go.
He got out of bed, tripped over a squealing Whippy and made his way to the bathroom.
His telephone rang, and he cursed, rushing downstairs two steps at a time.
“Hello, who is it?”
“Me, silly. You know I said I would ring to make sure you were up and ready for church. You’ve got an hour to make yourself presentable.”
“Oh, Deirdre, do we have to go? No, don’t answer that. We
do
have to go, and I shall be ready in suit and tie, so’s not to let down the betrothed pair. See you later, and thanks for remembering.”
• • •
THE CLEAR SKY and bright sunlight had brought out more churchgoers than usual, and by the time Gus and Deirdre arrived, they had to sit in a pew at the back.
“There’s Ivy, and Roy beside her,” whispered Deirdre. “Dear things. I feel quite soppy about them, don’t you?”
Gus shook his head. “Marriage should be avoided at all costs, in my opinion,” he said. “Not necessary these days. People can live together and split up without fuss if it goes wrong. No problems. And don’t remind me of the vows you make in marriage. Nobody thinks twice about breaking the lot these days.”
“Shhh,” said Deirdre. “You’ll be drummed out! Ah, here comes the Reverend Dorothy. Stand up, you unbeliever.”
“I could quite fancy her,” whispered Gus.
Deirdre didn’t answer, but obediently opened her hymnbook in the right place, and then sang in a pleasant soprano voice. The sermon was mercifully short, and the vicar preached well, even including a few jokes.
“What’s her surname?” whispered Gus.
Deirdre thought it best not to answer.
The service was drawing to a close, and there were a few notices to be read out, followed by the banns.
“. . . If any of you know cause or just impediment why these two people should not be joined in holy matrimony, ye are to declare it,” ended the Reverend Dorothy, and looked smilingly at Ivy and Roy. There was the usual short pause, while the congregation pretended to look around for a challenger.
Then it happened. “I declare it!” came a man’s loud voice from the back of the church. “I know a very good reason why that man should not marry that woman. He should be sued for breach of promise to another.”
There was a horrified silence, and then the vicar drew herself up in a dignified fashion, and walked with measured tread to the place where the man stood, red-faced and belligerent.
With great presence of mind, the organist began a soothing rendering of a Bach prelude, and the church was full of subdued whispering.
Ivy sat as if turned to stone. Roy reached for her hand, and it was icy. “A silly mistake, beloved,” he said quietly. “It will all be sorted out very quickly. You’ll see.”
N ineteen
NOBODY IN CHURCH could remember such an extraordinary event. Even the oldest inhabitant, an old lady who was blind and deaf, when she had had it explained to her, said she had never known the like of it.
In due course the vicar arrived back into the church, but there was no sign of the red-faced, belligerent man.
“I am sorry about the delay, everyone, and especially Miss Beasley and Mr. Goodman, but I now have to make some enquiries,” she said. “It is the law, and must be done, though I am sure everything will be cleared up by next Sunday, and we may proceed with the banns. Now please turn to hymn number sixty-four, ‘Fight the Good Fight, with All Thy Might.’”
“And so we will,” whispered Roy.
“I’m so proud of Ivy,” said Deirdre, moving up close to Gus. “The second time it’s happened to her, but she’s, well . . .” She sniffed back tears.
“Bloody but unbowed?” asked Gus.
“That’s it, exactly,” answered Deirdre.
• • •
IVY AND ROY hung back at the end of the service, and the vicar asked them if they would like to come round to the vicarage with her to have a coffee and talk about what had happened. They agreed immediately, and set off on the short walk to the
He got out of bed, tripped over a squealing Whippy and made his way to the bathroom.
His telephone rang, and he cursed, rushing downstairs two steps at a time.
“Hello, who is it?”
“Me, silly. You know I said I would ring to make sure you were up and ready for church. You’ve got an hour to make yourself presentable.”
“Oh, Deirdre, do we have to go? No, don’t answer that. We
do
have to go, and I shall be ready in suit and tie, so’s not to let down the betrothed pair. See you later, and thanks for remembering.”
• • •
THE CLEAR SKY and bright sunlight had brought out more churchgoers than usual, and by the time Gus and Deirdre arrived, they had to sit in a pew at the back.
“There’s Ivy, and Roy beside her,” whispered Deirdre. “Dear things. I feel quite soppy about them, don’t you?”
Gus shook his head. “Marriage should be avoided at all costs, in my opinion,” he said. “Not necessary these days. People can live together and split up without fuss if it goes wrong. No problems. And don’t remind me of the vows you make in marriage. Nobody thinks twice about breaking the lot these days.”
“Shhh,” said Deirdre. “You’ll be drummed out! Ah, here comes the Reverend Dorothy. Stand up, you unbeliever.”
“I could quite fancy her,” whispered Gus.
Deirdre didn’t answer, but obediently opened her hymnbook in the right place, and then sang in a pleasant soprano voice. The sermon was mercifully short, and the vicar preached well, even including a few jokes.
“What’s her surname?” whispered Gus.
Deirdre thought it best not to answer.
The service was drawing to a close, and there were a few notices to be read out, followed by the banns.
“. . . If any of you know cause or just impediment why these two people should not be joined in holy matrimony, ye are to declare it,” ended the Reverend Dorothy, and looked smilingly at Ivy and Roy. There was the usual short pause, while the congregation pretended to look around for a challenger.
Then it happened. “I declare it!” came a man’s loud voice from the back of the church. “I know a very good reason why that man should not marry that woman. He should be sued for breach of promise to another.”
There was a horrified silence, and then the vicar drew herself up in a dignified fashion, and walked with measured tread to the place where the man stood, red-faced and belligerent.
With great presence of mind, the organist began a soothing rendering of a Bach prelude, and the church was full of subdued whispering.
Ivy sat as if turned to stone. Roy reached for her hand, and it was icy. “A silly mistake, beloved,” he said quietly. “It will all be sorted out very quickly. You’ll see.”
N ineteen
NOBODY IN CHURCH could remember such an extraordinary event. Even the oldest inhabitant, an old lady who was blind and deaf, when she had had it explained to her, said she had never known the like of it.
In due course the vicar arrived back into the church, but there was no sign of the red-faced, belligerent man.
“I am sorry about the delay, everyone, and especially Miss Beasley and Mr. Goodman, but I now have to make some enquiries,” she said. “It is the law, and must be done, though I am sure everything will be cleared up by next Sunday, and we may proceed with the banns. Now please turn to hymn number sixty-four, ‘Fight the Good Fight, with All Thy Might.’”
“And so we will,” whispered Roy.
“I’m so proud of Ivy,” said Deirdre, moving up close to Gus. “The second time it’s happened to her, but she’s, well . . .” She sniffed back tears.
“Bloody but unbowed?” asked Gus.
“That’s it, exactly,” answered Deirdre.
• • •
IVY AND ROY hung back at the end of the service, and the vicar asked them if they would like to come round to the vicarage with her to have a coffee and talk about what had happened. They agreed immediately, and set off on the short walk to the
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