The registrar was running late. Wedding parties were backing up in the waiting room and beginning to overflow onto the pavement, risking early collision with other people’s confetti and newly-weds celebrating on the steps. There were just two chairs left in the corner, with hard shiny leather seats. Felix sat down next to her mother and wished it felt a bit less like waiting for the dentist.

‘Don’t bite your lip, dear. You’ll lose your lipstick. Here . . .’ Mrs Rose clicked open her compact, and passed it to Felix. ‘You’ve got plenty of time to touch up. We’re awfully early.’

‘I know.’ Felix frowned at herself, and tried a photograph face in the powdery mirror. They should have waited outside for the others. It was sunny outside. Warmer too.

‘You look beautiful. You really do. And I like your hair that way. Not quite how . . .’ Mrs Rose’s voice trailed off, and she gathered herself, and coughed, and then began to look about curiously. Felix knew what her mother was thinking. Of course this wasn’t how she’d ever imagined her daughter getting married. In a navy blue silk two-piece, a modest hat, no veil, no guests to speak of, and a gloomy register office in Stepney with a parquet floor that could do with a polish. Well, it was what Felix wanted, so there was an end of it. No fuss.

They both caught sight of a swollen-eyed bride sitting opposite, and looked away simultaneously. Her coat could no longer button up round her waist, but she was putting a brave face on things. The only way Felix could tell who she was about to marry was that one of the three young midshipmen hanging round her kept putting his arm around the girl and telling her to cheer up, and that he was bound to be promoted soon, what with the war coming, and all. And that he’d make her proud of him yet. There were other forces’ uniforms in the room too, and various ranks.

‘How many do you think are ahead of us?’ Felix asked her mother. ‘Did you notice?’

‘Three or four, I’d say. So busy for a weekday morning. Do you think it’s always like this? Oh, don’t fret, dear. They’ll be along soon.’

Felix rearranged her skirt. How she hated waiting.

Hushed and shrill, voices rose and fell around them. Groups of guests knotted protectively around their own bridal couples, and shyly acknowledged the others’ from time to time.

George’s brother arrived first, panting a little, and calling over his shoulder to his family to hurry up. Felix stood up and immediately felt wobbly with recognition. It was less a physical resemblance than the similarity between their voices. A particular inflection. Their laughs. Frank even ran his fingers through his hair in the same way George used to. When his wife Margaret burst in, moments later, a child on one hip, another dragging on her thigh and three more bringing up the rear, the family seemed to fill up all the rest of the space in the room, and everybody stared. An official came out of a door and shushed the whole waiting room, with a pointed glare in their direction, and said the noise was disturbing the ceremonies. But Frank had just George’s knack for defusing awkwardness too. He got everyone smiling again, quietly, and Felix gave him and Margaret and each child a hug, down to the very littlest girl, who was only slightly snotty today.

‘We’re so glad you could all come.’

‘I don’t think George would have forgiven us if we hadn’t,’ said Frank, easily. ‘He was terribly fond of you, you know.’

‘Yes, yes, I do know. As we loved him.’ And Felix glanced round, embracing her mother in her words, and Mrs Rose nodded approvingly. So Mother was right. George had only ever confessed his full intentions to Neville. And Neville wasn’t here to spoil things. He was the one in battledress now. He’d joined up as soon as the army recruitment drive began, and was off at training camp already, unable to get away even for a family wedding. Or so he claimed.

‘You’re looking wonderful, isn’t she, Margaret?’ said Frank. ‘Quite the blushing bride. Well, apart from the blushing, actually.’

‘Thank you.’ Felix hoped Nat would agree. It felt years since she’d been so dressed up, even if this wasn’t her mother’s idea of a wedding gown. For the twentieth time, she glanced over to the doorway leading from the hall, and finally she glimpsed Nat’s face, looking for and then finding their party. Close behind him was his sister Rachel, her smile bigger than ever and looking just as well tailored. They began to make their way across the waiting room, and Felix saw immediately that Nat did agree with Frank, and also that everything would be all right.

She signalled with her eyes that perhaps they shouldn’t kiss until the ceremony was over. All through the greetings and handshaking and introductions, she was aware of the light pressure of his hand on her back, and felt reassured. She hadn’t seen him for a week: Rachel had insisted on keeping that custom, at least. It had seemed an age. Felix loved the way Nat bent to talk to each child, and how they responded so seriously to his questions. Nat’s face was bright and glowing. He’d been in a rush.

‘What kept you, darling?’ she whispered, when she got the chance. ‘Parents?’

‘No, I had an interview in town at nine. Do you remember that design department job I put in for, in Whitehall? They called me in at the last minute.’

‘And?’

‘It was all going well, until they found out about the Party, and Spain. They said they’d write, but I think it’s no go. Should have guessed. Surprised they hadn’t done their homework already.’ Nat spoke lightly, but Felix could feel the strain in his body.

‘Oh, darling.’

Her mother nudged her. ‘Come on, dear. That’s you they’re calling now.’

‘Mazel Tov!’ said Rachel, hugging Felix and Nat together.

‘Well, that was certainly short and sweet!’ said Frank. The tallest girl, Elsie, was tugging at his elbow.

‘Is it over already?’ she kept saying. ‘Is that all?’

‘I’m afraid so,’ laughed Felix, happily arm in arm with Nat. Nothing to stop them. Her ring kept catching her eye, and she noticed Nat, noticing. ‘Shall we say it all over again to make it longer?’

‘He didn’t half rattle it off!’ said Nat. ‘Thought I’d mess it all up at that speed. I do solemnly declare that I know not . . .’

‘Of any lawful impediment . . .’

‘Now, now!’ interrupted Mrs Rose. ‘I don’t think you two are taking this seriously enough.’

‘Oh, Mother, we are,’ said Felix, staring at Nat, suddenly solemn. A horrible pit had opened up inside her. It was time to meet his parents. Rachel had persuaded them not to sit shiva, not to mourn the loss of Nat as if he were dead. There had been weeping and wailing, of course, but Rachel had quietly reminded them, over and over again, how much there was to be grateful for. And at last Mrs Kaplan had agreed – not to come to the wedding, but at least to see Felix afterwards.

Rachel took one look at Felix’s white face, and said quickly, ‘I’ll go ahead. Make sure. Don’t worry. They’ll love you.’

‘See you later then,’ said Frank, tactfully ushering everyone else away, and sounding more like George than ever. ‘And congratulations, Mr and Mrs Kaplan!’

Felix was vaguely aware of her mother’s anxious face, mouthing the same words, and discreetly blowing her a kiss. Then the next wedding party came tumbling down the steps and hid them from sight.

‘Oh, Nat,’ she said, quietly, arranging his tie and feeling shockingly like a wife. ‘Do you think they really will understand?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t know. I hope so. I think my dad does. But if they don’t, it’s just too bad. It doesn’t matter. We’re already bound together. We already were, before today, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. You know that.’

Felix nodded. It was true, she thought. In good ways and bad.

Before they kissed, they both glanced up to check the skies. The habit was hard to break. With one hand, Felix kept her hat secure on her tilted head; the other tenderly cradled the back of Nat’s head. She let his arms take the weight of her body. She knew he’d never let her fall. And if tonight she woke in a sweat from a nightmare, she wouldn’t be alone. Nat would understand why she cried out in the dark, and what she saw and heard. Anger and grief nearly overwhelmed her every time she thought about Spain. Knowing that Nat felt the same helped her to bear it. They would learn together what to remember and what to forget, and, if they could, how they might begin to overcome their bitterness and their regrets. That war was over. Franco had won. But the fight wasn’t finished.

‘I couldn’t love anyone the way I love you,’ said Felix into Nat’s neck. She felt her limbs weakening as his pulse quickened.

Nat steadied her on her feet, and then looked at her in the way he had that always made her reach up again for one more kiss.

‘Come on then,’ she said at last, inhaling him. ‘It’s not going to be as bad as all that, is it?’

They walked down East Arbour Street, past children playing on pavements between flat-fronted terraces. A small and ragged gang of boys was clambering over a shiny black Model Y Ford parked on the cobbles, waiting to take a wedding party away. They scattered at Felix and Nat’s approach, and regrouped around the car as soon as they had passed.

Felix felt decadently, extravagantly happy. She was ready for anything, she decided. And then she frowned.

‘This isn’t the way to your parents’, is it? Shouldn’t we have turned back there?’

‘Probably.’

‘You know we should have.’

Nat wouldn’t look straight at Felix. He just kept on walking, a secret smile on his face.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘It’s just a little detour. Won’t take long.’

Felix knew it was more than a little one, but she was glad to delay. She was happy just to be alone with Nat, and walking through London under clear skies. They skirted the back of the hospital, and kept walking along Fieldgate Street, and he kept on refusing to give a straight answer to her questions.

‘Nearly there,’ he said, as they turned left into Whitechapel Road.

Still Felix couldn’t think where he was taking her. The light only dawned when she saw the squared arch of mint green tiles framing the shopfront. A smartly dressed commissionaire stepped out to greet them, complete with gold-braided epaulettes, kid gloves, two rows of gleaming buttons and a peaked cap marked ‘Boris Studios’.

‘Mr and Mrs Kaplan?’

‘That’s right,’ said Nat, shaking his hand confidently before turning to Felix. ‘I have a feeling my mother might find it easier to forgive us if she knows we’ve been to Boris Bennett for our wedding photograph.’

Felix stared through the polished plate glass at rows and rows of frames, all flowing satin and ribbons and tumbling bouquets and Hollywood smiles. She couldn’t quite see how she and Nat fitted in with these couples, but she liked the idea. Hastily tidying her hair in her reflection, she adjusted the angle of her hat while the commissionaire stood by, polite and expressionless.

‘How do I look now?’ she said, taking Nat’s arm again.

‘How do you feel now?’ he asked her, very seriously.