re-launched the chapel website with a huge banner thanking people for their support and officially closing the campaign. She could only cross her fingers and hope like hell that it was enough to put the whole affair to bed.
The fact that she wanted the funeral parlour closed down remained unchanged, but she wasn’t prepared to play dirty to get it.
‘I now pronounce you husband and wife,’ Jonny declared, then threw back his hood and hurled his fake scythe to the floor to join in the thunderous applause.
The ghoulish congregation were packing the chapel almost to its spooky rafters, and from her standpoint at the side of the room, Marla had a clear view of the pure love in Alaric’s heavily kohled eyes as he pulled his new wife into his arms.
The Herald
photographer whizzed from position to position in the background, keen to capture the wedding from every angle. She could see why: it would certainly make an eye-catching splash. The whole production had been like
Gone with the Wind
crossed with
The
Addams Family
– it throbbed with a vein of true love that challenged Marla’s mistrust of marriage in a way that few of the more conventional weddings she had organised ever had.
Much as she loved the chapel, she’d fallen out of love with the institution of marriage a long time ago. Her parents had provided her with a close-up view of the reality of marriage throughout her childhood; at best, it was a soap opera with an ever-changing cast of principal players. She’d had several step-parents whom she’d never even met, because their appointment had been so brief. If she’d taken one lesson away from her parents’ example, it was that marriage was only ever to be regarded as a temporary arrangement. ‘’Till death us do part’ was nothing more than a fairytale, and she wasn’t a little girl anymore. She was all grown up and marriage was for other people.
Outside on the chapel lawns, ghoul-faced guests posed by the fake rusty railings and blood-splattered mock headstones that Jonny had organised to create the perfect ‘fright night’ backdrop for the photos.
‘You haven’t got a coffin, have you?’
Marla shook her head at the guy who lay on top of one of the fake graves. ‘Sorry, no.’
‘I bet
they
would,’ Alaric said, eyeing the funeral parlour.
A whoop went up around the crowd.
‘I’ll ask them! They can’t turn a bride down on her wedding day.’ Gelvira hitched up her scarlet velvet skirts and ran out across the pavement, hotly followed by her new husband and a motley trail of ghouls and ghosts.
Marla watched in horror, well aware that she didn’t stand a hope in hell of halting the stampede. She could only cross her fingers and pray that Gabe wouldn’t be there at this hour on a Saturday afternoon. He shouldn’t be. She knew that much, because she’d surreptitiously checked the sign on the door earlier. It was well after four, so god willing he’d be off in the pub with his jack-the-lad mate. Or sleeping in one of his coffins to avoid the sunlight. Or whatever else it was he did for kicks in his spare time.
The small flicker of hope died as Gelvira and Alaric disappeared through the black and silver doorway
. Damn it!
Why was he still open? Marla leaned back against the porch and groaned. Just when it had all been going so well.
Several minutes later the wedding party spilled back out onto the pavement. Gelvira’s boobs frothed over the top of her corset as she laughed and led her gothic troupe back over to the chapel.
‘Man, this is the best day of my life!’ Gelvira flung her arms around Marla in delight.
‘He’s bringing over a couple of coffins in a minute. Can you fetch loads of those black rose petals, please? I want to lie down inside one in my wedding dress.’
Inside the chapel, Marla could have screamed with frustration as she grabbed one of Emily’s huge rose displays from the altar. She took her temper out on the flowers as she yanked the petals off, managing to
The fact that she wanted the funeral parlour closed down remained unchanged, but she wasn’t prepared to play dirty to get it.
‘I now pronounce you husband and wife,’ Jonny declared, then threw back his hood and hurled his fake scythe to the floor to join in the thunderous applause.
The ghoulish congregation were packing the chapel almost to its spooky rafters, and from her standpoint at the side of the room, Marla had a clear view of the pure love in Alaric’s heavily kohled eyes as he pulled his new wife into his arms.
The Herald
photographer whizzed from position to position in the background, keen to capture the wedding from every angle. She could see why: it would certainly make an eye-catching splash. The whole production had been like
Gone with the Wind
crossed with
The
Addams Family
– it throbbed with a vein of true love that challenged Marla’s mistrust of marriage in a way that few of the more conventional weddings she had organised ever had.
Much as she loved the chapel, she’d fallen out of love with the institution of marriage a long time ago. Her parents had provided her with a close-up view of the reality of marriage throughout her childhood; at best, it was a soap opera with an ever-changing cast of principal players. She’d had several step-parents whom she’d never even met, because their appointment had been so brief. If she’d taken one lesson away from her parents’ example, it was that marriage was only ever to be regarded as a temporary arrangement. ‘’Till death us do part’ was nothing more than a fairytale, and she wasn’t a little girl anymore. She was all grown up and marriage was for other people.
Outside on the chapel lawns, ghoul-faced guests posed by the fake rusty railings and blood-splattered mock headstones that Jonny had organised to create the perfect ‘fright night’ backdrop for the photos.
‘You haven’t got a coffin, have you?’
Marla shook her head at the guy who lay on top of one of the fake graves. ‘Sorry, no.’
‘I bet
they
would,’ Alaric said, eyeing the funeral parlour.
A whoop went up around the crowd.
‘I’ll ask them! They can’t turn a bride down on her wedding day.’ Gelvira hitched up her scarlet velvet skirts and ran out across the pavement, hotly followed by her new husband and a motley trail of ghouls and ghosts.
Marla watched in horror, well aware that she didn’t stand a hope in hell of halting the stampede. She could only cross her fingers and pray that Gabe wouldn’t be there at this hour on a Saturday afternoon. He shouldn’t be. She knew that much, because she’d surreptitiously checked the sign on the door earlier. It was well after four, so god willing he’d be off in the pub with his jack-the-lad mate. Or sleeping in one of his coffins to avoid the sunlight. Or whatever else it was he did for kicks in his spare time.
The small flicker of hope died as Gelvira and Alaric disappeared through the black and silver doorway
. Damn it!
Why was he still open? Marla leaned back against the porch and groaned. Just when it had all been going so well.
Several minutes later the wedding party spilled back out onto the pavement. Gelvira’s boobs frothed over the top of her corset as she laughed and led her gothic troupe back over to the chapel.
‘Man, this is the best day of my life!’ Gelvira flung her arms around Marla in delight.
‘He’s bringing over a couple of coffins in a minute. Can you fetch loads of those black rose petals, please? I want to lie down inside one in my wedding dress.’
Inside the chapel, Marla could have screamed with frustration as she grabbed one of Emily’s huge rose displays from the altar. She took her temper out on the flowers as she yanked the petals off, managing to
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