Unsurprisingly, Wilf wasn’t supposed to use the Chandlers van for his own personal needs. When he had arrived at the station for a pickup, however, and been told about the trains going haywire, he had decided to see if he could find Noreen to give her a lift home from the shops. So it was her I had seen in the crowd.
Anne and Noreen took it in turns to tell us the whole story through the little rectangular window, with frequent interruptions from Ruby and Wilf.
“Noreen was talking to Betty and me,” said Anne.
“AND ME,” said Ruby.
“When Wilf came up,” continued Anne, “we were about to leave for the station, but then Wilf said about the trains.”
“And then Anne said, ‘I hope Emmy and Charles made the last one,’ ” said Noreen.
“And I said, ‘They’ll be stuck if they’ve not,’ ” said Wilf.
“And that’s when we realised Ruby and Tony and I were stuck,” said Anne.
“So Wilf said, ‘Well, I’m not having that,’ ” said Noreen.
“I did,” said Wilf. “Not when there’s a very grown-up bridesmaid to get to the ball.”
“ME,” shouted Ruby, if clarification was required.
“So we thought we’d drive via the station, just in case anything had gone wrong for you,” said Noreen. “Good job, as well.”
“Are you really going to take us all the way to London?” I asked. “What about the petrol?”
“Bit of luck, filled her up yesterday,” said Wilf. “And as we haven’t met, Miss Tavistock, may I say I’ve never done anything like this before in my life. Well, apart from the last time I met your friend Emmy, that is.”
“She’s led him astray,” said Noreen.
“Gosh, I hope not,” I said. “Wilf, are you sure about all this? Aren’t you taking a very big risk?”
The van rattled around a corner, and Bunty and I hung on for grim death.
“You probably can’t see it,” said Wilf, “but there’s a box in the back with an address in Chelsea. I’m supposed to be delivering it on Monday. I reckon if anything goes wrong, I’ll just say I got hold of the wrong end of the stick and thought I was supposed to take it today.”
I saw Anne shake her head. “Can we guess who it’s from?” she said.
Wilf laughed. “Our Mr. Terry,” he sang.
It wasn’t only Betty and Vi who knew what seemed to be the factory’s favourite song.
“He does this sort of thing all the time,” said Wilf. “I could tell you stories about him that would make your hair curl.”
“Wilf,” warned Noreen.
“All right, love,” he said. “Don’t worry. Aye, aye, what’s this?”
Wilf slowed the van down and muttered something under his breath. “Nothing to worry about,” he said loudly. “It’s just traffic. That’s the A4 for you. When do we need to be there? Three? Loads of time.”
Bunty and I glanced at each other. With hardly anyone driving these days, there was no real reason for Traffic.
“How far is it to Pimlico from here?” I asked through the hatch.
“About forty miles,” said Wilf. “It won’t take us more than two hours. If we get a clear road, the wagon can do over thirty-five an hour if I put my foot down, and it’s only twelve o’clock now.”
We were moving at nearly a crawl.
“Anyone fancy a singsong?” he said.
“Tony’s done a smell again,” said Ruby.
“I’m so sorry,” said Anne.
“Well done, Tony my lad,” said Wilf. “Anyone else want to drive? I wouldn’t mind sitting in the back for a bit.”
The van had now come to a complete halt.
“Nothing to worry about,” said Wilf, but I saw him glance sideways towards Noreen.
Twenty long minutes later, Anne had taught us all the words to the parade version of “My Old Man Said Follow the Van,” and we had also sung it in its original form, which had included Ruby bellowing, “We dillied and dallied,” at the top of her voice completely out of time with everyone else.
I wondered if anyone else could see the irony. We weren’t so much dillying as not moving anywhere at all.
“I’ll get out,” said Wilf. “See what’s up.”
It was a tree. It wasn’t so much up as down, which was the whole problem.
“You have to laugh,” I said pluckily. “If it isn’t the Germans, it’s Mother Nature.”
Nobody laughed.
There was nothing to do but wait. For another half an hour. Wilf let Bunty and me out of the back of the van so we could stretch our legs. Anne gave Tony a change and Ruby insisted she didn’t want to go to the lavatory behind a bush, which made Anne very nervous indeed.
While it was good to be out in the fresh air, Bunty and I were becoming increasingly jumpy about missing the chance to make a quick move once the tree had been cleared, so everyone got back in again and made a rather more feeble attempt at singing. With time ticking, no one’s heart was in it anymore.
At just before one o’clock, when I really was beginning to worry, a policeman walked up to the van.
“Not long now, sir,” he said to Wilf. “We’ve got a tractor out and we’ll be squeezing people through soon. Are you in a hurry? Ah no, I see it’s a family trip.”
Ruby said hello and asked him what his name was.
“Actually, we are up against it, Constable,” said Wilf. “This might sound a bit strange, but I’ve got a bride in the back of the van.”
I couldn’t see the policeman, but his silence was enough. “Hello,” I shouted. “That’s me. We’re trying to get to London, but the trains are messed up.”
If I pressed my ear right up to the hatch I could hear.
“Well I never,” came a voice. “Don’t worry, miss.”
“There’s a bridesmaid with her as well,” said Wilf, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Should I join in?” whispered Bunty. “It’s just he sounds rather surprised as it is.”
“Shall we get out?” I shouted, just in case the constable thought Wilf was a maniac transporting a vanload of women to a harem somewhere.
“We’ve got to be in West London by three,” said Wilf. “I have to admit, it’s getting tight.”
“Hello,” said Ruby. “I’m a bridesmaid too.”
Anne told her to hush. “She’s never been one before,” she said. “I’m afraid she’s rather excited.”
“I can see that,” said the constable. “Well, we can’t have you missing out. Can you start up your vehicle, please, sir. Take it slowly, but you can follow me on the other side of the road. There should be enough room for you.”
Wilf inched the van out of the queue and crawled along as he was told.
“What’s happening?” called Bunty.
“He’s waving at another copper,” reported Wilf. “I think they’re letting us to the front of the queue.”
I felt a wave of hope. If only Charles was still on the train and on his way to the church, then we’d be in with a chance.
Good as his word, the policeman had sent us to the front of the short queue, and somehow Wilf just about managed to get the van through.
“Right, ladies,” he called. “Hang on to the children and anything else you can find. Let’s see how fast this old thing can go.”
The old van could go very fast, it turned out. Wilf put his foot down and, with Bunty and me being bounced around like ping-pong balls in the back, we hurtled off to London.
At bang on three o’clock, we arrived outside St. Gabriel’s Church.
There had been no time to go to the house for me to get changed, but Mother and I had agreed that if Bunty and I weren’t back by a quarter to three, she and Father were to go to the church with my wedding things and wait for me there.
Wilf brought the van to a juddering halt and everyone scrambled out.
Even though Noreen said she couldn’t come into a church in her old shopping clothes, let alone Wilf in his overalls, I insisted that after everything they had done, they absolutely must be at the wedding.
“I’ll just find somewhere to park up,” he called. “Then we’ll nip in.”
Mother and Father and my brother Jack stood outside the church, transfixed, as Bunty and I emerged, with Bunty already unbuttoning her coat.
“I’m not even going to ask,” said my mother. “There’s no time. Now take off your things and let’s get you into this dress.”
“Is Charles here?” I asked, not moving.
“Of course,” said Mother calmly. “Jack, go and tell him all is well. The poor boy must be having kittens. And can you tell Reverend Lovell we’ll be two minutes. The bride’s prerogative. No, there’s no time to go into the vestry. Alfred, Bunty, you stand in front of Emmy so no one can see. Hello,” she added, “you must be Anne. So nice to meet you. Could you just stand there, please. That’s right. Emmy will have to get dressed here.”
My brother disappeared into the church as, rather like a small child on a beach changing out of a wet bathing suit, I wriggled out of my woolly as my mother slipped the dress over my head.
Despite the fact I was getting changed in a church porch, the parachute silk felt lovely when I put it on, and Mother did up the buttons on the back. The long sleeves had come up a treat, and I smiled as it turned out I would be wearing my usual common or garden winter vest rather than the much-maligned silk one underneath.
Rather than wearing a veil, I had made a tiny headpiece with ribbon flowers on the top, as it wasn’t on the ration, which went very nicely with the dress. It hid my van-bounced untidy hair and Bunty swore blind no one would know where we’d been.
“The bruises haven’t even begun to show yet.” She grinned.
To top it all off, I had a small bouquet of berries and greenery that Mother had picked from the garden and brought up on the train in a box.
After Bunty helped me pin my favourite pearl brooch to the dress, I stood back to see if I met with everyone’s approval.
“Oh, darling,” cried Mother. “It’s perfect.”
“Oh, Em,” said Bunty.
“That’s very nice,” said Father. “Well done. Jolly good indeed.”
They were all beaming from ear to ear.
Father gave me a kiss as Mother hugged Bunty and told everyone we had plenty of time.
The church door opened and Jack poked his head around it.
“Are you ready?” he asked. “Dear old Charles is about to take to the hip flask if not. I say,” he added, looking at me, “that parachute looks good. And Bunts, you’re the bee’s knees in that frock. Can we have a picture taken so I can show off to the chaps?”
Bunty, who had known Jack since he was three, said yes of course. Then, after my mother had given me one last hug and denied that she had tears in her eyes, Jack offered her his arm and escorted her into the church.
As Anne straightened Ruby’s crown for the twentieth time, I looked at Bunty and Father. Bunty had stepped back, but Father took both our hands.
“I want you to know,” he said, “that I am inordinately proud of you girls.” He smiled and turned to me. “Now then,” he said, “are you ready?”
I nodded.
As Mrs. Peyton began playing the organ, Father and I walked up the red and white marble aisle. Either side was a blur of people I knew, and if the church was cold, which I supposed it must be, I didn’t feel a thing. I held on to Father’s arm and looked forward.
Now I really did feel like a bride.
Even my fancy wedding shoes were surprisingly comfortable. This, I realised, was because I was still wearing my sensible stout shoes from the march.
Charles was there at the end of the aisle with Guy and Reverend Lovell. I felt a rush of excitement. He was looking steadfastly ahead as one should, but when Father whispered, “Good luck,” and took his seat next to Mother in the front pew, Charles finally turned round and gazed at me for a moment.
“Hello, darling,” he said. “You took your time.”
“You should see what I’ve got on my feet,” I said.
Charles looked down and smothered a laugh.
As Reverend Lovell cleared his throat and asked us if we were ready to begin, we both nodded.
“Emmeline Lake,” whispered Charles, “you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”