In Bed With Lord Byron

here is qualified to conduct the ceremony!’
    There was ecstatic applause and whoops, and a little weeping too.
    I wanted to join in with the clapping but my hands were balled into fists, and when I let out a whoop it sounded more like the wail of a dying bird.
    ‘Mr Casanova!’ the Botox woman beside me chuckled. ‘What an apt name – he is a dish!’
    ‘He’s not really called Mr Casanova,’ I snapped sourly. ‘He changed it by deed poll. He’s really called Mr Smith.’
    Oh God, why did Casanova have to ruin everything? Out of sheer desperation, I ran up to Mrs Prendeghast and cried, ‘I’m sorry – I think there’s been a mistake! Casanova
didn’t finish the course! So he really can’t conduct this wedding.’
    Mrs Prendeghast’s eyes widened.
    ‘Ah, Lucy,’ Casanova sighed. ‘We broke up, didn’t we, before I completed the course? I realise you’re bitter, but you need to move on.’ He turned to Mrs
Prendeghast. ‘She’s just hungover, her mind’s a little confused.’
    ‘Lucy, please go and sit down,’ said Mrs Prendeghast icily. ‘Now, Anthony – are you ready?’
    I looked at Anthony and he stared at me. Once again our eyes seemed to reverberate with silent signals. But talking was now impossible; the organist had started the wedding march with a
flourish. I had no choice but to slink back to my seat.
    Mr Prendeghast scampered nervously up the aisle, as though hardly able to believe it was finally happening. And then, arm in arm, he and Kerry slid gracefully towards Anthony.
    I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was looking lovely. She floated in her dress like a beautiful swan; the light glinted on the rosebuds in her hair and tinted her cheeks a radiant
pink.
    As she came up to the front of the church, Casanova’s eyes gleamed. I looked quickly at Anthony. But though Kerry whispered something to him – presumably an apology – he merely
frowned. If anything, he was looking even more ill; in fact, he was positively green.
    They took up their positions in front of Casanova with nervous stiffness, like actors preparing for a curtain to go up. Casanova opened the Bible, smiling widely. Then, much to the surprise of
the congregation, he reached out and shook hands with Kerry.
    ‘I’m sorry about the other vicar,’ he whispered. ‘I’m Casanova, by the way.’
    ‘Yes, I remember you from last night!’ Kerry whispered back with a giggle.
    The sound rippled and echoed through the congregation. It was a giggle of relief – the wedding was now on, even if the vicar was decidedly eccentric, and everything looked as though it was
going to go swimmingly.
    I felt panicky. This was it, this was it!
    Oh God
, I prayed,
please grant me a miracle. A bolt of lightning, hitting the church! Anything – just anything. I know
. . . My heart leapt.
Please can Casanova fudge the
ceremony?
    Yes,
yes
! That was the answer. How on earth was his insane priest story going to hold up when he didn’t even know the words to the marriage ceremony?
    ‘We are gathered here today,’ Casanova announced in a confident, booming voice, ‘to unite Anthony Brown and Kerry Prendeghast in marriage.’ He broke off to smile silkily
at Kerry.
    Oh God. I closed my eyes. Of course. The marriage ceremony back in Casanova’s time was not much different to ours today. And how many ceremonies had Casanova gatecrashed, how many brides
had he whisked away at the last minute from their unsuspecting grooms? Hundreds, probably. He must know the marriage ceremony by heart.
    ‘As they pledge their constant abiding love to each other, let us remember that anyone who enters into this sacred relationship must learn to share a mutual love and concern for one
another . . .’
    He damn well did know it by heart.
    ‘Love is one of the greatest of life’s experiences,’ he continued grandly.
    The congregation swooned. Casanova broke off and – the cheek of it! – spun his eyes over Kerry’s face, down her neck and to the scooped throat of her dress in an extremely
appraising manner.
    I looked at Anthony.
Go on
, I shouted inwardly,
sock him one for that!
But Anthony looked utterly dazed, as though he was in another world.
    Casanova flicked his gaze over the congregation with a hopeful glint. ‘If anyone should have any objection to the marriage, speak now.’
    Suddenly Anthony turned and stared at me. I blinked. The look in his eyes was . . . pleading? Forceful? Or was it all my imagination?
    I found