“Yes, OK.” Somehow I manage to nod. But I feel as though I’m on another planet. I need to digest all this.
“Ready?” Reverend Fox is at the door, beckoning us out. As we arrive at the back of the church, I can’t help gasping. It’s filled with spectacular flower arrangements, and rows of people in hats, and a crackling air of expectation. I can just glimpse the back of Magnus’s head, right at the front.
But I don’t have any time. The organ piece is gathering momentum. The choir suddenly crashes in with a triumphant chord. The Reverend Fox has already disappeared up the aisle. The fairground ride has begun, and I’m on it.
“All right?” Toby grins across at Tom. “Don’t trip her up, Bigfoot.”
And we’re off. We’re moving up the aisle, and people are smiling at me, and I’m aiming for a serene, happy gaze, but, inside, my thoughts are about as serene as the particles whizzing about in CERN.
As I arrive at the altar, all other thoughts are temporarily overcome by this last one. I can’t help gaping at him in dismay. He looks terrible. If I look like I’m sick, then he looks like he’s got malaria.
“Hi.” He gives me a weedy smile. “You look lovely.”
“Are you OK?” I whisper as I hand my bouquet to Ruby.
“Why wouldn’t I be OK?” he retorts defensively.
That doesn’t seem quite the right answer, but I can’t exactly challenge him on it.
The music has stopped, and Reverend Fox is addressing the congregation with an ebullient beam. He looks as though he absolutely loves taking weddings.
“Dearly beloved. We are gathered here in the sight of God … ”
As I hear the familiar words echoing around the church, I start to relax. OK. Here we go.
So maybe we’ve had some blips and jitters in the run-up to our wedding. What couple doesn’t? But if we can just focus on our vows, if we can just make them special …
“Magnus.” Reverend Fox turns to Magnus, and there’s a rustle of anticipation in the congregation. “Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
Magnus has a slightly glazed look in his eye, and he’s breathing heavily. He looks as though he’s psyching himself up for the hundred-meter Olympic final.
“Magnus?” prompts Reverend Fox.
“OK,” he says, almost to himself. “OK. Here goes. I can do this.” He takes an almighty deep breath and, in a loud, dramatic voice which rises to the ceiling, announces proudly: “I do.”
I do?
Wasn’t he
“Magnus,” I whisper with a meaningful edge. “It’s not ‘I do.’ ”
Magnus peers at me, clearly baffled. “Of course it’s ‘I do.’ ”
I feel a surge of irritation. He wasn’t listening to a single word. He just said “I do’ because it’s what they say in American films. I
“It’s not ‘I do,’ it’s ‘I will’!” I’m trying not to sound as upset as I feel. “Didn’t you listen to the question? ‘Wilt thou.’ ‘
“
What?
