Elsa slipped into the back of the chapel, having arranged Carrie's dress for the final time before she set off up the aisle. She was very pleased with how it had turned out. The back, particularly, was a triumph. This was the part that people spent most time looking at, after all.
The crystal-studded corset and the stiffened georgette caught the light and glittered as if it had been sprinkled with diamonds. No theatrical costume could have looked more fairy-like or magical.
Even the little bridesmaids, whose dresses had been so last minute, looked like fairy servants behind their queen. No one would know the panic, the frantic sewing, the midnight hours that went into those costumes except a very few people, but, Elsa now knew, it had all been worth it.
She had spent the few minutes she had before Carrie appeared star-spotting. It was one way to pass the time, and she thought it might help her throw off the melancholy that had settled over her recently.
She'd heard nothing from Laurence for ages. He'd warned her he'd have very little time to call or text, and he was in the States anyway, so the time difference made things even more difficult. But she was a bit hurt. There were at least half a dozen ways a person could contact another person these days, not including carrier pigeon.
Had she made a mistake in sleeping with him? Was that why his texts had dwindled to nothing a matter of days afterwards? If she had, it was a lovely mistake, and she'd just have to be content with the memory of a wonderful night of passion with a caring, considerate, sexy man.
A little spark of excitement flickered, like light on Swarovski crystals, in her heart. Maybe he'd still be able to make it after all. Perhaps he was on his way at this very moment and unable to call her. The fact that he might turn up gave her that little hope.
Still, she thought, if he couldn't come, there were plenty of fit young men here, even if they were mostly accompanied by size zero, WAG-type starlets and unlikely to look at her in her Regency ball gown.
After the ceremony, and when the wedding supper was over, having checked Carrie's dress again after the bride'd been upstairs and had her lip-gloss reapplied, and her back and shoulders powdered and sprinkled with the merest dusting of iridescent make-up, Elsa looked around the room and caught Bron's eye. Bron, she knew, was worrying about the fact that her bed was still covered in glass from when the ladder went through it. There'd been no opportunity to do anything about it and while there would probably be somewhere spare for her to sleep, not knowing where that would be was depressing for her. As was the fact that James seemed to have disappeared.
‘May I have the pleasure of this dance?' The best man, whom Elsa recognised as an American soap star, stood before her. He was smiling down at her with his perfect teeth practically twinkling.
It was a waltz: Carrie had wanted her reception to start with several traditional ballroom dances to show off her beautiful gown before it morphed into a more general free- for-all.
He was very good-looking, Elsa had to acknowledge, and although at one time she would have refused, there wasn't an adult bridesmaid he should have been dancing with and she could do waltzing now. She said yes. She smiled at him and allowed him to take her into his arms.
He was hopeless, she realised; as bad, if not worse, than she had been the very first time she had tried waltzing with Laurence. They went twice round the dance floor, which was not huge, and then he said, 'I'm sorry. I'm no good at this. Would you mind if we just did a slow dance instead?'
‘What do you mean? Waltzing isn't terribly fast.’
He laughed at her teasingly. 'You're cute. I meant like this.' He took her hands and linked them behind his head and then put his arms round her waist. It was, she had to admit, much easier than trying to steer him round corners.
Nothing like being in the arms of an attractive man to chase away memories of another one, she thought as they circled the room. Not that this man really had chased away her thoughts of Laurence, but it was a distraction. At one time her dream scenario at an occasion like this would have been to find a good spot to watch it all from. But not now. Since being a substitute bridesmaid at Ashlyn's wedding, she had come on a lot. She now wanted to be part of the party, not just an onlooker.
For example, she pondered, as they plodded round in a small circle, would she have had the confidence to dance with him at all, to let him hold her close if it hadn't been for Ashlyn's wedding and all that followed it? She doubted it. Having her hair cut, Vanessa making her have her colours done, Laurence making her learn to waltz, had all given her confidence. So what if he'd decided it was a mistake, she told herself firmly, at least now she was a braver, more confident person. Having come to this conclusion she decided she should be bolder. She relaxed and smiled up at her partner and held his gaze as he smiled back.
‘Excuse me!’
Someone tapped her on her shoulder and peeled her off her partner. It was Laurence.
‘Excuse me,' he said again, to the man this time. 'But this is my girlfriend. I'm afraid I'm going to take her away.' Elsa's heart gave a little dance of pleasure.
‘Hey, fella! Doesn't she have some say in the matter?' The young American film star was heavier than Laurence and seemed ready to fight for his woman.
‘I'm afraid not. Come on, Elsa,' said Laurence. Then he took her hand and led her away.
‘Laurence!' said Elsa, struggling to keep up with him. 'What are you doing here? I thought you couldn't come!’
He didn't stop until they were in a little pantry, miles away from the party. 'I know, I nearly didn't make it, but I just had to, whatever it took.'
‘Why didn't you let me know?' she said. 'I haven't heard from you for so long. I thought..
He looked suitably contrite. 'I'm so sorry I haven't been in touch. I was so busy. Then I lost my phone and the battery died on my laptop – couldn't get a spare where I was and all my telephone numbers were on it.'
‘Oh.' That did cover most of the bases, apart from the carrier pigeon, of course.
He sighed deeply. 'I really am sorry. Anyway, I'm here now.’
She nodded.
‘I had to get a taxi from the airport. Cost me an arm and a leg.'
‘Oh dear.' She didn't know what else to say.
‘Elsa, I haven't driven for over five hours to get here to listen to you saying "Oh", or if I'm lucky "Oh dear"!’
She twinkled up at him, thrilled to see him, standing there looking so handsome in his dinner jacket. Dear Laurence, he'd come back to her.
Then he took her in his arms and kissed her.
It took Elsa a few seconds to get into the kiss. At first their noses bumped and their teeth clashed but then it settled down into a stomach-weakening clinch that made Elsa's head swim. She was glad he didn't let go when he stopped for breath or she might have fallen over.
‘Goodness, Laurence,' she said breathlessly. 'That was quite a kiss.'
‘I hope you know now how much I've missed you.’
‘Well, I've got some idea.' She smiled, all warm inside. 'I know we hadn't really got that far in our relationship…' He paused.
‘Did we have a relationship?'
‘Well, friendship. But I couldn't wait any longer. And that gorilla would have had you if I hadn't stepped in.’
Elsa laughed. 'I don't think so. We were only dancing.'
‘I know only too well what dancing can lead to!' said Laurence. 'That dancing teacher definitely fancied you.’
Elsa suddenly started to giggle. It was so lovely and funny and silly to be here with Laurence and him being jealous. 'Actually, I think the dancing teacher was gay.'
‘If he was, he was thinking of changing his mind.'
‘Idiot.' Then she went on, not wanting any awkwardness between them, 'When I didn't hear from you for such a long time I wondered if I'd made a mistake sleeping with you. We didn't know each other all that well. I thought maybe you'd lost all respect for me.'
‘Oh Elsa! I could never do that.' He took her into his arms again for a long time.
As Elsa was sort of on duty, in case Carrie had a ‘wardrobe malfunction', they drifted back up to the dancing. They met Sarah rubbing her foot in the doorway.
‘Laurence!' she said, pleased to see him. 'You made it.'
‘In the nick of time.' He glanced at Elsa and Elsa noticed a proprietorial gleam in his eye and it made her insides give a little skip of pleasure. 'She was just about to go off with the best man.'
‘That's what I do at weddings,' Elsa explained. 'It's a golden rule.’
Laurence's hand found her waist and tickled her. 'Not any more it's not. From now on, it's bridegrooms only.'
‘Bridegrooms?' asked Sarah, laughing and easing her foot back into her shoe. 'Not at any wedding I have anything to do with – it would ruin my business.'
‘Not if the bridegroom was me,' said Laurence. 'I'm fed up with always being the best man, I want my moment in the sun.'
‘You'll get a moment in the Sun if you're not careful. A few journalists have muscled their way in,' said Sarah. 'I'm just going to ask them to leave.’
Elsa laughed but uncertainly. She wasn't sure, but she might have been proposed to, in a very roundabout way.
‘So,' said Laurence when he'd got them both fresh glasses of champagne, 'how would you like to be a bride?’
Elsa considered, still not sure if he was asking in a general way, or actually proposing. She decided to take it lightly. 'I don't think I would. I don't think I'd like being the centre of attention.'
‘We could have a very quiet wedding, just family and a few friends..’
She bridled, a skill she didn't know she had. 'What's this "we" business? I thought we were discussing me being a bride!'
‘If you're going to be a bride, I bagsy be the bridegroom.’
She shook her head reproachfully. 'You don't bagsy brides, as if they were a seat on a bus! You go down on one knee and propose-' She let out a small shriek. 'Don't you dare!'
‘I won't go down on one knee if you don't want me to, but I would be very thrilled and happy if you'd agree to be-' He bent his knee.
‘No!' She pushed at him, starting to laugh again. It was all so daft. 'We hardly know each other!'
‘We know each other, in the Biblical sense, quite well.’
‘Really, Laurence!'
‘Really, Elsa!' He hesitated for a moment, and then the band struck up and the wonderful, poignant notes of 'Smoke Gets in Your Eyes' began, and the low; mellow tones of the singer started to float through the air.
He got up and took her hand, 'Come on, they're playing our song. Let's dance.’
She followed him to the dance floor. 'We haven't got a song, Laurence.'
‘We will have from now on. From now on whenever we hear this we'll remember the night you nearly agreed to be my wife.’
Elsa chuckled. 'So will we have another song if ever I do agree?’
He snatched her into his arms. 'No. This one will have to do_’