Linda had suggested she meet them at the hospital; they proceeded in her Mercedes… “I’m sorry, Alex, but I’m just not prepared to sit in that bone shaker of yours.” The Mercedes was very low-slung and swayed about a lot, and by the time they arrived in Tadwick, Emma, who had obviously been relegated to the back, was feeling extremely sick and had to stand in the lane breathing deeply for five minutes before she trusted herself to go into the church. She was wearing an off-the-shoulder red dress, with a white stole wrapped around her, and high-heeled red shoes, and her long legs were golden and bare. What was it about the young? Alex wondered. What extra, if short-lived gene did they possess that they didn’t feel the cold?

Linda was looking staggeringly beautiful in a pale grey silk suit with an ankle-length skirt; she had extraordinarily good ankles, Alex thought, studying them as she walked ahead of him down the aisle, and then as he settled into the pew, found himself thinking rather unsuitably carnal thoughts about the rest of her legs, and tried to concentrate on the organ music instead.

Dear old chap, the bridegroom looked; he had not met him before. He was tall, as far as Alex could make out, and he sat ramrod straight in the pew, occasionally running a hand through his thick white hair and staring fixedly ahead of him; presumably the chap beside him-well into his sixties-was his son. And how wonderful it was, Alex thought, that love could flower so sweetly and so late, that two really very old people could be celebrating their marriage in a spirit of such determination.

And these people coming in now, walking to the front of the church, they must be Mary’s family, a grey-haired, rather portly man and a very pretty young girl. And another man, slimmer and fitter-looking, together with a woman in a rather chic yellow coat and brown fur hat, and two girls in trouser suits with very high heels and a lot of makeup.

There was a flurry at the back of the church, and three little boys appeared, all dressed identically in tuxedos; fine-looking little chaps, with dark, curly hair and brilliant blue eyes, flanking a wheelchair in which sat Patrick Connell-also with the dark hair and the blue eyes-dressed in a very smart suit, smiling broadly and pushed by Georgia. Patrick had made such progress, Alex thought; it really was a little less than a miracle: he could sit up properly now, no longer belted tightly into the chair, and his legs in their perfectly pressed trousers were beginning to look larger somehow, and as if they knew how to work and walk, and less at variance with his heavy shoulders and broad chest.

Georgia looked amazing in a brilliant green dress-also bare shouldered-with a green feather arrangement in her wild hair. Linda was sporting similar headwear; they were known as fascinators, she had informed Alex on the way down.

Georgia urged the three little boys into a pew at the back and, after a whispered conversation with Patrick, inserted herself between them, clearly with a view to minimising talking and giggling; Patrick was beside them in the aisle.

This was a great day, Patrick thought, for all of them, and thought how far he had travelled from that darkest of the dark days all those months ago, and how impossible it would have seemed then that he could have been attending a wedding, dressed up to the nines, his conscience clear and his physical outlook so good… He was interrupted in this reverie by a change of pace and tune from the organ and a rustle of excitement from the opening door, and saw that the bride was standing on the porch, on the arm of a handsome young chap positively beaming with pride, and behind them, dressed in the palest, softest pink chiffon dress, his beloved, beautiful Maeve.

She should be here, Gerry thought, Christine really, really should be here. What demon had possessed her that she had been able to resent her mother’s new happiness so deeply; and worse, to be unable to suppress it or at the least conceal it? He was ashamed of her, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to cope with those emotions in the days ahead. He-

“Stand up, Gerry,” hissed Lorraine, Tim’s girlfriend-very nice to have on his arm that day. What did they call girls like her? Oh, yes, arm candy. “They’re here.”

Russell was afraid for a moment that he was going to pass out, so strong was the wave of emotion that passed through him then. The sound of the organ, the opening of the door, the knowledge that she was walking towards him down the aisle at last, after a wait of more than sixty years… it was an experience of such intensity that the light in the church seemed to fade a little, the sound of the organ to diminish, and all that existed for him was her, walking slowly towards him, then standing beside him, smiling up at him, his Mary, his adored and adorable Sparrow, her eyes as brilliant and blue as they had been then, her mouth as soft and sweetly smiling, and her hands shaking a little as she handed over her bouquet to Maeve.

And Mary, looking up at him, saw the young Russell again, whom she had loved so very much, whom she had never forgotten and never failed. She had feared she might cry, make a fool of herself at this moment, as she put it; but she felt steadfast and strong, purely and intensely happy.

This was how it should be, Linda thought; this was love she was looking at, true love, not the counterfeit version she had known, and wondered if it was what she felt for the man beside her, who had suddenly and unaccountably gripped her hand.

This was how I thought it was, Alex thought, and do I dare even to think I’ve found it now?

This is what I thought we had, Emma thought, and what I’ve lost, and will I ever find it again?, and first one large tear and then another fell onto her prayer book, and for a while she saw everything spangled with tears.

Mary reached up suddenly and kissed Russell, and the gesture was so sweet, so spontaneous, that a small fragment of applause started from somewhere near the back of the church and spread round it, and Mary turned to acknowledge it, smiling, and thought as she did so that she saw the door begin to open; and then turned back to the vicar as he bade them all welcome and prepared to embark on the lovely, familiar words. (While omitting, as they had agreed, those that might appear somewhat ludicrous, about the procreation of children, and carnal lusts and appetites.)

But then something truly wonderful happened: as the vicar began to speak, the door at the back did indeed open-everyone heard it and turned to look-and through it, with no expression on her face whatsoever except one of absolute determination, came Christine, bareheaded, wearing the old mackintosh in which she walked the dogs and some really quite sturdy boots, and Mary, catching sight of her, provided one of the most beautiful moments of the day, for her small face fragmented into joy and she left Russell and walked back up the aisle and put her arms round her daughter, her beloved, brave, difficult daughter, and kissed her, and then led her by the hand to her place in the front pew, next to Gerry. Who, in turn, put his own arm round her and gave her a kiss.