by Jilly Cooper
Emerald put her burning face in her hands.
‘A-a-a-ah,’ cooed the audience, as the camera panned in on a sleeping Shrimpy. Little Viridian was gurgling with joy.
‘Brilliant,’ hissed Jupiter, ‘it’s exactly like Mum.’
Alizarin, who’d taken off his dark glasses, stretched a long arm down the row and patted Emerald on the back.
‘It’s extraordinarily beautiful and incredibly like her,’ he whispered, which pleased Emerald most of all.
‘Please let us have silence.’ David glared at the Belvedons. ‘This is excellent work, but the judges felt it was too representational, too predictable, utterly charming admittedly, but lacking the imagination and vision of the other three entries.’
‘Bollocks,’ thundered General Anaesthetic to the horror of Green Jean and his wife.
‘I worked for Mrs Belvedon,’ shouted Mrs Robens, going very red, ‘it’s the spitting image of her.’
‘Anyway, the judges’ decision is final,’ cried Geraldine, feeling her input had so far been insufficient to make the headlines. ‘The winner of the Galena Borochova Memorial Prize is Colin Casey Andrews and here to present him with a commission to complete the work, and a cheque for twenty thousand pounds, is your High Sheriff, David Pulborough.’
‘Bloody rigged,’ roared Alizarin.
The press were going berserk as Casey Andrews stalked up to collect his cheque to a chorus of boos and slow hand claps. Not for nothing had Searston WI been in the forefront of the Women’s Institute’s roasting of Tony Blair. Emerald, meanwhile, had bolted out of a side door. Racing after her, Sienna found her sobbing piteously inside the green curtains of a weeping ash.
‘I’m so sorry, I’m not being a lousy loser, I don’t mind about not winning. It’s coming here again, and you all being so lovely, which I don’t deserve, and not seeing Jonathan. Everything reminds me of him and I love him so much.’
Emerald accepted Sienna’s proffered piece of loo paper to blow her nose, then confessed: ‘I loved Zac more than anything else in the world this time last year; I now realize what a bastard he is.’
‘He is,’ agreed Sienna, thinking darkly of the Raphael on sale in New Bond Street that very evening. ‘What we need is a large drink.’
A terrific din was still coming from the town hall as Sienna frogmarched Emerald out of the municipal gardens down the sunlit High Street into the gloom of the Bear and Honeypot. Slumped on a bar stool, Emerald gazed up at a row of teddy bears and tried not to start crying again.
My life is over, she thought helplessly, I’ll never get over Jonathan.
‘Thanks,’ she muttered as Sienna gave her a large glass of champagne. ‘What the hell’s this?’ she demanded ungraciously as the landlord handed her an appallingly wrapped parcel. ‘It’s not my birthday till tomorrow.’
There was so much sellotape cocooning the red tissue paper that it took her ages to unwrap. Inside was an exquisite silver loving cup with handles in the shape of lions’ heads. Inside that was a tiny envelope addressed to Emerald. As she recognized Jonathan’s black script, she started to tremble. Her eyes were so awash with tears, it took some time to decipher the note inside.
‘Darling Emerald, you wanted to get married before your twenty-seventh birthday. If this is still true, get yourself over to St James’, Limesbridge, by two o’clock, your utterly adoring, no longer brother, Jonathan.’
‘I don’t understand,’ whispered Emerald, swaying and clutching the bar.
Sienna put out a hand to steady her.
‘Dad wasn’t Jonathan’s father.’
‘Oh my God, how did he find out?’
‘He got the DNA results on Monday.’
‘Poor Jonathan,’ whispered an appalled Emerald, ‘he loved Raymond so much.’
‘Doesn’t matter, he always had Dad as a father, knew he was more bats about him than anyone else.’
‘Who is his father then?’
‘Almost certainly David Pulborough.’
‘Oh yuck, that disgusting lech!’
‘Jonathan wanted it to be Rupert Campbell-Black, but anything rather than Casey Andrews – or Joan Bideford for that matter.’
Emerald gave a shaky laugh.
‘Is he gutted?’
‘No, ecstatic, it means he can marry you, that’s the only thing he cares about.’
Emerald gazed at Sienna, tears spilling down her face.
‘But this must hurt you so much,’ she stammered, ‘I know you love him too.’
‘Not that way any more, and I know how happy you’ll make him.’ Then, when Emerald couldn’t speak: ‘Don’t you want to marry him?’
‘Oh, more than anything else in the world.’
‘Well then?’
‘Poor Sienna, you’ll have to put up with me as a sister-in-law.’
‘I’ve been such a bitch,’ they cried simultaneously, collapsing laughing helplessly into each other’s arms.
Then over Sienna’s shoulders Emerald saw the pub clock, which said five past one, and gave a wail.
‘I can’t get married in jeans.’
‘Of course not.’ Grabbing her hand, Sienna led her past a large stuffed bear and several grinning utterly riveted punters upstairs to a bedroom with a long mirror, a basin, and an open window looking out over the High Street.
On the bed – so like doll’s clothes that Emerald half expected them to have cardboard tags attached – lay pale stockings, the palest pink bra and knickers, little pink shoes and the prettiest dress in palest pink silk dupion. Just above knee length, it was edged at the hem and neckline with slightly darker pink feathers. In a little hat box were matching feathers attached to a comb for her hair. In the basin, keeping cool, was a bunch of pink freesias. On the dressing table, a big bottle of Violetta.
‘Jonathan did this?’ gasped Emerald.
‘With a little help over sizes from Anthea and Patience. He really loves you, no, don’t cry any more, and the mums have really like bonded in an unimaginable way putting this together. And Rosemary P. and Lily were roped in to do the flowers in church, which are stupendous. Jonathan chose pink because he thought you might be too pale for white, although’ – Sienna opened her make-up case – ‘I’ve bought buckets of blusher.’
‘Thank God I washed my hair this morning,’ gabbled Emerald. ‘I nearly had an extra hour’s lie-in instead. Oh darling, darling, Jonathan, I do not believe this.’
‘Have another drink then.’ Sienna filled up her glass.
‘I must have a shower.’
‘How’s David taking it?’ yelled Emerald over the sound of running water.
‘Doesn’t know yet. Rosemary does. She’s getting out her rolling pin.’
Emerald’s hands were shaking so much, Sienna had to paint out her dark circles and put on her eye-liner. The pink dress hung so beautifully, no-one would notice it was now much too big.
‘You look absurdly gorgeous,’ sighed Sienna as she slotted the comb, with the pink feathers attached, into Emerald’s piled-up hair, ‘like a little squaw.’
‘It’s twenty-five to two, we must hurry,’ begged Emerald.
‘I think Jonathan will wait.’ Sienna peered out of the window. ‘Transport’s outside.’
Charging downstairs, hanging on to her feathers, clutching her flowers, Emerald went slap into Ian, who was putting a white rose into his buttonhole.
‘Oh Daddy, so you were in on it too. How on earth did you get your morning coat here?’
‘Jonathan brought it down last night, felt it might have given the game away if you’d seen it in the boot. You look absolutely lovely, darling.’ Ian kissed her on the cheek.
‘Don’t make her cry again,’ pleaded Sienna, wriggling into a tight scarlet dress as she ran down the stairs, then turning for Ian to do up her zip.
‘You’re not going to like the next bit,’ she added to Emerald, ‘but Dora insisted. Better have another slurp first.’ She handed Emerald her glass.
Outside, surrounded
by punters and photographers, stood Loofah, chestnut patches gleaming, malevolent eyes rolling, mane and tail plaited with pink bows, harnessed to a shiny dark-blue trap. Dicky was hanging on to him for grim death.
‘Oh no!’ Emerald retreated into the pub in terror.
‘He’ll be as good as gold,’ said a grinning Dora who, brandishing a long-tailed whip, was already ensconced in the trap.
‘Theirs but to do or die,’ cried Sienna, helping Emerald into the nearside seat, as Ian clambered on the far side into the other.
‘Dicky and I are going in my car,’ Sienna added maliciously, ‘let go of the reins, Dicko.’
‘What happens if he sits down?’ wailed Emerald.
‘He won’t, he has a great sense of occasion,’ said Dora confidently, ‘and he loves crowds.’
As Loofah broke into a brisk trot, the word, it seemed, had got around. All down Searston High Street, people stopped to wave and cheer.
Dora was in an excellent mood. She was in the process of selling the story to the Telegraph and the Standard and was due to rendezvous with them in the churchyard.
As they hurtled towards open country, past cottages decked out in pink and yellow rambler roses, narrowly missing cars and dog-walkers, a dazed Emerald got out Jonathan’s letter, reading it over and over again.
‘Oh Daddy, is it really true, how long have you known?’
‘Just over a week. Jonathan was determined it should be a surprise. Had a bit of good news myself while you were changing upstairs, got a call on my mobile telephone from Bagley Hall, offering me this job. Evidently the other bursar’s been fiddling the books. They want me to start as soon as possible. Seems a good school, Rupert Campbell-Black’s children go there.’
‘So does my brother Dicky, which lowers the tone,’ said Dora, steering stylishly round a lorry buckling under a load of hay bales. ‘Giddy-up, Loofah. The deputy head is a bitch.’
‘That’s wonderful, Daddy, congratulations,’ murmured Emerald, clutching on to her feathers as dark strands of hair kept escaping, but all she could think was: If I don’t get killed first, I’m going to marry Jonathan. So there is a God and an end to the rainbow after all.
At last there was Limesbridge, with its idling river and the tall chimneys of Foxes Court peering through the billowing trees. Realizing he was nearly home, Loofah thundered down the High Street, ignoring posters showing Jupiter’s thin, haughty face in nearly every window, exhorting people to vote Tory in the forthcoming by-election.
‘At least this job means I can make a contribution to the wedding— Jesus Christ!’ Ian clapped his hands over his eyes as Loofah swung off the High Street into Church Road, nearly mowing down Rosemary and Aunt Lily. No wonder everyone had dressed so smartly this morning. It was the first bit of happiness, except for Sophy and Alizarin in a lower-key way, that the family could celebrate since Raymond’s death. They were determined to enjoy it.
‘That hat cost Rosemary five hundred pounds,’ confided Dora. ‘David will go apeshit.’
There were the dark yews and soaring scented limes. There was the church with its gold weathercock and its bells ringing out joyously. Flanked by crowds hanging over the iron gate, as deathly white as the rose in the buttonhole of his morning coat, his dark curls for once brushed, was the handsomest bridegroom in the world. And wearing a red bow and yapping round his master’s (for once) polished shoes, was Diggory. Charging down the slope, Jonathan lifted Emerald out of the trap.
‘Thank Christ, you’re alive.’
‘Charming,’ said Dora.
‘You look so beautiful.’ Jonathan dragged Emerald behind a nearby yew tree, covering her face with kisses, taking off all Sienna’s make-up. ‘I haven’t press-ganged you, I know it was presumptuous,’ he muttered as they paused for breath, ‘but I love you so much. This is going to be the shortest engagement ever. Will you marry me?’
‘Definitely,’ gasped Emerald, then she gasped in even more delight as he slid the emerald four-leaf clover set in tiny seed pearls onto her finger.
‘Oh how lovely, it’s beautiful.’
‘I bought it to give you the day we got Dad’s DNA test.’
‘Thank you, I love you so, so much.’ Emerald flung her arms round Jonathan’s neck. ‘I cannot believe you organized this.’
‘Who normally cannot organize a piss-up in a brewery, as Jupiter keeps telling me,’ grinned Jonathan as once more he buried his lips in hers.
‘I must be seeing things,’ Sophy muttered to her mother as Emerald’s shiny hair collapsed round her shoulders. ‘Emo is actually allowing her face to be totally mussed up before her own wedding.’
The extraordinarily happy couple only let go of each other when Ian, getting bossy with the confidence of a new job, tapped his future son-in-law on the shoulder.
‘Can’t keep the parson waiting. You push off up to the front pew, Jonathan.’
‘Can’t I walk up the aisle with you two?’ protested Jonathan.
‘No, you can’t,’ said Neville-on-Sunday, getting his hairbrush out and smoothing Jonathan’s curls. ‘Off you go, Emerald will join you in a minute.’
Grumbling, blowing kisses to Emerald, Jonathan gathered up Diggory and disappeared into the church, where Green Jean was remonstrating with an unusually tidy Trafford for drinking brandy out of a bottle.
‘It’s OK, it’s organic,’ said Trafford, passing it to Jonathan.
Outside, Anthea descended on a dazed Emerald, tidying her hair, readjusting the feathers, straightening her dress, reapplying lipstick and blusher, taking the shine off her nose.
‘I chose the dress with Jonathan,’ she couldn’t resist whispering.
‘It’s lovely, everything’s lovely, I’m in a dream.’
Emerald only had time for a brief word with Patience, who had lipstick on her teeth, but who was redeemed by a dashing green hat lent her by Rosemary.
‘You look terrific, Mummy.’
‘So d’you, divine. I’m so excited, darling. I couldn’t tell you before. Jonathan swore everyone to secrecy, I’ve always loved him so much, Daddy and I couldn’t have a nicer son-in-law. Not that Alizarin isn’t awfully nice,’ Patience added quickly. She was rather in awe of Alizarin. ‘Anthea’s been absolutely super too, she made me up. Such a dear person. Neither of us has any mascara on our lower lashes in case we cry.’
‘It’s all fabulous,’ said Sophy, pausing to allow Emerald to arrange her pink beret at a more becoming angle, ‘so like Jane Austen, sisters ending up with brothers. And Jupiter’s lovely wife’s been up all night making and icing the cake,’ she added as Hanna paused to peck Emerald on the cheek before scuttling into church.
Up in the front pew, Trafford was saying smugly, ‘Shagpile’s been nominated for the Etienne de Montigny Erotic Prize.’
‘Well done,’ said Jonathan.
I don’t mind, he thought truthfully, I’ve got Emerald, she’s the only prize that matters.
Miss Prattle, the village gossip, resplendent, uninvited, but taking up most of the fourth pew, sat like a recording angel, fulminating over misdemeanours.
‘The groom and the best man are both smoking,’ she hissed, ‘and that dog shouldn’t be in church.’
‘At least the dog’s not smoking,’ replied Jupiter gravely.
‘And I’m sure Alizarin’s young lady’s expecting.’
‘Hard to tell really,’ observed Jupiter as plump Sophy bounced up the aisle.
‘And who is Jonathan marrying in such a hurry?’
‘His sister,’ said Sienna with a sweet smile as she plonked herself down beside Jupiter. ‘Oh, look who’s arrived from Paris.’
Everyone swung round as a beaming Jean-Jacques Le Brun, blowing kisses in toutes directions, settled happily into the seat up the front that Lily had kept for him.
Ian Cartwright admired the banked blue delphiniums and the coronets of pale pink roses on the end of every pew. He was unable to believe such happiness and change of fortune as he took his elder daughter
’s arm.
‘I’m so proud of you, darling, Raymond Belvedon was such an awfully nice chap, I feel he ought to be taking your other arm.’
‘I’m sure his ghost is,’ whispered Emerald, ‘I’m so lucky having two families.’
The organ launched into Bach’s Toccata. With a smile as radiant as the new moon, the bride floated up the aisle.
‘She can’t marry her brother,’ hissed Miss Prattle as Jonathan sprinted down the aisle to collect her.
‘I’ve missed you so much,’ he whispered.
The congregation giggled, particularly when Jonathan during the vows announced, ‘With my body, I cannot wait to worship you.’
But when they knelt down later, both Emerald and Jonathan shut their eyes, and begged God to help them make each other truly happy.
‘Why are weddings so soppy?’ muttered Dicky in disgust as Anthea and Patience mopped each other up yet again.
After the marriage service, Jonathan kissed his bride throughout all four verses of ‘Dear Lord and Father of Mankind’ until Neville tapped him on the shoulder, then cried, ‘Ouch!’ because Diggory had bitten him sharply on the ankle.
‘Diggory’s very up himself because Jonathan’s got him a dog passport to go on the honeymoon,’ whispered Sophy.
‘I hope Emerald can cope with his breath,’ whispered back Alizarin.
Then he stroked Sophy’s cheek.
‘You look so pretty. We could get married, if you wanted to.’
Sophy beamed up at him.
‘You and I don’t need rings on our fingers.’
‘Tum, tum, ta, tum, tum, tum, tum, tum, ta, ta tum, ta, ta, tum, tum,’ went the Wedding March.
Never had two such pale people looked so glowingly happy, decided Sienna as, chattering nineteen to the dozen, bride and groom came down the aisle.
I cannot bear it, she thought. I can’t behave beautifully any longer. She put a hand on poor Grenville who stood shivering in the side aisle, hoping eternally for his dear master’s return.
Outside, Jonathan broke away for a second to kiss Anthea and Patience.
‘Now you’re my mothers-in-law, I can refer to you both as the Old Witches.’