AS WE MADE our way back to the house, Charles and I decided that we wanted to get married as soon as possible. We were both terrifically keen to be together, and not least because no one knew what might be around the corner, there was no reason to delay. Engagements these days were a matter of weeks, and sometimes less.
We walked hand in hand, both grinning like loons, looking at the ring on my finger and marvelling slightly at what had just happened. I was certain my family and friends would want to celebrate and muster up a wedding party at short notice, although on Charles’s side, numbers weren’t quite so robust.
‘How do you feel about your ghastly old boss being best man?’ he asked, meaning his brother. ‘Although if you don’t want him to, it will take half the army to stop him.’
‘I’d love it,’ I said. ‘If it wasn’t for Guy, I wouldn’t have met you. And Charles, do you think we might get married in London? It feels the right place to do it.’
I didn’t have to say that the little church we had walked past was where Bunty had been supposed to have her wedding.
Charles readily agreed to London. ‘I’ll put in for leave as soon as we have a date,’ he said. ‘It may only be forty-eight hours, but it will be enough for us to say, “I do” and perhaps have a night away. I’m sorry that’s probably as close as we’ll get to any sort of honeymoon.’
‘I don’t mind a bit,’ I said. ‘Anyway, it would feel unpatriotic to go gallivanting off.’
As we arrived back in Glebe Lane and came to a stop outside my parents’ house, I turned to face Charles.
‘Now then, Captain Mayhew,’ I said. ‘This is your last chance to back out. Once we go in, I can’t be responsible for the levels of excitement which will make it almost impossible for you to change your mind. Your goose will be well and truly cooked.’
I grinned up at him, trying to make sure he knew I was kidding around, which I almost entirely was, but I had to admit to butterflies. I had been engaged once before and it hadn’t turned out awfully well.
‘My goose is very happy to be cooked,’ said Charles, wrapping his arms round me. ‘And anyway, it’s already too late. You’ve said, “Yes”, and I’m not letting you get out of it.’ He looked at me quite seriously. ‘Em, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I promise. Now let’s go and tell them all. You can speak with Bunty, and I must say I wouldn’t mind giving Guy a call if your parents don’t object.’
We crunched our way across the gravel carriage-drive outside the house and as I knew the front door would not be locked, we went straight in.
‘Hello?’ I called as I took off my coat and put my hat on the stand in the hall, stretching out the last moments of keeping the news just between Charles and me.
‘We’re in here,’ I heard my mother call in an unusually high voice, and with one last smile at each other, we went through.
The living room was usually cosy and very informal, a place where piles of books wobbled slightly beside elderly but much-loved chairs, and people lounged around chatting or left the newspaper half read on the sofa. Now it was exactly that, apart from the fact that three of the dearest people in my life were all sitting bolt upright in various overly studied casual positions, all of which looked uncomfortable. Mother was holding a teacup with hardly any tea in it, Bunty was being interested in a napkin, and Father was holding a book on embroidery I had left on the arm of his chair earlier on. None of them said a word. They just stared at us, rather like deer getting a sniff of something important.
‘Hello,’ I said again, as I saw Bunty shoot Charles a violently quizzical look.
Charles looked at his shoes and pretended he hadn’t seen.
‘All well?’ I said, enjoying myself.
‘All well,’ confirmed my mother.
‘Yes,’ said Bunty at the same time.
‘That’s right,’ said Father. ‘I’ve, er, I’ve been reading this book. Sewing and that sort of thing. Quite an eye-opener.’
My mother and Bunty looked at him.
‘So, darling,’ said Mother, ‘did you have a nice walk? With Charles? Was it, um, very, er . . .’
It was no good. Bunty broke first.
‘OH, COME ON!’ she boomed, getting up from the sofa. ‘THIS IS TORTURE. FOR GOODNESS’ SAKE WILL ONE OF YOU JUST PUT US OUT OF OUR MISERY?’
Charles stopped looking at his feet. Father threw the book on the floor.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I said, “Yes.”’
Then, as they still stared, I said it out loud for the first time, possibly to make it clear to me as much as anyone else.
‘Charles and I are going to get married.’
Now everyone was on their feet. With the speed of a leopard, Mother was out of her chair and hugging me, Father was shaking Charles’s hand and saying, ‘Well done, old chap,’ and then Mother grabbed Bunty and the three of us were hugging each other at the same time.
‘This calls for sherry,’ announced Father, as Mother denied she was crying and turned to kiss Charles and tell him how thrilled she was.
Bunty had another go at squeezing the last bit of breath out of me. ‘Oh, Emmy,’ she said, ‘WELL DONE,’ as if I had got into the Olympics or come first in a particularly difficult subject at school. ‘I’m so pleased,’ she whispered. ‘Honestly, Em, I am just so pleased for you both. I really couldn’t be happier.’ Her eyes were brimming with tears. I knew she meant every word.
‘You’ll make me cry,’ I said, already beginning to sniff.
‘Quite right,’ said Bunty, blinking hard. ‘It’s all too lovely. And it’s been SO hard not saying anything.’
‘I did hear you were in on it,’ I said, looking at Charles, who came over to Bunty.
‘I’m afraid I had to let the cat out of the bag that you knew,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t sure she was going to say, “Yes”, if I didn’t.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ said Bunts, looking tremendously pleased.
Charles gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Thank you,’ he said, quietly.
My father brandished a very dusty bottle of Harvey’s Bristol Cream and having poured everyone a drink, raised his glass. ‘To Emmy and Charles,’ he said. ‘The very greatest of happiness.’
Mother and Bunty joined in to all say it and then the toasts began to flow. Charles thanked Father and said, To us all, and then Mother said, To a Long Peaceful Life Together, and Bunty joined in with, The King, and I said, To Peace, and then Father had to top everyone’s glass up and Mother said she would get giddy, but didn’t stop him.
There was a moment of silence after that, until Bunty cried, ‘The oven!’ which took everyone by surprise. ‘I’m doing Fat Rascals as a celebration,’ she wailed, ‘and I can smell burning.’
She put her glass down on an occasional table and headed for the door.
‘I’ll help,’ I said, picking it up and following her to the kitchen, noting that Bunty could move quite quickly these days.
‘Just in time,’ she said, pulling the cakes out of the oven and setting the tray down on an iron plate stand.
‘Ooh, thank you,’ I said, as I liked Fat Rascals very much. ‘Don’t forget your sherry.’ I pulled out a chair and sat down at the old oak kitchen table. ‘This is all quite mad, isn’t it?’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Bunty, wiping her hands on a cloth and looking for a knife. ‘Em, it’s wonderful.’
‘So,’ I said, narrowing my eyes. ‘Exactly how long have you known he was going to ask me?’
Bunty went red and poked a cake to see if it was done. ‘I have no idea what you mean.’
My best friend was one of the cleverest people I knew. However, along with being asked to leave the Little Whitfield Junior Wind Band for her ear-piercing failure on Third Clarinet, her inability to lie dominated a very small list of weaknesses. Or perhaps it was a strength. Either way, keeping even the smallest of secrets could bring her out in a rash and make her garble like an idiot. I decided to let her off the hook.
‘It’s all right, Bunts,’ I said. ‘Charles told me everything. I don’t think he’d have asked me if you’d said that he shouldn’t.’
‘Rubbish,’ said Bunty, looking relieved. ‘Wild horses couldn’t stop him. But he was awfully thoughtful.’ She smiled. ‘He’s perfect for you, Em. And you know I’d say if I thought he wasn’t up to scratch.’
‘You would,’ I said, raising my glass. ‘You have very good taste in chaps.’
Bunty raised her glass in return.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘And jolly well done, you.’
‘Absolute fluke,’ I said. ‘Hopefully we can get married before he comes to his senses.’
‘Stop it, he’s lucky to have you,’ said Bunty, taking a decent sip of the sherry. ‘How are you getting on with the wedding plans?’
Bunty was a very good organiser and never happier than when she was drawing up some sort of a list. When we were fourteen she had come to Cornwall with my family, and the first morning produced a clipboard with a list of things to tick off during the trip. It scared the life out of us Lakes, but we all had our postcards written, posted and out of the way by eleven o’clock and everyone agreed they had never seen Bunty happier.
‘Funny you should mention plans,’ I said. ‘I wondered if you might have some ideas?’
‘Really?’ said Bunty. She put down her glass. ‘Are you sure? I did start to have a little think. But honestly, not if it’s going to interfere.’
‘Oh, Bunts,’ I said, moving round to sit next to her. ‘I can’t imagine even trying to do this without you. As long as you want to, of course.’
Bunty looked at me, her blue eyes serious. ‘I absolutely do, Em,’ she said. ‘I can’t think of anything nicer than helping you, and Charles too of course.’ She paused and took hold of my hand. ‘And you know Bill would be cock-a-hoop for you too. He really would.’
I squeezed her hand and nodded, a lump in my throat making saying anything quite impossible.
For a minute we sat together in the quiet of the kitchen. I could hear laughter coming from the others and at that moment I’d have given anything in the world for Bill to still be here, even if it meant Bunty was the one getting married and not me.
‘Cock-a-hoop,’ said Bunty again, almost to herself. Then she gave me a big smile, cleared her throat and said, ‘Now then, there’s not a moment to lose. Where’s my list?’
She rooted around in her skirt pocket and pulled out a pencil and small green notebook. Licking the end of the pencil as if she was about to take down an order for a week’s fruit and veg, she fixed me with a keen stare.
‘So,’ she said. ‘Do you have a wedding date in mind? Where are you thinking of having it? Do you want a big Do, or a quiet one?’
She turned to a page which appeared to have a large number of headings.
‘Goodness,’ I interrupted. ‘You’re fast out of the traps.’
‘Just a few initial questions,’ said Bunty, sounding like a police detective intent on solving an exciting new murder case. ‘Honestly, Em, you might as well crack on.’
Bunty of course knew this better than anyone. But I entirely agreed. Anything could happen at any moment. If you loved someone you needed to get on with it.
‘It depends on when Charles can get leave,’ I said. ‘But January might be rather nice. It’s always rather a duff time, isn’t it? This might cheer things up.’
‘Perfect,’ said Bunty. ‘It will be the loveliest start to the New Year, and it gives us two months to organise.’
I swallowed. That didn’t sound very long.
‘Which is tons,’ said Bunty.
She wrote down, ‘NEED ACTUAL DATE’ in capitals and then, ‘URGENT,’ which she underlined twice.
‘In terms of a spread, we’ll have some pretty stiff work on the coupon side to be able to come up with very much,’ I said, frowning. I knew my family and friends would want to celebrate, but I couldn’t imagine how we were going to cater for a party.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Bunty, briskly. ‘Everyone will pitch in. People will find all sorts of things they’ve put by.’
She gave a conspiratorial wink which made me snort. It sounded as if she was actively involved in the black market.
‘Crikey, Bunts,’ I said. ‘Do you have questionable contacts that I don’t know about, or will under-the-counter petty crime be a new venture for you?’
‘Lies, all lies,’ said Bunty, calmly. ‘I just mean that almost everyone is bound to have something stored for a special occasion and with Christmas coming up, it’s terrifically good timing.’
Then I really did laugh. Clearly, Bunty was planning to filch seasonal fare wherever she could find it.
‘You won’t even know there’s a war on,’ she finished triumphantly, adding, ‘ALL MUST HELP WITH SPREAD’ to her list. ‘Moving on. The venue?’
‘London. Somewhere.’
‘Hmm,’ muttered Bunty, looking down the page. Then she wrote, ‘London’, followed by, ‘MUST NARROW DOWN’ in large, impatient capitals.
‘What else?’ she asked looking at me with a keen expression.
I was beginning to feel I should have come more prepared. After all it had been a whole hour since Charles had proposed.
Bunty went back to her notes, wrote, ‘URGENT’ again at the top, drew a big ring around it and then started tapping the end of the pencil on the kitchen table.
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I’m still in shock that he asked. Although there was one thing we did talk about.’
‘Oh good,’ said Bunty, looking expectant and flipping over a new page.
‘Well,’ I said. ‘It’s rather crucial actually.’
Bunty nodded vigorously.
‘I just wanted to ask if you would be my chief bridesmaid?’
Bunty put her pencil down. A huge smile spread across her face.
‘Oh, Em,’ she said. ‘Really?’
I nodded. ‘Of course! But only if you’d like to, that is.’
Bunty looked down at her hands. For a moment she didn’t say anything. When she finally looked up at me, her eyes were full of tears.
‘I would love to, Em,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing I would like more. Thank you. It’s going to be the best day ever, you know.’ She dabbed at her eye with her finger. ‘I’m sorry, I’m being a weed.’
Then, picking up the pencil, she turned back to her notebook, and where she had put ‘BRIDESMAIDS’ as one of her headings, she very carefully added beside it, ME.