'Yes you are,' said Mrs Lennox-Featherstone. 'For all intents and purposes, you're the chief bridesmaid. Tell Hugo your name, dear.’

Elsa longed to rebel, to stalk off across the churchyard and not let herself be captured on film, all dressed up like a dog's dinner, feeling a complete idiot, but for one thing she didn't have the courage, and for a second, she didn't want to spoil anyone's day.

‘I'm Elsa,' she said to Hugo.

‘Well, I'm glad to find that out,' said a male voice from behind her. 'I'm Laurence, your partner in crime.’

Elsa shot round. She felt guilty enough already without people saying things like that to her.

‘The best man?' said a tall, faintly smiling man who wasn't exactly good-looking, but seemed well made and confident. He wasn't standing in for anyone else, obviously.

‘Oh, hi. I'm not really the bridesmaid,' she said for what felt like the hundredth time. 'I'm just wearing the dress.'

‘And a very lovely dress it is,' said Hugo. 'Now, if you'd just stop crushing yourself against that buttress so we can see you and it, I'd like one of the pair of you..

Elsa gave up. She'd told everyone she wasn't the real bridesmaid and they didn't seem to care, so she decided to just go along with what anyone wanted her to do, as long as it didn't involve dancing or kissing or arcane practices like that. She stood next to Ashlyn, as requested, and then took a paper cup of chilled orange juice that Sarah had arranged to be served.

‘This is all very civilised,' said Laurence. 'I was a best man last year and it was absolutely baking. We had to stand around for hours having our photographs taken and someone fainted from the heat.’

Sarah, who was nearby, a yellow Labrador at her heels, making sure that she'd ordered enough juice, heard this and said, 'It also makes people less likely to fall on the alcohol the moment they get to the reception if they're not dying of thirst. Oh, I'd better get out of the way.’

Hugo had made everyone laugh and had been very brisk and organised about getting the right people into groups. Even the dog had posed appropriately. Elsa was surprised. Hugo had such a laid-back appearance but behind the lazy smile was obviously someone who got things done.

‘That's a wrap for now,' said Hugo and everyone relaxed. Then he took another photograph.

Totter!' said Ashlyn. 'I had my mouth open!'

‘But your teeth are lovely. Now, on to the reception, everyone. I'm afraid I'll be asking for more posing there, but you love it, so that's all right.’

Elsa saw Ashlyn pouting prettily and wished she could pout. It was obviously something you were born either able to do or not, like curling your tongue.

‘Come with me,' said Laurence, taking her arm. 'I'll drive you to the reception.'

‘I'm sure you should be looking after someone else,' Elsa protested. 'After all, I'm here on false pretences.'

‘Not at all. You're my responsibility. Believe me, I know,' he went on, when Elsa still hesitated. 'I've been a best man lots of times.'

‘Oh? Why is that? Were you the most popular boy at school or something?'

‘Not at all. It's just that I don't drink and the brides always make their bridegrooms pick me even if they hardly know me. I'm guaranteed not to lose the ring, allow the groom to get too drunk the night before, or, worse, strip him naked and tie him to a lamppost.’

Elsa giggled. 'And presumably you're guaranteed not to goose the bridesmaids?’

'Actually, the brides don't usually care about that. It stops the groom doing it, after all.'

‘So you're saying I might not be safe in your car?'

‘You will be, absolutely safe. I'm known as Laurence the Dependable.'

‘Well, that's nice.'

‘No it's not, it's boring as hell, but it's what I seem to be stuck with. Shall we go?’

When Elsa saw Laurence's car she wondered if his title was really accurate. It was an ancient-looking Morgan and barely had room in it for Laurence, let alone Elsa and her dress.

‘I think I might have to take a taxi,' said Elsa.

‘Not at all. I'm an expert at squeezing meringues into my car.'

‘This is not a meringue!' Elsa was stung. 'It's a beautifully crafted, elegant creation and cost a fortune.'

‘So is my car. Trust me.’

By following his instructions, Elsa did find that she and the dress could both be squeezed into the Morgan quite neatly.

‘You are practised at this,' she said, making sure she hadn't trapped any of the precious material in the door. 'Oh yes. It's the only stipulation I made today. Sometimes the family wants me to drive their car so I can take a bevy of aunts.'

‘Is a bevy the proper collective noun for aunts?'

‘It was in one particular case. I had to drive them to the station afterwards – they were drunk as skunks. Not a happy experience. At least it wasn't my car.’

Elsa laughed. 'You should get paid. You could hire yourself out. Sarah – she's the wedding organiser – she'd get you work.’

Laurence gave her a look that told her this suggestion didn't find favour with him and started the car. 'I do have a life, you know.'

‘Sorry! I didn't mean to offend you.'

‘It's all right. I know you didn't. But the thought of doing all this for people I really didn't know is fairly dreadful.’

`Oh.' Elsa subsided, feeling crushed in spirit as well as in hand-beaded organza. Now she felt like a burden.

Laurence looked left before turning out into the road and patted her knee. 'Don't worry, I'm not quite as good-natured as people think. I don't do anything I don't want to.’

‘OK,' said Ashlyn, when they had got out of their respective modes of transport and were all in the hotel's exceptionally grand foyer, 'which one of you two is going to help me in the loo?’

Sarah looked at Elsa. Her short but intensive career as a wedding planner had not previously required her to take on this duty. Sometimes it seemed as if her clients needed everything doing for them but it hadn't gone this far before. 'It's definitely the bridesmaid's job.'

‘But…' Elsa looked around for Laurence for support. He wasn't visible; he was probably in the Gents, unencumbered by several miles of tulle.

‘Darling, I'd do it of course,' said Mrs Lennox-Featherstone, 'but about a million people are about to arrive and we need to arrange the receiving line… God, they're here already,' she muttered. 'I thought knowing the way gave us a good fifteen minutes' grace. Ah, Daphne. How lovely you could come. What a blissful hat. The bride's not quite ready to say hello – needs the la^y, poor girl.'

‘Well, I can't go into the Ladies,' said Bobby, playing with the gloves that went with his hired outfit. The bride's mother had insisted on all the men wearing morning suits. 'Or I'd willingly hold your dress up while you pee.'

‘Oh, for God's sake! I'm bursting here.' Ashlyn gathered up her skirts and rustled purposefully towards the Ladies.

Elsa, who'd covered the dress every night after she'd finished working on it and did not want it to be trailed along a dirty floor at this stage, hurried after it. She had to kick off Fulvia's shoes, which were at least two sizes too big, and throw her own, shorter train over her arm in order to keep up.

Sarah, aware that it really wasn't Elsa's job to hold the bride's skirt while she answered the call of nature, hastened after them, clutching Elsa's discarded shoes. If Elsa had been the real bridesmaid she'd have left her to it, but Elsa had helped them all out of a spot, she deserved support now.

In the Ladies, Ashlyn, a strong-minded woman whose need was great, took charge. She looked at the cubicle which seemed extremely narrow and said, 'Here, catch.’

To Elsa's immense relief, she did not actually throw her long train, but Elsa caught it quickly all the same.