Tell her to stop NOW!!”
Robert rubbed his chest thoughtfully. I really must give up fried breakfast, he thought sadly. It seems to be giving me indigestion again. He cleared his throat. “Lucy, like I said, if you want to back out of this, I’ll go in there and tell them you can’t do it. You can go home and not have to face them.”
Lucy looked at her father thoughtfully. Why is he going on like this, she wondered. Have I said anything to give him the idea I don’t want to get married? I want to get married- I suppose. It’s just nerves and a trail of mini disasters today. It’ll be fine once the church bit is over. The church, where Martin’s family might feel out of place and be upset for him, or blame him. He’s doing a lot for me, being married in my church. “No thanks, Dad” she said quietly. “I’m getting married and I’m going to enjoy today. Please enjoy it with me.”
“Flippering fruitcakes,” said Trynor with such venom that it sounded obscene. “I’m going to have to do something drastic,” and he shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and
“I think we have a puncture, Sir,” said the chauffeur, as he pulled the big car to a halt at a bus stop, the only available piece of kerb. He got out and walked around the car. Lucy was horribly conscious of the queue of curious faces, watching her. I have to stay dignified, she told herself resignedly. I mustn’t go to pieces, I mustn’t. What would Martin think - he’s always so calm and in control. It won’t do any good to cry and it would add to the red splodges on my face. Take another deep breath… Lucy…Lucy…this car won’t get you there-sit back and think of all the wonderful alternatives, no need to go at all, just sit back, sit back and think again…
“DAD - does this bus route go past the church?” Lucy twisted around on the seat to look out the back window. “No bus just now, but maybe one’s due soon?” Putting her bridal dignity aside, she wound down the window and asked a woman in the queue.
“Supposed to be,’ the woman replied glumly, ‘but you know the buses, nothing for hours then four in a row.”
“Dad, have you any money? If we’re getting a bus we’ll need a fare.”’
“Just a twenty. No coins. I’ll just get out and help with the wheel.”
So, thought Lucy, in mounting frustration, which is more dignified on your wedding day, sitting in a jacked-up car at a bus stop, or getting on a bus in a wedding dress? At least the photographer isn’t here, at least I can pretend I was just late. So I think I won’t move, I’ll just stay here and rest.
The chauffeur was avoiding Robert’s eye.
“I’m afraid the spare is flat too, Sir. I don’t know how that can have been allowed to happen. I’ll radio in for another car.”
“It’s OK, if you can lend us some change. We’ll get this bus now. It’ll leave us at the side gate of the church, I think.” Robert leant back into the car. “Are you still game to get the bus, or will we just go home?”
Lucy looked up: “Well, if that’s my choice, I think the bus it is!”
“Why did you let a bus come? We could have delayed her for ages, maybe Martin would have got fed up and gone. Remember ‘Far from the Madding Crowd’?”
“Firstly,” said Diljas patiently, “I have no control over Dublin Bus. Does anybody? I can’t even control my own man here. Secondly, that was only a film, a work of fiction. That young man didn’t want to marry anyway. He set up the delay. What I’ve seen of Martin makes me think he’ll hang on all day. He likes the idea of marriage. Conventional thing to do. Come on, I want to get on this bus, not jog along beside.” Diljas grasped the pole on the platform and with a flourish, swung around it into the interior.
Fifteen minutes later, Lucy and her father got off the bus and followed by shouts of ‘Good Luck’ and ‘May all your troubles be little ones!’ walked in through the side gate to the church grounds. The ground was muddy and Lucy’s white satin shoes were soon the worse for it. “Yes!” said Trynor.
“Oh, please, Trynor, just stop,” said Diljas “You’re not going to stop her going in