They reached the church and stood outside, panting for breath. Dad put his ear to the door. He groaned.
“They’ve already started!”
“What?” cried Bertie. “They can’t have!”
“They obviously couldn’t wait! We’ll have to sneak in quietly,” said Dad.
“But what about the ring?” said Bertie, holding it up.
“Give it to Neil! Just try not to draw attention to yourself.”
Inside the church, Dora and Bruce stood at the altar. The vicar was reaching the part with the wedding vows. Neil wiped a drop of sweat from his forehead. Where in the name of heaven was Bertie? If he didn’t get here soon it would be too late!
“Dora Lara Spooner,” said the vicar, “do you take this man to be your husband?”
“I do,” trilled Dora.
“Bruce John McDougal, do you take this woman to be your wife?”
“I do,” boomed Bruce.
“The ring!” whispered the vicar.
“Oh, um, yes, the ring…” stammered Neil, turning bright pink. He searched his pockets as if that might help.
“Neil!” hissed Dora.
Neil shook his head helplessly. “I … er … I haven’t…”
CRASH!
Every head in the church turned round to look. Bertie had zoomed up the aisle and skidded, falling flat on his face. His kilt had flopped over, so everyone got a good view of his pants. Suzy giggled.
“BERTIE!” hissed Neil.
Bertie got up. He pulled down his kilt and came forward. In his hand was something pink and sticky like a half-sucked sweet. He handed it over. Bruce slid the ring over Dora’s finger.
“EUGH!” said Dora.
After the service they all crowded into the church hall for the wedding party. Bertie had to sit through hours of boring speeches, but he didn’t care. He was off the hook. Dora grumbled that he’d almost ruined her big day, but Bruce patted his head and said no harm was done.
Neil stood up and banged on the table with a spoon.
“And now, the bride and groom will cut the cake!”
Bertie gulped. Oh no! The cake – he’d forgotten all about it!
A lady pushed the trolley to the front where the bride and groom stood waiting. Dora took the knife ready to cut the first slice. She stared. She gasped. She looked like she might faint.
Her beautiful wedding cake – ruined! The tower was looking wonky, and there were sticky fingermarks all over it. Someone had scoffed most of the pink roses. Worst of all, the message was missing some letters, so now it read:
“EEEK! MY CAKE!” shrieked Dora.
Mum and Dad turned round. There was only one person who could have done this, and he was wearing a sticky kilt and a guilty expression.
“BERTIE!” groaned Mum.
Bertie gulped. He put his hand into his sporran.
“Um … anyone want a crisp?”
