3.

The next morning when she wakes up, there is no hair on the carpet. Therefore, logically, it must have been a dream. Comforted by this, Fiona gets out of bed and pulls on her dressing gown. It is only when her mother lets herself into the room with a cup of coffee for her that she realises: today is her wedding day.

She eats breakfast and then goes into the bathroom in complete silence. She sits on the toilet for twenty minutes, staring at the cracks in the tiled wall, before her sister is sent up to knock on the door and ask if she's alright.

Shortly after, when Fiona and her mother are sat in the back of the wedding car on the way to the hotel, Fiona turns and asks if she married her father because he was her soulmate. Her mother smiles, touches her hand, and replies;

“Yes, of course. And I was pregnant at the time.”

***

The registrar has a look of Keith Richards if you were to clean him up, give him a haircut and put him in a suit. Then again, if you did that to all of the Rolling Stones, would you be able to recognise them? Keith and Ronnie have always blurred together a bit for Fiona. Mick stands out, for obvious reasons. Two very obvious reasons, to be precise – they are directly above and below his mouth. Apparently it is said that big lips make for sensuous lovers, but Fiona reckons that they broke the mould with Mick – either that, or they just decided to take the piss a little bit.

Perhaps it's a bad sign that she is letting her thoughts wander so much when Carl is standing right in front of her. His lips aren't particularly full, but they're not a cruel thin line either. Fiona has never given Carl's mouth much consideration before. Is he a passionate kisser? Enthusiastic might be a more pertinent way of putting it.

Snap out of it, Fiona, you're at the altar.

Carl promises to take her as his wife, to have and to hold, for as long as they both do live. Fiona has an itch in a rather inaccessible place.

Come on, focus. You're nearly through.

Nearly through? Hardly romantic, Fiona realises.

“Fiona.”

“Yes?”

Keith gives her a vaguely disapproving look, like a teacher who knows you've not been paying attention.

“Do you take Carl Davies as your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold, for as long as you both do live?”

That depends, she supposes, on how long they both plan to live. Golden wedding anniversaries are thin on the ground these days. Christ, what is the matter with you?

The itch is no better. If she doesn't get it soon she is going to scream.

“Fiona?”

She suddenly envies Jessica her certainty that Ewan was the right man for her. She also envies the fact that Jessica never went through with it.

The registrar exhales loudly through his rather prominent nose.

“Well?”

Fiona looks from him to Carl.

“I...” Her heart is pounding, and she doesn't know what she is saying until she's already said it;

“I don't like diamonds.”

Carl looks confused, understandably, but Fiona doesn't know how else to put it.

“I don't,” she tells him, showing him the ring, wishing he'd see how much like a skull it looks to her. “I just don't.” She remembers the registrar's question. Do you take him? To have and to hold, for ever and ever? Do you?

“I'm sorry.” She shakes her head, and says it again. “I don't.”