‘Pardon me, but it
‘It is I who will be conducting this marriage-’
‘Except that you have no bride,’ the little mayor pointed out with spirit. ‘And if you keep interrupting you will never have a bride. And I must insist-’
Through the ensuing fracas Angie met Bernardo’s eyes and saw that they were full of amusement. She pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh out loud at the antics of the two men, but mostly from sheer joy at the miracle that was happening. What you couldn’t achieve for yourself, your family and friends got together to make happen for you. That was how it should be.
‘What do you mean, “settle the situation”? I’m a good doctor, aren’t I?’
‘The best we’ve ever had, but-there are things-’ He looked as if he wished the earth could swallow him up.
‘You mean because I’m pregnant and unmarried?’
He swallowed. ‘If you insist on being specific about it.’
‘What about
‘He’s willing to do his duty,’ the priest said. ‘It’s you that’s making difficulties.’
‘Shut up!’ Olivero told him, incensed. ‘Shut up, shut up,
‘But it’s not that simple,’ Angie said, half laughing, ‘There’s paperwork, bureaucracy-a civil ceremony-’
‘That’s all been taken care of,’ Baptista said with an air of triumph. ‘The civil ceremony was arranged as soon as I received your birth certificate.’
‘Received my birth certificate-from-?’
‘Don’t ask silly questions, darling,’ her father said, giving her cheek a peck. ‘I’ve been working very hard over this, and I want my full share of credit.’
Before everyone’s delighted eyes he and Baptista shook hands.
‘I hate to break up the love-in,’ Angie said, exasperated, ‘but I haven’t said yes.’
‘Then say it,’ Lorenzo urged her, ‘then we can all get on with the party.’
Bernardo came to stand before her. ‘Say yes,’ he begged. ‘Forget my foolishness. Forget that I wasn’t brave or wise enough to trust our love, until you showed me better. I didn’t understand that love must be fought and struggled for, and there is nothing in the world more worth the fight. I know now and I beg you to be my wife.’
How bright the sun was, she thought, when only a moment before it had been dark. In the silence it was as though the whole world was waiting for her answer, but suddenly she couldn’t speak. She could only touch his face very softly, smiling through her tears. He didn’t wait for any more, but swept her into his arms. It went against the grain with this deeply private man to show his feelings in public, but he kissed her again and again in the middle of the street, while the crowd cheered and threw hats and flowers in the air.
‘Hurry up,’ Heather said practically. ‘We’ve got to get you properly dressed.’
‘I haven’t anything suitable,’ Angie protested.
‘Of course not. That’s why I brought you something.’ Heather took one of Angie’s arms, Baptista the other, and together they steered her back into the house, followed, it seemed by every woman in the village. Stella appeared, bringing Ginetta, and behind them Mother Francesca and Sister Ignatia, all beaming and full of delight at the result of their benign conspiracy.
Heather had visited a bridal hire shop in Palermo, giving them her friend’s measurements, and bringing away three bridal gowns for Angie to chose from. Everyone had a say, but it was Mother Francesca, whose eye for clothes was unrivalled, who chose the soft cream silk with the tiny veil adorned with yellow roses.
As soon as this choice was made a whisper went around the women and out into the street, and a waiting child was despatched to the florist, returning a few minutes later with a bouquet of yellow roses for the bride, and ten tiny matching bouquets for the bridesmaids.
‘Ten bridesmaids?’ Angie echoed.
‘Nobody wanted to be left out,’ Sister Ignatia confided, ‘but we got the number down to ten at last.’
And there were ten little girls in their Sunday best, eagerly receiving their bouquets.
‘I think we have another one,’ Angie said, indicating a child standing apart from the others.
It was Ella, the little girl with the deformity that she’d visited on the day Bernardo returned. Her mother moved swiftly to shield her but for once Ella struggled free of the protective arm and came to stand before Angie, touching the beautiful dress with a yearning look.
‘It seems we have eleven bridesmaids,’ Angie said, breaking off one of her roses and holding it out to the child. Her father, who had slipped in at that moment, stood watching the little girl.
‘Are we ready to leave?’ he asked, and she took his arm.
Outside the painted cart was waiting for her. When Angie and her father were aboard, with Ella wedged between them, Benito took up the reins and they began to rumble slowly over the cobbles, followed by the second cart with Baptista and Heather, and the procession falling in behind.
The first stop was the Town Hall, where it seemed they were expected. Angie was realising that the whole town was in on the plan, and her heart swelled that her friends wanted her as well as the man she loved.
She recognised people who must have come in from a distance. There was Antonio Servante, and his mother Cecilia, back on her feet now thanks to a hefty course of vitamin injections. There too was Salvatore Vitello, the one-time drunk, now a reformed character, looking sheepish and evidently having ‘forgiven’ her for destroying his sole claim to fame. Even Nico Sartone was present, putting a good face on it.
In the civil ceremony Mayor Donati was in his element. While the formalities were gone through he stood stiffly to attention, glaring out of the corner of his eye in case Father Marco should put himself forward. But the priest was too wise to do what would undoubtedly have caused a riot.
Then it was over. Legally they were husband and wife, but the church service was still to come. Now Father Marco came into his own, watching the bride and groom with eagle eyes as Bernardo drew her close for a kiss.
‘No hanky panky,’ he cried. ‘Not until you’ve been to church!’
‘But she’s already-’ someone started to say without thinking, and a roar of kindly laughter went up as the anonymous caller stopped in confusion.
Angie felt Bernardo tense beside her and immediately joined in the laughter. ‘Well, it’s got its funny side,’ she told him. ‘And it’s nice that our friends can share the joke.’
And she had the satisfaction of seeing him relax, then smile.
At the church Dr Wendham offered his daughter his arm for the journey down the aisle, followed by ten little bridesmaids and Ella, who insisted on walking with the bride, clutching her skirt, and resisting all attempts to remove her, until Angie said, ‘She’s fine as she is.’
At the altar she forgot everyone else except Bernardo, who was pale and nervous, and held onto her hand tightly as though she was all he could be sure of in a shifting world. She was in a daze. They had travelled such a rocky road and so nearly missed their destination, but here they were, each other’s forever, as they were always meant to be.
The reception was held in the central piazza of Montedoro. A dozen long tables had been set up, covered with snowy white cloths that dazzled in the bright sun. Everywhere Angie looked there were flowers, some natural, some plucked from the hothouses of Federico Marcello, who sat beside Baptista, holding her hand under the table.
The speeches took a long time because everyone wanted a say, but at last it was time to cut the cake. Then the band struck up for dancing, and the bride and groom took the floor, to loud applause.
‘I thought you wouldn’t fit in here,’ Bernardo murmured to his new wife. ‘But I was so wrong. They did all this for you, to make certain that they didn’t lose you.’
‘Not just for me,’ Angie said. ‘These are your friends, your family. They did it for you. Oh, darling, don’t you see? They’ve reached out to you. Hasn’t the time come for you to reach out to them?’
He didn’t answer, and she didn’t press the point. It was enough that he was thinking about it.
