‘He has blood on his hands. Children’s blood,’ she screeches maniacally.

Her words seem to slam into Lana. She flinches and sways on her feet.

‘One day I will kill you,’ is the last thing Victoria screams before she starts venting her fury at the men who are dragging her away. ‘Let go of me, you fucking, ugly cunt. Take your filthy hands off me right now. Do you know who I am?’ She is still hurling abuse and insults when she is dragged outside, with a hand probably clamped over her mouth.

Nobody moves. The tension in the room is so palpable that the music suddenly seems overly loud and jarring. Another ‘guest’ detaches himself from the frozen milieu of people and goes up to Lana. His eyes are watchful and hard.

‘Are you all right?’ he asks. His voice is soft and kindly, at odds with the cold light in his eyes.

Lana nods mutely, and as soon as the best man appears beside Lana, he nods again, and goes the way of the other men and their struggling captive.

Vann Wolfe puts his arm around Lana’s shoulders and looks down at her, kindness in his eyes. From the corner of my eyes I see Billie start running towards Lana. She looks utterly furious. There is a white line around her mouth. But she comes to a sudden standstill, and when I look to where her gaze is, I see Blake striding towards Lana.

His eyes are terrifying and his jaw is clenched so hard the muscles in his neck are rigid. I will never forget that look of unbreakable purpose as long as I live. There is no one else in the room for him. Only Lana. When he reaches her, the best man falls back, and she raises her shocked eyes up to him.

‘She’ll never stop, will she?’ she gasps. Her eyes are large and wounded.

‘No harm can befall a single hair on your head while I am alive,’ he tells her tenderly. The deep love he has for her is unmistakable. It shines in his eyes, radiates out of his being.

Tears fill her eyes.

At the sight of her tears even the backs of my own eyes start stinging. The awfulness of what has happened is impossible to describe. How wrong it had all gone in the blink of an eye. I thought back to how happy she had been while we were all getting ready this morning.

‘My dress—’ she whispers hoarsely.

‘Can be recreated to the last stitch. Remember…’ he reminds so gently, I am startled. How could a man with such cold, hard eyes be so utterly gentle and tender? It seems inconceivable. I watch transfixed as he simply gazes into her eyes and something deep and secret seems to pass between them. A something that I have never known. A look of belonging. The tears that were brimming in her eyes spill over. With one finger he gently wipes first one cheek and then the other.

‘Thank God for waterproof mascara,’ he says.

Must be some private joke, because Lana sniffs and smiles weakly.

‘That’s my baby,’ he says, and raises a hand almost like a child asking the teacher for permission to be excused. In fact it is a cue. Suddenly all the light cuts out except for the twinkling lights that look like diamonds in the velvet blackness of the ceiling. Two spotlights come on and, searching the room, find them.

Lana looks surprised.

In the darkness comes the disembodied, honeyed, deeply baritone voice of Barry White, ‘We got it together, didn’t we?’ And that sexy guffaw he had.

After that a sound like rushing water, then another like a didgeridoo, a vibrating haunting sound, and then the keys of a piano are tinkled… I know this song… Of course… Rihanna’s unmistakable, silky voice cuts through the dark, ‘Shine bright like a diamond.’

Inside the spotlights, Blake curls one large hand around Lana’s delicate hand and his other hand goes to rest on the small of her back, and then he is whirling her around and they are dancing their first dance, a beautifully choreographed paso. Their movements so perfectly matched it’s like a real life Come Dancing.

No one speaks. No one moves. Everybody is staring at the splendid sight of two very beautiful people dipping and whirling round and round the dance area. Their movements fluid, effortless, perfectly matched and undeniably majestic.

He raises her in the air. Time stops. The notes hold, shimmer, she is returned to the ground; they glide along, moving as if they are one body, two people making graceful, magical circles. Blake twirls Lana and while she is spinning he catches her and kisses her. I stare at the sight. It is not possible to describe the beauty of that moment, that dance. Then the dance is over, and as if released, the crowd comes alive and spontaneously breaks into applause.

I tear my eyes away from the couple and look for Jack. I find him and my heart stops in my chest. Irish is standing frozen across the dance floor, his face a mask of terrible longing. His eyes are trained on the kissing couple. He is still madly, deeply, head over heels in love with Lana. The unfairness of it hits me like a blow in the gut. I actually experience pain at the core of my body.

Three spotlights hit the stage and—oh my God—it is Rhianna standing in the bright lights, a star in a tight sequined costume clapping and smiling. The crowd gasps and goes wild with pleasure and surprise.

‘Yeah, it’s me,’ she says and laughs.

She holds her hand out in the direction of Lana and Blake. ‘I dropped in to congratulate the new couple. Give a hand, everybody, to Mr. and Mrs. Blake Law Barrington.’

Everybody claps and cheers. I turn to look at Lana’s face and she has her hand over her mouth, but not with horror—delight. She had not known. Blake has his arm around her waist and is looking at her indulgently. At that moment Lana is no longer the humiliated bride at her own wedding. Just by the simple act of raising his hand the billionaire banker has turned everything around. She is once again wearing the coveted shoes that every woman wants to be in.

‘Thank you,’ Rihanna shouts into the mic. ‘Shall we get this party on the road?’

‘Yeah,’ the guests reply.

‘I don’t think I heard that.’

‘Yeah,’ comes the louder, more definite reply back.

She makes the horned symbol to the crowd, six dancers surround her and begin gyrating as she starts her next number, Don’t Stop The Music.

I look away from the stage and see Billie go up to Lana and Blake, and as if they have rehearsed this beforehand, Blake lets go of Lana and Billie links the fingers of her right hand through Lana’s, and gently kissing her cheek leads her away from the marquee. From where I am standing their unshakable bond tweaks at my ancient envy. I damp it down. I guess they will be going back to the house so Lana can change. Perhaps she will change into that beautiful white dress with the jeweled cut-outs.

I turn my attention to Blake. To the stony expression on his face as he watches his wife leave with her friend. Someone comes up to him, says something and he inclines his head to listen, his eyes still on Lana. The poor guy is still talking to him when he strides away in the direction that Victoria has been dragged to, his mobile held to his ear. Beneath the tightly controlled man, an implacably angry, raging beast. This is not a man to cross.

I wish I could follow him and see what happens to Victoria. Will he slap her, the sound reverberating? I am electrified by the thought of that slap. It will be the slap that I wish I had delivered.

On stage Rihanna and her dancers are strutting their stuff. I scan the room. It is now full of dancing people. An elderly lady in a soft gray suit is dabbing her eyes and reaching for her box of earplugs.

I know I should have just left it. Let it go, but I couldn’t. I go up to Jack. I wanted him to see and acknowledge the new me. Maybe if he saw the new me he might change his mind, slowly fall in love with me. I edge along the sides of the room until I am standing beside him.