In Bed With Lord Byron

like we’re finally going
to go our separate ways . . . I’m going to miss you, Lucy, I’m going to miss you so much.’
    I felt him rain a trail of kisses on my hair and I pulled back hazily. Our faces were very close; our eyes met.
    ‘Oh Lucy, maybe I’m making a terrible mistake,’ Anthony whispered, and placed a kiss on the edge of my mouth. His lips tasted soft and sweet. The kiss began to slide,
oh-so-deliciously, to something more central. And then we were kissing. Gently, and then hungrily, drinking each other in desperately, his hands clawing my hair . . .
    ‘
Anthony!
’ Mrs Prendeghast rapped loudly on the door. Anthony quickly moved away from me, and a gust of cold air swirled about my body.
    At first I couldn’t hear what she was saying. The embers had flared into sparks that were flying about my body in dizzying tumbles. Hang on a moment, I wanted to yell, Anthony has just
said he thinks it’s a mistake. And he kissed me.
    Didn’t he?
    Unless that was just a goodbye kiss. A kiss for old times’ sake, an exes-for-ever kiss. But surely not,
surely not
. . . ?
    Oh God. Casanova was right. I had to tell him. I had to tell him now.
    ‘Kerry’s here,’ Mrs Prendeghast repeated. ‘Kerry. Is. Here.’
    ‘Oh . . . right.’ Anthony sounded as though she’d just announced a man had come to read the gas meter.
    ‘She’s here!’ Mrs Prendeghast repeated. ‘I was driving out and she was on her way – she was just having some problems with, ah, traffic.’
    No. I couldn’t believe it. I turned back to Anthony. And found myself pleading silently:
Don’t marry her
. Anthony stared back at me wide-eyed, as though uncertain how to
interpret my gaze, as though hardly able to believe how it might translate.
    ‘Well – I guess I should go,’ he said finally, still staring.
    I lowered my eyes in defeat. I had lost, and Kerry had won, in the Great War of Anthony, 2005.
    ‘Well,’ said Anthony, with one last, sad smile. ‘I guess this is it . . .’
    v) A new priest
    But there was still the problem of no vicar.
    I quickly edged back to my seat next to Casanova. Everyone was gossiping and peering back to the entrance of the church, where there was a teasing shadow of ivory dress: Kerry, waiting in the
wings.
    My head was still spinning. I thought of the questioning look in Anthony’s eyes as I had left the vestry. He had
kissed
me with such passion. He felt something for me. Quite
clearly. And what if I had just come out and said it? Just said, ‘Anthony, don’t do this, marry me!’ Oh God, why had I chickened out? I should have ignored Mrs Prendeghast; I
should have demanded a few more minutes with Anthony.
    My eyes darted to the front of the church, Mr and Mrs Prendeghast were arguing again; Mrs Prendeghast was practically in hysterics.
    I thought: I could say it now. While they’re arguing. I stepped forward to push my way out of the pew, but Mr Prendeghast suddenly picked up his Bible and bashed out a demand for silence
once again.
    ‘Excuse me. I’m afraid I have another announcement to make. The vicar is rather ill and the, er, substitute, seems to be caught in traffic. Now. This is rather embarrassing.’
He made a steeple with his hands as though praying for divine help. ‘If there is anyone in the congregation who has a licence to conduct weddings, we were rather hoping they might be able to
step in.’
    There was a resounding silence. Mrs Prendeghast pressed a peach handkerchief to her lips, choking back sobs of despair.
    ‘Anyone . . . anyone . . .’ Mr Prendeghast trailed off feebly.
    I know this sounds terrible, but all I could think was: Oh, thank God. If the wedding was postponed, I could talk to Anthony, finally tell him everything.
    ‘What qualifications does one need to marry them?’ Casanova asked.
    ‘You can’t do it!’ I snapped in a tense whisper. ‘It’s an American thing. You have to go and do a proper course – which you haven’t done, mainly because
they weren’t invented in your day.’
    But Casanova was already striding over to Mrs Prendeghast. He wiped away her tears with a lace handkerchief and clasped her hands in his, whispering something. Kerry’s father tried to
intervene, but Casanova barely registered him.
    Mrs Prendeghast turned to the congregation, her red eyes now sparkling, and cried in a shaking voice, ‘Everybody – I’m glad to announce that we have a solution! Kerry and
Anthony will be married today, for Mr Casanova