Court Out - By Elle Wynne Page 0,110

cheating, criminal manipulative cow is a good idea.

For a split second, Serena has a really odd expression on her face and I’d swear that there is an air of desperation on her face. No way. No. Way. Is that what she thinks? That Rivers would turn up and sweep her off her feet in the middle of her own wedding ceremony? Wow, she’s actually crazier than I gave her credit for.

The registrar has moved to the next part of the service and knowing her as I do, Serena definitely looks uncomfortable; I can see past the fake smile plastered on her face. Ewan has obviously noticed it too and keeps trying to ask her if she is ok. From the looks of it, she is having none of it and keeps turning her head whenever he gets close enough to be heard. The registrar seems happily oblivious to the bride’s attitude and is introducing the section of the service where the vows are exchanged.

“Serena, if you would please repeat after me. I, Serena Verity Taylor-”

He is interrupted mid flow by the sound of a huge bang at the back of the room. Everyone turns to see the source of the disturbance and I catch a glimpse of something progressing at an alarming rate down the central aisle. As it gets closer my jaw drops open, as there, wearing a jeans and a red polo-neck jumper is Lucinda.

Her hair and makeup possibly look worse than mine, but are complimented perfectly by the look of rage and pure hatred on her face. Her eyes are fixed firmly on Serena and she’s managing to do a very passable impression of a charging bull.

I’m waiting for someone to stand up, to query what’s happening or to try and divert the clearly furious woman running at the bride, but it never happens. Instead, Lucinda clears the remaining distance in a few easy steps, pushes rudely past Ewan and stands, face to face with Serena at the head of the room.

There’s an uneasy silence. Lucinda is staring at Serena, breathing heavily. Serena looks round somewhat frantically for assistance but seems to draw a blank. Marsha and Debbie, I notice, are staying well out of this.

“What are you doing you crazy bitch?” mutters Serena to Lucinda. It’s said in an undertone, but I’m sure the first five or so rows are able to make out her words.

I can only speak for myself, but I’m not sure insulting an angry wedding crasher is her best option at this moment. I’m proved right. Lucinda lets out a blood chilling howl and smacks Serena, hard around the face with her hand. The noise of the slap seems to almost echo around the room.

“You fucking bitch,” Lucinda yells. “You fucking lying, hypocritical bitch!”

Serena grabs her by the shoulders and tries to push her back down the aisle.

“Get out!” she screams.

“Hell no!” replies Lucinda, her face still contorted in fury. “I’m not leaving until everyone here knows what you’ve done!”

With that she scrambles past Serena and attempts to make her way to the lectern set up at the side of the room for the wedding readings to be delivered from. With admirable reflexes, Serena grabs at Lucinda’s legs in an effort to rugby tackle her. To the collective horror of the assembled guests, she misses and lands, face down on the floor.

Ok, I know I’m at a religious ceremony and God is probably watching, but I just can’t help myself. I let out an audible snigger. I manage to quickly turn it into a cough and keep my eyes focused on the show, I mean wedding taking place before me.

Serena is trying to gather her masses of delicate fabric to prevent Lucinda from presenting her very special, personalised wedding reading to the audience. For a minute I think that she has collected her balance and will be able to intercept the gatecrasher but as she wobbles to her feet, she catches her heel on her underskirt and goes down again.

The most curious thing about this spectacle is not the slapstick comedy of her actions, but the fact that Ewan is still rooted to the spot at his original position, watching the drama unfold with a look on his face that can only be described as resignation.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” Lucinda has reached the microphone and is stood, hands gripping the sides of the lectern, knuckles white against the oak wood. “You have been gathered here today under false pretences. This woman-” she spits,