Many of us, including me, though I had to use a stick, managed to cross the world to get to Annie’s wedding, which was a triumph, under brilliant skies, of helipads, marquees, Pavlova cakes and wonderful New Zealand wine. The white Chardonnay is superb: golden in the bottle, nectar to the tongue. The bride was slim, not bony, and sucked barley sugars before and after the ceremony. Her father gave her away: her mother wore a pink dress which became her very much, but was too like the one Mrs McLean was wearing for comfort. It was Mrs McLean who changed, into a pleasant blue outfit. Mavis and Alan were seriously contemplating a move to New Zealand. Mavis loved the bush − so quiet, dark and sinister, unspoiled. Laura and Woodie came with all the children − they too thought they’d stay, if the Government would have them. A wonderful place to bring up kids; and the pace of life would suit Woodie. Sir Bernard paid for their tickets: whatever Carmen asked, it seemed, he did. In the end they had been married secretly in the Bahamas − Sir Bernard had quite gone off PR since his accident − and presumably the wedding night went okay; at any rate Carmen was now pregnant. Annie was not sure whether she wanted children, though Tim said he’d like a little brood of kiwis some time. They went off to the Franz Joseph Glacier for their honeymoon. The returning party slept off the excitement and the Chardonnay while night turned to day, and day to night, with extraordinary rapidity outside the aircraft window. I kept the blind open, though I was meant to keep it down for the film, the better to see the Southern Cross, and the strange starry constellations of the other hemisphere. Cassiopeia, Betelgeuse, the Red Dwarf. I was not sure whether I would have time to study the stars and learn their names, now that I had to take my place in normal society. My disability allowance had ceased. I would have to find a job, or write a novel: something.
I would like to report that the Devil’s safe house burnt down: was razed to the ground as some desperate member of staff, out of control since the departure of Mrs Haverill, attempted to burn out the bed bugs. But it would not be true. Bellamy House still stands, and makes a decent profit, and nothing exciting or scandalous or remarkable seems to happen there. But then nothing exciting ever happens in Fenedge these days. A tradition has grown up that you must never insult the town aloud, or hope too vehemently to escape it, in case the Devil happens to be flying by, and overhears, and all hell breaks loose.
We hope you enjoyed this book.
For your next wickedly witty Fay Weldon, read on or click here.
To find out about Fay Weldon, click here.
To discover more books by Fay Weldon, click here.
For an invitation from the publisher, click here.