One Day, My Distant Aunt Rang and Invited Me to Her Daughter’s Wedding—a Cousin I Last Saw When She Was Six. Not Exactly Awash with Family Sentiment, I Tried to Dodge the Invite, but Auntie Was Having None of It: “Once Every Twenty Years, You Can Show Your Face—Don’t Even Think About Skipping.” Next Thing I Know, an Invitation with Doves and Roses from Chloe and Anthony Arrives, I Get a Firm Reminder, and the Fateful Saturday Is Lost. So, Armed with a Bouquet, a Miserable Mood, and a Plan to Make a Swift Irish Exit, I Turn Up at the Restaurant—Only to Be Seated Among the Groom’s Rowdy Mates, Toasted as the ‘Young and Glamorous Aunt,’ and Plunged into the Wrong Wedding Altogether—Complete with Disapproving Aunties, a Bewildered Bride and Groom, and the Realisation I’d Stepped into a Comic Family Feud, Saved Only by a Kindly Waiter and a Last-Minute Rescue by My Actual Aunt.

One night, my distant aunt rang me up and invited me to her daughters weddingmy distant cousin whom I last saw when she was six. In her six-year-old form.

I dont naturally overflow with familial love, but my attempt to wriggle out failed completely.

We see each other once every twenty years, at least have the decency to turn up, my aunt threatened down the line.

An invitationfestooned with doves and roses, from Emily and Simonarrived, and two days beforehand, another reminder pounced on me. No escape.

So, fine. There went my Saturday. No use moaning.

I arrived at the restaurant carrying a half-hearted bouquet, my mood a chalky grey, wishing to pull a classic English exit after an hour. Inside the banquet room, I was dispatched to a table of jovial young menfriends of the groomwho, loosened by gin, began enthusing that the bride had the most marvellous aunt, not auntly at all, and wouldnt it be splendid to get to know me better and make merry. Which, to be honest, we promptly did.

I hadnt the faintest glimmer of recognition for the brideyears had passed, and what had once been a mousy little thing was now a buxom blond wonder. Personally, I preferred her in mouse-mode.

The atmosphere grew distinctly glum: a host of scowling matrons with their sheepish husbands, the groom wearing the hunted look of a man cornered by fate, the bride in a trance, swept by the magnificence of her own beautyand her bust. If not for my increasingly lively crowd, it could easily have been a wake. The aunts gave dagger glances.

Id missed the first round of toasts, but just as I settled in, the next beganstarting with me. The master of ceremonies, after taking stock of who I was, joyfully hailed:

And now, the young and beautiful aunt of the bride will congratulate the happy couple!

So, with gusto, I began:

Dearest Emily and Simon

Silence struck like a falling chandelier. Then it dawned on mewhere was my actual aunt? She surely wouldnt have transformed so utterly that I couldnt spot her.

Opposite me, an aunt in pink hissed, The bride is called Grace. And the groom? Henry.

Grace? Henry?

Some people wander into others parties just for a free feed and drink, Pink, now nearly purple, interjected. We had one at Alfies going-off-to-army do, wouldnt let him out till he finished the pudding. No shame, no scruples.

Just then, the air thickened with peril. The guests hunched creepily closer, eyes gleaming, ready to riseno one had rolled up sleeves, but the mood was turning to fisticuffs.

But look! I yelped, shaking my invite, Heres the invitation: Emily and Simon, such-and-such restaurant, banquet room

Rescue arrived on a platter, in the form of a waiter.

Madam, he said gently, we have another banquet room upstairs. Perhaps youre meant to be there?

Of course, upstairs! She just wants a free dinner. Turns up here, heads up there next! The Aunt in Pink thundered. How do such cheeky types roam the earth? Adventuress!

And cheek, chipped in another aunt, this one luminous green, and positively grim, is the twin of happiness.

Let it be known, I bear not a hint of vagabond or petty tricksterthough, as the saying goes, its easy to judge from a distance. The grooms friends rallied to my defence, and got slapped down by a woman in mauve:

Oh, look, shes already turned the boys heads!

Pink added, Thats how our head accountant lost her husbandblink and shell have your shoes off your feet, harpy.

Id never spirited away anyones husband, but right then, I almost started sizing up other peoplesmight as well lean into infamy.

Thank heavens, the kindly waiter whisked himself off and returned, bringing my real aunt with him, who quickly surveyed the scene and swore she recognised methough she winked oddly in both my direction and at the neighbours, as if to make it clear Id been off my rocker since day one.

In short, I was evacuated to the proper party, where the dusky beauty Emily (yes, and some Simon) awaited, and was medicated with various strong English spirits for some time.

Thank goodness, I hadnt handed over the present yet.

Though I was seen out at the end by the grooms mates from the first wedding.