There’s no getting over that one. But he’s getting married, and I wish him all the best.

Aunt Caro reaches for my hand and squeezes it. Aunty Sylvia takes my other hand.

I give them both grateful smiles.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

Chris reaches the wooden altar, then turns and bows like he’s on stage. ‘FRIENDS! Nobles. Countrymen. And people I’ve never met before.’ He gives a confident chuckle. ‘Let’s do this thing. Let’s get married. Woo!’

There’s a smattering of whoops from the younger, stupider guests.

I feel tears coming.

Aunty Sylvia squeezes my hand tight, hissing: ‘Don’t waste your tears. You’re worth ten of him!’

‘People keep saying that,’ I whisper, blinking quickly. ‘But if I’m so great, why did he leave?’

‘Because he’s immature and weak,’ says Aunt Caro. ‘And having a mid-life crisis –’

A young woman dressed as Maleficent whirls around on the log in front.

‘SHUSH!’

I tune back into Chris. He’s giving Minola the same eyes he used to give me, and it hurts.

‘Before we kick things off …’ Chris rubs his fuzzy, black beard. ‘I have a surprise for Minola. Hey baby, you know thegorgeousVW camper we drove to the church in?’

Minola’s smile shows signs of tension. ‘That bus thing? Yes, that was a surprise. I was expecting a limousine and I think my family were too –’

‘Well guess what?’ Chris clasps Minola’s hands to his chest. ‘I bought it for us! To live in!’

Minola’s smile fades entirely. ‘What? You want us to live in that old van?’

‘It’s not avan, darling,’ Chris laughs. ‘It’s a vintage VW. Worth tens of thousands of pounds! After the wedding, we’ll take off around the country sleeping in fields and glens like real fairies and flower folk.’

‘Aren’t we going somewhere sunny on our honeymoon?’

‘England can be sunny,’ Chris declares, as grey cloud shadows the clearing. ‘Okay! Let’s get married.’

A pagan priestess appears, dressed in flowing purple robes.

As Chris and Minola have their hands tied together with black ribbon, a figure appears beside me.

‘Hello, Katerina. Room for one more on that log?’

I look up, then give a horrified shriek.

Freddy Stark stands over me, brown eyes playful and twinkling. He looks expensive, wearing a black suit like it’s part of his body.