took his place at the altar under a thatched canopy bedecked in holly and ivy and poinsettias. Freddie stood in for Nick as best man, both of them dapper in suits and ties (Gaz nixed morning dress because he believes top hats don’t flatter his neck). Penelope Eight-Names, clutching Maxwell Something-Something’s hand, caught my eye and pointed to her massively pregnant belly as if to say, ta-da. I smiled politely back at her, then turned back in time to see Freddie pretending to look stern and mouthing, Pay attention, Killer.
Cilla wore her grandmother’s gown and a family-heirloom veil pinned to her glorious auburn hair, and looked so transcendent she might as well have been six feet tall. Gaz started weeping the moment she came out, and did not stop—not when the officiant asked if anyone objected and Freddie raised his hand, not even when they got to the bit Gaz himself put in the vows as a joke (“in sickness and in health, in serif and in sans”). They could not stop looking at each other, love and joy written on their faces like words on the pages of a book. When Cilla’s I will and Gaz’s Too bloody right I will rang out clear and pure, Gaz pulled her into an elated if rather salty kiss, and we all teared up, even Lady Bollocks. I knew I’d been lucky to witness their contentiously adoring courtship, not to mention their proposal, and now the beginning of their future. As much as I thought I could not live without Nick, Cilla and Gaz were irreplaceable family to me, too. I poured as much of this nostalgia as possible into the hug I gave Cilla after the ceremony.
“I’d have had you up there, if it wouldn’t have been such a to-do for you,” she whispered.
I shook my head and hugged harder. “Better to keep the focus on you,” I said. “I am just thrilled to be here. I love you, and it was flawless.”
She pulled back, her eyes shining. “And so will yours be.”
“On that note,” I said, turning to Gaz. “I have a favor to ask.”
“Want to sue the knickers off The Royal Flush?” he asked. “I can look into it.”
I grinned. “Tempting, but no.” I drew a breath. “My mother isn’t sure she can walk me down the aisle without totally losing it,” I said. “My aunt Kitty’s been divorced three times, so I’m not close with my uncles, and my grandfathers are both dead. You are the best extended family I could want anyway, so I wondered if you would mind giving me away.”
Gaz blinked once, hard, then burst into the most spectacular wail.
“Don’t play it so coy, darling,” Cilla teased.
Gaz wiped his eyes on the kerchief that had been in his jacket pocket—it had gotten a lot of play already—and then looked at me, red and puffy and wonderful.
“That is the most magnificent favor that a person has ever been asked,” he said. “I’m so honored I could cry.”
“Bloody hell, if that wasn’t crying, what is?” Freddie asked, thumping Gaz on the back. “Jolly good work here, Garamond. Bex, we’re in the way of their fans. Let’s go drink.”
As he dragged me away, an elderly woman who’d made a beeline for Cilla stopped and grasped my arm. “You look lovely. We’re so excited for you, dear. And aren’t you a dish,” she said to Freddie, whacking him lightly on the shoulder with her program. “You two make such a charming couple.”
“He’s the other one, Estelle,” her equally elderly spouse hissed as they trundled past us. “She’s marrying the main one.”
“Fred, that isn’t—” I began.
“Don’t worry, I’m used to it. Hear it all the time,” Freddie told me, but his gaiety was forced. “At least she thinks I’m dishy. But now I really need that drink.”
The reception, like the wedding itself, was intimate, funny, unexpected. There were six toasts from Cilla’s side of the family and one riotous speech from Gaz’s father, the infamous disgraced finance minister, about how not to handle your joint bank accounts. Cilla danced a comedic tango with her new husband before a lively foxtrot with her dad, which made my heart ache for mine. I caught myself envying my friends. This wedding was deeply personal, with no artifice; Gaz and Cilla could just be Gaz and Cilla, the same in public and in private, a luxury that Nick and I never would have. This ceremony was for them. Ours was for the country, and