while we fussed around her. This was the moment she’d been waiting for her whole life and clearly nothing, not even a dancer in a sparkly thong, was going to ruin it.
Patricia started weeping as Dad arrived.
He stood in our room and gazed at Mia for a moment then reached for both her hands. ‘I am so enormously proud of you.’
‘Thanks, Dad,’ Mia replied. She sounded robotic but I presumed it was nerves.
‘I don’t believe I’ve seen a more beautiful bride,’ said Patricia. ‘Nor will I again, probably.’ She let out another little sob and clutched her tissue to her face.
Dad glanced from Patricia’s champagne glass to the empty bottles lined up on the bedside table. Four of them now. ‘Patricia, darling, why don’t you go downstairs with the girls and Mia and I will follow?’
She nodded tearfully and Mel powdered Patricia’s face while Ruby and I gathered up our bouquets. They were cream roses, exactly like the ones poking into our heads, studded with red berries and wrapped with a piece of red ribbon.
‘Ready?’ Ruby said, looking from Patricia to me.
I nodded and Patricia sniffed.
‘OK, let’s go. See you down there, guys,’ Ruby said over her shoulder to Mia and Dad.
They took the lift (I walked down, trying not to break a sweat into the silk armpits) and we met again to wait in the corridor that led to the ballroom. Over Patricia’s sniffs I could hear the murmur of guests, plus the string quartet pumping out something classical.
‘Mum, this is a wedding, not a funeral. Get it together,’ ordered Ruby.
The corridor was decorated with tall vases of lilies and white altar candles. I imagined Dad escorting Mia along it and her train catching fire, so that she walked down the ballroom aisle with her dress in flames. That was all we needed.
The registrar, a round lady called Mary, hurried out to us from the ballroom. ‘Hello, hello, don’t you look lovely? You could be sisters!’
This momentarily halted Patricia’s snivelling. ‘Oh Mary, you are funny,’ she said, clearly delighted.
‘Are the others on their way?’ Mary asked.
‘Hope so,’ muttered Ruby.
‘Great stuff. I’ll wait by the door so give me a nod when we’re ready.’
Mary waddled back to the ballroom door just as the lift behind us opened to reveal Mia on Dad’s arm. Dad was in tears now too.
‘Henry,’ sobbed Patricia, ‘here, have my tissue.’
‘For God’s sake,’ sighed Ruby. ‘Sis, you look sensational. Good to go?’
She smiled nervously and nodded. We waited for our parents to wipe their eyes. Patricia was going first, making an entrance all by herself. I was next, then Ruby, followed by Dad and Mia.
‘Right,’ said Patricia, with a deep breath. ‘I’m ready.’
Ruby gestured at Mary by the door, who disappeared into the ballroom and suddenly the string quartet started playing ‘Ave Maria’.
‘Off you go, Pat,’ chivvied Ruby.
Patricia started walking with such oversized steps it was like watching a dressage horse.
‘Good luck,’ I whispered to Mia, before following my cantering stepmother.
I counted the window panes at the top of the ballroom as I walked down the aisle, trying not to feel intimidated by the eyes watching me. Stomach in, chin up. From the front, Hugo winked at me and I pretended to smile back but I fear it was more a grimace. Under the chandelier, his hair shone with oil.
Having reached the front row, Patricia, Ruby and I turned to watch as Dad and Mia came down after us. Even I welled up then, although I wasn’t sure whether the tears were for Mia or me. Her face radiated a level of happiness I couldn’t imagine reaching myself.
Beside me, Patricia was now openly bawling.
At the top, Mia flung her arms around Dad before they separated and he joined our row.
Mary looked out at the congregation with a wide smile. ‘Welcome, everyone, friends and family of Mia and Hugo. And what a special day it is here in this very beautiful hotel as we gather to celebrate this special moment for the couple. A couple of quick housekeeping notices and then I’ll get on with it because some of you look thirsty.’
Polite laughter rippled around the room.
‘Firstly, the bride and groom have asked that there be no photos while they exchange their vows, just to keep that moment sacred. But you may take as many photos as you like, and please do upload them to social media. There is a hashtag and it’s, hang on…’ Mary paused to look down at her notes and cleared her throat,