One evening, I got an unexpected phone call from a distant aunt inviting me to her daughters weddingmy equally distant cousin whom I hadnt seen since we were both six years old. Well, she was six, and Im certain I was older.
I never suffer from an overabundance of family sentiment, and I had hoped to wriggle out of it. But there was no escape.
At least once in twenty years, cant we get together? Just you try not to come, my aunt said, in a voice that told me it would be unwise to refuse.
The invitation arrived, festooned with white doves and roses, signed politely from Emily and Charles, followed up with a persistent reminder a few days later. There was nothing for it: off to the celebration I would go.
There went my Saturday, I thought, but what could I do? So, clutching a bouquet, wearing a glum face, and plotting my English exit after an hour, I arrived at the restaurant. Ushered into the banquet room, I was placed with a lively group of young menthe grooms mateswho, after a couple pints, began enthusiastically admiring what a remarkable auntie the bride had, not at all what they expected, and really, perhaps we ought to become better acquainted and enjoy the night while we could. Which we promptly did.
Of course, I didnt recognise the bride. It had been years, and shed changed from a mousy little girl to a curvy blonde with a considerable bust. I liked her better as a mouse, if Im honest.
The atmosphere at the event was rather dismal: a cluster of scowling aunts with dour uncles, a groom that looked faintly hunted, and a bride shimmering in the glory of her own impossible beauty and cleavage. If not for our increasingly merry table, the whole affair would have resembled a wake. The aunts kept throwing us withering looks.
I missed the first round of toasts, but arrived just in time for the second. It was my turn. The Master of Ceremonies, having ferreted out my relation, joyfully announced:
And now, lets have a few words for the happy couple from the young and beautiful aunt of the bride!
So, with as much warmth as I could muster, I proclaimed, Dear Emily and Charles
The celebration, which hadnt exactly been riotous, now fell into a stony silence. At that most dreamlike moment, it finally dawned on me that I had not seen my aunt anywhere, and surely she hadnt changed so much that I wouldnt know her.
The brides name is Sarah, hissed the pink-clad aunt opposite me. And the grooms Henry.
Sarah? Henry? I spluttered.
Some people just show up at any old shindig for free food and drink, she added, turning to the others. One of that lot came to our sons going-away do. Barely got rid of him. No shame, no conscience, some people.
And thats when I realisedoh, the revelry to come! The guests fixed their hungry gazes on me, half-rising from their seats. Sleeves werent yet rolled up, but it seemed only a matter of time.
But look, I have the invitation! I cried (yes, actually cried), waving the evidence frantically. Its all here: Emily and Charles, this restaurant, this banquet hall
Salvation appeared from the direction of a waiter.
Miss, he said gently, weve another banquet room upstairs. Perhaps thats where you mean to be?
Oh, of course, off she goes, snapped the pink aunt. Had her feed in here, now off to the next. How does the earth bear such cheek? Outrageous!
And they say, Barbara, that boldness is its own reward, chipped in another, this one in pea green and even less charming.
For the record, I do not resemble a scrounger or some small-time adventuressthough appearances, as they say, can deceive. The lads at my table came gallantly to my defence, only to be shot down by the lavender-clad aunt with, My word, shes already turning their heads!
The pink aunt added, Thats how our chief accountants husband was stolen. Turn your back for a secondsome people will cut the soles off your shoes, the sly things.
Id never stolen anyones husband, but in that moment, I felt every bit the homewrecker. My eyes drifted across the married menperhaps one would do, since I was already being accused on several counts.
Thank heavens, the kindly waiter scurried off to the other room, promptly returning with my actual aunt, who deftly sized up the scene and, with a series of elaborate winks at me and the others, professed loudly that shed known me all her life. Of course, the way she shook her head suggested Id been soft in the head since childhood.
To make it brief, I was finally whisked away to the correct hall, where the real Emilya dusky beautyand I suppose it must have been Charles, awaited me, and where I was revived with assorted English spirits.
At least I hadnt yet handed over the gift.
And it was the lads from the first wedding who ended up seeing me to the doorTheres a certain art to arriving spectacularly late; if I lacked that, at least I had developed a flair for arriving spectacularly wrong. But in the proper hall, at the correct wedding, life brightened. Emily greeted me with genuine delight, drawing me into the family fold just as a swing band struck up a peppy waltz. My dramatic tale of mistaken banquets became the highlight of the evening, much funnier now, especially with a glass of sparkling in hand. Emily declared me the life of the party, and my aunt swore shed never let twenty years pass in radio silence again.
As the last dance began and distant cousins pulled me onto the floor, I glanced back at the doorwaya cheerful, wine-flushed face reflected in the glass, bouquets of laughter following me now instead of suspicious glares. My mortification had become legend, my presence a gift after all, and finallyeven if only by mishapI belonged.
