Necessary as Blood

last of the other guests, trailing out into the garden. Duncan waited by the French doors. The Bach played on, a counterpoint to the happy murmur of voices. The scent of lilies came to her on the warm air. Her anger evaporated.
    ‘I don‘t give a fig what anyone expected,‘ she said firmly. ‘This is my day, and I‘m not going to let anyone spoil it. I would like you to stay, and to wish me well, but that‘s up to you. Now, if you don‘t mind, I‘ve someone waiting for me.‘ She bent and kissed her mum‘s cheek and, after a hesitant moment, her dad‘s. Then she walked towards Duncan without looking back.
    At the door Wesley handed her the bouquet, and Duncan took her arm. ‘Rings.‘ She pulled away in a last moment of panic. ‘We don‘t have rings.‘
    ‘We do,‘ Duncan assured her. ‘Toby has them. At least I hope Toby has them.‘
    ‘You‘re very brave,‘ she said, beginning to smile. A tide of joy was rising in her like a spring.
    ‘Very brave or very mad.‘ He looked at her, his face suddenly serious. ‘Or both. Are you sure, Gemma? Are you sure this is what you want?‘
    She glanced round at the expectant faces of their gathered friends, and at the children, who looked ready to burst with pride and excitement. ‘You did this for me. All of this. It couldn‘t be more perfect. And you‘ — she touched his cheek, then brushed back the wayward lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead — ‘you are exactly what I want.‘
    Duncan took her hand, and led her out into the garden.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Many Houses were then left desolate, all the People being carried away dead...

Daniel Defoe, A Journal of the Plague Year

    Somewhere between the second and third glass of champagne, Gemma kicked off her shoes.
    The blessing had been short, simple and beautiful, a celebration of their relationship as partners in life, and Gemma couldn‘t have imagined anything more perfect. The children had behaved with remarkable decorum, even Toby, and most of the guests had been a bit teary-eyed — as had Duncan and Gemma themselves.
    Afterwards, Bach had given way to reggae, then eighties pop and sixties soul. The happy couple had been toasted, and they had all eaten, and drunk, and danced, and finally Gemma and Duncan had made a great show of cutting their respective vanilla and chocolate cupcakes.
    Gemma‘s parents had stayed, and even seemed to enjoy themselves, although they‘d picked at Betty‘s lovely Caribbean food. But by the cake stage, Gemma could tell her mum was beginning to tire, and they had left soon afterwards.
    Most of the other guests had followed as it began to get dark, including Hazel, Tim and Holly. Gemma had walked Hazel to the door and hugged her.
    ‘Thank you, for everything. I‘m glad you‘ve come back. Although you are surely the most devious person I know — after Duncan.‘
    ‘Thank you, I think.‘ Hazel laughed. ‘Maybe I should think about becoming a wedding planner. Or a spy.‘
    Now, Gemma sat in the kitchen, rubbing her aching feet. Duncan and Betty were doing the washing up, while Wesley, Melody and Doug, the stragglers, clustered round polishing off a huge pot of tea that Wesley had made. The children were playing in the garden with the dogs, and Gemma felt utterly, blissfully content. For the hundredth time, she held up her left hand and admired her ring.
    It was Art Deco, a platinum band set with small diamonds. Henri and Erika had helped Duncan pick it out from a jeweller in the antique arcade on the King‘s Road.
    ‘You can change it if you want,‘ Duncan said, teasing her from the sink.
    ‘No way.‘ She wrapped her right hand protectively around her left. ‘You‘re not getting this off me for anything.‘ He‘d bought a plain white-gold band for himself, assuring her that it was all he needed.
    When the doorbell rang, Gemma stretched and said, ‘I‘ll get it. Someone must have forgotten something.‘
    But Wesley jumped up, flashing Duncan a conspiratorial grin. ‘No, I‘ll go. You rest your battered feet.‘ There were voices from the hall, then Wesley came back into the kitchen, his arm draped casually round a young woman‘s shoulders. A familiar, tall, auburn-haired woman in surgical scrubs.
    Gemma stood, laughing. ‘Bryony! What are you doing here?‘ Bryony Poole was their friend as well as their vet. It looked as though Wesley had seen her more recently than Gemma, as there had been something definitely possessive in the way