Speak Of The Devil

Everyone agreed that the setting was perfect.The banks of flowers were dewy-fresh despite the intolerable heat of the day.

The choir had never sang so clearly or so well,and the organist had given the performance of his life.

The bridesmaids,all twelve of them,formed a perfect picture in their lavender organdie with dainty floral headdresses,while the bridegroom, escorted by twelve groomsmen looked cold and smart as befitted the occasion.

The mothers of the bride and groom,prominent in the front pews on their seperate sides of the church,were done up like peacocks,rivaling each other in expensive silk and a style of hat made popular by a member of the British royal family.

It has to be said,however,that the extravagant drapes of their traditional busuits made the hats look rather silly.

The only people missing were the bride and her father who was supposed to be giving her away.It was no fun for the folks sitting tightly packed on the hard benches of the cathedral for more than an hour longer than planned.

The excitement of examining other people's outfits and reading the order of the service soon faded as absorbing pastimes.

The choir and organist had already run through their prenuptial repertoire twice.

The atmosphere was definitely restive by the time one of the deacons hauled himself onto the pulpit and nervously announced that due to unforeseen circumstances,the marriage would not now take place.

Then,of course, everybody forgot their tight shoes,their longing for a breath of fresh air or a cigarette or both.

A ripple of excitement ran through the congregation.All eyes were suddenly turned on the bridegroom who looked surprisingly calm rather than bewildered by this turn of events.

It was like he'd expected the 'unforeseen circumstances'

The bride's mother did the right thing by noisily bursting into a fit of weeping. (she had been saving her tears for the moment when her daughter walked down the aisle as a married lady,and saw no reason to waste them)

As it was,she provided a touch of extra drama by collapsing and having to be carried from the church.

On the other hand,the bridegroom's mother was made of sterner stuff.She nodded grimly,making the feathers in her hat wave as though caught in a strong breeze.

After instructing her husband to stay where he was,she purposefully invaded the vestry and demanded to know what was going on.

The distraught father of the bride was already there,having crept in through a side door as bearer of the alarming tidings.

He was being revived with a small glass of altar wine.

The appearance of Mrs Genovese,the bridegroom's mother,threw him into panic.

"What's the meaning of this,Mr Tate?!" she queried

"She's not well" replied Mr Tate out of panic

"What do you mean, not well?!" Mrs Genovese demanded "She was perfectly alright last night! I saw her myself!"

"So where is Aurora now?!" she grimly made clear her intention to get to the bottom of this peculiar business.

Mr Tate lapsed into miserable silence.At last,the bishop took pity on him,and sadly remarked

"You can't keep up with this pretence,my friend"

..before telling Mrs Genovese that he would like a word with her in private.He led her into a tiny room used as a quiet sanctuary by any pastor wishing to meditate before taking a church service.

He gently broke the news to her,that Aurora Tate,the bride had run away.

Mrs Genovese didn't quite understand what the bishop had just said so she moved a bit closer.

Scared that she would hit him across the face for something he didn't commit,he instinctively drew back too.

"What?!!" Mrs Genovese screamed in an alarming voice.