Polo

‘Do use Sir Victor’s phone,’ said Sharon Kaputnik, graciously waylaying Billy on the way down the aisle and cutting off a furious Victor in mid-call to New York.

‘Oh, look,’ whispered Janey to Daisy. ‘Here comes Sukey Benedict. Silly old fossil always doing up other people’s buttons. That’s a nice suit, Sukey,’ she called out as Bas maliciously showed Sukey into the pew in front.

‘Drew chose it,’ said Sukey, lowering her voice in deference to her surroundings. ‘Hello, twins, hello, Daisy. I absolutely adore the picture of Flash. Drew couldn’t resist giving it to me before Christmas. Such a good likeness.’

Drew, on his way back from delivering yet another of Rupert’s stepmothers, froze in his tracks when he saw where Sukey was sitting. Bloody Bas stirring it again.

‘Hello, darling,’ stage-whispered Sukey. ‘Just telling Daisy how much we love Flash.’

Drew’s eyes flickered. ‘It’s very good.’

A great party of show-jumpers and their wives, who’d obviously just finished a good lunch, were ushered into a side aisle as a returning Billy sat down beside Rupert whispering that Taggie was on her way.

With stately dignity the Bishop mounted the steps to the pulpit, which was topped with pink-and-white carnations, leaning out for a first glimpse of the bride. He looked thunderous. The heathen had invaded his church.

‘I should like everyone to spend the next five minutes before the bride arrives,’ he announced heavily over the microphone, ‘in silence, praying for the happiness of Rupert and Agatha and examining their own marriages.’

Everyone’s jaw dropped in amazement. Then, because none of them wanted to think about their marriages, they all started yakking again, ignoring the Bishop stomping furiously back down the aisle.

‘Rather suspect vowel sounds,’ said Rupert’s mother.

‘Who on earth’s Agatha?’ grumbled Rupert’s father. ‘Thought Rupert was marrying someone called Taggie.’

‘D’you think Rupert’s got AIDS?’ murmured Sharon Kaputnik nervously. ‘He looks so thin. Oh, do stop phoning for a second, Victor.’

‘Where the fuck is she?’ snarled Rupert. ‘I bet Declan’s had a shunt. I should never have let her out of my sight.’

His knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of the pew. A muscle flickered non-stop in his cheek.

Just a simple service, thought the Bishop, inflating like a bullfrog as he began the long procession up the church, followed by choirboys and acolytes.

‘I’m sure that’s Nigel Dempster,’ said Janey. ‘Nigel . . .’ she hissed.

The passing acolyte flicked his censer in her direction, winked and moved on.

I want to marry Drew, thought Daisy, as Handel’s Water Music petered out and the organ swelled to the soaring yellow roof with ‘Here comes the Bride’. Rupert, who was tone deaf, didn’t recognize the tune, but the congregation stumbled to their feet.

‘It’s OK. It’s your opening number,’ said Billy soothingly.

And slowly up the long, long aisle came Declan O’Hara. His hair was almost all silver now, the worry of the fight for the franchise had dug great trenches on his forehead and on either side of his mouth. His morning coat was crumpled, he was wearing odd socks, tears poured down his cheeks, but Daisy, glancing round, thought his face should have been hewn out of rock on Mount Vernon. Surreptitiously taking a pencil out of her bag, she started to draw him on the back of her service sheet.

Beside him, almost as tall but half the breadth and shivering frantically like a young poplar in a force-ten gale, walked the bride. She wore Rupert’s mother’s tiara, shaped like the new moon, in her cloudy dark hair, now covered by the slightly yellowing Campbell-Black family veil. Her dress of heavy, ivory silk, only finished two days ago, was already too big for her. The train glittered in the candlelight like a dragonfly’s wing and seemed to have a life all its own as it slithered, iridescent, over the faded flagstones.

‘Look at that body,’ sighed Seb. ‘Oh lucky, lucky Rupert.’

The Bishop of Cotchester waited in his gold robes on the red-carpeted steps. Rupert glanced round. For a second he gazed unbelievingly at the trembling white figure, then the tension seemed to drain out of him. Walking straight down the aisle with his arms out, a huge smile suddenly transformed his face, the handsomest man in England once again. Meeting Taggie just level with Daisy’s row, he drew her against him, shutting his eyes for a second, stilling her trembling, checking she was real. Then he looked down at her and mouthed, ‘I love you.’

‘Hello, Daddy,’ interrupted the shrill voice of Tabitha Campbell-Black, angelic in light and dark pink striped taffeta with a coronet of pink-and-white freesias over her nose. ‘D’you like my dress?’

A rumble of laughter went through the cathedral.

‘You look gorgeous,’ said Rupert, taking her hand, then, turning back to Taggie and putting his arm round her shoulder: ‘Let’s get this over with.’

‘Oh, how sweet,’ mumbled Daisy, wiping her eyes. Glancing round, Drew smiled at her fleetingly.

‘Dearly Beloved,’ intoned the Bishop, who managed to conduct the entire service without once looking at Rupert. It was disgraceful that such an utter bounder should have captured such a beautiful, innocent child.

‘I, Agatha Maud,’ stammered Taggie gazing in wonder at Rupert, ‘take thee, R-r-rupert Edward Algernon.’

‘Forsaking all others,’ said the Bishop.

‘Forsaking all others,’ repeated Rupert squeezing Taggie’s hand.

‘That’ll be the day,’ said Janey still scribbling.

Everyone jumped out of their skins as Victor’s telephone rang.

The Bishop’s temper was further taxed when Gertrude, the mongrel, who’d been held up to watch, unable to bear being put asunder from her mistress a moment longer, wriggled out of Caitlin’s arms. Again the congregation rocked with laughter as she scampered along the pew, up the aisle, her claws clattering on the flagstones and stationed herself firmly between Rupert and Taggie, who both had to exert the utmost self-control not to laugh as well.

‘I would like to take as my text the words: Forsaking all Others,’ began the Bishop heavily, and launched into a long rant about AIDS, the perils of infidelity and the low morals of his congregation. Gertrude the mongrel, listening intently, started to pant.

‘Let flesh retire, speak through the earthquake, wind and fire, oh, still small voice of calm,’ bellowed the congregation.

‘I wish my flesh would retire,’ whispered Janey, fingering the beginning of a spare tyre. ‘I find weddings frightfully unsettling, don’t you? Particularly when the couple are so madly in love. One starts looking at one’s own marriage, or lack of marriage in your case, Daisy, and saying why aren’t I as happy as them. Oh look, they’re going to sign the register and here comes Dancer to sing the anthem.’

Lucky Rupert, lucky Taggie, thought Dancer as he adjusted the microphone and gazed out over the sea of cynical, mocking faces, waiting for him to make a cock-up. As the lovely strains of Gluck’s Orpheus swept over the cathedral like a river of sunlight, Dancer’s eyes were automatically drawn to Ricky’s face, as pale and frozen as Rupert’s had been a quarter of an hour before. Dancer had given his heart irrevocably to Ricky three years ago in prison, but Ricky would never have any idea.

‘What is life to me without you,’ sang Dancer in his haunting light tenor. He played it absolutely straight – no frenziedly flying blond mane, no jabbing fingers, no juddering pelvis, just a slight smile lifting his sad clown’s face. A shiver of amazed joy ran through the congregation. Daisy’s cheeks were not the only ones to be soaked with tears.

‘I like that crooner,’ said Rupert’s father loudly. ‘Didyer say he’d made a record or he had one?’

‘What a pity he didn’t take up opera,’ whispered Sukey.

‘Don’t think he’d have made so much money,’ said Seb, ‘and he certainly wouldn’t have been able to support a polo team.’

Nudging Daisy, he pointed to Sukey’s fingers which were tangling with Drew’s, paddling the centre of his palm and caressing the inside of his powerful wrist.

‘Captain Benedict’s going to get it tonight,’ whispered Seb in Daisy’s ear. Then, seeing her look of anguish, squeezed her hand. ‘’Spect all this reminds you of your own marriage. Don’t cry. Everyone thinks you’re