Page 24 of Four Weddings and a Funeral Director

Breaking character from her usual funeral vibe, Desdemona beamed as she drank in the stunning scene: the vibrant wildflowers bobbing in the gentle evening breeze, the small knots of black-clad guests on the ancient pews the mission had generously lent them for the night, the table of dyed-black burgers sourced from Burgermeister and the equally dark desserts from The Hot Pot, the haunting light of the moon that hovered high above them.

‘It’s perfect,’ she whispered to Lily. ‘I could die happy. Not that I would, because that’s not my particular aesthetic. But you know what I mean.’

‘I do indeed,’ whispered Lily, giving her hand a squeeze. Ouch, those nails! ‘Are we ready to hit the music?’

Desdemona nodded. ‘Let’s do it.’

Mort rolled a score into the rickety pianola that was now enjoying a pleasant semi-retirement inside the funeral home.

Lily had set black candles into the candelabras at its front, and had shrouded it in a length of black lace that Janessa Hodges had left at the back of the upstairs wardrobe.

(Having all of this excess fabric around was proving a boon.)

Mort set the pianola to play, then stomped his foot on the pedal.

He gave Lily a thumbs up as the discordant notes of ‘Hurt’ by Nine Inch Nails rang out crookedly into the moody night.

A self-playing piano in a cemetery field under a full moon: it was deliciously haunted, if Lily could say so herself.

‘How on earth did you get a score for that?’ whispered Briony, her camera snapping as Desdemona slowly made her way down the ornate Turkish-style carpet runners Lily had dragged into a line to form an aisle.

Black candles glimmered in hurricane lanterns along the edge of the runners, casting a soft light on Desdemona’s ankle-twisting platform shoes.

‘Internet,’ said Lily proudly. ‘I printed it out and cut the little holes myself.’

‘Wow. Dedication.’

In astonishing testament to her capacity to her childhood ballet lessons – that ankle strength! – Desdemona made it to Ambrose without injury.

‘My bride.’ Ambrose’s dark eyes sparkled as he pulled Desdemona to him. Desdemona sank into his arms, her black-painted lips curving into a smile as the gentle light of the moon played over them.

Lily’s heart swelled – this was why she did this. She loved seeing people in love celebrating that love, however that looked. And as a wedding planner, it looked all ways.

The celebrant – an older woman clad in flowing black robes and with a pair of goggles pushed up on her head – stepped forward. (Elvira had been double-booked.)

‘Where are my glasses …’ she muttered, before pulling down the goggles.

‘Unexpected,’ said Mort.

‘Very steampunk,’ whispered Lily.

‘We are gathered here tonight under the watchful eye of the full moon, upon this unconsecrated ground, to bring together two dark souls in eternal darkness together.’

Someone whooped.

‘Our couple have chosen to recite their own vows in the form of T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land . Our bride will begin.’

Nails flashing, Desdemona spread her arms, intoning the poem’s famous first line.

‘I hope you brought snacks,’ whispered Mort, ‘because this is going to take half an hour.’

At the next stanza, Ambrose took up the mantle, his words embellished by Sunny’s twittering.

On they went, taking a line each and sending it off into the night. The moon coasted overhead as the couple recited the poem with surprising accuracy (Lily was scrolling it on her Poem a Day app on her phone) until, finally….

‘ Shantih !’ repeated the crowd along with the bride and groom. Everyone stood for a moment, lost in the puzzling disillusionment of Eliot’s words. Even the pugs panted mournfully.

The celebrant pulled up her steampunk goggles to wipe a tear from her eye. ‘A masterwork befitting of this union. And now, do we have the rings?’

Lily grinned. It was her inner theatre kid’s moment to shine. Well, someone else’s theatre kid, anyway.

A ring box between two of his fingers, Thing from the Addams family leapt up onto a nearby tombstone, evoking claps from the crowd.

Desdemona, rather uncharacteristically, chuckled. ‘How did you …’

Thing leapt from tombstone to tombstone, then trotted over to the happy couple, climbing up Ambrose’s leg to hand him the ring box, which was shaped like a black skull and opened up to reveal pink innards in which two ornate rings had been planted.

‘Thank you, Thing.’ Thing hurried off into the night, just as Lily had planned: she’d booked a local high school kid for the gig.

Fifty bucks, a meal, transportation and a job reference for anyone who wouldn’t mind getting dressed up entirely in theatre blacks (Thing hand excepted) to provide a fun little cameo at a goth wedding.

Every single thespian at the local high school – which, of course, was an arts high school – had auditioned. It had been a tough decision.

As a smattering of applause broke out (goths were a tough crowd), Ambrose took the ring box, then held it up to Sunny, who pulled out Desdemona’s ring – a black floral band with elegant little rubies – passing it to Ambrose to slide onto Desdemona’s finger.

Desdemona and Sunny then did the same with Ambrose’s ring (a giant silver skull that could double as a knuckle duster).

‘And now … kiss the night – and each other!’ shouted the celebrant, rather ominously, thought Lily, who was a bit worried that frogs might rain down from the sky. If she’d known, she would’ve at least brought her rainbow umbrella.

Ambrose gently dipped Desdemona, the two kissing so passionately that Lily’s cheeks flushed. Her hand, apparently taking inspiration from Thing, reached for Mort’s, and her fingers were twined around his before she realised what she was doing.

But Mort didn’t recoil – at least not immediately. He was staring down at their clasped hands in surprise, as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Gently, he placed his free hand over hers, gave it a squeeze, then pulled away.

Lily’s heart tugged. Had she overstepped?

‘I think you’re needed,’ he said, nodding at Briony, who was waving frantically at Lily.

Fingers tingling from where Mort had clutched them moments before, Lily swished through the wildflowers over to the ornate buffet table, hoping there were no snakes.

Wildflowers always seemed like such a good idea from afar, but the reality was that all sorts of creepy things lurked there.

And divots! Secret divots preparing to grab a hapless walker and break their ankle.

‘It’s the cake.’ Briony pointed to the tiered cake with its skull and gargoyle piping work. ‘There are … maggots.’

‘Maggots?’ Lily’s stomach wrenched. Switcheroo, no! Even for the goths, this was going too far. ‘But it’s fresh! It was made specially for tonight.’

‘Maggots!’ boomed Desdemona from over Lily’s shoulder. She’d followed Lily, somehow avoiding all ankle breakage. Avant-garde film directors were built from stern stuff. ‘Show me immediately!’

Briony pointed to a cream skull with a maggot wiggling out of its eye socket. Lily, unable to decide whether she needed to scream or retch, clapped a hand over her mouth. How did one even go about salvaging a situation like this?

‘I’m so—’ she began, ready to launch into the most impassioned apology of her life, followed by a madcap dash to The Cakery for a backup cake. She’d take Mort’s hearse into fifth gear if she had to.

Desdemona reached for a fork, scooping off the offending buttercream skull and marvelling at it. ‘Nothing better encapsulates the eternity we’re embarking upon like maggots. They represent life. Death. Rebirth. Emptiness . It’s perfection. All of it, perfection.’

Well, Desdemona was the one paying the bills.

‘I’m so … glad you like it.’ Lily’s prior urge to retch had shifted abruptly to an urge to whoop.

She’d done it! Her very first official wedding was a success!

She couldn’t wait to tell Mom and Annika all about it.

(Well, not all about it.) ‘A wedding is all in the details. Well, there’s the love part, too. But mostly details.’

Desdemona’s expression almost crossed into smile territory. ‘The hearse, the coffins, the Thing cameo, and now this? I’m as ecstatic as a goth bride has the right to be. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we’re about to do the cake smash.’

Oh no, thought Lily. Oh no. No to that.

Briony took a step back and popped the lens cap back on her camera. ‘I think I have what I need.’

Lily nodded. ‘Let’s go wait by the hearse. I’ll do the just married shaving foam.’

‘Deal.’